The official car stopped at the large park-style parking lot at one corner of Selene’s official residence.
Normally empty and criticized as a waste of resources, the vast square and parking area were now fully in use. Countless vehicles were neatly parked, each bearing either the flag of a small Central or Southern European nation or the crest of a noble house.
Intersecting red carpets stretched across the grounds, lined with court attendants and servants in formal dress, stern guards, patrolling ard robotic units, and journalists held back in designated zones by security personnel and Judgnt mbers.
Despite the large number of people, the scene was orderly and quiet.
"Yomikawa-sensei..." Kamijou Touma spotted the busty PE teacher from his high school among the Judgnt ranks.
Clack!
Before Kamijou could look around further, the car doors opened, and at once the deep boom boom boom of massive drums rang out, vibrating in their ears.
The car’s soundproofing had been so effective they hadn’t noticed the hundreds-strong band playing outside.
"We’ve arrived."
"Oh, right—thank you."
Kamijou Touma thanked the attendant as he stepped out, his gaze sweeping the surroundings. The black-and-gold double-headed eagle of the Habsburg family fluttered in the wind. At the residence entrance, the grand band played stirring music.
On the red carpet were elderly n and won who looked like governnt leaders or corporate executives—faces Kamijou would never see in his everyday life.
These weren’t the kind of clothes worn in a packed commuter train—they were the attire of people eager to display their status at gatherings.
But now, many of them seed to be watching the visiting group with thinly veiled mockery. Judging from the flag—a vertical blue, white, and red tricolor—the visitors were from the French delegation.
"Huh? With such lively and triumphant music, why do they look so insulted and angry?"
"Idiot!" Misaka Mikoto jabbed her elbow into his side, her voice full of exasperation as she explained, ever the Tokiwadai honor student.
"Clearly you’ve forgotten everything from international relations class. This is the Prussian Glory March. If you’re here to sue for peace and sign a land-cession treaty, being greeted with this would be infuriating for any French person."
"Look at the group opposite them." She subtly pointed toward the group facing the French delegation—elderly n in suits and full noble regalia, struggling to hide their smirks.
Their decorations varied in style and rank, but all shared a black-and-white the, centered on a crowned black eagle over a two-tone shield, talons gripping a sword in one claw and a cross-bearing orb in the other.
"Hohenzollern..." Mikoto murmured.
Aside from Kamijou, who couldn’t even pass a basic test without Komoe-sensei’s help, everyone else—Lv5 brains working at full capacity—recognized the significance imdiately.
When these two old rivals t, it was already a miracle they weren’t fighting on the spot.
The Hohenzollern-led German Empire had been declared in the Hall of Mirrors at France’s Palace of Versailles—an ascension achieved by stepping squarely on France’s pride. And Prussian Glory, a march celebrating Prussia’s military triumphs, was now playing? It was an unmistakable insult.
Though France had avenged itself in World War I, risen again after World War II, and the Hohenzollerns had lost both East Prussia and control over the German lands, the current reality was clear—they were back.
Even without the Hohenzollerns leading, the Habsburgs were also long-standing French rivals.
It seed Ro and its heirs were fated to clash with the Gallic rooster.
Listening to the swelling march, the French representative’s face darkened. Wearing a tall gentleman’s hat, he gripped his cane so tightly his hand trembled.
"This is a day of humiliation. We will not forget—no Frenchman will forget."
His gaze swept the scene. All present were forr servants of the Holy Roman Empire. Nations stripped of territory, divided, or robbed of their interests weren’t even allowed to attend. Everywhere he looked were the faces of greedy, hostile enemies.
The old man’s voice trembled with anger. "This is a conspiracy!"
Perhaps... this was going too far.
Even Kamijou Touma, ever the kind-hearted fool, thought so. But he said nothing. After all, even a good-natured person could burn with anger after tasting the dust and smoke of the Banda Aceh front—and several soldiers who had looked out for him never made it back.
Even with Academy City’s high-tech arsenal, casualties still numbered in the thousands on just one battlefield.
Europe’s Calais–Gravelines front, the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations front, the Bering Strait front, the West African front... This third world war might not have lasted years like the first two, nor reached comparable death tolls, but the economic losses and environntal damage were far worse.
Reconstruction, compensation for bereaved families, aid for the wounded—it all required money and resources. If not taken from the defeated, should Selene pay it herself? Kamijou wasn’t about to say that—nor did he have the right.
Besides, this ti, their friends had fought on the sa side.
"Ah! Onee-sama!"
A familiar voice rang out. Misaka Mikoto’s face paled. "Wait! Kuroko, not in public—ah!"
From dozens of ters away, a girl vanished mid-step and reappeared behind Mikoto, wrapping her arms around her waist and wailing, "Uuuu... Onee-sama, I’ve missed you so much!"
"Let see... uuuh, your delicate body covered in wounds... so many cuts and bruises..." The girl reached out, fingers brushing the bandages on Mikoto’s arms and waist as if she might collapse in grief.
Tea-brown twin tails, a pretty face, Tokiwadai’s autumn uniform, and—most telling—the green Judgnt armband on her right arm.
It was none other than Shirai Kuroko.
"Uuuh... there won’t be scars, right? Not that I’d ever mind, Onee-sama." As she spoke, her hand began to wander upward, her lips curling into a wicked grin. A bead of drool escaped.
"Hehehe... (gulp) good, your last remaining peak is safe. If it had been hard, I—ooooh!"
"Kuroko—!"
Sparks crackled.
After this touching, if chaotic, reunion between "sisters," the group was soon ushered inside by the attendants.
In the inner court garden, the gravel paths wound through elegant, ticulously designed flowerbeds and lawns.
Though the dense trees appeared naturally grown, each had been carefully planned and planted around the villa. Specially trimd into unique shapes, the geotric flowerbeds and lawns ford graceful patterns that changed with the seasons.
Linden trees along the shaded paths were pruned into green walls, while towering columns and ornate fountain statues stood nearby.
As they walked, nobles they passed doffed their hats in greeting to the young n and won who had stalled the Roman Catholic Church’s crusade fleet at a critical mont. The noblewon offered respectful curtsies.
"...Kuroko, what’s going on?" Misaka Mikoto adjusted her clothes, returning greetings with a forced smile that was beginning to ache.
Thanks to her resistance to electricity, Shirai Kuroko had already recovered from her earlier shock. Leading the way, she explained, "Eh? Onee-sama doesn’t know? And you too, uh... Kamijou-san—congratulations on becoming heroes of Academy City."
"Heroes?" Kamijou Touma looked baffled.
"Selene-senpai established a city-wide comndation just for those who fought at the Banda Aceh front. The basic scholarship and certificate are self-explanatory—plenty of benefits."
Kuroko’s tone carried obvious envy.
"All these people here... Selene really intends to restore the Holy Roman Empire?" Mikoto asked after a pause, clicking her tongue and glancing toward Shokuhou Misaki in the group. The implication was clear: See? While you’re still playing queen in school, she’s about to beco a real empress.
Even with the camaraderie born of battle, Mikoto still couldn’t resist prodding Shokuhou—a reflex after all their past spats.
"That’s not all, Onee-sama. You underestimate Selene-senpai’s ambition and thods. What’s happened in Academy City these last few days..."
Kuroko stopped walking, gazing toward the palace courtyard where Selene awaited, admiration in her eyes.
"Everything from the Holy Roman Empire, German Empire, Austrian Empire, Austro-Hungarian Empire—every nation once in the German cultural sphere or under the Habsburgs’ rule will be revived and rged into a new empire."
It was a goal so distant it felt unreal.
As the most mature of the "four little ones," Kuroko’s attachnt to Selene was nearly equal to Mikoto’s. Yet she never once "ambushed" Selene as she did Mikoto—the empress-to-be’s inner aloofness made her unreachable.
"Italy will be split, Lombardy and Venice returning as free states, even Constantinople included in this new nation," Kuroko finished with a deep, awed breath.
"That’s..." Even Kamijou Touma, an academic slacker, realized the magnitude of Selene’s designs.
Still processing the news, the group turned down a long corridor. From around the corner ca a commotion, snapping them back to reality—just in ti to see a silver-haired girl flying backward.
She looked Mikoto’s age, perhaps younger, with beautiful silver hair and skin so pale it seed unhealthy. She wore a light blue double-breasted uniform.
But this was Selene’s residence—who would dare injure soone here?
Before anyone could speak, a wooden baby carriage—assembled like a 3D puzzle—ca hurtling toward them.
Beside the baby carriage floated a few toys—most notably, a wooden figurine of an elegantly dressed noblewoman, its purpose a mystery.
Then, before everyone’s eyes, a chubby, pale little hand erged, clutching a drum mallet far too large for an infant.
Thud!
The silver-haired girl, who had just stood up, took a brutal ho-run hit to the face.
After the strike to Aleister’s cheek, a wooden rocking horse and a small toy piano hovering beside the carriage crashed into her as well. Finally, the wooden nanny figurine pushed the carriage into a running start before delivering a flying kick with its full weight.
Bam!
Every attack landed.
The outsiders were left bewildered, staring in confusion.
What on earth was going on?
Before Kamijou Touma and the others could speak—
"Aleister, what nonsense are you pulling now!? You need to understand that the eccentricities you got away with in the Golden Dawn aren’t acceptable in modern society!"
The words ca not from any of them, but from the pink-swaddled infant in the carriage—via the wooden nanny’s mouth—pointing a yellow-and-red toy trumpet at the fallen silver-haired girl.
"How childish can you be!? I was planning a miracle resurrection and a touching reunion, but you’ve ended up more feminine than ! How am I supposed to face a suddenly gender-swapped father who’s cuter than his own daughter? You could have been the perfect tearjerker—do you have to ruin everything?"
"A daughter cos to be reunited with her father, only to find he’s turned into an immature, show-off little sister. How exactly is she supposed to react?"
...Was this so kind of family drama?
Kamijou Touma and the nearby Lv5 espers exchanged confused glances as they watched the silver-haired girl spring to her feet, ignoring her frilled skirt fluttering in the cold wind, and rush to the baby carriage.
And... what was with that baby?
At that mont, a firm, mature male voice spoke near Kamijou’s ear. "You’ve arrived? Pay it no mind—you know how it is with magicians’ families. That lady is the widow of forr Board Chairman Aleister."
The speaker was an elderly man in a suit, hair completely white yet posture upright and movents steady.
Kamijou recognized him—Selene’s butler.
"Oh, Sebas!" Kamijou scratched his head, raising a hand in greeting. "Wait, did you say widow? What’s going on?"
Sebas glanced at him kindly as he walked with asured, precise steps. "It’s simple. That lady is the widow of Chairman Aleister, and the baby is his only daughter."
Of course, Sebas was lying without a blink—fully aware Aleister had not only regained youth but beco a beautiful girl.
The baby was indeed Selene’s resurrection of Aleister’s daughter—Lilith Crowley.
In truth, Lilith had never entirely "died." Born prematurely and taken from her mother’s womb, her soul remained pure, untouched by sin, capable of triggering miracles.
During one of Aleister’s journeys, Lilith had been denied birth due to the phase friction of Magic Gods, dying of illness. But her soul had been transferred to another phase for safekeeping—by Aiwass, Aleister’s Holy Guardian Angel, summoned by his beloved Rose Edith Kelly.
Though she couldn’t be revived then (as long as the Magic Gods’ phase friction persisted), hope remained. Perhaps that sliver of preservation was the love of Rose, a mother unwilling to let go of her child.
Through her control over the phases, Selene located the soul of Lilith Crowley, hidden away by Aiwass.
At the sight of her, Selene couldn’t help but think: Good grief. Lilith’s personality was exactly as displayed—sharp-tongued and quick to criticize. Even after a century apart, eting her father Aleister again, her first instinct was to deliver a snide remark.
Sebas said, "It seems Lilith Crowley has perfectly inherited the Chairman’s talents. I can rest easy knowing that, Miss."
Regardless of the truth, Selene had already begun to let the news spread.
This was the official story—whether true or not. Everything else was just rumor.
Sebas’s explanation neatly shut down all of Kamijou Touma’s questions.
No need to ask—magicians were naturally strange, often considered sacred. At worst, this was just another case of soone with a "Holy Mother" or "Saint" constitution.
As for the odd behavior, it was easily explained: Mrs. Crowley was honoring her late husband by taking his na, and Lilith Crowley was simply distraught over her father’s loss.
"Co. The young lady has been waiting."
Without further words, Sebas nodded to the baby-carriage-pushing Aleister, then led Kamijou’s group into the palace’s main hall.
A dazzling, golden world unfolded before them.
It was no wonder Selene often told them, If you want fun and gas, stay outside—you probably won’t like my residence’s style.
Kamijou and Misaka Mikoto exchanged a look. This was their first ti inside Selene’s residence; previous etings had always been at restaurants or in Tokiwadai’s dorms.
Thanks to the palace’s façade design, it appeared to have only three floors. This style magnified proportions—what looked like a first-floor window was actually three to four ters above the ground.
Facing the massive stone edifice, visitors were t with an oppressive coldness. It was clearly built not for living comfort but to project power and dominance.
Inside, paintings and sculptures adorned the walls. Maids pushing tea carts moved between guests. Seeing Academy City espers alongside Anglican magicians and Saints entering the hall, the attendees greeted them with the etiquette befitting their own status.
The atmosphere was formal and solemn. Even soone as defiant as Accelerator wouldn’t cause a scene here—Selene was granting them honor and public recognition; to reject it would be sheer ingratitude.
Soon, the fanfare outside changed. The brass ensemble switched to the rousing Radetzky March, and the lively hall fell silent.
To the triumphant lody, Selene entered arm-in-arm with British Crown Princess Carissa, symbolizing both their friendship and the Commonwealth’s support for the Habsburg restoration.
This Holy Roman Empire of the Index world wasn’t Selene’s main focus—it was a gift left to Brauchitsch, Katie, and Ferdinand.
Naturally, it wouldn’t be run with the sa style as her own "Sacred Selene Empire."
"Your Majesty. Your Highness." ×N
"My Empress. Crown Princess." ×N
Guests greeted the soon-to-be most exalted monarch in Europe according to their gender and rank.
As on the balcony earlier, Selene wore a magnificent white-and-gold gown—
A long string of pearls as a necklace, a glittering crown, gold-edged sash, shining dals, a jeweled corsage, and a pearl-embroidered formal cape. The vibrant colors made her the easy center of attention.
Holding a scepter, she was elegant without ostentation, regal without arrogance.
"You may rise."
Seeing Kamijou Touma and the others, still awkwardly leaning on crutches, Selene smiled lightly and told them to relax. Then, in front of all the assembled nobles, she praised their accomplishnts.
Selene never withheld rewards from her own people.
And they had truly earned it. Without them—especially Kamijou Touma drawing attention at Banda Aceh—many of Selene’s operations would have been far more difficult.
Even if Kamijou seed to take nothing but hits, his role had been more valuable than that of many other Lv5s—he was there to attract the spotlight.
After this, they would never have to worry about money, and in Science Side nations and Central or Southern Europe, they would even enjoy unexpected privileges.
Selene showered them with praise until Kamijou was visibly embarrassed. Then, she suddenly shifted the topic:
"Oh, yes—the French delegation has arrived, hasn’t it? Let the return of the Holy Roman Empire be proclaid through the Gauls’ surrender."
Under the nobles’ watchful eyes, the French delegation soon entered the great hall to the sound of trumpets. The elderly leader removed his tall hat with trembling hands and looked toward the Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, standing at the center of the hall atop the three-tiered dais.
"Your Majesty..." he said bitterly, bowing deeply.
"Then, let us begin."
Selene had no interest in sentintality; the man’s pleading expression ant nothing to her.
Just as every French resurgence had crushed Germany, every German victory had been won over French bodies. This was a matter of position.
If Selene had been a Bonaparte, Bourbon, or Orléans, then the Habsburgs and Hohenzollerns would have been the ones forced to renounce their claims and titles.
Violet-red light flared, forming a crystalline table at the base of the dais. At the sight, the nobles leaned forward eagerly.
This—this was why they had chosen Selene, chosen the Habsburgs: the power to destroy the world.
...
In silence, the elderly foreign minister understood Selene’s intent. He stiffly sat in the crystalline chair she had shaped with Honkai energy, withdrew the prepared treaty from his briefcase, and set it on the table.
The negotiations had been settled long ago; Selene had simply insisted on signing it here, to make the French capitulation the formal announcent of the Holy Roman Empire’s return.
"I am a sinner..."
With trembling fingers, he signed his na and pressed the wax seal. The treaty was now in effect. He sighed faintly, lanting the state to which France had been reduced.
Selene, signing her own na remotely with Honkai energy, looked away with a faint smile. Accepting a champagne glass from a servant, she raised it high and declared in a ringing voice:
"To the rebirth of the Holy Roman Empire—let us drink together!"
"Glory to the Empire!" ×N
"God bless Empress Selene I!!" ×N
The hall rang with cheers, though the French delegation stood in quiet defeat, their leader seeming to shrink into himself.
At almost the sa mont, across Central and Southern Europe, national flags were lowered, replaced by the black-and-gold double-headed eagle of the Habsburgs.
And why not proclaim the empire in Vienna? The German lands had a tradition of doing so on foreign soil.
From this mont, the new Holy Roman Empire was born.
Unlike its predecessor, this ti it was holy, it was Roman—and it was an empire.
—
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