Academy City.
District 7, Underground Shelter No. 172.
After the outbreak of World War III, contrary to what the outside world imagined about Academy City being in a full warti state, the reality was sowhat different. Aside from the noticeably reduced number of people on the streets, for the most part, students who had gone underground didn’t experience drastic changes—aside from intensified coursework and more militarized housing managent.
Level 4 esper Shirai Kuroko was patrolling briskly while speaking with the girl beside her.
The girl had a head adorned with an abundance of flowers—it was none other than Judgnt mber Uiharu Kazari.
"Shirai-san... Has Misaka-senpai and the other Level 5 espers all been deployed to the front lines by the Board of Directors?"
"It couldn’t be helped. The subsidies and privileges each Level 5 receives far surpass other espers. That’s the responsibility of soone like Onee-sama, who is one of Academy City’s trump cards. Even Selene-senpai wouldn’t show favoritism to anyone."
"In such a deep ideological conflict between Academy City and the Roman Catholic Church, there’s no other outco besides one side falling."
Shirai Kuroko walked slowly down the corridor, carefully stepping aside for passing Powered Armor Units and security personnel, all while glancing up at the large screen on the forward wall. A flicker of gravity passed through her brown eyes.
She couldn’t help but worry about Onee-sama’s current situation.
No matter how much she trusted Onee-sama’s strength, the Strait of Malacca was clearly a critical location that the Roman Catholic allied forces were determined to seize. A fierce assault was inevitable.
Land, air, and undersea—even as a mber of Judgnt, she could sense just how intense the battle at the Strait of Malacca was. Military supplies were being delivered by the ton, and the number of ard robotic units deployed as reinforcents alone had exceeded 200,000.
"If the front lines beco more strained, I heard they’ve already begun forming squads composed of Level 4 espers. I might be drafted as well. I’ve already submitted my volunteer application, Uiharu."
The Roman Catholic Church had magical combat units, so naturally the Board of Directors had to deploy forces representative of Academy City’s strengths—esper units.
In addition to the Level 5s sent to the front lines, many dark side groups had also been mobilized to secondary battlefields—for assassination, intelligence gathering, and sabotage missions. In short: pick the job you’re best at.
For example, even with Mugino Shizuri not present, her dark side team ITEM was still among the best at enemy sabotage operations.
Uiharu Kazari opened her mouth but didn’t say anything like "I want to go too" or "Don’t go." After spending so much ti around Selene, she’d matured greatly.
With her Level 1 ability, she wouldn’t be selected even if Level 3s were being drafted. Besides, her talents in computers, communication, and intelligence were where she truly shone.
The atmosphere between the two had grown significantly more serious. Before they knew it, they had arrived at the unified shelter area shared by several schools—such as Sakugawa Middle School and others.
They exchanged a glance, then entered after facial authentication.
Turning the corner, they were imdiately greeted by the sight of a black-haired girl, wearing a five-petaled plum blossom-shaped hair ornant, squatting in a corner with her butt sticking out... peeping at sothing?
"Saten..."
"Shh! Shh shh!" Saten Ruiko hurriedly motioned for silence as she turned and saw it was them, clearly having heard their footsteps.
"Saten-san, peeping on others like this isn’t right..."
Half-dragged by Saten, Uiharu Kazari crouched down and mumbled in protest.
"Mother, why are you here? Isn’t the Board of Directors’ eting supposed to be in District 1..."
At that mont, a burst of noise reached their ears.
In the corridor, surrounded by several bodyguards in suits, a woman in a business suit and pencil skirt, her legs wrapped in light brown thigh-high stockings, with stiff, needle-like shoulder-length black hair, and wearing a pair of what looked like very expensive triangular glasses, the female teacher Oyafune Suama looked in confusion at the elderly woman standing before her.
A woman in her 50s or 60s—very thin, with a brown coat draped over her bent arm. A scarf wrapped around her neck.
"That’s Board mber Oyafune Monaka?" Shirai Kuroko recognized the director known for her gentle deanor and firm stance against war and weapons proliferation.
Unlike most of the directors, who could generously be called scoundrels, Oyafune Monaka was one of the rare few considered genuinely kind. She advocated for granting voting rights and relatively equal treatnt to all children of Academy City, hoping to allow them to live more equally within the city.
And, unsurprisingly, the vote was 11 to 1—her proposal was denied.
"I am no longer a Board mber," said the serene older woman with a peaceful smile, shaking her head as she responded to her daughter.
"How can that be?"
"My actions no longer align with the ideology of the Board of Directors that represents Academy City..." Oyafune Monaka’s tone was heavy. "They considered too timid, a pessimist with an overly passive, surrenderist mindset..."
"How can that be?"
"They... they hope for escalation. They want to use this war to utterly destroy the Roman Catholic Church, the largest magic-side organization under the na of religion."
"This was a resolution handed down by Selene von Habsburg, the Board’s strongest esper. I tried to stop it—but I was dismissed."
Just then, multiple large screens behind them simultaneously split into several panels, and the voice of a news anchor began reporting on the state of the war.
"Ro and the Vatican have been subjected to Academy City’s despicable, indiscriminate assault. They have even shalessly used biochemical weapons! This is a cri against humanity. The Pope and all Cardinals have returned to the embrace of the Heavenly Father... People of faith across the world, this is a desecration of purity, a trampling of the entire Christian faith!"
At the sa ti, the screen displayed the devastation in Ro and the Vatican—transmitted worldwide via communications signal. The images of deceased Roman Catholic believers, their bodies corroded by purplish-red light spots, mutated and twisted like the undead in horror films, left countless viewers horrified.
"Nearly ten million people were affected by the attack. Overnight, the people of Ro fled their forr holand just to escape the dire threat posed by Academy City. Eventually, they will all face annihilation."
"Tens of thousands from Vatican City have vanished without a trace! What kind of misfortune befell them remains an utter mystery."
In the broadcast, a grief-stricken male voice narrated over the footage, interspersed with the anguished wails of survivors and crying children.
"In the face of this atrocity, we cannot stay silent. We have no choice! As long as we draw breath, we must resist to the end."
Clearly, this was the rhetoric of dia outlets from Western European nations.
"The symbol of the old order has been torn apart. The greedy and wicked Church has been destroyed in the city of seven hills. Those once shackled by the chains of the Roman Catholic Church will finally embrace freedom and democracy."
This ca from a certain beacon-country’s North Arican dia.
"Under the leadership of the Board of Directors, our Pan-Pacific Alliance has gained a clear advantage. The greedy northern neighbors have made no progress, and the so-called crusade fleet of the Roman Catholic Church has utterly failed."
"The symbol of the Roman Catholic Church’s decayed and regressive rule—Vatican City—has been destroyed by Acting Director Selene von Habsburg."
"The North Arican allied forces have landed in West and Central Africa. Their so-called mission of national self-determination is in truth a colonial endeavor, and now their colonies have been set ablaze. With their most direct sources of energy, minerals, food, and troop supplies severed, and under the aggressive, coordinated assault led by Crown Princess Carissa of the United Kingdom, the Western European monster known as France is stretched thin..."
"Strait of Malacca, Banda Aceh bridgehead fortress. The second-ranked Accelerator, the third-ranked Dark Matter, the fourth-ranked Electromaster, the fifth-ranked ltdowner, the sixth-ranked ntal Out, and the eighth-ranked Bomber all join forces to fend off the enemy—pushing them back thousands of miles offshore..."
This one was even more blatant—it was clearly an internal broadcast from Academy City.
After a brief silence, even with layer upon layer of protective and soundproof walls, the group at the corridor corner could hear the students inside the classroom erupting in roof-lifting cheers and applause.
Most of the teachers didn’t try to stop them.
To many outsiders, the more one understood Academy City, the more they recognized its strange and terrifying centripetal assimilation force.
No matter what happened, even if entire buildings were kicked around like balls or multiple streets were blown sky-high, as long as the incident ended, within a few days everything would return to normal. People would eat, drink, and move on—as if nothing had ever happened.
Academy City was the safest city in the world—or at least, to most residents living within it, that was unquestionable.
Even with a world war raging, these students only showed mild concern. And that concern? "Can we win?" That was the extent of it. Should one call it obliviousness or sothing else?
In any case, Selene could swear with a hand over her heart—she hadn’t stirred up trouble. An anomaly? Hm? That was Aleister’s doing. Had nothing to do with her. At most, she had guided a few subordinates here and there.
The contrasting rhetoric of different factions carried powerful persuasive weight. Oyafune Monaka slowly closed her eyes and lowered her head. "The escalation and expansion of war... what a foolish thing."
There was pain in her voice. "Why is it that war is always the worst and most foolish thod?"
Yet you couldn’t deny—it was also the most efficient and most violently effective thod.
Shirai Kuroko murmured to herself.
Of course, those weren’t her own words. She had overheard them during a debate between Selene and Misaka Mikoto about whether to finish off enemies after defeating them. Those words had co from the forr.
It perfectly suited Selene’s aggressive and domineering personality.
Misaka Mikoto preferred to leave defeated foes alive. Selene? At best, she’d leave them hospitalized for a hundred-plus days. If she was in a bad mood, you might not even survive.
There were plenty of examples—Accelerator, for one, had been an idiot for not finishing his enemies. In that debate, Selene had won by a small margin.
Withdrawing her gaze, Saten Ruiko slowly stood up and remarked with a sigh, "It’s really dangerous... This war has already triggered a reshuffling of power at the top. Selene-senpai and Misaka-senpai... are they still okay?"
...
Elsewhere—Banda Aceh Base.
I, Kamijou Touma, am a student at Academy City—the leading force on the science side. At least, that’s what everyone says. I’m a Level 0, a completely powerless individual. That’s how it was supposed to be...
But in reality, my life has been—!
Either bitten by a white-robed little nun, or attacked by an arsonist magician, or dragged into a battlezone between the strongest lady of Tokiwadai and a sword-swinging lunatic. Or maybe getting into a brawl with a vector-manipulating psychopath. Or constantly entangled with an electricity-shooting girl who shocks everything in sight—and then there’s a whole bunch of identical girls just like her...
After the Daihasei Festival finally gave us a few days of peace, where we each reunited with our families and enjoyed so warmth, I thought I’d finally escaped the clash of science and magic. Then—bam! World War III broke out!
In the end, I was sent to the front lines of Banda Aceh, representing Academy City’s side in the war...
"Hey! What the hell are you spacing out for?! You’re thinking sothing really irritating, aren’t you?!"
"Ah? Oh!"
Snapping out of his muttering tirade, Kamijou Touma quickly raised his hands and dashed for cover.
The next mont—boom!
In the sky, a transparent anchor.
A massive chunk, nearly twenty to thirty ters in size, directly slamd into Sogiita Gunha, who had been zipping around like a rainbow in the sky. His figure was sent flying several kiloters.
Tons of dirt erupted along the path. The real-person units controlling the automated intelligence corps—preparing to push the Roman Catholic Church’s magical combat units into the sea—had to shield their heads and duck for cover.
What could one say? The battle between the Level 5s and Vento of the Front was both a natural disaster—and sothing beyond the scope of natural disasters. As long as you stayed out of their way, you’d be fine.
But now, the fortress’s outermost armor had been blasted open. If they wanted to continue holding their position, they couldn’t let the enemy’s magical units break into the underground facilities. In the face of a descending calamity, the air was filled with screams and despair.
"Idiot! Don’t you dare die!"
Shouting, not far off, Misaka Mikoto once again charged a giant railgun shot.
She had arrived early to hold the line—and had been fighting nonstop.
The intensity of combat had quickly helped Misaka Mikoto shed her hesitation. Her entire deanor was now drastically different.
Of course, it wasn’t quite to Selene’s level. But like Mugino Shizuri and Kakine Teitoku, she had learned to harden her resolve.
"We’re about to win!"
Misaka Mikoto looked out across the icy ocean. The Ice Battleship fired a barrage of frozen anchors, holding off three opponents at once. Vento of the Front looked mighty, but in truth she was barely hanging on. Just one Kakine Teitoku was already too much—most of her Queen Fleet’s Ice Guard Ships had been destroyed, and the repair rate couldn’t keep up with the damage.
Now, Accelerator was back in form too, his vector output steadily rising.
Just look at that ridiculous hurricane—it wasn’t much smaller than the mini-tornadoes he used post-vegetable mode.
This was it. We’ve got this. Victory was in hand.
"Looks like I don’t need to risk tossing you across the battlefield after all," Misaka Mikoto said, glancing at Kamijou Touma. The glee of victory was written all over her face. "Ehe~ You didn’t really do much—want to share so credit with you?"
On this chaotic, bullet-storm battlefield, even Kamijou Touma had to be extrely cautious. Sure, he could nullify magic and esper powers—but if a stray bullet hit his head, there was nothing he could do.
Imagine the headlines: "Sent ho from the front due to stray bullet injury". Returned to Academy City for ergency care by Day Two?
Even if his trip had been wasted, Kamijou Touma didn’t care. Rubbing his sore shoulder from a bump, he laughed it off: "Haha, isn’t that even better? Victory belongs to everyone. That way, we can all get back hom—"
Bzzzzzzzt—!
"—."
He was stunned. Mouth wide open.
Unlucky! Unlucky! Unlucky! Dammit!
My cursed crow mouth!
Because—on the other side of the icy ocean, an orange beam sword soared skyward. And the next second—"Danger!"
A massive orange energy sword fell from the sky, cutting through heaven and earth. The Banda Aceh city zone, which had narrowly avoided collapse, now caved in completely.
Then—from beneath the ground, countless colossal icebergs burst upward. These were underground waters frozen solid by the Queen Fleet’s cryo-formula.
The island split apart. Ice crashed down, and even the surface of the ice stead from the heat, shrouding everything in white.
A hurricane slamd him to the ground. Kamijou Touma had no idea how many tis he rolled. The iceberg that landed nearby—was it one kiloter? Two kiloters? He had no clue. Everything was a dizzy blur.
"Biribiri! You okay...?!"
Shouting, Kamijou Touma looked toward the red glow falling from the sky.
"Ah, the size’s still a bit much—makes precision a pain... Still, what a delightful sight... Watching you people boom boom your fireworks from miles away just to welco Yours Truly."
A carefree, mocking male voice echoed.
It was a man draped in crimson.
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