"It's time."
In the dimly lit chamber, Aleister's bare ankle rested on the edge of the life-support apparatus as he gazed at the holographic display in front of him. His calm voice rang out softly.
In the next instant, an astonishing scene unfolded.
The holographic display before him suddenly split—one became two, two became four, four became sixteen... In mere moments, tens of thousands of holographic screens filled the entire visual field. The massive enclosed space was now illuminated by the glowing light of countless displays.
A large portion of these screens displayed a girl with chestnut-brown, shoulder-length hair and tea-colored eyes. Their pupils appeared unfocused and lifeless, as if attention was evenly distributed across everything in sight.
They were Misaka Mikoto's "sisters"—the surviving military-grade mass-produced clones from the failed and frozen Radio Noise and Level 6 Shift plans.
Some wore the Tokiwadai Private Middle School uniform and military night-vision goggles. Some donned white experimental vests, submerged in nutrient fluid inside life-support capsules. Others wore thick winter coats, standing in snowy outdoor scenes...
Clearly, these Misaka clones had already been scattered by Aleister across cooperative organizations, research institutes, and welfare facilities worldwide under Academy City's umbrella.
"The storm is coming... A war with the Roman Orthodox Church, which will in turn trigger the conflict between the scientific and magic sides... Aleister, this is truly the worst possible move."
Step step step~
On the ID card at the chest of his white lab coat was a gekota sticker. The chubby, frog-faced doctor strolled out with his hands behind his back. He shifted his gaze away from the Misaka clones and sighed.
"My old friend, to be precise, it's a war against the fanatical conservative faction of the magic side. The Anglican Church and the Commonwealth are our allies."
Precisely retrieving the holographic display related to Selene, Aleister spoke in his usual measured tone. "Establishing a common enemy and securing every possible ally—that's Selene's explanation. It appears she's completed her coordination."
The holographic displays included footage of Selene giving an 'OK' hand sign with her golden gauntlet dissipating, and scenes of her conversing with the Second and Third British Princesses, as well as with former God's Right Seat member, Acqua of the Back.
"The quality of the process is irrelevant. Achieving the goal is what matters. My old friend, this time, I haven't touched your patients."
Aleister turned his head toward the bizarre frog-faced doctor.
"It was Selene, wasn't it."
Looking at William Orwell being forced to his knees and swearing allegiance under Selene's pressure, the frog-faced doctor shook his head.
"She's only a middle schooler, yet she dares to directly involve herself in a national coup and even trigger a world war. I really don't know where she got that temperament from—she's so polite most of the time... Sigh, I'm getting old. I don't understand young people's thinking anymore."
She had shown no intention of easing tensions. From planning to execution, every step was ruthless and lethal.
This time, the Roman Orthodox Church might truly fall.
Not only Academy City, but behind Selene stood the rapidly forming Schicksal Research Institute-backed military-industrial complex, a colossal transnational conglomerate. With deep ties in arms, medicine, aerospace, and high technology, it had become deeply entangled with capitalist world oligarchs.
Through the Board of Directors, it controlled Academy City's cooperative institutions across the globe...
This force was inconspicuous on the surface and deeply hidden, but once war erupted, it would be no exaggeration to say the Roman Orthodox Church would be an enemy of the entire world.
When people call you 'Your Holiness the Pope,' do you really think it's due to devout faith? It's because you wield the big stick. Now that the scientific side's leader—Academy City—wants to settle scores with the Roman Orthodox Church...
Guess which is more numerous: people preparing rations to support the crusade, or those watching gleefully from the sidelines, stirring up trouble in the shadows? You'd be lucky if they don't kick you while you're down.
Especially in the Americas, the influence of oligarchic politics runs deep. And recently, the Roman Orthodox Church has been engaging in flirtations with the Russian Orthodox Church in Northern Asia, which has greatly displeased many North American political and corporate interests.
From what he knew, Selene had even considerately packaged and delivered the dirty deeds and memories of Terra of the Left to them—to help their "friends" better handle public opinion issues.
Who knows what kind of chaos might erupt in Parliament once Christian believers see the filth harbored at the upper echelons of the Roman Orthodox Church.
With both sides rallying their respective factions, this could easily spiral into a third world war.
Speaking of which, the previous two world wars seemed to owe quite a bit to the Germanic region. Well... Selene was Austrian, after all.
"Old friend, do you know my lifelong wish for surviving to this day..." Aleister paused. "I only hope our friendship remains unmarred. Don't make it difficult for me. It's worth preserving forever."
His calm eyes reflected the frog-faced doctor's features. It was as if Aleister wanted to etch the image of this old friend—his confidant in hard times and his lifesaving benefactor—deep into his heart.
After a long pause, Aleister took a step forward. "Aiwass, let us go."
"As you wish, Aleister." A distorted voice laced with static answered, as the golden-glowing holy guardian angel reached out and pulled.
Shrrrk!
In the next second, accompanied by a series of crack crack crack sounds, a shattered rift appeared, radiating brilliant white light.
"Sigh..."
Watching Aleister and Aiwass vanish into the rift, and then glancing around at the massive chamber filled with surveillance screens, the frog-faced doctor's expression turned faintly bitter.
Aleister's so-called "eternity"—he finally understood it. It didn't mean everlasting friendship, but rather one party dying first, never having the chance to quarrel. That's essentially eternal friendship, isn't it?
He had clearly seen the glimpse behind the dimensional rift: a city without shadows, without weight, without airflow. It felt so thin as to barely exist, emitting gray, chaotic visual signals.
Suspended in midair was an AIM Kaballah Tree of Life formed from the AIM diffusion fields—a towering structure that seemed to pierce the heavens. Countless "fluid" masses were continually converging upon the World Tree.
These fluid forms varied in size, each resembling streams of data particles rotating gently at different speeds and directions.
"Aleister... you've already embraced death."
...
Eastern Europe, mouth of the Neva River, Saint Petersburg.
Globally, Christianity is divided into three major branches. The Roman Orthodox Church—headquartered in the Vatican—is the largest, with two billion adherents. It believes itself to govern the world... or at least that's its aspiration.
Then there are the Anglican Church and the Russian Orthodox Church. Eastern Europe is clearly the domain of the latter, which is dedicated to discovering and eliminating paranormal phenomena.
Besides these three major denominations, there are smaller sects such as the Amakusa-Style Remix of Church, the Spanish Astrological Sect, and the Athanasius Sect, among others.
On the riverside where land is exceedingly precious, inside a dome-topped cathedral radiant in appearance and bearing distinct Neo-Byzantine architectural features, a rather unconventional exchange was underway.
In a luxurious room within the church, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The room's decor was a flamboyant blend of Baroque and Neoclassical styles—vivid and opulent in color, with triple black crosses on a white background adorning the carpets and walls.
The juxtaposition of personal luxury and the sacred tone of the church—crude and refined, vulgar and elegant—all told of the resident's excessive indulgence.
"War? Why so sudden? What's going on with you Roman Orthodox people?"
And indeed, that was the truth. The room's occupant—Nikolai Tolstoy, bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church—sat beneath a massive triple-crossed flag, visibly displeased as he spoke.
Nikolai was a middle-aged man, bearing the typical Slavic appearance. His thick beard and the bishop-level vestments he wore made it clear that his attire was exorbitantly expensive.
"Heh, you don't need to ask too many questions. Just fulfill the contract. But I'll throw you a bone—latest intel from Academy City..."
"Terra of the Left is dead, Acqua of the Back is suspected of being mind-controlled, Vento of the Front severely injured, the 'Croce of Pietro' lost, Lidvia Lorenzetti captured alive, and nearly a thousand Roman Orthodox agents pre-embedded in Academy City are either dead or detained. No mercy whatsoever."
A gaunt young man with blazing red hair lounged arrogantly with his legs crossed, laughing heartily. He couldn't care less about his comrades' fates—his tone dripping with unrestrained arrogance.
"If it weren't for me pushing them, they would've just eaten the loss. Academy City is outright dismissing the Vatican. The old fogies there are furious. When has the Roman Orthodox Church ever suffered such humiliation? They won't let this go. Just watch."
"Three of the four God's Right Seat members defeated... I see. The Lord's authority cannot be challenged. It's time those heretics got a taste of divine wrath," Nikolai said, eyes narrowing.
"Don't lump those three losers in with me."
Fiamma of the Right laughed it off, then asked, "Alright, I came all this way. Nikolai, do you have what I asked for?"
"Naturally. You're in luck. After the exchange, this woman and the 'Annihilatus' group vanished. Tracking her down took a great deal of effort."
Nikolai pressed a hidden switch on the desk.
Click!
Two Russian Orthodox followers escorted in an unconscious young woman. She had long, golden wavy hair almost covering her eyes, and wore a tight bodysuit resembling bondage gear beneath a sheer, red, lingerie-like garment.
Magicians and their bizarre fashion sense… To those in the magical world, such sights were nothing new.
"Sasha Kreutzev. The one you wanted," Nikolai said, fingers interlaced as he sat behind his ornate wooden desk. "Now it's my turn to name terms. I want the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations."
"Since your faction is already moving, we Orthodox cannot lag behind. As fellow followers of the Cross, it is our sacred duty to guide more lost lambs to the Lord."
Heh.
That innate Slavic greed for land.
According to their agreement, Fiamma would help elevate Nikolai to the position of Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, and in return, Nikolai would bring the Russian Orthodox faction to Fiamma's side.
Now, Nikolai was growing impatient. Among Slavs, what garnered the most prestige? Answer: territorial expansion and military victory.
The Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations consisted of countries that had seceded from the Russian Orthodox sphere. Devouring them would allow Nikolai to amass enough prestige to kick out the imprisoned puppet Patriarch and ascend himself.
Though Fiamma had little respect for Nikolai's transparently self-serving rhetoric, he didn't call it out. Opportunistic fools with no bottom line like him weren't easy to find.
"Do as you wish. If you can conquer them, I'll make sure the Southwestern European nations recognize your sovereignty."
With ease, the slender arm lifted the unconscious Sasha Kreutzev. Fiamma of the Right had no intention of lingering here any longer.
The atmosphere disgusted him.
One of the top three global churches, yet its Patriarch was a spineless puppet, and its true power holder—a bishop—was just a pig.
This only reaffirmed Fiamma's conviction.
As expected! Only he was the true savior—only he could save humanity and the world!
The preparations for the "Star of Bethlehem" were nearly complete. Next steps: remote control of John's Pen, and the "Index Librorum Prohibitorum."
Descending from the high cathedral dome, Fiamma gazed toward the British Isles.
"Hmph. Alliance? Then you'll be the first I cut down."
...
For the students, tourists, and parents enjoying the annual Daihasei Festival in Academy City, time had flown by. This year especially—it felt far too short.
As late September approached, though a few sporting events were still underway, public attention had clearly shifted.
Because...
In just the past few days, during the midst of the Daihasei Festival, global Christian communities had suddenly expressed intense dissatisfaction with Academy City, issuing a series of outrageous demands. The Board of Directors' indifference triggered worldwide protests and riots against Academy City.
In Western and Southern Europe and North Africa—regions under strong Roman Orthodox control—bloody clashes had broken out, with large-scale injuries and deaths already reported.
Everyone was watching how Academy City would respond.
And what came next stunned the world: not only did the Board of Directors show zero intent to deescalate, they deployed heavy-armed robots and powered armor units for suppression!
Immediately after, Academy City issued a formal statement, claiming this was a Roman Orthodox conspiracy. That during the Daihasei Festival, a magic-side esper development organization under the codename "Magic" had launched an attack.
They backed the claim by publicly releasing explosive intel extracted from Terra of the Left's brain.
Naturally, the Roman Orthodox Church vehemently denied everything, accusing Academy City of fabrication and slander. They countered by accusing the city of heretical research that defiled Church doctrine and called for a worldwide Holy War.
The animosity between both sides was now completely out in the open.
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