Apennine Peninsula, Rome.
In addition to being the capital of a secular state, this city also houses the smallest country in the world by land area and population. Here, Roman Orthodox believers, priests, and clerics are a common sight—this is Vatican City, the headquarters of the Roman Orthodox Church!
At this moment, within St. Peter's Basilica, the symbol of the Catholic Church, an oppressive atmosphere filled the air.
"You've all read the reports from Acqua of the Back and Vento of the Front—Terra of the Left is dead. This is not only a loss for the Lord, but a loss for all Christian believers worldwide."
An elderly man dressed in the formal white cap and ceremonial robes befitting his status slowly spoke. He had short hair and a clean-shaven chin. From his every word and gesture, his first impression was clear—conservative.
Pietro Yogdis, Cardinal of the Roman Orthodox Church.
The confirmed death of Terra of the Left, one of the God's Right Seat, marked the greatest loss the Roman Orthodox Church had suffered in recent years.
"His death, while partly due to arrogance and underestimation, also highlights our misjudgment of Academy City's strength. I propose an immediate recall of Lidvia Lorenzetti. The effect of the 'Croce of Pietro' is certainly tempting, but how can we be sure Academy City hasn't anticipated it? The 'Croce of Pietro' is our Church's highest-grade Holy Relic—we cannot afford to lose it."
A white-robed bishop voiced the proposal.
The activation conditions of the 'Croce of Pietro' require it to be planted in the ground on a specific date each year (Feast Day of Saint Peter), so that the light of the constellations appearing after sunset may shine upon it.
These dates vary by location. In the Vatican, it can only be activated on June 29. In Japan, the appropriate date is September 19.
"I object! That's cowardice! Retreating after a minor setback? The conditions to activate the 'Croce of Pietro' are already in place. To flee now—would that still be the Roman Orthodox Church? Do you want those Anglo-Saxon barbarians (Brits) to mock us?!"
"On the contrary, I propose we raise the stakes—deploy the Agnese Forces, the Knights, and even the 'Queen of the Adriatic Sea' immediately! Time is of the essence!"
"Foolishness! I have no objection to continuing the 'Croce of Pietro' activation under imminent conditions, but escalating our involvement like this? If something goes wrong, can you bear that responsibility?!"
Another bishop joined the heated debate.
"Then what do you propose?! Send them one by one?! That's the worst possible tactic for major operations! Either stay put or strike with overwhelming force! Terra of the Left should serve as a lesson—because Academy City is formidable, our Church must commit with adequate strength!"
"And your thinking makes you no different than a gambler driven mad by loss! Have you no concern for the heretics of the British Isles? Would you risk losing the very essence of our Roman Orthodox Church in a single stroke?!"
Though the Pope had recently traveled to London for a meeting with Laura Stuart, Archbishop of the Anglican Church, the Roman Orthodox Church harbored deep-seated hostility and disdain for the Anglicans. They saw themselves as the true orthodox faith, and the Anglicans as heretics.
And heretics were more detestable than outright pagans!
If given the chance, they would not hesitate to annihilate the Anglican Church both spiritually and physically.
"You—!"
The argument intensified. The clash of ideologies was reaching a boiling point as each bishop, red-faced and impassioned, fiercely defended their stance.
The Cardinal gently tapped the table. "Enough. This pointless quarreling ends here."
Pietro Yogdis looked up, eyes falling on a shadowed corner beneath the flags lining the walls of the council chamber. "Your opinion?"
"Hmph, hehehe..."
A slender young man with blazing red hair, clad in red-toned garments, slowly stepped out from beneath the banner of Vatican City. Though slight in build, he exuded an overwhelming pressure.
At once, the bishops fell silent.
And they had no choice—every one of them was a seasoned political player, well aware that in today's Roman Orthodox Church, true power behind the scenes lay with the God's Right Seat. Or more accurately, in the hands of their leader: Fiamma of the Right.
"I, for one, agree with your view." The red-haired youth strolled into the center of the council chamber as if no one else existed, arrogantly pointing at the bishop who had proposed going all-in.
"However—!" In the next instant, Fiamma of the Right changed his tone. "You're still too cautious!"
"If we're going to fight, then fight big!"
Pietro Yogdis frowned. "Have you thought this through? Once it starts, there's no turning back..."
"No, no, dear Cardinal, don't ask me such foolish questions. And don't compare that idiot Terra of the Left with me."
Fiamma of the Right pointed toward the intricately crafted crystal chandelier at the center of the dome ceiling. Surrounded by holy frescoes, it symbolized the entire world. He opened his right hand and closed it into a fist.
"Everything is within my grasp."
...
Japanese Archipelago, Tokyo.
A ray of the setting sun slanted in from the distant western horizon, bathing all of Academy City in a chrysanthemum-red sea. The surfaces of the towering near-futuristic buildings reflected dazzling halos of light.
Even the malice brewing from thousands of miles away couldn't dampen the city's excitement.
As dusk approached, colorful neon lights flickered on. The daytime's fervor began to fade, and the evening brought a time for relaxation. The arrival of students' parents added a heartwarming, family-oriented touch to this overly youthful city.
Especially now that Selene had lifted the curfew on students during the Daihasei Festival, Academy City was swarming with people—hotels, inns, restaurants... gourmet streets, shopping districts, pedestrian zones—everywhere was packed. The crowds on the streets only grew more lively as night fell.
Navigating the bustling throng and catching a honey-sweet aroma at the tip of her nose, Misaka Mikoto wore a bitter expression. Rather than making her evening more enchanting, someone's presence was only souring it.
"Tch! Why the heck are you tagging along with me?"
"Ah~ Misaka-san, really... how should I put it? I'm also part of Tokiwadai Middle School, a Level 5 esper. Being invited to Lady Katie's banquet isn't all that unusual, right?"
Someone gracefully and elegantly came up beside her.
Misaka Mikoto turned away. The girl with honey-colored long hair held a finger to her pale lips. Her gloves and stockings were white lace. Tall and curvaceous, she wore the same Tokiwadai uniform as every other girl there—so why were her 'pectorals' so obnoxiously prominent?!
Especially when that spiky-haired black-haired boy trailing behind them threw the occasional comparing glance—his cheeks even slightly flushed—Misaka Mikoto's fury spiked.
She's totally using padding! And men—so shallow! So basic!
"Hmph!"
Crackle pop!
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Misaka Mikoto stomped the ground, sending out a burst of electric sparks.
"O-oi oi oi—! Biri-biri, what the heck?! This is a public street!" Kamijou Touma's already spiky hair stood up even more, making him look like a giant hedgehog.
Face wrinkled in frustration, he reached up to smooth his hair—pointlessly, of course. Kamijou Touma held his face in his hand.
What was with this weird atmosphere?
Thinking back on today, it had been one hell of an unlucky day.
First, Tsuchimikado and Stiyl dragged him off to deal with some troublesome magician business. Then he skipped out on his class's group event and got scolded by class rep Fukiyose Seiri.
And though they did corner the magician 'Courier', the suppression unit from Academy City mistakenly fired on him. If not for his quick reflexes, he would've been turned into Swiss cheese.
The "Imagine Breaker" was great for dealing with magical phenomena and espers—but against physical weapons like bullets, rockets, artillery? Useless!
Fortunately, thanks to Stiyl and some connections in the Board of Directors, the suppression team quickly recognized their mistake. After some heated back-and-forth, they let him go. As for what happened to the magician Courier in the end, Touma didn't know—that was Stiyl and Judgment's problem now.
Anyway, that guy in the suppression team with tattoos on his face didn't look too pleased. Touma vaguely overheard something about another invading magician slipping through their grasp—one with powerful reinforcements. A whole squad of armed robots had been wiped out, and even his Hound Dog unit had suffered significant losses.
After that, since there was nothing else he could help with, that bastard Tsuchimikado punted him back to school like a soccer ball to continue competing, where he promptly got scolded by Fukiyose Seiri and Komoe-sensei. Add in the mentally and physically draining event schedule—ugh, what a pain!
Just as he was dragging his tired body back to his dorm, Misaka showed up again, yanking him along to attend tonight's dinner.
Only then did he remember—this morning he had indeed mentioned to Misaka that he wanted to thank Selene for her help during the Endymion space elevator incident.
On the way to School Garden, they ran into that overly developed, honey-haired girl who didn't look like a middle schooler at all. From the look of it, she and Misaka didn't exactly get along.
Even someone as dense and easygoing as Kamijou Touma couldn't ignore the sharp verbal sparring between the two girls—it made being stuck between them incredibly awkward.
"Sigh, misfortune indeed."
Life wasn't easy. Touma sighed.
"Yaa~ Misaka-san is so fierce," Shokuhou Misaki feigned alarm with a playful squeal, pulling a hairbrush from her little handbag.
Hmm, this felt oddly familiar—like a big orange tabby being petted?
"Such a violent girl... be careful no one wants you."
"Shut it!" Misaka Mikoto's expression at this moment, even though she was forcing calm, was far from friendly. "Forget about that. Why do you keep stirring up trouble for me?"
"Ah~ You don't need to take this so seriously, Misaka-san. But hmm, stirring up trouble... was I ruining your moment with someone? Could it be..."
Shokuhou leaned forward toward Misaka Mikoto.
Whoosh!
Nearly experiencing a very real difference in volume up close, Misaka Mikoto instinctively stepped back. Maybe it was some unconscious defense against an uncomfortable truth.
"None of your business!" Misaka cut off her further probing irritably, then asked in a low, sharp voice, "Are you really just here to gossip?"
"I'm warning you—whatever plans you have, don't drag him into it!"
"Don't think so poorly of me. Actually, I just wanted to get a little closer to you, Misaka..."
Leaning in gently, Shokuhou spoke with a honeyed, elegant voice.
"Enough! You're giving me goosebumps."
Misaka quickly shifted away, crossing her arms in wary refusal.
She didn't notice the momentary dimness behind Shokuhou's sweet words—the loneliness hidden in her eyes.
"Hey, hey, Biri-biri, and you, Miss Tokiwadai Princess. Looks like we're here," Kamijou Touma's cheerful voice cut in as he scratched the back of his head and gestured at the enclosed European-style courtyard before them.
Still the same as ever, Touma...
Watching the spiky-haired boy trying his best to stay upbeat despite obvious exhaustion, Shokuhou Misaki swept away the gloom in her eyes and offered a dazzling smile.
"Yep!"
The honey-haired girl stepped forward first. Before Kamijou Touma could even react, she grabbed his hand and boldly strode into the courtyard.
She was supposed to return to her dorm at School Garden after scouting the Advanced Education Bureau. But seeing Misaka Mikoto dragging Kamijou Touma along so anxiously on the road... her curiosity and little-devil instincts kicked in.
Besides, she had an invitation too.
After all, Tokiwadai Middle School only had three Level 5 espers. If two of them were going to a banquet and the third was left out with no gesture at all—it wouldn't look good. And since they were in the same year, out of courtesy, Katie had passed an invitation along to Shokuhou Misaki as well.
That was the gesture. Whether she came or not was up to Shokuhou Misaki.
Which left...
Misaka Mikoto, hand half-raised, stunned expression frozen on her face.
Wait, did I just get treated like the outsider?!
Crack—Thunk!
"Ow—!"
"No using your powers here."
A swift karate chop had Misaka clutching her head in a defensive crouch. Selene stretched her fingers and glanced to the side with amusement. "Misaka, you really are adorable. The textbook example of a tsundere."
"But you know, tsundere might be cute, but it's usually the hallmark of a losing heroine."
Rubbing her head gently, Misaka Mikoto stood up slowly, a faint blush on her cheeks, still grumbling stubbornly, "What do you mean, tsundere, losing heroine—I don't get it! Selene, when did you even get here..."
At that moment, a petite twin-tailed figure appeared out of nowhere, speaking in a tone brimming with veiled jealousy.
"Honestly, Onee-sama, getting into a love spat over a boy. That's hardly fitting for the ace of Tokiwadai."
"H-huh... Kuroko? When did you guys get here?"
Misaka Mikoto's eyes darted away as she tried to feign righteousness. "This is all that Shokuhou girl's fault."
"And Kuroko, what were you even doing all day? I didn't see you at all."
"Sigh... Onee-sama, even Kuroko can't overlook how clumsily you're trying to change the subject," Shirai Kuroko said, shaking her head with a long-suffering sigh. "Judgment duties have kept me quite busy."
"And as for you, Senpai—suddenly lifting the curfew during the opening ceremony like that, with no warning whatsoever. We in Judgment and the suppression teams were stuck in emergency meetings all day. There were also major explosions and gunfire in a section of the gaming district in District 7 and several construction sites that had been shut down for the Daihasei Festival. Supposedly drills—but Judgment's workload has soared."
"Are there overtime bonuses?"
Selene's calm question abruptly halted Shirai's little rant.
"Uh... yeah."
"Then there you go." With a shrug, Selene motioned for them to head into the courtyard.
And then Selene's gaze fell on the second-floor balcony not far ahead, where Carissa and Villian were seated—along with Saten Ruiko peeking out like a thief.
Selene's eyes lingered especially long on Villian, the third British Princess. By her calculation, the agreed-upon time was drawing near. It was just about time to make use of her.
Now, how to get her cooperation properly...
Maybe: Your unknighted knight has been threatened by me. Want him back? Then cooperate.
Or: Hey, I found the person who saved your life...
...
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