The "Star of Bethlehem" fortress quaked like a pulsing heartbeat. Thunderous echoes rang out like the scythe of death itself, echoing across thousands of miles, its silhouette still blotting out the sun from afar.
Seen from orbit, it was as if an enormous sapphire-blue "moss blight" had blood over the seas of Southeast Asia.
The density and scale of the thunderstorm in the sky was terrifying. Those beneath it were struck dumb with fear.
Crack!
The sky was thick with dark clouds. The dense layer completely obscured the sun. Rain poured down in torrents, and the mighty thunderbolts fell like divine spears hurled by gods, unstoppable in their wrath.
Was this divine retribution? Or the beginning of the end?
Among secular observers who witnessed the event, one question echoed beyond their awe:
Was this a weapon... or the overwhelming might of a single magician or esper?
The North Arican Allied Fleet—in particular—felt this question keenly.
Having been drawn to the science side and declared war against the Roman Catholic Church, the North Arican Alliance was unquestionably Academy City’s ally. At least for now.
Not long ago, their units had received orders: the forward base at Banda Aceh, guarding the Strait of Malacca, was under heavy siege by the Roman Catholic Church and its affiliated Holy War fleet. They were dispatched for support.
Unfortunately, the tides turned too quickly. In a re blink, the Roman Catholic stronghold—Vatican City—was razed. The Pope killed, the cardinals annihilated, and most of the remaining clergy severely wounded. Their ancient strength turned to ash before they could even react.
Just like that, what once seed like the dominant Roman Catholic force suffered a crippling blow. The kind that would take years to recover from—assuming Academy City even let them recover at all.
It’s not that they wanted to lose. Of course they wanted to win. But this result was far from their anticipated mutual destruction. The gap was just too large.
So the North Arican Joint Fleet, which had been rushing in at full throttle, suddenly... lost steam.
"Please wait. Our forces need ti to recover from the fatigue of this long march. We will engage imdiately once preparations are complete."
That was the North Arican fleet commander’s response to a unified inquiry from Academy City’s Board of Directors.
With Aleister, the forr authority figure, gone, and Acting Board Chair Selene gallivanting across the globe ambushing enemies, the remaining directors lacked the influence to reprimand the North Arican Alliance for their sluggishness.
And honestly... their excuse did make sense.
Which was how, after setting sail from Singapore and arriving at the Strait of Malacca, the North Arican Joint Fleet had the rare misfortune of encountering the most massive thunderstorm of their lives.
A single lightning pillar ca down.
In an instant, it exploded into a water wall nearly a hundred ters tall, expanding outward in a hemispheric blast.
Then ca the second. The third...
Countless lightning bolts connected sea and sky, forming what looked like a forest of thunder erupting from the ocean. The massive condensation clouds were caused by shockwaves from high-voltage lightning explosions underwater, pressurizing and rapidly condensing into terrifying formations.
"Stop stop stop! Hard to starboard!!"
"Cease forward movent! All stop!"
"What are you doing just standing there?! Get back to the cabins if you want to live!"
As the allied naval fleet descended into chaos from the atmospheric electric field she had stirred, Selene stood on the fortress, idly tossing a severed arm in one hand while the other rested behind her back. Her eyes turned with amused curiosity toward the newly arrived man and woman atop the "Star of Bethlehem."
Tap tap~
Footsteps crunched over ice and rubble.
Rather than approaching, it was as if they had simply appeared simultaneously across all sensory perceptions. An unnatural entrance.
A strange duo.
One was a tall blonde woman.
Clad in a thick, oversized dark jacket paired with jeans and a work apron, with industrial safety goggles perched on her forehead. Her rough, utilitarian attire gave an impression of crudeness, but her deanor hinted at sothing else—a trace of the professional grace seen in the maids serving Queen Carissa.
Yes, definitely tied to the British Royal Family.
The other was a slender yet tall blond man.
He wore a thin sky-blue shirt under a cal-colored wool vest, with simple khaki pants and brown leather shoes.
Wearing sothing like that at ten thousand ters altitude—he was either insane or truly powerful. Clearly, it was the latter.
Ahem... this man was none other than the infamous "Good Guy Emperor," "Friend to Animals," and "diator"?
Selene arched an eyebrow and stood atop the platform, looking down with a knowing smile.
"Guests, are you? Defeated relics of the old age. I know a bit about you both, but would you not introduce yourselves?"
"Guests? Then I suppose I’m the unwelco kind. As for hospitality—no need."
The man smiled with a gentle warmth. His golden short hair glead in the light, radiating a soft, sun-like aura that made one instinctively trust him.
Except for his eyes. They were shaded with a deep lancholy, as though disillusioned with life and the world itself—a strange contradiction.
He patted his companion’s shoulder and looked up toward the elegant woman atop the dais.
Her overly refined features felt almost unreal. Clad in a white-platinum gown that blended the aesthetics of formalwear with combat attire, she was draped in strands of golden lily insignias, with a faint shimr tracing along the fabric—imbuing her with a strange and noble grandeur.
"I am Ollerus."
His answer was brief. Reflected in his sky-colored eyes was the suspended form of Fiamma of the Right.
"What more is there to say... hmm, I was once ant to beco a Magic God... but that title was taken by the one-eyed Othinus. A rather tragic magician, you could say."
Contained in those words was all the context one needed.
"I’m here for him."
The magician nad Ollerus made his purpose plain, boldly and without fear of Selene’s wrath. It was a confidence unique to him.
"Then you’re too late."
Selene didn’t look surprised. She simply stepped aside, gesturing politely. "Go ahead, if you can convince him."
With a white-gloved hand, she covered her lips as if hiding a giggle.
Ollerus blinked. From everything he knew of Selene, he had expected a fierce battle—not this easy compliance.
"Then I shall graciously accept..."
He hesitated briefly, then addressed Fiamma of the Right:
"You don’t want to be left hanging up there to die, do you? It’s ti to accept reality. You’ve already lost this war. Instead of clinging to dreams of saving the world... isn’t surviving your top priority now?"
"Just say the word, and I’ll have reason to intervene. In return, all I ask is for you to share with what you’ve seen and experienced."
Although Selene clearly had ulterior motives—perhaps even hoping to see him humiliated—Ollerus still accepted her invitation with all the grace and ritualistic courtesy of a man of his word.
He had absolute confidence in his power.
"I’m afraid I won’t need your help, Ollerus."
Him.
Fiamma of the Right. His raspy voice echoed, laced with overlapping distortions—both male and female, both child and adult—as if multiple voices were speaking in unison.
"No... you’re not Fiamma of the Right. I see. So you’ve taken control of his mind?" Ollerus realized.
Crack crack crack—!
With the sound of air fracturing, the dais beneath them shattered like glass.
Fiamma of the Right slowly descended. His face was expressionless, his gaze no longer wild but profound. He naturally raised his right hand—crack—his bones snapping back into place as the Subspace Lance fully rged into his body. Veins flooded with violet-red light, making him look like a porcelain figure filled with frost-like cracks.
"The power of the ’Holy Right’."
"In Christianity, God is singular. All miracles belong to this one God. The right hand signifies ’equality’ in Christian symbolism. The Son of God healed with his right hand. Baptisms are perford with the right hand. All miracles of the Church are embedded in this hand."
Bzzzzz!
Fiamma of the Right once again summoned his "third hand". A massive, transparent outline erged. Five twisted clusters of light ford its fingers, crimson edges extending outward.
Screeeee~
The fingers stretched and flexed. As it moved, the surrounding space distorted, fractured, transforming into the very manifestation of miracles. It felt as though the hand existed not in this world, but in so higher phase or dinsion beyond human comprehension.
At the re sight of the hand, the blonde woman felt a chill crawl up her spine. Her blood rushed, her heart pounded with visceral dread.
The sheer fear it inspired defied language. To face it directly was to grasp true despair—despair that could not be overco.
"Sylvia, stand down."
The calm on Ollerus’s face had vanished, replaced with grave seriousness.
Though his constitution bordered on that of a Magic God—a monster who could wield divine power through ordinary magic alone—he was still not one. The difference between a quasi-Magic God and a true Magic God was a chasm.
He wasn’t omniscient or omnipotent. And he certainly hadn’t anticipated that the "Aleister" Selene spoke of referred to this Aleister. He had detected faint magical fluctuations from Aleister before, but had assud the man was still sowhere on land.
To possess another’s body like this... how vile.
"You were too slow." Selene glanced sideways at Fiamma of the Right—now still adjusting to his new body—and casually tossed over the severed arm along with the remote-control grimoire.
The reason she hadn’t acted earlier was simple: she had been waiting for Aleister to fully seize control of Fiamma of the Right’s body.
After all, at this mont, Fiamma’s physical body was in a precarious state. The Holy Right, unable to remain stable, had already started disintegrating in mid-air. With no dominant consciousness, the body was like an empty shell. The weakest it could possibly be.
If she and Ollerus had exchanged blows earlier, any stray shockwave would have reduced the fragile, untrained body of Fiamma to ash. All her efforts would have gone to waste.
Selene understood that Ollerus was likely the strongest enemy her manifested avatar had yet faced—and quite possibly the limit of its strength. Just how wide the gap was, she would only find out through battle.
"Not too late."
Accepting Kamijou Touma’s severed arm, Fiamma of the Right rged it into his "third hand" and raised the remote-control grimoire.
"Aiwass."
He called out.
"Seems everything is ready." A voice suddenly responded from the air. A golden figure erged as though distilled from the very atmosphere, appearing abruptly within the room.
From appearances alone, the newcor looked female, but her entire body was shrouded in a hazy brilliance, her face obscured. She exuded an overwhelming aura of mystery.
"An angel?"
Seeing this, Ollerus suddenly realized—perhaps Fiamma of the Right was never the true instigator of this war. Or rather, he was simply positioned as a convenient target.
His ambition had been manipulated, subtly encouraged, turned into a pawn. Once his value was spent, he was discarded.
"Sylvia, protect yourself."
"Hliðskjálf — Deploy!"
After cautioning his partner Sylvia, Ollerus imdiately revealed his true power.
In response, Selene, who had been waiting all this ti, stepped in between Fiamma of the Right and Aiwass. No complex chants or incantations were needed.
I am the Authority. I am the Law.
With a single motion, blinding light and heat surged forth. Her crimson diamond-shaped pupils lit up like miniature stars.
"Strong Nuclear Force — Fusion."
Bzzzzzz—!
She transford into a golden sun. A second miniature star ignited in the sky, initiating a nuclear fusion reaction.
Almost simultaneously—
"Begin," Fiamma of the Right stretched out his "third hand" and spoke coolly.
Aiwass offered no verbal affirmation, but acted without hesitation.
Bzzzzzz—!
In the skies above the deep blue sea, a massive magical array over 40 kiloters in diater was pierced by a silver pillar of light released by the holy guardian angel. It extended another hundred kiloters further.
The very space surrounding the silver pillar twisted violently.
In an instant, the atmosphere over several hundred kiloters shimred with ominous light. A suffocating pressure descended.
Ten thousand ters below, in the ocean depths, every sea creature sensed impending doom and fled without hesitation.
In that mont, people throughout the Southeast Asian seas were horrified to see massive schools of fish leaping out of the water at the shoreline. Deep-sea species rarely seen in shallow waters surged upward. Seabirds migrated in frantic flight.
Beneath the darkened sea surface, bioluminescent creatures glowed more intensely. As they gathered in large numbers, the waters lit up with radiant beams and luminous mists. Huge patches of moving light blood across the ocean—a breathtaking sight.
But the seasoned fishern knew what it ant.
It was the on of a coming cataclysm!!
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