The bright moon hung high in the sky.
The wind had begun to rise.
The pitch-black sky resembled an enormous dark curtain, carrying a profound chill that even the dazzling lights and clamor of the bustling city could not conceal. The atmosphere was deathly still.
This was clearly the densely populated School District 7, yet not a single person could be seen on the streets. Only the man's steady, powerful footsteps sounded beneath his feet, each one so distinct that they seemed like rolling thunder, tearing the curtain of silence to pieces.
At the entrance to the hotel courtyard, a pair of eagles spread their wings atop the towering revolving metal gate, imposing as a silent lion. The iconic golden enamel gleamed brilliantly.
At the top of the steps, Selene stood silently with her eyes closed and her hands clasped behind her back, allowing the night wind to toy with the hair at her temples. A very faint flush stained her cheeks, the lingering trace of alcohol. The man could smell it.
But at this moment, he had no attention to spare for Selene's contemptuous, nonchalant attitude.
"Who are you?!"
Blue-white arcs of lightning crackled all around Misaka Mikoto.
Misaka Mikoto stared fixedly at the man before her, who was dressed in something resembling a blue golf shirt.
His burly body stood perfectly straight, his rugged face completely expressionless. If not for the lightning-sharp gaze beneath his brown sword-shaped eyebrows, his eyes seeming almost to glow with divine light, he truly might have resembled a lifelike statue carved by some master sculptor of ancient Greece.
There was no question that he had come with hostile intentions. He was an enemy. The bone-chilling sensation running down her spine told Misaka Mikoto as much.
"Selene. I've come as promised."
The man's tone was exceptionally calm. His gaze did not linger on Misaka Mikoto for even the briefest instant. Within his brown pupils, there seemed to be room only for the white-haired beauty in the black evening gown.
Drip. A faint sound of liquid rang out.
It had not come from the fountain in the plaza before the hotel courtyard.
Selene was holding a bottle of red wine marked with unfamiliar lettering and a double-headed eagle emblem. In her other hand was a gilded crystal wineglass encrusted with gems. The faint dripping sound had come from the wine being poured.
Good grief. Misaka Mikoto's eyes widened. Seriously, what the hell? You carry premium wine around with you, along with a gold-and-jewel-encrusted drinking vessel? How long have you been secretly drinking? Confess!
Selene: It's not like I bought it. It was offered to me by the people below.
"A visitor is a guest. Please."
Immediately afterward, Selene flicked her hand. Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, the crystal glass filled with red wine shot forward and stopped almost instantly five centimeters from Acqua of the Back's nose. The resulting gale whipped through his brown hair, while the shockwave rushed down the entire street, sending dust flying for more than ten meters before finally dissipating.
"Where is she?"
Without touching the wineglass, William Orwell spoke expressionlessly. His voice was deep and resonant, every word forceful as though striking a percussion instrument, with the faint clangor of steel hidden beneath it.
Selene smiled faintly, without putting on any airs.
"Abandon your so-called faith in the Roman Catholic Church and hand over God's Right Seat's angelic spell associated with the 'Power of God.' Then naturally, you'll be able to see her. Your crime of treason will also be pardoned, and I will guarantee the safety of you two unfortunate lovers. The British royal family has already approved this arrangement."
"Sir William Orwell, the unknighted knight known as the 'Traitor.' What do you say?"
Of course, Second Princess Carissa had yet to ascend the throne. The current queen, Elizard, had not promised Third Princess Villian to William Orwell either, and an official pardon was still nowhere in sight. But none of that prevented Selene from waving a very large banner around.
It was nothing more than boarding first and buying the ticket afterward. Hardly worth fussing over.
"Is Villian safe?"
"Naturally. For the moment, she's in excellent condition. Safe and sound, perfectly healthy, with plenty of good food and drink."
"Then I have no objections."
As though finally relieved after confirming that the other side's target was merely himself, William Orwell gave his answer without hesitation. He took the wineglass floating before him and drained it in a single gulp.
"Oh? That decisive?"
Selene looked rather surprised as William Orwell finished the wine and deliberately showed her the empty bottom of the glass.
"I trust that Lady Selene would not stoop to such an unseemly method."
No matter how useless the Roman Catholic Church's intelligence network might be, producing a personality profile of Selene was not difficult. Among the conclusions universally accepted was that Selene preferred to attack openly from the front and had never been fond of tricks. On multiple occasions, she had confronted enemies directly within the very fields they excelled at most, crushing them through overwhelming superiority.
She was arrogant and vicious, yet disdained underhanded tactics.
William Orwell did not believe someone like that could be utterly devoid of shame or honor. In battle, he himself was much the same as Selene—or so he believed—and disliked targeting an enemy's weaknesses.
He simply was not as malicious as Selene, who delighted in crushing people within the fields they were proudest of and taking pleasure in trampling their confidence into the ground.
So yes, he had indeed gambled. He had gambled that Selene merely wanted him to walk willingly into her trap. Entrusting his life to her was undoubtedly an extremely foolish decision, but he had no choice, did he?
"Ha. Then bring me Vento of the Front. Consider it your pledge of allegiance proving that you've severed ties with the Roman Catholic Church." Selene accepted the compliment without the slightest psychological burden and naturally continued issuing orders.
At the side, Misaka Mikoto was already completely dumbfounded by what she had heard. She could no longer even maintain her defensive stance. What the hell is this? Who am I? Why am I here? What am I doing?
Originally, she had simply assumed this was another terrorist or some esper who hated the upper echelons of the Board of Directors. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined there was an entire layer of history behind this. Her expression became extremely complicated.
And what was all this about the Roman Catholic Church, God's Right Seat, tragic lovers, treason, the British royal family, and knights? What the hell did any of that have to do with the Daihasei Festival?
She did not really understand the details, but Misaka Mikoto had at least figured out one thing. This man seemed to be under Selene's control because Selene had gotten hold of some weakness of his, and there was a very high chance that weakness was love!
Selene, what the hell did you do this time? From the sound and look of this, aren't you the one in the wrong?! Did you split up a pair of lovers?
At a loss, Misaka Mikoto looked around. Shokuhou Misaki's face had also gone rather pale under the murderous aura rolling from William Orwell like a tide.
Their eyes met, and Shokuhou Misaki immediately understood the uncertainty in Misaka Mikoto's gaze. Have I somehow become a villain's accomplice?
"...Forgive me, but I refuse."
"Oh?"
Selene tilted her head, her scarlet eyes narrowing slightly.
The fireworks filling the night sky had already ended. In the small plaza, where artificial lighting was sparse, William Orwell's face lay hidden in darkness. The darkness wrapped gently around his silhouette like a coat, covering him in armor woven from coldness.
The next moment—clang!
William Orwell lightly tapped the ground several times with the inside of his foot. As his long, slanting shadow shifted, an absurd steel weapon more than five meters long emerged and was brought horizontally before him. It resembled both the skeletal frame of a parasol made from building rebar and an enormous knight's lance meant to be wielded from horseback.
"So after confirming that Third Princess Villian is safe, you've decided to seek death? Trading one life for another. You'll fulfill your duty as a 'knight' to protect your sovereign and princess while also offering one final act of loyalty to your masters in the Vatican."
Selene folded her arms across her chest and pinched her chin, looking thoroughly intrigued.
William Orwell did not move. He simply stared straight at Selene.
"No. I merely wish to confirm one thing. Is Lady Selene truly as powerful as the rumors claim? Are you capable of protecting both Princess Villian and me, a man once guilty of treason, while also withstanding retaliation from the Roman Catholic Church—or rather, from Fiamma of the Right?"
William Orwell casually swung the enormous weapon as easily as though he were testing a tennis racket, checking his body's condition as he calmly continued, "If you cannot, then your guarantee carries no credibility."
Perhaps, just as Selene had said, after confirming that Third Princess Villian was safe, such a thought had indeed crossed his mind. Compared to raising his hand against a colleague, he would rather die.
But just as he had also said, the strength of Fiamma of the Right, who embodied the attribute of "He Who Is Like God," was unfathomable. William was far from his equal. He had to test Selene's "capacity" for himself and determine whether she could defeat Fiamma of the Right.
"Hahaha... I see. How thoughtful. You want to have it both ways. You want everything. How greedy. Still, I don't dislike that. I'll place a little expectation in you, then. Let me see the potential humanity possesses, whether the power you unleash comes from love, or from the righteous cause you so devoutly believe in..."
"I also wonder how beating someone with the dual characteristics of the 'Divine Mother' and a 'Saint' will differ from beating Kanzaki Kaori."
As she spoke, Selene swept her gaze around their surroundings. "This place is too cramped to serve as a battlefield..."
The instant her voice fell, a crisp snap of the fingers sounded.
Crack!
Space-time suddenly darkened. Beneath a deep crimson sky, the entire district shattered apart like an enormous ice sculpture.
A storm swept up the ruins of buildings, breaking them into tens of thousands of razor-sharp fragments before roaring toward William Orwell as though heaven and earth themselves had overturned.
From Misaka Mikoto's perspective, it felt as though the entire world had changed. The sudden deafening roar was like being stuffed inside the barrel of a gigantic main cannon at the instant it fired. Her brain churned violently, making nausea rise in her throat.
Rumble!
She had no idea how much time had passed. Struggling back to her feet and opening her eyes again, Misaka Mikoto stared in horror at the terrifying sight before her.
What appeared before her was a ruin that looked almost identical to the buildings of School District 7. As far as her eyes could see, streets stretching for thousands of meters had been peeled open like wrapping paper around a gift. Even the exposed ground looked as though it had been violently plowed apart.
Thanks to the unobstructed view, Misaka Mikoto could even see ruins resembling Tokiwadai Middle School's School District 7 student dormitory!
There was not a single flat surface anywhere in sight. The entire ground had shattered, riddled with wounds and giving off an eerie purple... Wait! Purple light?!
Purple-red light resembling flames wrapped around collapsed buildings one after another.
Road surfaces like abandoned streets stood upright in every direction.
Before her was an entire city reduced to ruins and still burning.
This was absolutely not the real Academy City!
The deep crimson sky resembled a mirror reflecting some abyssal world. Violet-red lightning twisted like silver serpents, flashing with bared fangs and claws as it tore space-time apart. Within the hazy ripples, deep beastly roars occasionally rumbled in the distance.
Together with the enormous, silent city around them, seemingly draped in a purple-red cloak and fashioned from crystal, the entire sight was enough to make one's blood run cold.
"A world resembling a magical domain... No, something even more unusual. There's no reaction from any magical spell. An esper ability, then...? A mirror world corresponding to reality. A reflection of the material universe..." William Orwell silently assessed the environment surrounding him.
Click... clack... click...
From the sky came the crisp sound of slender high heels stepping upon "purple panes of light." Selene descended leisurely through the air as though strolling through a garden. Her red diamond-shaped pupils emitted an uncanny glow. With her arms spread wide, every footfall seemed to make space-time itself tremble, visible ripples spreading outward.
"Welcome to my world. Here, you can destroy to your heart's content! Even if you smash Academy City to pieces or sink the entire archipelago beneath the sea, the real world won't be affected..."
The scorching heat washing over them was even more direct and obvious than the invisible pressure bearing down upon them, as though they had been thrown into the deepest level of hell.
Misaka Mikoto was still managing, but Shokuhou Misaki was in a much worse state. With her physical condition, facing an inferno like this at close range was already enough to make sweat bead across her forehead, scorching flames reflected in her eyes.
Hey! I only got a sudden urge to listen to some music! Why the hell did you drag me in here?!
"The game begins."
"Make sure you entertain me."
The next second, motes of Imaginary energy beside Selene surged into the sky, exploding within the dimensional space of the Imaginary realm into masses of endlessly roiling flame. The entire area became as bright as day, while the ground and surrounding buildings were stained a blazing scarlet.
"Acqua of the Back, whose magic name is Flere210—'Tears.' In that case, I shall oppose you with fire."
Whoosh!
It was naked arrogance without the slightest attempt to conceal itself. Once again, Selene intended to crush her opponent within the very field in which he excelled most.
William Orwell's expression did not change. His voice remained gentle and pure as he said, "Come!"
At that moment, something about him changed.
It was not an outward transformation. No angelic wings sprouted from his back, nor did a halo appear above his head. Yet in that instant, it was unmistakable that something invisible within William Orwell had changed.
God's Right Seat. Angelic spell—released!
"HAAAH!!!"
Immediately afterward, William Orwell slammed one foot into the ground. The surging air pressure around him exploded outward.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
At the same time, countless roiling fireballs descended from the sky. Then came Selene's command. "Anchora—draw your spear!"
DOOOOM!
At the center of the battlefield, the deafening clang of metal resounded across the heavens like the tolling of a colossal bronze bell. The ground beneath their feet heaved and trembled violently, light as goose down beneath the force of the impact.
Golden flames intertwined with water-blue reefs, while an azure spear collided with the pitch-black steel weapon, throwing sparks high into the air.
Wherever the shockwave passed, the earth coated in crystalline material was blasted away. Amid a terrifying upheaval like the shaking of heaven and earth, the ground split apart as though a volcano had erupted beneath it.
"Something's wrong. How did her technique reach this level? Just how old is she?!"