I do not own any of the works that may appear in this fanfiction.
Spiritual Tripping was an infamous form of sorcery that both Aleister Crowley and his master Allan Bennett specialized in.
This monstrous form of sorcery allowed one to use simple suggestions and images as an intermediate to create imaginary weapons whose unreal projections which held actual power inside of them were then driven into the target's mind by subtle mental manipulation. This was a power that held the capacity to cause the same amount of damage to the target as the real counterparts of the imaginary weapon would have.
It was a technique based on numerous systems— it used ancient voodoo to connect the mind and soul through mime and astrological suggestions to create a path between the user to the target. It also took advantage of the way the human mind dealt with gaps in data when given incomplete information. Rather than trying to manipulate the body, it allowed one to manifest illusions into their target's mind.
Simply put, it was a form of mystery shaped by suggestions made by the user which when instinctively connected to an object due to the subtle influence of sorcery would turn this imagination turn into reality.
Therefore, it could be said that this was a subtle means of murder through which the victim would be killed by his own imagination.
Aleister Crowley faced Lelouch, his slender fingers pointed into a finger gun— a gesture astoundingly reminiscent of the way children created imaginary guns from their fingers when playing.
"The method which I used to encode the Book of 777 was derived from the method created by Aiwass to protect the knowledge inside the Book of the Law." Aleister started explaining, "That particular grimoire was enshrouded in an incomprehensible encryption so complex that even the greatest minds since the dawn of time were unable to decipher it correctly."
There was a subtle satisfaction in his voice, a certain arrogance about him that Lelouch could not comprehend, and then there was the subtle unseen weight that came with each word he spoke…
"The Book of 777 could be deciphered in a septillion varying, perhaps even more— all of which would have been fake. It is not that the original grimoire itself is fundamentally incomprehensible, but that anyone who dares peer into its depths would be misguided by the book itself." Aleister told him, and he sounded smug about it. "Trying to understand it in any other way except for the one devised by myself would show knowledge that can be comprehended but is fundamentally incorrect. One must choose the single correct path from billions of trillions of others if they seek the knowledge inside."
Here he was indulging in an intellectual conversation with a sentient being for the first time in years and just as all other academicians, it seemed as if nothing could have brought him greater satisfaction than boasting about his works and achievements before a peer.
"This is such a shame— you must have been exceptional indeed if you deciphered the Book of 777 all by yourself." Aleister said, closing his emerald eyes, "You could have reached great heights, a pinnacle above the world itself if only you had chosen to retrace the mighty footsteps of someone else. The arduous path I had created was long desecrated by blood."
"Unfortunately, you activated the safeguards I once implanted inside the Book of 777 before your soul even had the chance to develop." Aleister paused for a moment, "This plane was once created by me in order to study the Sparks produced by the collision of phases and my original grimoire whose knowledge you sought brought here the moment you deciphered it completely."
"Most sorcerers are not aware of this concept but the distance between the phases is not even and the gaps that separate them can change irregularly." Aleister coldly spoke, elegantly raising his head as he did so, "As these overlapping phases brush against each other— sparks are produced. This has a subtle but widespread influence on the universe itself, creating the phenomena known fate."
A thousand different emotions that Lelouch could neither name nor understand flashed through his father's eyes as he sighed and shook his head.
"As the use of mystic systems, particularly those involving unified theories such as Hermeticism— the phases are gathered and move more recurrently, making these sparks even more common."
Aleister paused, a rage Lelouch had seen too many times before flashed through his emerald eyes
"Through the ignorant actions of the enlightened who claim to be above reason, the cruel actuality known as fate is imposed upon the world."
It was a resolve Lelouch had seen before, one strong enough to destroy the world itself if his dream demanded so. An anger that was not dragon fire to not burn quickly with hot abandon but cold winds of winter that never truly died.
He took a step forward, and with that single step— the endless phase created from innumerable imaginary numbers whose vastness was far greater than the original universe trembled.
"I shall never forgive those arrogant sorcerers who dare distort the casualty of the multiverse so callously just for the sake of their egotistical desires."
His pale fingers, immaculately delicate and alluringly feminine, were pointed toward him in a gesture that resembled a handgun. Yet, there was an intent hidden inside this seemingly playful gesture that seemed so innocent.
An intent that cut through the layers of this strange phase created from imaginary numbers, reverberating with murderous resolve potent enough to drown humanity itself in despair.
Above his fingers, the three numbers '50, 21, 35' appeared in form of sparks which shined with profound mysteries.
The mind of Lelouch could not be compared with that of a normal human for he possessed unbound fortitude that could even comprehend the 'poison' inside an original grimoire, and yet these seemingly harmless sparks simply ignored all the mental defences he could muster and penetrated his very soul itself.
These mysterious sparks connected themselves to the very imagination inside of him, guiding his thought in a single direction through absolute force.
In his mind, that simple gesture 'evolved' and shaped itself into the form of an anti-material sniper used only by a select few.
—Aleister whispered, that severe human had more to say.
"The Blasting Rod, in other words, any power will be multiplied tenfold."
For a human such as Lelouch, an anti-material sniper rifle was an instrument more than powerful enough to serve as a tool for murder. But as if it was not enough, a platinum staff created from the seven unholy lustres which intertwined at its tip appeared in Aleister's left hand.
The Stave of Impact or the Blasting Rod— this mystic was supposedly based on a type of sorcery created by Charles Henry Allan Bennett, a mentor to Aleister Crowley.
The Blasting Rod's true power was to increase the magnitude of every aspect of the phenomena created by the user power, range, and size to ten times what the target imagines it to be.
Capable of only increasing any aspect of a phenomenon by a factor of two— the Longinus known as the Boosted Gear also functioned in the same manner, though to a lesser extent. Thus, during his time Allan Bennett gained untold infamy by surpassing a miracle created by God.
Alone, neither the Blasting Rod nor the Spiritual Tripping possessed any exaggerated mystery worthy enough to be used by the 'greatest magician of the 20th century.'
But when used together in tandem, they could create profound phenomena that far surpassed human imagination.
Given the Blasting Rod's connection to the target's imagination, it was created to work well with Spiritual Tripping, whose functions were also rooted inside the target's mind. As an auxiliary weapon, the Stave of Impact was only meant to increase the power of Spiritual Tripping by a factor of ten. But the unique nature of Spiritual Tripping enhanced that by an untold amount. The use of Spiritual Tripping together with the Blasting Rod could further enhance the scope of the imaginary sorcery beyond reason because of the target's expectations changing the basis of the magnification itself.
For example, if the target were to perceive the power behind the imaginary weapon summoned by Spiritual Tripping then naturally its strength would be increased by a factor of ten by the Blasting Rod. But subsequently, because the weapon is manifested by the mind of the target, the tenfold increase would also happen inside the mind itself. This would lead to the activation of Blasting Rod once again whose actions were driven by the subconscious thoughts of the target's mind.
The strength of any phenomenon increases by a factor of ten. The weapon would become a hundred times as powerful.
This process would then repeat itself again and again, descending into an endlessly progressing loop that would never stop, boosting the power of an attack even after it touches infinite potency.
This was one of Aleister Crowley's trump cards that could destroy the world itself if used callously.
This bombardment by Spiritual Tripping boosted by the Stave of Impact could create a phenomenon that might pose a danger even to those legendary Magic Gods!
Lelouch now understood that Aleister Crowley had not expected to meet anyone in such a way—he had never expected anyone to decode the Book of 777 and comprehend the knowledge stored inside.
Thus, from the very beginning, Aleister used one of his numerous trump cards without hesitating. But Lelouch felt neither any glory nor pride in the fact that he had forced the strongest human to resort to such means.
"I have not yet had the opportunity to properly introduce myself," Aleister spoke, his voice resembling that of a sinner and yet a saint at the same time. "BEAST666: The one who heralds the End."
Finally, Aleister Crowley spoke his magic name…
Carving a magical name to the soul was an activity that has been held sacred by all sorcerers— for the magic name of a being stands as a representation of the one dream which they forever yearn for, the sole reason because which they resorted to the heresy known as sorcery.
Since the dawn of mystery itself, the declaration of a magic name was akin to the announcement of the unending confrontation of two sides. It was a gesture meant to declare a duel to the death, equivalent to saying— 'This would now be a fight to the death.'
From his perspective, the power of the anti-material sniper rifle kept on increasing and almost reached the level where it could match an intercontinental missile through the Stave of Impact.
An anti-material sniper rifle was enough to murder a normal human such as Lelouch ten times over, let alone an exaggerated large-scale weapon such as an intercontinental missile.
And yet, the power behind this imaginary weapon continued to increase ceaselessly, jumping forward ten times in potency each instant Lelouch perceived its existence.
From a sniper rifle to an artillery shot, from an artillery shot to a cruise to a hypersonic intercontinental missile, and from an intercontinental missile to a nuclear bomb…
It kept on increasing endlessly, a moment before it was a nuclear bomb capable of desolating entire towns and then it turned into an anti-matter armament that held the power to destroy continents a moment later. Just an instant later, it transformed again from an anti-matter reactor to a black hole bomb that could swallow a planet...
In mere instants, Aleister Crowley finally exceeded the limits of the existing universe.
This had originally been a secret technique capable of harming a Magic God. Even if the one taking the damage had bounds restraining their imagination, the mind of an enemy would be mercilessly blown away by enough power to destroy the universe ten times over.
Lelouch had remained quiet this entire time, not that he could have even if he wanted to, yet his heart clenched when he saw his father before him for the first time. He saw the tragic longing in his emerald eyes, and his heart reached out to him. Because no matter what Aleister said to him, his eyes spoke so much more.
Even as Aleister moved, Lelouch closed his eyes sadly―the haunting look of one who had abandoned all hope. His amethyst eyes would have shined with sorrow were they capable of it, as his father raised a weapon against his own child.
Anyone else would have missed it, but he could see the hands of his father moving in such a hurried manner that Lelouch wondered if it was because his father did not want himself to rethink it all and reconsider what he was doing.
The fear of death rose from the depths of Lelouch's soul and almost drowned him inside the depths of untold despair.
Suddenly dragged into this phase and unexpectedly met Aleister Crowley who could not recognize him. Who knew his tale would end so abruptly…
He knew that he could no longer escape…
He knew that would meet death today, dying was now inevitable…
For even those who had the protection of the strongest 'providence' could not see the smallest chances of survival in this desperate situation.
He closed his eyes and knew that the last thing he would see before the icy hands of death claim him would be the emerald eyes of his father who was looking down at him with a blank look on his face.
Lelouch was drowning in indescribable emptiness, and the reason that anchored him to reality was fading away.
Reincarnated or not— in the end, Lelouch was just an ordinary boy. A teenager burdened with duty no man could have borne alone. He only knew some basic tricks. He could not even perform those powerful magical ceremonies.
And the enemy he was facing was the greatest magician of the last century— the pioneer of modern mystery who once in his vain arrogance dared to confront the whole world alone. The mythical existence which was infamous as the Beast of Apocalypse!
Aleister Crowley being an enemy of the world was not an exaggeration, but an actual fact.
All those who had touched the world of the supernatural were his mortal enemies, even those Magic Gods who could reverse life and death, change the laws of the world, and distort the universe itself!
This wide disparity between him and Aleister was absurdly enormous and to ensure the absolute removal of any unprecedented problems which might haunt him later on, Aleister had even used one of the strongest techniques in his arsenal capable of damaging the Magic Gods themselves.
BOOM—
Lelouch's thinking burst instantly, and his consciousness started to collapse as the icy claws of death seemingly started dragging his very soul into the endless abyss of nirvana.
That single attosecond may have been more valuable than an eternity.
The cold fluctuations continued to whisper down upon the straits of this strange phase created from laws that could not be found in the conventional universe.
This was not just a phenomenon on a planetary scale. This was a mystery that blew away the entire universe— capable of desolating the world itself including every last galaxy and each blazing nebula had it been conjured outside this space of imaginary numbers.
For those chosen as a target, there was no escape. The meaning of what was 'possible' was cruelly distorted. This far exceeded the depths of human depravity and added an unmeasurable attack to human history.
There were countless scenes flashing past Lelouch's mind— there were pictures of his life before his reincarnation, creating a revolution for the dream of his sister and then there were scenes of him staying in London with Lola after his rebirth, enjoying a hard but pleasant life.
He tried to laugh; a slow, disbelieving laugh depraved of humour that would have escalated into the hysterics of a madman had he been capable of doing as such. For who else but a madman would even so much as entertain the very notion of his situation? An adolescent daydreamer, perhaps, but he was anything but that, and no fleeting afternoon fantasy was as real– as vivid– as the world he saw before him.
"Now I am about to meet death, before I even had a chance to do a single thing. It is all gone in a heartbeat…"
Lelouch thought of his sister, full of hope and trust, waiting for him in London. He saw her, smiling innocently and for a split second her image was replaced by that of another girl with closed eyes and a truly sweet heart, and he mourned.
He had been once prepared to sacrifice his future for the sake of those who he loved. But now that he had been given another chance, the thought of passing on without those he held dear made him tremble yet again. Absolute separation without any hope of reunion scared him much more than death ever could.
Lelouch knew that he had looked exactly the same on that fateful way when he had destroyed his world— thin body bent forward in pain, cold gasping breaths desperate for air, eyes hidden behind his bangs, and trembling hands dripping with red but only a hundred times worse. He remembered that dreadful day, how quickly the events had happened as if they were all running out of time. Tragedy after tragedy. Devastation, misery, and hopelessness.
And Lelouch was caught in the middle of it all.
The world badly in need of something to believe in, someone to hold on to and he had no choice before he was out on the stage, giving false hopes and desecrating his own name for the sake of Nunnally's dream.
He could clearly remember Nunnally's heart wrenching cries as she sobbed onto his chest, the shaking of her small body as she tried to let out all her grief in the arms of her beloved brother who had suddenly become a tyrant. How taxing it was to wear another persona after his other one was completely destroyed.
But now…
Nunnally and Suzaku were gone, but he had Lola at his side. Her future was at the mercy of a demon— a sword hung above her head, a fate which only her older brother could prevent because he was the only one who truly cared.
Yes, right now…
"Lola…!" He thought, his heart truly aching as he watched his own life being threatened—and all he could think of was her.
Each of these pictures seemed so clear, so detailed as if Lelouch were walking through his life once again in an instant. He knew what this was, for experienced it once before— the reflection of life that came before death.
At the end of the picture, even as decades passed in seconds and brought along with them a thousand different emotions that he could neither name nor understand, Lelouch's consciousness came to rest upon a single original grimoire whose pages had been desecrating his mind for almost a decade— The Book of 777, a masterpiece that described Aleister Crowley's thoughts.
The knowledge inside this original grimoire was actually full of Aleister Crowley's thoughts and if one could understand them then it would be akin to the hero obtaining a mythical scripture in those Chinese martial arts novels— a certain cheat cultivation technique that was bound to become the protagonist's 'Golden Finger'.
But in fact, even the creator himself had not practiced it, so high were the levels of this certain method.
The Book of 777 recorded more than just simple magical theories, rather it held Aleister Crowley's vision of his own path that he would walk in the future, a realm that he himself had not reached.
It recorded his own understanding of the heavenly principles, and further extrapolated upon the conjectures that Aleister himself devised to rebel against the mandates of destiny. It was held the path which Aleister himself had once planned to use in order to touch the Realm of God before he forsook magic altogether.
And just before Lelouch could truly fade away, his thoughts before vanishing were endlessly experiencing the tribulations of both this lifetime and the one before— reached greater heights through the cold embrace of death.
The Buddha himself once described death as the greatest of all teachers, the sickness, and the most important manifestation of impermanence.
It was said that Nirvana could be reached only when the individual physically embraces death. The Buddha taught that when Nirvana is achieved, one could see the world as it really was. Enlightenment meant comprehending and accepting the four noble truths and being awake to the depths of the world.
His mind which had experienced the absolute totality of death twice over now reached the realm of perfection as he subconsciously grasped the peerless wisdom that came when one experienced the tribulations of nirvana.
The contents inside the Book of 777 which he had only just deciphered were thoroughly integrated into his thoughts and completely turned into his own as his understanding reached the pinnace—
"BEAST777: The one who destroys the world and creates it anew."
The magic name that a sorcerer carves upon their soul represents the very ideal they strive for, the dream which brings comfort to their very being with its radiance.
It was the reason for which one must forward in order to pursue his very own path. It was the foundation that no being must ever forget.
At this point, when the cold hands of death were about to embrace his very being and drag his soul into the abyss, Lelouch finally understood the path he must take and comprehended the final bits of knowledge recorded inside the Book of 777.
He was the one destined to carry forth 'Human Evil' in the name of God and become one with the very beginning of the genesis.
As Lelouch carved his magic name to his otherworldly soul in this phase, his true form finally started to appear. For his existence itself ascended to heights he could have only dreamt of.
Just as Crowley himself, the existence of Lelouch was no one that the natural laws of the world could suppress. Thus, the projection of his astral soul which was concealed by the distortions of imaginary numbers finally appeared!
When Aleister saw the true appearance of Lelouch, the expression on his face turned astoundingly wonderful as if he could not comprehend the tragedy that had just occurred.
Surprised, desolate, haunting, acrimonious, and finally despondent and heartbroken.
Aleister's emerald eyes were desecrated with red. He seemingly choked, as if something was stabbing through his very heart, but in the end, even he could not undo what was already done.
The weight of this fact seemed to have sucked away all strength from him. Aleister did not notice it at first, but when he snapped back to his senses, he realized his hands were shaking.
Almost crushing his teeth, Aleister Crowley forced his hands to try and stay stable, even as they tightened on the base of his stave even as a single drop of blood ran down his hand.
But now his eyes were starting to burn, and what was more, a great agony, an anguish he could not distinguish from any source emerged and was taking hold if him.
And the reason, the cause of this emerging agony was the fading boy whose haunting features so resembled his own.
Crushing his teeth even harder, Aleister's breathing became unsteady. What was more, his cheek was now wet. He touched his cheek with his hand and gasped. He did not need any radiance to know that his fingers and palm were coated with glossy tears.
Aleister almost choked, trying to stop the flow of liquid from his emerald eyes, but they did not cease. He continued to gaze at the fading ashes that were soon swept away, and in doing so, continued to feel like his heart was being peeled into.
Clang…
The Stave of Impact slipped from Aleister's palm and fell into the darkness below, and his knees collapsed below him as his body refused to obey his mind which had not stopped screaming in agony.
"No, No, No, Nooooo—!"
Hearing Aleister's heart-piercing cry, Lelouch could not understand why but he just wanted to laugh out loud as his consciousness finally went faded.
How could he have imagined that it would all end so inexplicably like this?
At this moment, Lelouch heard a sigh and the barest whisper—
"You have played your role well. But after this, do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law."
"Big brother...?"
"Lelouch…? "
Lola Crowley or Laura Stuart as she preferred to be called, wiped her soft hands with a washed white and clean towel before she walked out of the storage room, calling out her brother's name with a strange spark shining inside her cerulean eyes.
Her brother would always respond to her in an instant whenever she would call for him, but today, Lelouch had strangely designed to not respond to her words.
She walked to the living room and looked at the study where her brother always sat with a book in his slender hands.
The befuddled look on Lola's cute face gradually vanished, and she just walked to the table in queer quietness. The chair was empty…
The Book of 777 on the table was burning, slowly turning into ashes as an unseen blaze were consuming it whose, bit by bit and piece by piece.
Lola knew that there was only a single way to destroy an original grimoire, and that was to simply grant upon its holder all the knowledge sealed inside of it. Thus, the completing purpose behind the existence of the book and ending the duty that the 'original grimoire' was born with.
Book of 777 gradually turned into ashes, and the last part to disappear was the place where the author of this original grimoire had signed his name— Aleister Crowley.
Laura gently touched the chair with her hand as if to feel her brother's warmth for one last time, and then she left the room without looking back.
Lelouch had served his purpose…
Thanks for reading.
I guess with this, Lelouch has now died twice— a world record. The ramifications and the reason why this happened would be explained properly in the next chapter.