"Hey, what are you? Is Academy City really this terrifying?"
Tatemiya Saiji's grip on his kris sword was slick with sweat. The cataclysmic power Samuel displayed was unimaginable—what if it had been aimed at them?
"Heh…"
Tatemiya let out a self-deprecating chuckle. They weren't worth such an attack—like using a cannon to swat mosquitoes.
A strange relief washed over him.
"Substitute Pontiff! What do we do?"
The sect members, shaken by the strike, were nearly paralyzed, instinctively turning to their leader.
"What can I do?"
Despair flooded Tatemiya's heart. Against such power, he was at a loss. No counter came to mind.
He couldn't even ponder why a science-side esper wanted magical knowledge—the pressure was crushing.
To wear the crown, one must bear its weight.
A leader carried the dreams and expectations of their followers.
Not everyone could withstand it. That weight, heavier than anything, was called "responsibility."
"If the Pontiff were here, what would she do?"
Tatemiya's thoughts drifted to the former leader of the Amakusa-Style Remix of Church, a Saint—one of fewer than twenty worldwide.
She'd left over a year ago because they were too weak.
A towering figure like her among shadows drew not just hope but sacrifice.
Neither the strong nor the weak wanted to lose comrades, so she'd walked away.
Yet the weak often thought of her, blaming their own frailty for failing their shared dream.
"If the Pontiff were here, she could fight him."
Despite Samuel's devastating power, Tatemiya's faith in her was stronger.
But she was gone. He was the leader now, and he had to secure the least bad outcome: survival.
"We're will—"
"Wait, Substitute Pontiff, I have an idea!"
As Tatemiya prepared to surrender, a white-haired elder stopped him, whispering urgently.
"That… we can't control it!"
"Do we need to? If we could control it, I wouldn't suggest using it."
…
After their hushed discussion, they led Samuel to a church door.
"Sir, inside is a grimoire. If you can subdue it, we'll surrender unconditionally."
"A grimoire, huh?"
Samuel's eyes lit up.
Grimoires were crystallizations of wisdom, holding knowledge from humans, demons, evil gods, angels, or any sapient being.
In the magic side, knowledge was power—enabling the impossible.
But acquiring it was never simple. Grimoires contained forbidden knowledge. Ordinary people saw gibberish, unable to decipher a single symbol.
For magicians, reading one risked mental distortion or physical corruption.
Yet, "conquering" a grimoire was possible.
Grimoires were "bequeathed" wisdom, not meant to sit idle.
Their purpose was proof and dissemination. As knowledge carriers, grimoires chose those best suited to spread it.
Such individuals, wielding a grimoire's power, surpassed ordinary magicians.
Samuel called them "Fire Transmitters," reminiscent of ancient myths where a sage brought fire to humanity, ending the era of raw flesh and awakening intellect by purging certain substances from blood.
Fire Transmitters spread knowledge, risking being consumed by it.
"Wait here."
Samuel pushed open the door and strode in, undaunted.
Yes, grimoires were dangerous, but he was confident.
The past awaited the future's upheaval. Definitions would yield to new truths.
Grimoires held old wisdom; Samuel would use it to pave the future.
This church was the monastery's most intact structure.
It exuded Cross Church aesthetics: towering spires, pointed arch windows, and stained glass depicting biblical scenes.
Ribbed vaults, flying buttresses, and slender columns created a soaring, ethereal feel, as if the Son of God ascended.
The framework supported the roof, blending straight lines, grand facades, and vast interiors with colorful stained-glass windows, fostering a profound religious atmosphere.
At the church's center, before the prayer altar, a book glowed golden, floating as if held by invisible hands, its pages turning with a whispering sound, like angels murmuring.
It spoke an unknown tongue—angelic, from a higher world.
As Samuel approached, golden flames erupted around him. They burned without heat, yet his body bore severe burn marks.
He stopped thinking.
Surrendering to instinct, Samuel's essence activated. (Note: He'd already captured ITEM.)
The Firewall fully unleashed, no holds barred. Samuel hid his "humanity" within it to minimize damage.
Terrifying computational power unfurled, his AIM Diffusion Field forming a sky-blanketing cloud. Lightning crisscrossed the heavens, thunder roaring.
The monstrous AIM field warped the surroundings.
Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate! Calculate!
Relentless computation surged, countless programs combining at breakneck speed, analyzing and simulating the flames—a novel phenomenon Samuel couldn't handle with familiarity.
***
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