Meanwhile, in the Strait of Dover, a golden arm about to rupture was cut through diagonally from the middle, then began to sink into the sea.
Civilian and soldier alike were utterly dumbstruck.
Amid it all, only the girl who had put a final end to the golden arm moved, twirling her staff.
The girl was around twelve.
“Hey, Mark!! You slacked on the symbolic weapon prep, didn’t you? I’m not even getting eighty percent output from this thing!!”
“Boss, isn’t the symbolic weapon’s user supposed to be the one to produce and consecrate it?”
“Pff. Anyway. Never thought I, of all people, would be pitching in to help the world out.”
“Judging by the situation, Fiamma of the Right is trying to purge the surface by spreading purifying telesma and altering everything starting with fundamental structures. He seems to want to save the world.”
Mark continued, wondering aloud if everything on top of those structures would change, too, if their foundations changed. “…But that’s a lot of it. This much telesma all over the place is going to have destructive results. And unlike the mana refined in human bodies, telesma contains elements from the start. We’re seeing an outbreak of each aspect—or of things derived from them.”
“Basically, it’s the great flood Noah built the ark for. For shameful humans, this overblown sense of cleanliness is a catastrophe.”
The blond-haired girl referred to as Boss gave a wicked grin that didn’t match her age.
And yet, it held so much force it made it seem like no expression was more suitable for her pretty features.
“And we call shameful humans shameful because they’re really bad losers.”
Boom!! She heard a distant explosion.
It came from the horizon. Even she wouldn’t be able to eliminate all the golden arms. An empty ocean surface, with no people or boats, was low on the priority list, so “explosions” like that had been happening sporadically.
Moments later, things like giant angel halos and bones began to appear inside the calamity’s affected area.
“…I see. He didn’t forget the aftercare, either. He’s collecting the resources he’ll use for the ‘restoration’ after washing the world clean—how nice of him. That’s a lot of stuff, and it’s all more valuable than pure gold, or platinum, or tungsten. And more convenient.”
“Well, telesma makes up everything from an angel’s body to its clothing and weapons, so I suppose it’s possible to convert into matter…but for someone using human sorcery, I can’t help but be baffled at the sheer scale of it.”
“But it won’t matter,” said the blond girl quietly. “True—if every person on earth had enough resources to be satisfied, it might solve most of the wars in the world. Individuals would settle things on an individual level. But that won’t work. If you give people resources, they’ll use them to expand their control. Someone could use a rocket to go and take over the moon’s surface, and you couldn’t stop them. Then they’d use the moon’s heavy hydrogen to aim for Mars next. Having a larger amount of resources won’t stop wars. It’ll only make them bigger.”
“On top of that, human technology can’t manufacture materials equal to angelic arms and armor. You wouldn’t hurt them with lasers or diamonds, and I doubt human sorcery can do anything to an angel’s body. Those things aren’t resources—if anything, it’s just bulk-sized refuse.”
“Well, our goal is to command the entire world, sorcery and science alike. No point controlling a world if it’s going to be washed away, leaving us with nothing but piles of logs we can’t use. I guess we’ll have to work hard for the cause of good this time.”
Wha-bam!! Several more golden arms burst out of the ground and the sea.
The girl didn’t pay attention to them.
Putting the staff she’d been twirling onto her shoulder, she unflinchingly took a step forward. Then, using a megaphone handed to her by a man in full uniform, she shouted to every corner of the battlefield.
“Listen up! I don’t care if you’re with the UK, or France, or Academy City, or Russia!! Any unit that can still move needs to support us with equipment that can transmit infrared-targeting information! As soon as we receive the coordinates of a target, we’ll come and provide full support for an attack!! From now on, it’s time for some bombing—of the people, by the people, and for the people!! Let’s raise hell, baby!!”
The petrified British soldiers, who couldn’t put together the words they needed to say, opened their mouths anyway.
“Wha…what…? What is…? Who are you people…?”
The girl didn’t turn around to answer.
With many soldiers trailing in her wake, she put her mouth to the megaphone and lobbed over her shoulder as though singing, “A sorcerer’s society. The Dawn-Colored Sunlight.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Elsewhere, Acqua of the Back, standing in a white snowfield, spotted a deformed silhouette breaking through the snow on the ground to show itself.
Academy City, the Russian forces, science, sorcery—none of it mattered anymore. Everybody charged the golden arm as one.
They wielded their weapons to crush the source of the calamity before an even greater rupture could occur.
All to defend those precious to them.
…How foolish you are, Fiamma.
Acqua smiled faintly.
This man who almost never changed his expression had smiled—only a little, but it was unmistakable.
It will not be you nor I who saves this world. No matter what you destroy, no matter what you bless, the people will no longer submit. I suppose it was obvious that those living in this world would defend it.
In that case, the time had come for him, too, to wield his power as one of those people.
Acqua was no longer a saint. Nor part of God’s Right Seat. He didn’t have the strength to lift the Ascalon, his greatest weapon, and the amount of mana he could refine had fallen to a level comparable to a regular sorcerer.
But what did it matter?
Acqua didn’t fight because he was a saint or because he was part of God’s Right Seat. He didn’t think he’d led a praiseworthy life by any means. But unfortunately, he was attached to this world—because he could envision someone he wanted to protect.
✦ ✦ ✦
Meanwhile—
“There you are. Finally found you!”
An old man muttered quietly to himself, moving his face away from the binoculars.
The young man next to him sighed in his direction. “Is it all right? Russia was probably the worst place to come back to. I’ve even heard rumors that the old name of your group, the Astrologers’ Brigade, is still stuck on their blacklist.”
“Would you shut up? It’s about time I used those Soul Arms I’ve been stockpiling for myself, isn’t it? Besides, when you got the information William Orwell was headed for Russia, you were the one who tried to go after him without even reporting it.”
“I’ll admit I let the blood go to my head. I still have a debt to repay from the Knights of Orleans business. If I let that go, it would leave a bad taste in my mouth.” The young man who answered him held a French sword called a colichemarde, derived from sporting equipment. And next to him stood a woman able to use a spell called the Revelations of Arc.
They weren’t the only ones. Many had gathered here; that was how many people the mercenary had saved on the path he’d walked.
“How is our mercenary doing?”
“Same old mercenary. But something’s not right. I feel like it would take more than that to get him in a playful mood.”
“Are you worried about him?”
“Of course not.”
The old man sighed haphazardly, shaking the Japanese katana resting on his shoulder.
A Thundercleaver.
A modern, mass-production-type Soul Arm based on folklore wherein a group of swords had intercepted strikes from the very heavens themselves.
And as if in response, hundreds of figures behind the old man readied their own preferred weapons.
“If he has that much charm, it’ll be worth fighting alongside him.”
“But…,” said the young man. “We’re just treating the symptoms. Those calamities are springing up all over the world—I don’t think it’ll put an end to them.”
“I know that. That’s why we’re the former Astrologers’ Brigade. People who have crossed all over the world have a huge network to match. In fact, it means we can freely work in lines we’d never be able to connect with just the stubborn ones who’d set up shop in one place to defend it.”
“?”
“Well, connecting those teeny-tiny threads is about all this old man can do. Someone more suitable will take care of the real hard stuff…After all, at their roots, they’re no idiots, either.”
After saying what he wanted to say, the old man shook his Thundercleaver.
“We’re free spirits, and what we need to do is simple. Do you know what that is, youngster?”
“Not to think about anything complicated,” said the young man, smiling and waving his colichemarde in the same way, “and to take up our swords when someone needs protecting.”
All they needed were the two words Let’s go.
As one, they pushed toward the battlefield.