February 10th, 2004. 8:30 PM.
"That's my final offer. You'll get nothing more from the Amakusa. On the plus side, you'll receive nothing less, so that is something for you to consider."
"Hm… hm, hm, hm… hm, indeed."
Kanzaki Kaori, Tatemiya Saiji and Itsuwa found themselves negotiating with the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight's child-leader in the parking accommodations of a seemingly abandoned motel. Still seated within the child-leader's personal escort vehicle, these negotiations seemed to be going no further.
At the very least, the soft, smooth backrest of Kaori's seat in the large, sprawling SUV offered her back a much-needed massage.
Upon a cheap, plastic table – a TV tray that had been separated from its limbs, and little more – a large sheet of paper cast over the table, like it was attempting to mimic the purpose of a tablecloth. There were many writing utensils scattered upon its limited surface space along with erasers and other means of error correction, taking the form of simple, innocuous office supplies.
Upon the sheet, there were scribbles, each 'side' separated by a line drawn through the centre, vertically. On Kanzaki Kaori's side, the Amakusa-style Remix of Church's offers were scrawled. On Leivinia Birdway's side, the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight's own demands.
"In summary," Kaori began, softly clearing a build-up of phlegm and salivary gland secretions from her throat, "in exchange for the Soulgrinder, the Daemoniac Weapon you possess, the Amakusa-style Remix of Church will extend its hand to assist the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight… in its endeavours, whatever they may be, for a total of three months' worth of time. The Amakusa-style Remix of Church possesses the ability to object, but not to… Pull out of this as-of-yet unsigned contracted. The Dawn-Colored Sunlight will, with this promise of direct aid, surrender the daemoniac weapon and agree to a temporary ceasefire, spanning three months' worth of time."
Leivinia Birdway leaned forward in her seat, left leg crossed over her right. Repeatedly, she bounced her foot up and down, over and over, as if she was in a state of irritation. With her chin cupped in her small, hand, the twelve-year-old child-leader's eyelids narrowed, momentarily.
"This… Contract… Hm. Yes. With the knowledge of your… Special friends'… Desires, I believe, contract aside, that we possess a mutual enemy in the Roman Orthodox Church, and in the Roman Orthodox Traditionalist Crusade, old lady. If you're not lying to me – and, for your sake I certainly hope that you aren't – your "Sons of Taured" possess quite a hoard of their own. The fall of Roman Orthodoxy is potentially upon us… What a joy indeed. To fell them is to fell a great arm of the multi-limbed beast that is the religious establishment. For both of us this would be a boon."
Her rambling came to a close, as she leaned forward further, eyeing the Priestess of the Amakusa-style Remix of Church almost warily. Her right eyebrow found itself rising, as a toothy grin stretched across her face.
"I've one last question to ask of you, retirement home escapee, before I put my name and the name of my cabal on any contract of yours."
"Ask," Kaori snapped, frustration barely-contained.
"Should I succeed in the felling of the Church of England," Leivinia began, grin widening further, "your aid will extend to the felling of the Roman Orthodox Church, as well?"
Without even a moment of hesitation, without so much as a single thought or moment of consideration paid to the issue, the answer came, fleeing from Kanzaki Kaori's lips.
"Yes."
"My, my; vengeful, are we, old lady? That's very interesting to me."
A vocalization interrupted the proceedings.
"You stall, Birdway. Out with it."
Tatemiya Saiji leaned forward as best he could and placed his clenched fist down upon the table's surface. At the act, Leivinia could only respond by kicking her feet up and giggling aloud. She merely waved her hand as Iosephus Thepes, who sat beside his child-leader leaned inward as well. Occupying the driver's seat and passenger's seat, respectively, Birdway and Thepes controlled the playing field. Kanzaki Kaori recognized the truth for what it was.
Upon Leivinia's swift performing of this simple action, the demon hunter proverbially stood down, lowering his hand, which had before been reaching toward the great weapon mounted upon his back.
"Provoking Academy City into action would be an amusing distraction, I think I can safely say. Your "Sons of Taured" can go about their plans of revealing magic to the world, so long as in the end, the Dawn-Colored Sunlight maintains control of both Sides. You see, all of these things, they must be regulated and controlled. For all I care the entire world can be populated with magicians and espers, living and working in harmony, but it must be the Dawn-Colored Lady who holds the reigns.
"In case you don't realize, the respective collapsing of both the Church of England and the Roman Orthodox Church would create power vacuums, without a doubt.
"Should the Crusade be forced from the Mid-East, Africa, and the multiple Chinese breakaway provinces it has taken to terrorizing to defend its homeland, the failed Mid-East states will attempt to reach out, and infect what remains with their… Islam. Ugh, horrid. That goes for the Western World, as well. This is why order would need to quickly be established, following the events."
Kanzaki Kaori looked to her Substitute Supreme Pontiff, and then to Itsuwa.
What choice was there? That was what Kaori read their facial expressions to silently express. The Soulgrinder couldn't be left in the hands of Leivinia Birdway, and, for all intents and purposes, all support was needed, from all fronts. A temporary truce, a partnership even at the cost of the Amakusa-style Remix of Church's own dignity seemed to be, ironically enough, a necessary evil.
Both Itsuwa and Tatemiya Saiji nodded at their Priestess, and then looked to she, who lead the Dawn-Colored Sunlight, Leivinia Birdway.
The decision was in her hands. Where the Priestess went, the Amakusa-style Remix of Church would follow, and she would keep them close. They work would as one, not one 'above' or 'beyond' the other.
"We, the Amakusa-style Remix of Church hereby agree to the terms set forth in their entirety."
"W-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l news, everyone! Now, all we've got to do is have you sign it in ink. Do you remember how to write, old lady? Or did the Alzheimer's take that from you, too?"
With a cackle that wouldn't have sounded out of place uttered by a particularly wicked witch, Leivinia Birdway looked to the small group of suit-clad men who stood behind Iosephus Thepes.
Lined and, not counting its ornate borders, quite a simplistic thing, Leivinia Birdway handed the sheet of paper off to Kanzaki Kaori. With her index finger, she pointed to the absolute bottom of the sheet.
"Sign here, old lady."
Casting her gaze to Itsuwa, and then to Tatemiya Saiji, Leivinia raised an eyebrow, as if she expected the adherents of the Amakusa-style Remix of Church to suddenly bend the knee.
"You too, both of you. You're the highest-ranking among your faithful, no? Substitute Supreme Pontiff and Holy Vanguard, if I'm remembering my dossiers correctly."
Ignoring the child-leader's comment about 'dossiers', Kanzaki Kaori, Tatemiya and Itsuwa each signed their names at the bottom of the otherwise unmarred piece of paper, each individual only a little more reluctant than the last.
Upon completing this task, Leivinia Birdway quickly snatched the sheet of paper, and passed the thing off to Iosephus Thepes. With a nod and a polite, extended bow, the demon hunter left the premises.
"And, that's that," Leivinia spoke, with an affirmative nod of her head. "It's… Good to be working with you, old lady. Thepes will pass the Soulgrinder to you, now. If I might ask… Why do you want it so badly? Also, I might add, don't try and handle it with your bare hands… Saint. Bad things will happen to you if you do so. Put on some gloves."
"Because," Itsuwa began, "such a thing can't be held and used sparingly. A weapon like that needs to be stored away in a safe, buried deep in the earth and far away from the grasping hands of… Bad dudes. Imagine the massive, monumental loss of life that could occur if a weapon like that was used in a packed urban centre! It would… it would suck, pretty badly. That's exactly the sort of thing bad dudes would try to pull."
Itsuwa had phrased the issue differently than the Saint of the Far East would've, but, the point got across. Kanzaki Kaori merely produced a soft 'mhm', in response to the Amakusan Holy Vanguard's words.
Some time passed, and the two parties continued to face off in silence. Leivinia Birdway merely produced her phone and began to poke away at the device's touchscreen interface while Kanzaki Kaori, Tatemiya Saiji and Itsuwa quietly discussed matters of their own.
Producing it from beneath him – perhaps it had been obscured beneath his passenger's side seat – Iosephus Thepes quietly placed the Soulgrinder upon the makeshift table, as if it was little more than a glass of freshly-poured water.
Itsuwa raised her hands to her mouth, eyelids widened. From within the foul apparatus, many plumes of emerald green smoke were forced outwards, drifting steadily towards the ceiling. Occasionally, the Soulgrinder would shudder in the hands of the demon hunter, as if it was fit to explode.
Being so close to it was overwhelming. As a Christian, Itsuwa felt as if a fundamental aspect of her very soul was affected, in some way. It was horrible to look upon. Disgusting. The sort of vile, putrid thing that should have been buried on a vacant island in the middle of nowhere, forgotten forever.
The Amakusan Holy Vanguard nearly wretched.
"I should warn you, Saint of the Far East. Handling of the Aughsbak without the required protection will result in…"
"Gloves, I know. Your Dawn-Coloured Lady and I already had this discussion. I'd much prefer for us to keep our interactions to a minimum, 'demon hunter'. Your kind…"
"Do we sicken you, Saint of the Far East? Does the cursed immortality we're bound to offend you? I truly must ask."
Kaori merely clicked her tongue in response, before her own desire go the better of her. Wielding the unlikely, bubbling rage like a weapon, she struck with her words.
"Your very existence sickens me. The power you dabble in and brandish as a weapon is best left in whatever foul Hell spawned it. Whatever may have been taken from you, demon hunter, your pain does not excuse your profane methods."
"And yet," Thepes began, "without us, without the Lord, Cain, our kind would have been long ago driven to extinction, our world charred and laid to waste, becoming one of so many Demon-Worlds. You ought to show even a small amount of gratitude."
"I'd much prefer not to," Kaori quickly responded.
Upon the table, Iosephus Thepes haphazardly threw down three sets of winter gloves after he produced them from within the pocket of his suit jacket.
Before any further actions could be taken, by anyone among the two parties, Leivinia Birdway extended her hand, with her smartphone clutched in her palm.
"I'd like to be able to lay siege to Vatican City as soon as it's humanly feasible. The resistance will be furious and foes abound, but, what's life if you don't have a good fight to keep your blood pumping, right old lady? You need the cardiovascular exercise, anyways. We wouldn't you to suddenly drop dead from a cardiac arrest… Now. Get out of my car. All three of you, scram."
With little more than a polite nod in Leivinia's direction, Kanzaki Kaori lead Tatemiya Saiji and Itsuwa outwards from the SUV's exterior. Stepping into Hawkhaven's parking accommodations, the Saint, Substitute Supreme Pontiff and Holy Vanguard approached the ratty, forlorn motel's entranceway doors.
February 10th, 2004. 8:36 PM.
"Did I ever tell you about that white guy, Index? Accelerator, I mean. The one I hacked apart. I figured you'd hate me for doing something like that to someone, but, I guess that isn't what happened, is it? You deserve to know the truth, one way or another. He was a murderer. He killed over ten thousand people."
"Is… why? Why would he do such a thing? Was there a purpose behind it Touma?"
"None at all, as far as I know. He was the City's bitch, he just went along with it, seemed to enjoy it a bunch, too. That fucking smile, Index… I'd kill for the chance to wipe it off his face a second time. I really don't know why I let him leave that switchyard."
"He did seem off, even when we first met… And what about that little girl he was always with, Touma? "Last Order?"
"I'm not sure about the whole thing behind that."
"Accelerator saved her, but that doesn't make it right, Touma."
"No, Index. It sure as fuck doesn't just erase the fact that he killed thousands of people. I only let it go… Because I was a pathetic, spineless little cowardly piece of shit… Digging this hole, it's getting me thinking about things. People."
"You weren't pathetic, Touma… You're different now, but that doesn't mean that you're bad."
By a stroke of luck, or perhaps, more accurately, by a stroke of misfortune, the number one strongest esper in all of Academy City had managed to come upon the form of that no-good runaway hero.
What that hero was up to was unknown to Accelerator, who observed from on high, aloft with the aid of four, great pulsating wings jutting from the centre of his back. They were pitch black, like spilled oil. Hissing streams of blue and dark purple rose from either wing, snapping at the atmosphere as if aggressively defending their territory. Misshapen limbs protruded from those unsightly wings; half-formed arms. Twitching, deformed legs ending in multiple feet, with jagged, cracked toes. Eyes. So many eyes. Blinking, focusing, looking in innumerable directions.
Unsurprisingly, that nun was nearby. Were they ever apart from one another?
Accelerator drifted downwards, directing the wind away from his form with little effort, nothing more than a simple mental calculation.
A wide, toothy grin formed at the sight before him. Academy City's 'top dog' looked upon the sight with what seemed like glee. His skull, split open, leaking lifeblood and grey matter like a cracking dam's walls seemed to shudder as his lips exposed two rows of chipped, bloodied teeth.
There were bodies, stacked in a pile. Clad in identical suits of armor, they were stacked like so many heaps of garbage, atop one another, unceremoniously and without care.
What was that thing nearby? It looked like a wagon, like something straight from the set of an old-style western film. Unlike that sort of prop, there was an enormous… something on it. It resembled a cage, but, surely that couldn't have been its purpose. Perhaps it was designed to safely carry items of importance?
Kamijou Touma, that hero, that complete idiot who always rambled on about protecting smiles and making sure everyone got themselves out of a jam with their lives intact, he was digging into the earth, not with a shovel but with his own left hand, which had taken the form of an ugly, grey-coloured head of a spade. This tool existed where a hand should've existed, but, there was no hand, where a hand would've, could've, or perhaps should've been.
Nearby, that nun-girl with the silver hair, "Index", was she called? The name stuck out in Accelerator's broken, literally damaged higher mind. Regardless of what her name was, she stood nearby, seemingly exchanging words with that damnable hero.
Within the span of a few seconds, Accelerator touched down upon the grass, the soles of his cheap trainers kicking up sports of mud, and tearing up sections of the rolling fieldscapes in which he found himself, where Kamijou Touma and that nun found themselves.
Accelerator's lips found themselves moving before his conscious mind even commanded them to. As if he lacked control over his own body, he spoke aloud.
The voice was not Accelerator's own.
The voice was not human. It was not a single voice; but a cacophony of maddening half-whispers mixed with monstrous, manic screaming.
"H̶̢̛͎̱̼̮̝͇̬̓̔̔̚ö̵̧̖̫̝̙̙̞̪̭͓͉͑͘w̸̘̄͑́̇̔̀̕ ̸̥̤̌t̷̝̭̫͙̙̟̃͠h̴̨͇̝̥͇͔̳͙̫̭͙͉͑ͅę̴̡̣̦̝̠̖̜͋͋͑̍̉͜͜ ̸̛̞̘̼͓̟̭̹͙̇̋͒͊͛͊̃͛m̶̩̝͈̖͈̍̃͋̊́̔̌̑̾̾̍̐̊͝ͅḯ̴̧͖̤̙̹̩̳̖̳͚̥̩̤̮̾͗̈́̄͂͋͌̊͌̊̚g̵̡̩͔̻͓̣͚͆ͅh̸̨̨̧̨͙̻̥̭̝̤͍́̉̑̎̓̂̌̑̚t̷̡͉̱̬̬̺̘̫̣̝̿̓̑̔̇y̷̡̡̻̺̠̫͍̙̝͉̓̊͆̆̈́͝ͅ ̶̡̣̺̪͔̘̼͇͉͚͌̈h̶̦̲̩̘͉̥̘͇͚̯̯̦͔̰̉͂̒̋̓̃̎̕̕̕ͅa̷̹̬͋͑v̸̡̤̭͍̞̳̠̥̳̮͕̫̥͖̋̓̎̏̍͒́̃͊̿̀͐̀͘ė̶͎̟̮̭̇̇̌́́͋̎̀͗͠͝ ̸̛̫̦̲͚̼͔͖͈̔́̃̎̌͒̾͆̕͠͝f̶̢̨̛͇͎̺͒͑̋͌̆͊̇̋̐ͅa̴͎͊̄̿̉͋͋̚̕͠l̸̢̧͙͈̘̠̖̘͚͖̮͓̠̩̞̃̈́̈̔̌́̋͋̆̓̓͑̕͝͠l̴̨̝͇̣̮̗̙͔̯̦̖̼͑̀ę̴͍̝̞͖͇̖͓̪͙͉̍̅̀̈́̂̂̓̃͛̆̕n̴͓͖͔̠̲̟̭͉̼̾̌̈́̒̽̚̕."
Accelerator's skin seemed to have been 'infected'. It was discoloured, turned pitch black like a clear midnight's sky. Plumes of pallid blue and dark purple rose like smoke from a raging fire. Blinking eyes, rapidly darting about in their pulsating, encrusted, puss-filled sockets. Hungering maws with gnashing, razor-like teeth snapped at nothing.
An enormous, misshapen limb suddenly sprouted from the corpse's back.
That's what this was. A corpse.
The arm, twitching as if in pain, was covered in eyes. Smaller, deformed limbs sprouted from the greater mass. Elongated, clawed fingers scratched at the air.
Index craned her neck, and seemingly jumped at the sight of the number one strongest esper in all of Academy City, a mass-murderer, a monster who took thousands of lives, a man whose hands were forever stained with the blood of the innocent.
To the Accelerator's surprise, it was the little nun with the silver hair who answered, facing the first-ranked level five down, her eyebrows arched aggressively.
"You… you disgust me. If I had known the kind of creature you were when we first crossed paths in that underground shopping centre, I never would have even been seen in your presence. To take innocent life without so much as a thought! Remorse as an afterthought doesn't absolve you of your crimes, Accelerator!"
"T̷̥̀͌̎̄́̑́̃̌͗̽̀͆̚͠h̵̢̢̢̡͚̫̻͖̥͈̺̙̟͔̐͗̏̐̀̅͊ę̴̡͚̹͚͉̗̹̲̺̦͍̄̈́̏͌͌͌̇̍̋͠͝ ̵̛͖̘̍͑̑͆̒ͅİ̷͎̯͈͆̇̉̂̓̐̇̎̃͆͒͘̕͜n̴̪̩̻̓̆ͅd̷͔̭̱͍̲͕̍̕͜ë̵̫̼̦̭̹̘́͜x̴̧̱͙̩͈̰̘͚̒̏͊̈͐͘̚͠͝ ̶̺͔̹̯͕̝͑̌̄̀͋͒͝͠ͅL̵͍͙̏̎̿̓͗̂́̓̒̋̓͝͠į̶̹̱͇͎̺̯͖͍̯͔͔̜͐̈́̀͊͐̏̽b̶̤̞̻͔͖͈̮̟̙̩̼̪͇͙̀̓̅̔́̎͛̔̒̓̾̃͘͜͝͝r̴̦̩̣̠̻͔̪̠͇̮̟̤̀͋́̍̃o̵̧̻͌͗̀́͆̂̎͑̉͘r̷͓̯͙̟̜͙̊̾͊̑̆̑͘ų̶̛̛͔̗̖̥̬̅͛͛̅̓̆͛͠m̶̭̣̯̲̻̟͇̭̱͔̗̹̉̒̇̂̑͊̀̏̂͜ ̵͔̹͖̻͚̬͓̗̻̤̓̚P̴͍̪̥̘̳̯̱͇̣̤̅̈́̈́̈̓͑̀̓̇̕̕͠͝ŗ̸̱͖͚̜̺͒͝ͅǫ̸͈̞̙̺̪̼̮̤̱͓̎̊͌̅̓̑̏͛͑́ͅͅḩ̷͇͙̹̖͂́͑̾͑̓͗̈́̒̌͌͘ì̵̧̛͙̟̩͇͕̟̞̮̦̟͍̮̏̐̑̒̓̈́b̸̧̜̹͇̮͙͕̙͋̿̀ǐ̴̡͙̇̅̇́͑̀́̈́̍͗̀̎t̴̢̨̢̥̲̯̱̣̙̳̗̀̓̈́ō̶̧̻̥͕͚̹͉̘̝͖̊͆͠ͅŗ̸̢̝̻͙̲̥̱̰̲͔͓͈̪̿̒̇͗̍͜͝u̷̧̯̖͔̞̫͖̰̗̇́̾͐̿̔̿̈̉̀͑͝͝m̵̭͑̾,̴̨͚̹̰̗̼̖̠̠̿̌̓̏̏̄͋̓͐̅̌̽͒̚ͅ" not-Accelerator responded, with a casual shrug of the corpse's shoulders. "Ÿ̶̭̑́̆̄͛̃̿̈͑́̇́̕͝ơ̸̗͕̣̥̐̇̌̂̽͑͗̅̈̚͜͝͝u̸̥̬͎̬͍͔͌̓͠ ̷̨̦̼̖̗̾̎c̶̡͓̹̟̥̣̦̪͙̼̬̙̋̐̌͒̅͒͛͝ä̸͉̯͓̣̙͚̼̲́̿͠n̴̡̧̲͔͚͈̱̺̽̀ͅņ̷̮̰̰̭̼̻̬̱̹̼̠͖̝̀̾̅̀̌͛͗̓̓̒͋́o̷̢̧̬͉͚͇̻̞̬̭͙͑̾͑͊̓̀͆̅͒̕͝ͅţ̶̛̙̺͙̰̠̽͌̾̊̈̌̔͌̃ͅ ̶͈̙̙̤̖̯͇͍͔̺̞͊͋̿̏͗̉̀̽̀̎͘̚͝͝͠c̶̱̾̿̐̌͌̓͆̉̈́̏̓́͒͠ó̵̦͎̖̠̜̻͈̙͈̱̄͋̎̅̎͘͜n̴̬͙̋̈́̄̓̉̓̈́̚͝͝c̴̢̨̛̘͎͍̥̞̲͎̲͉̏̍̄̀̄̏̉̂͘͜ȩ̶̧̪̮̻̺̯͕̖̭̍͆̿̈́͑̈́͊͆̎͗̐̓̔i̵̭̖̹͉̖̩͆̑v̶̡̹̗̰̫̖͚͔͚͕͚̗̈̀̈̄̈́̏ę̸̨̡̘͖̮͖͕̥͕̖̖͍͚̰͒̔͝ ̶̢̨̢̛͕̭̠̮͋̈́̉̋͊̆̕ͅo̵̦͊͌̽̊͐͘ͅf̴̝͎̩͇͇͋́̓̈́̒͊͒͝ ̶̜̹͖͉̫͓̜͉̦̖̝̫̬̠̓̀̐͊̐̿̔͜͝͠t̵̢̘͕̼̟̱̟̻̫̤͓̏̈̍̏̽͜͝͠h̸̨̛̯̝̥̺͈̥̖̪̪͑̎́͒̀̓̉a̴̛̛̭̙̫̜͐̇͋͆̄̑͋̾̽̔̉̚t̸̲̗̗̰͖̫̘̮̥̝́̄̓̈́́̾ ̷̧̡̢̫̝͚̜̬̹̹͉̮̼̭̰̽̾͊̈́̀̓͌͒̑͘͘̚ẃ̵̥̏̉̈h̸̰͇̙͙̍̾̊͑̿͘ī̶̛͍̠̞̻̪͔̥̭̌́̿̊͊̂͗̍̈̕͠c̷̡̱͍̮̬̦͇̟̰̼̥̰͓̿͊̐͑͒͛̈͆̆͊̽̾͊̇̚͜h̴̗̻͔̘̰̿̏͗͘͝ ̸̧̝͖̟̟̪̬̲͈̦͉̬̝̲̀͐̒̏̂̐̃͘ṕ̷̫͙͔̖͕͈̠̰̮̭͇̣̤͇̦̓̈̃̋̈́͋̋̌ü̷̠̯̠̬̱͒͆́͜l̷̡̺̹̮̰̗̮̱̺͍̿̇͂̈́l̶̡͓̞̳̗͍̽̅s̸͇̯̻̫̫̟̠͍̫̀ͅ ̸͓̠̬̝͎̠̪̲̟͕̍͛́̅̂̊̕t̶̬̖̘͓̙͈͒̊̃̏̉̓̿̊͌́̇ͅh̵̡̛͍̫̽̈́̀̀̀̽͑̔̐̚e̵̠̖̹̗̖̲̻̱͔̹̲͊̈͋̇͜͜ ̸̨̡̢͇̳̺͙̳̜͒̔͂͂̄͑̀̓͊̕͠s̵̡͉̥̲͚͈̼͕̟̥̣̱̹̦̖̄̀t̴̨̢̠̰͙͎̪̤͈̘̯͂r̸̡̨̡͈̘͍̺̮̜̫͖̬̤̼̽̐̎̑ì̴̫̤̦̩͉̋́͑̌̍̚͘͝ň̵̨̡͕̰͈̖͎͖̗̗͖̪̇͆͆̂̂̓̄͜͜͝ǵ̴̻͉̬̮̬̣̒̈́̽̊͠s̶̮̞̖̿͆̈́̈́̄́̍̚ͅ ̵̠͈͖̦͇͔͕̆̆̂͂̏͜͝ỡ̶̢̠̗͇͔̱͎͓͓̤̫̹͎͉̾̓͊͆́̿̉͒̑͘̕͠͝f̵͇͎̱͐̄͗̈́͌̾̋͗͆͑̚̕ ̵̨̘͕̪͙̘͕̣͂̔̒͒͛̑̾̉̕͜͜͜͝ť̵̬́̍̍̔͋̇͒̽͘ͅh̷̨̭̳̲͇̲̯̮͙̞̓̑̽͛ͅͅi̴̭̗͚̦̼̹̯̾̓s̶̡̲̬̝̩̜̱̻̜̙̀͘ ̶̢͚̜̭̘̙͖̦͈̜̽̂͂̏̒̚p̵̱͍̯͛̈́̽́̄́̆̿́̄̿́̌u̶̻͚̯̜͓̟͍͒͆̎̐̂̑͑͆̄̓̒̚͝p̶̧͎̯͙̃̑̾p̴̧̧̮͙͚̤̹̼̪̻̼̦͈̏̄̍̒͑̒ͅͅȩ̴̼͚̯̫̤̼̜̪̯̺͙̥͗͗͝ͅť̸̹̖̗̬́̑̈́̑.̶̨̘̼͙̜͓́̉̀͆̓"
He would've remained stoic; he could've, or, perhaps, he should've. Maybe Accelerator should've tried to hold his ground and resist the obvious contempt the little nun held for him, but, his own eyelids found themselves widening once more.
Kamijou Touma's left hand shifted. Some sort of… ribbons, they were like ribbons, or, perhaps, they were more akin to so many serpents, slithering about. Dancing, swirling, twisting, dark grey in coloration, they looked less like objects and more like a swarm of angered insects. From Kamijou Touma's left wrist, they funnelled and shuddered, as the head of the shovel soon dissipated, replaced by a left hand, four fingers, with a thumb. Perfectly normal.
The boy, the former Bearer of Imagine Breaker turned to face the mass-murderer, the beast who'd slaughtered over ten thousand people in cold blood.
Kamijou Touma's vision destabilized, as a wave of machine-phase matter flowed before him, like the currents of a body of water.
It was another vision, if a vision was what these strange occurrences truly were.
It was the switchyard, in school district seventeen. The night sky above was dotted with golden, twinkling stars, while, behind them, as if to accent them, the moon glowed brightly, blessing the City of Science in the Far Eastern isles with its illuminating rays.
Accelerator was there. Misaka Mikoto's little sister, "Misaka number ten thousand and thirty-two" was there, sprawled out on the ground, looking upward, utterly terrified. Her facial expression betrayed her fear. Misaka Mikoto herself was there. Her face was twisted, her lips curled downwards into a frown, which she obviously fought against.
Her face was wet, her cheeks stained with the tears she'd shed.
There was a simple suggestion offered to Kamijou Touma, through an influx of internal, invisible, silent, yet, paradoxically booming data. As the machine-phase matter that had masked his vision dissipated, Touma listened to the two-word suggestion.
"Kill him again."
Nothing had ever made that much sense before.
"I don't know how you're alive. I killed you. I guess I'll just do it again. Maybe, if I get lucky, you'll come back twelve thousand times. Then, I can pay you back in full."
"T̸̻̠̦͍̦̗̹͓̬͙͒̏͑͂͛̍͂̚ǫ̸̛̛̤̞̟͔̲̟̼̩̼̺͓̊̀̈̌̉̅̀͑͜ü̵͓͆͋̃͋̓͋͋͘m̴̤̮̍̒̈ą̶̛̗̦͚͚̤̬̻͉̹̥͉̏̉̌̍̈́̾͒̋̍̈́͜ ̴̨̡̛̞̻͕̩̩͇̮͖̬͔̱̝͋̓͂̇̾͊́̉̏͜K̵̡̮̤̲͎̻̘̲̇͊͌͛͑̄́͒̓͆́̋̈́̓̚ḁ̴̧̡̣͚̹͇͎͕͉̜́̋̏͋̓̀̄̔͛̕̕m̶̢̡͍̫̟͉̺͓̹͍̺͛ͅȋ̸̛̛̞̰͂́̒̈́̀̇̓̄̚͠͝͝j̷̘͉̜͓̭͍̾̔͒̑͗̔͆͐o̵̙͖͍̰̜̳̦̥̹͆̍͝ͅṳ̴̖̲̌͛̓̎́ͅ.̵̡̘̺͔͚̞͙̣͔̥̬̲̞̅̋̍̿̿̕ ̸̣̩͕͖̮͑̓̃̈́̍̿͋̀̏̋̈́̉̀̚͝ͅY̶̨̛͇̪̪̙̰̺̞̘̲̿͗̀̉̈̚o̴̜͑̈́̑̓͒̈̓̽̍̈́͘͘͝͠͝ū̶̠̝͓͓͕̝͙̮̘͙̀̒́͛ ̶̡͕͙̜̱̮͍͈̮̻̄́̌̓̄̔̿̐͂̕̚ȁ̵̦͙͙̣̹̠̩͈̎̉ŗ̸̡̯̙͓̝̳͎̜̠̍͜͜͠ẹ̶̥̺̠̺̖̜̻̜̙̘̮̥͖͖̆͘ ̶̧̜̥͖̼̖̤͓͉̘̹̃̊̉̈́͑͘n̵̡̨̛̛͎̥̮̼͉̅͊͑̓̇̊͋̈́̀̽͝͝ơ̴̢͙̞̖̩̲̫̹̻͖̩̞̓̎̉t̵̢̛̺̯̝̩͙̱̒̅̓̒̋̎́̉̽̀̒̋͘͠ͅh̷͈̝̙͖̏i̶̖͓͗͒̏̋̑̄̂̈́͘̚̕͝͝͝͠n̴͖̞̈̑́̇̚͝g̷̛̭̫̠̹̈́̽͛͒̚̕͠.̶̟̥͚̺̝̀͛͌̂̀̎̆̈́̋̊̆̚ ̴̘͔̱̣̮̠̱͈̮̻̠͈̺̜̋͂̕͝Y̵̪̙̲̘͕̘̟̾̋̿̈́ǫ̵̛̘̞͓̟͇̦̟͕̖̔́̀̔̂̾̔̀̽͝ů̶̮̹͙̞̾ ̷̢͖̲͙̬̗̖̬͈̭̠͍̻̖̘̾ä̶̧̨̨͕̲̥̩̳̦͔͓͝r̵̢̨̛͚̊́̄̔̂̐̌̚͘͠ę̷̝̥͎̈́̐́̾̓͆̏̂̾͘̚͘͠͝ ̷̢̛̥̥͇͔̥̼̭͎͊̀̄̎̆̔͊̃͛̋ḯ̸̢̨̢̨̺͕̰͇̫̟͔̖̺̤͂̆̕͜n̴̛̯̦͇͔̊̓͛̾̑̀̕̕ć̵̘̖̲̣͖̜̝̥͎̗̝̹̀̐̑̑̏̐̎̕o̸̢̹͖̦̳̻͓͛̈̂͜n̶̘̯̜̘̱̈͒ş̶̜̬̗͈͖̫͙̮̫̩̞̼͕̀͌̕͜͠e̴̙͖̣̹̗͎̩͍̗̩̼̾̈́̈́̎͛̈́̔͑̀͂̂̈͘̚͠q̷̢͍̮̘͍̘͌͒̾̓u̴̗̔̈́̏̚͝ė̷̢̥͉̱̖̯̥̈́̓̒̓̈́́̈n̴̺̼͍͈̠̗̜͋̅t̴̡̧̮̲͈̳͙͓͉̳̝̟̂̅̑́̔͘i̶̡̧̖̯͍̻̳͈̣̗̘͒̓͂̃͛͘͜a̶̯̬̬̟̪̤̦̜͇̲̝͚͕̋̊́̏́̎̈́͑͒̕ͅl̴̟̥̻̩̤̗͔̜̜͈̓̓͂́̌̄̆͐̈̄̈̀͠,̸̙̤̹͊̈́͑̀̃̀̈̋̑̆͊̾̚ ̷̢͉̯̮̦̭̼̤̪̦̭͎̻̣̏͐̔̍͘ͅä̶̢̗̱̗̤̖͓̼͓͎͇̞̟́͛̈̽͒͊̓̉̕͠ͅs̶̢̟̜͊͗̌̒͐̅͘̚ ̴̜̤̜͈͙͉̙͇̦̯͛́̐̊͊͆̑͘͘͝͝i̵͊̓͜s̷̟̬͎̳̑̅̆̑̿́ ̷̳̜͉͉͈̱̥͇̍͋̍͒̑̐̾̿͘͠y̴̛̦͙̭̽̅̏̍̓̎͝ŏ̶̡̨̯͖͔̰̖̾̐̒u̴̧̡̧̢̻̞̜͓͚̭̪̺̗̤͌̽̂̇́̃̄̽̌̈̕ŗ̵̡̛̺͎̹̗̫͕̠̘̲͛̍ ̵̪͛̿̇̄͊͠͝e̵̤̘͍͆́̿̆͝n̵͙̝̙͈̝̹̜̫͙̝͈̜̈́̀̊͆̒̒̉̎̒̎̎̾̕͘͝ẗ̴̟̼̺̪̺̍̈́̇̇͑̏̓̊͘͠í̵̢̢̢̡̛͖̪̖͇̱̩͓̻̤̂͛̂́̀̾͋̈̉͘͜͝͠ŗ̵̼̙̰̺̟̰̼̤͋̂̈́̿̒͑͒͆́̿͊̇e̸̡̡͔͙̪̼̞͎̫͓̎̑̑͘͘̕͝,̶̧͍͕̝͍̤͂͐̂̈́͜ ̷̧̢̼̼̱̱̝̜͇̫̘͈͍̉͌͗̚̚͝ḿ̴̡̨͓͓͕͈̤̖̬̭̹̭͙̈́̿͋̃͒͂͘͜͠͠į̷̨̩͚̰̥̼̗͓̋͆́̄͗͆͊̐̎̍̚ś̵̢̨̡̨̤̱̰̯̺͚͈̤̿b̴̝̫̱̻̳̼̠̬̎͆͊̊̈́̌̉̀̄́̚͝͝ė̵̞̩̈́̑͂͐̿̋̄̏͘͘͜ǵ̶͇͕̝̑͌̇ͅơ̸̖̯͒̂͂͌̃͒͛̂̍̇̌̆͝͝t̸̡̡̞͕͉̣͔͕̜͖̳̱͍͖̼̉͐̊́̓̌́̒̏͋͑̃͑̕͝ţ̷̹̖͚̿̀̀ͅè̸̡̢̙͉̃͒̀͠n̵͇͍͍͍̣̠̫͙͛ ̷̼̮̙̘̐͂͗̿̎͒̑͊͗͘ş̷͖̭͇̜̙̼̣͙̟͐̆͌̓̋͆̽p̴̖͈͔͔̽́̃͒e̸̛͓̬͓͕͚̰̲͎̫̞̦͎̒͜č̶͇̦̪̱̋̒̿̓̔̈́̾̾͑͌̊̚͝ī̷̲̪͕̔́̄̇͗̑̉̕͘͘͝e̵̢̛͍̲̫̲̥̱͖̜͛̿̑̍͊͊̌̑͘͘͜͜ṡ̶̩̦̝̗̺͈͈̜͇͔̤͕͆ͅ.̵͙͚̹̣̘̠̐͑͛̅͌̕"
"I don't know what I was thinking, exchanging words with the likes of you on the jet… maybe it was something left over, something from when I was… less. Look at you. You hold yourself with… confidence. You shouldn't even be alive. The fact that you're standing here before me is a testament to the fact that I was a flawed, fucked up shell of a human being. You should've fucking died at the switchyard. You died. I killed you! HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU BACK?!"
In response, Accelerator spoke, taking a step forward. Index placed herself between her 'keeper' and the man she'd only recently learned was a mass-murdering animal, a beast that needed to be put down.
"T̴̥͈̼̗̖̤̈̑̈́̏̄̊̀̇̕h̶̨̛͕̼͕̞̙̞̯̖̀͋͐̑̂̔̋͌̐̚͝è̷̙̻̟̞͔͍̳͔̈́͗̐̉͌͊̂̐̎͜ ̷̧̢͈̺̺̏̍͆͛̉̔̍̚̚͝A̶̱̣̳̝͔͚̟̘͍̹̎̈͐̓͌̓́̎̀̈́̐c̸̢̫͐͒͆̓̑̀̒̎̃̈́̈́͘͝ĉ̵̻͙̘͚͔͠e̸̝̱̻̤̮̗͎̍ͅl̷̪̪͉̅͊̓̽̾̅̋͝e̵̘͗̄̋̿͆̾̄͘r̴̩̪̀͗́̆ã̴̡̨̡͙̲̬͓̜̻̖̗͓̪͒t̷̲͋̑͗̀̅̽͛̍̎̏̎̕̚͠ǫ̴̟̬̖͖̳͓̩̤͖̭̥͇̓̑̇̇͌ͅr̶̢̡̨̧͎̻̞̟̘̗͔̾̀̃͊͒͐̃̔͑̇͝ ̷̨̧̛͇̜͚͔̣́͒̈́̃̾̐͝͝ͅm̷̡̢̰̲̝͔͕̘͚̯͑͆͂̀̇̒̄͐̈̔̽͗͘͜͜a̸̢̨̤̞̭̻̺̻̩͓̻̮̰̲͔̅̅̈́̒́̽͒̀ķ̴͔͍͕̥̮̦̹͙̞͇͖̗́́͒̂̀͌͒́̍̐̍̃͝ȩ̴̛̜̠͚̩̫̺̳̤̅̋̒́̏́̊̚̕̕s̴̼̻̙̖̺̩̼̹͓̝̄̌͑̿̈̆̋͌̑͜͜͝ ̶̧̙̫̱̫͙̳̰̹͍͒͋̇̃à̸̧̭͕̟͙͕̫̱͔͗͠ ̵̭̝͉̦̠͔͚͕̱͖͌̎̈́f̴̧̱̱̩̗̼̲͔̣͕͚̭̹͕̆̉̾͆̃̾̋̾͂ḯ̸̧̛͇̺̠͕̞̖̯̟͗̋̈́̂̓̆̈͊͑̀͝͠ņ̸̹͙̰͖̥̟̘̮̍͐ͅͅe̸̗̪̪̯͐̿̑͂́͐̑̀̋͂̀͒͝͠ ̴̢̪̼̖͉̱́̊̾̂́̑́̕p̸͉̆͘ų̶̡̗̭̠̲͎͎̗̪̰͚͋̍̆͊̀͊̐̚͠͝͠ṕ̴̰̖̖̗̥͓͓̦͙͉̹͌̀̇̊̏̂̐̑͐̍̈́̒p̸̣̈̀̇͋̕͝e̵̬̪͍̫͚͋̏̋̂̉̓́̀̍̅͘ţ̴̛͓͔̫̲͍̝̥̻̺̓̿́́̄̕͝,̵̖̺̍̌̉̅̃̈́̒̂̽̏̄̈̄͝ ̸̛̛̲̖̉͐̍͛̂̚͝͝͠b̵̙̪̎̉̉̀̚͠ȕ̴̢̧͙̣͕̻̝͈̹̜̬̮̂͒̈́̅̃͗̎͘ͅt̷̠̭̠̳̗̯͚̱͇̑͗̂̎̋̚͜͝͝ͅ ̷̢̢̛̛̝͉̱̪̗͋͛̂̋͒̀͊̀̑́͘͝ḻ̷̡̛̹̀͆ǐ̴̢͇̯͚̘̦̰̼͚̬̯͈̓͒̑̄̂̾̍͘ţ̷̭͔̼̣̮̤̤͉̰̮̗̇̆̓̀̅̀̉̅̓́̓͝t̸̡̩̠̫̱̗͎͙̥͇̞̪̜̊̚͝ḻ̴̽̉̿̓̆̎͑̊̽͠͝ḛ̵̗͓͇̃̎̌͛̍̉̐̾̏̆̐͝ ̵̨̠̥͍̟̪̱͔̞̭̖͚̱͑m̵̡͖͈͚̖͉͖̳͋͊̂̔̽̈̇̈͒͗̈́̀͘̚o̴̧͗r̸̬̣̝̲̈́̓̏̓̿̂̾̓̀̇̑̂e̸̪͉̫͖̞̔͐̓͗̀̓̀͆͗.̸̢̟͚̺̼̯͂͂̌̌͂̈́̄̂͐̑̅̿̕͠͠ͅ ̵͓̹̬̔͒̆̌͠Ą̸̨̧̛̟͙̝̙͈̖̏̈͆͗̔̐̈̌̑͘͜͜͝͝ͅs̶̛̟̯̰͊͌̒̆̐́͆͆̆̎̌͊ͅ ̴̡̛̺͙̜̘̻͈̜͈͚̺̘̜̭̒̂̂̀̂̿̋̐̈́̀̅̂͜w̶̢̪̭̦̱̗̾̌̆͊͂̈́͑̐͘͝͠ǎ̵̬͓̆̀͆̈́͆͂̽͊̑͂͝s̸̢͍̣̜̐̿͋̄̂̎́̾ ̴̧̧̻͈̜̝̯̤̝͙̗͒͗̀̈́̈́̓̒͜ą̴̨̨͎̜̘̈́̐l̷̯̰̤̈̕ͅͅẅ̴̧̡̢̖̟̙̜̫͉̹͍͔͓́̑͜à̷̡̤̆̓́̃̓͝ͅỹ̷̛̻̈́̈́͘͠ş̷͖̝̘̲͉̰̩̻͙̲͋͊̃̌͑͠ ̵̛̛̹̼̣͇̝̊̽̇̓͋̄̚̕̕t̷͙̲̪̖̹̬͕̙͎̓͠ͅh̷̡͙̮̺͎̻̱̟̖̪͉͎̼̎̍̆̎̉͜ͅè̸̡̧͙̱̩̖̮͔͇̗̘̭͉̤͕̎́̓͑̎̍͛͋̀͘͘ ̶̡̛̛̮͕̣̪̱̝̈́͆͌̍̈́̚͠͝c̷̢̢̰̮̉̋̈̋̓̐̐̀̽͊̿͗͌ả̷̼̲̝̗̘͈̎̑̂́̃͋̊͂͘͝ș̸̛̱̭̗̬͊̀͋̏͌̐̕e̵̛̺͍̔͛͛͒͂̽̏̑̈͝.̷̢̧̛͙̬̈́̐̾̈́̽̐̿̑̏͐"
"What the hell are you going on about? What the hell ARE YOU?"
Another step.
"You're going to regret coming anywhere near us," Kamijou Touma warned.
Accelerator's progress didn't halt, not for a moment.
"Ỵ̶̢̣̝̾̒̑̅̋̋͗̉̽͆̓͛͐͘̚ͅớ̷̛̲͖̈́̉͋̓u̸̟̺̍̋̈̂̇͒̐̂ ̷̢̧͎̗̩̼̬̳̯͊̊͂͗͂͜l̷̡̛̹̻̆͛͂o̸̢͉̔s̵̯͖̺̲͖̝̦͖̜̘͚̯̃̂̅̌̍̽͑̕̕ͅt̴̢̧̛̛̞͈̲̣̻͈͕̮̓̇̒̄̀̊̃͝͝͝ ̴̨̰̥̒͒͐͒͑̃͗̃̾̌͆̚̕͝e̴̦̙̥̞̙͉͇͔̖̣̝̦̓͊͊̑͌̎̀̈́̎̓͝͠v̴̛̙̩͈͚̉́̓̑̈́̅̕͝e̸̡̛̝̯͓̜̬̣̦̮͍͓̻͌́̃͐̆̀́̈̈̀͜ͅr̵̨̢̖͇̮̻͎̝͙̓̌͗̔́͑̓̈̀͠ẏ̶̧̖̯̩̥̣̟̟͇̣̲͗̔͗̌͂̌̉̽͊͝ţ̷̛̫̪̞̦̝̻̲̔̓̚͝h̴̟̔̾͌̉͋́͗̃̈́̃̊͛͠ī̴̮͋̄̽̆͝n̷̨̧͉̫̠͔͕̝̯͉͚̯̽̉̑̌g̸̖̖̬̞̝̬̞̃̂́̅̈̈͐̚̕͜.̶̼͇̩́̈́̊̈͋͋̍̚͝ ̴̧͙̲̜̲̬̭̺̫͓̅̾̇͒̒̅̎̑̐̉̍͂̀͝Á̵͎̾͗͆̈́̑̎̀̚s̴̨̡̛͍̜̲̣̳͉͑̔̈̂̕ ̵̛̣̈̉͂̿͆̀͌̀̍̿y̷̨̠͇͊̌̓̄̋͋̕ỏ̸̢̧̞̮͚͎̞̺̥̥̪̥̻͌̒̄̽̓͊͐͋̈͆́̓ù̶̞̃̀̿̀͗ ̵̢̭̝͂̓̅̆͘͠ạ̸̧̨̧̼̖̻͔̞̳̠̱̲̬͑̅̓̾̌͜͝l̵̨͚̼͖̤͈̼̘̮̯͆͂͊͐̎̿͐̄͑̑̽͜ͅẃ̴̡̡̧̳̪͇̤͈̞̬͉̙̳̜͂̽́͆̒̈́̒͗̔̅͜ą̵̡͙̖̺͎͓͚̫̣͂̉̔̽̈́̍́͂̊̔͗̎̚͝ý̴̢̡̞͇̝̗̙̞͈͕͇̊͊͑͘͝ś̶̱̠͉̹̮̱̰̼̯̉̔͂͛́̆̍̽̀͆̏̎͝ ̷̧̛̞̦̣̖̙̟̻̞̘̤͓͖̹̈́̌̑h̵͖̠̹̺͍̦͙̭͗̐͂̌̈́̊̿͗͑̍̀̽̚͝ȃ̴͔̬͚̤̳͚͈̥͋͛̓̈́̑͌̎̔͜v̵̦̯͎̩̹̎͗̋͊̾̃̌̑͗͒̿͛͒͝ȩ̵̰̟̰̖̞̳͓̱̰͖̏̌̈́͂̓̍͊͐͋͛̌͛̑̈͆ͅ.̷̢̦͔̜̗̼̝̻̘͔͍͔͇̓̐͗̾͌̔̐́̂́͛͂͐̆̓ ̷̮̗̆̉͌̆̄͐̽́̌̋͘A̷̧̡̛̫̣̺̲̬͉̯͂̓̕̚̚s̵̞̲͎̠̤͉͖̹̱̀̂͘ ̶̡̛͇̜͓̟̱̑̉̈́͝͝y̸͔̞̻̫̙̫̿̀̅͊̐̕ͅơ̶̗̈́̋̚ứ̸͉̖̉͊́̿͂̀̀̔̉̐̅̇̊ ̵̛̛̱̮̪̯̠̏͑̀̉̄͌͂̐̃̈́̇̄͜a̴̢̨̢̛͙͔̺̣̫͔̣͎̺̥̅̃̍́̎̀͆̎̕͘͝͝͝͝ͅļ̸̣͙̹̞̖̪̯̱̆̊͛̂w̶̢̛͇̘͖͕͇̱͙͑͛̑̇͒̋̒́̋̎̕͝͠ͅả̷̧̛̠̪͉͓͗͂̐͂͂͊͂̔̌̆͂̚͠y̶̳̖̠̙͖͖͕͇͍̩̪͎̩͈̽͑͛͊͘s̸̨̩͙͇͕͍̥̖̥̗͔̃͗͐̋̈́̈̽͌̆̃̏̿͛̆͜͜ ̸̜̗̱̯̙̙͐́̾͆͝w̷͓̹̟̋̾̓̆̓̂͠i̴̢̛̘̫̦͙͙͋̐̓̽̎͆̊͆̀͑͜͝͝l̷̹̦̈̃͛̓̾̓̈́͒̒͝͝ĺ̵̤̹͚̪̦̹̫͜.̷̡̜̜̗̜̏̀̊̈́͊͛͛̾͑̓̄̀̾̎͜͝ ̷̡̖͍͈͇̬̥̬̦̰̣͊͌́̐̀Ȳ̵̡̛̪͉͇̪̯͔̙͉̀́͗͛̅̃̄̒̾̚̕͝o̸̢̥̥̮̠̥̗̼͔̞̔͆̀̀̌̉͑ǘ̶̡̺͎̩̹̠̱̹r̷̢̢̳̙͍̠̺͖̯̗̙̾̏́̈́̔͝ ̶̢̤͒̍̃͠ê̵̹͉̭͈̦̩̤̬̏̑̈́͊̆̔̐̊͒̌̏̓͝x̸̧̗̹̲̭̯͎̗͓̰̙̝̔̀͑͒͑̚̕͘i̸̙͎̪͈͒̎̓̄̆̌̆̽͂͛̋̒͘͝s̸̢̢͚̤̪͇̬̱̦͑͋̌t̵̨̞̥̗̖̥̖͙̹̖͓̺͗̃̈̆̾̈́̇̃͒̚e̷̛̪͈͖̖̺̳̜͖̞͑̌̄̋̄̐̈̓͋̅̂̓̕̚n̸̨̖̟̖̩̪̪̯̭̘̄́̍̓͜c̷̱̠̈̓́̈̏̃͆̎̂͌̽̍̌͠͠e̷͈̟̔͋̀̑́̊̀͗͂͋͑̔ͅ ̵̧͓̗̟̟̝̱̮̯͍͔͓̝̯͖̄̽͛̚̚͝i̷̢̛̹̭̫̟͔͓̦̣̇̓̒͜͝ͅs̵̻̟̻͐͊̑̇͛̈̉̀̑́̾ ̶̧͕͙̣͚̭̠̔̊̈́͋̅͑̈́̈́̃̆͑̚̕̚͝p̸̯̎̾̓̋̇ǻ̴̼̩̤̲̾̈͑̓i̸̢̢̛̜̣̪̱͓͕̮̼͉͔̺͑̋̈́ͅn̴͕̿̆͂̑̋͝ͅ ̶͍̖̣̩̼̟̣̻̭̎͜ͅi̷͓̖̺͉̅̅̂͂ņ̵̡͙̞͍̱̲͕̱̦̻̱̩̃͋͑̆͝c̷̨̞̮̲̟̪̍̉͠ơ̸̟͓̳̤̞̏̓͋̑̊̉̚͠͠n̷̡̢̪͕̭̮̖̼͌͂̑̍̑͗͝ͅc̶̛̝̫̹͓̱͙̭̩͙͇͕̖̓͂̈́͐̐̋̍͋͐̉͊͜͜͝͠e̶̛̥̥̯͎̯̗̗͍̰̮͙̯̙̹͒̎͑͂̀͠i̴͈̰͇̩̞͝v̶̧͈͈̄a̷̢̖̻̓͋́͌͑̓̕͝͠b̵̧͓̠̯̗̰̙̣͑́l̶̖͔̮͙͓̱̭̈́̀̾͠͝e̵̗̰̥̱̤̤̲͈̮̮̯̻̜̘͚͂͒͐̄̇͋͑̍̉̒̃̾͋̀̐;̶̫̘̘̜̎ ̴̞̝̲͌͜͠ḯ̶̝̪̼̜͙̻̳̿́n̵̨͕͕͕̹̜͎͇̺̹̦̘͈̝͎͆̀͐̀̈́̅̄́̾̕͝ć̶̹̺̗̆́̄̕o̸͓͖̳̻͗̋͊̇͌̉͝n̶̡̨͍̲͇̩̙͕̖̬̫̊̄̿̐͠c̷̰̦̙̀̉̂̇͝è̷̳̺̻̤̥̂̔̊́̎͒̓͛̇̇̏̈͘͝ͅi̷̧̛̪͆̓̎͑̊͑̆̿̅̅̀̓͘͝v̷̛̮̼̲̻̞̯̜̙̫̹̓̈́̃̔̄̈̍̀̓͑͘͝ą̸̡̘̹̮̫̺͇̙̲̱͌̇̍̀̀̅͛́͌͛ͅb̷̛̖̟͈̉̃́̽̀́̐͂̈́̿̆͌͘͝l̶̢̧̛͇̬͈̼͓̭͙̫͖͗̀̾̍̅̂̋͒̆̂̕͠͝ͅē̸̞͓͉͚̫̫̋́͆̂ ̷̦̿̾̏̅͑̑͛́͌t̶̡͌̄̊ơ̴̡͈̹̮̠̪̰̗͈͔̥͙͙̆̔͗͆́͘̚̕ ̸̢̨̡͔̦̱͎͙͚̊͜a̵̡̧̛̜͓͚̮̜̙͎̥̻̗͉̯̱͗͑̄͆͗͂̌̄͊͂͑̎̕l̴̨̗̼̯̳͈̯͎̼͉̈́̈́̾̀̋̓͠͝l̷͈͈̰̅̀̀̋̓̈̀͛͑̚ ̷̧̻͍̻̦̯̭̠̙̟͈̼̖̑̇̎͜͜s̶̢̩͕̳̻̀͋̓̉̋͠ȁ̸̢̛̪͈̲͉͇̪̻̫̎̈́͑̑̋͂̅̚v̶̧̲̝̹̟̈́͌̃́̌̓̄͊͊̂̅͗̀e̵̹̬̿̃͒̈̎̽̂͆ ̸̧̖̞͈̯͈͎̺͇̲͑͌͊̄̑̐̊̍̋͆ͅü̶̳̺̝̉s̴̡̰̼͇̗̖̭͇̘̜̱̎̈́̋͘.̸͇͎̖͓̜͓͔̐́̄́̈̒̾͑͛͋̎͑̀̕͠ͅ ̷̖̣͔͍̰͓̼͖̯̙̈̚J̵̧̼̻̩̫͔͎̞̹͚̼̗̆̑͋̏ǫ̴̡̧͓̺̖̘͋̂͐͐̾̇̊̓͑͝i̷̡͎̻͎̻͖̎̃͘͘̚͝ͅņ̸̡̢̙̠̬̱̪͇͙́̆̈͐̂̇̚ ̵̛̛͔̹̝̣̜̻̗̘̩̲̄̌͂̈̌͗̇͌̽͂͋̕͝ṵ̸̧̡͍̲̟̜̼̞̼͓̝̭̣̹̐̈́́̈̈́̄̊͑̓̄̋͘͠ṣ̶̦͎̰̹̀̇̂̂̈́̑̏͂͂͂̄̈́͘ͅ,̶͍̹̖̞̈́͂ ̵̨̛̘̼̺̯͉̣̎̈̉̊̀̊͊̆̀́̓̀͜K̸͉͙̜̞͙̮̫̙̫̲̰̲͛͑̃̆̒̋͝a̴͚͍͙̖̝̣̾m̸̺̮͖̞̱̅̌̋͊͒̈͑̉̌̕̚̚͜͝͠͝i̴̧̡̛̛̝͇͔̲̍̈̈́̿̅͆͒͛̚j̵͇͍̰̥̻̣̬̪̐͌͂̍̒̉̇̉̇̐̈͋̇̚ͅŏ̴̳̜̽̇̆̒̓̄́́̾̾̏ư̵̮̰̯̺̲̼͓͋́̈̈́̔̃͝ ̶̢̮͚̙͚̻̠͍͌͐̊̈́̃̐͜T̴̩̭̻̿̀̂̆̓̎̅͌̿̐̋̏͘͝͠ǫ̴̯͕͈͚̹̼͓́̒͊̍̕u̵̫̙̱͎͛͘ṃ̵̦̯͍̖̲̳̦̬̺͛̈́a̴͙̠̻̤̫̯͕̔̽́̅̽̉̑͐̏̕ͅ.̶̩͈̦͈̯͖͇̟̜̀͐ ̴̨̫͇͍̹͇͇̪̘̆̈̋́͒̈́̄́̃̂̓̕̚͝F̶̛͓̳̺̫̃͑̓́̆͂́̃̏͂́͗͝͝o̷͕̞͛̍̿͂͒̽ļ̸̡̱̙͈͍͇̗̹̹̖̆̽̃̽͘ͅl̷̢̛̹͕̮̤̜̤̼̝̫̩̰̟̓̈́̿̕͝ǫ̸̼̣͉̰̬̬̼̟̣͓̉́͋́͛̌͂̓̿̚͜͠͝͝w̶̡̖͍͓͈͎̪̭̒̒̍̔̈́͋̋͂̔̄̋͑̐̔̏ ̸̩͚͎̣̙͎̓̌͊͋ÿ̸̛͍̬̳̗̘̤͎̗̞̼̰̝̖̙̎̅̽̊͝͠͝ͅơ̷̙̺͈̠͉̟̆̋̊̈̑̈́̀͆̔̃͒͋̚u̷̮̇̎͑̀̏̏́̑̒̒͑̓̕͝͝r̵̛̖̅̀̈́͗͒̄ͅ ̸̡͖̦̯̬̦͉̟̻͋̀͊̆ĩ̴͓̣̹̲͙̼̠̤ņ̷͓̞̝̤̭̮̞̻̘̆͂͆̏̆́̏͊̋̇̋̏͝͠͝ṣ̷̨͕͉̯̬̹̫͓̅̍t̸̢̙̩̖̪̬̭͎̳͚̀́̿̎̐̽̄͊̑͘͜͜͠͠i̵̞̻̙͍̐̈̐͂͂́͆͑̈́͑̋͛̚̚͝n̵̮͖̻̙͐̾̐̏̔̚c̵̢̡̡̥̹̪̠̪̘̹̠͗͂̄̂̿̔̅ṭ̸̢̮̘̲̟̫͖̦͎̈́̿̾́̌̂s̷͓͛̉͝ ̸̜̹͓̰͔͕̗̥͈̖̒̍̿̀̀̍̉̏̽͒͘͜t̸̛͕̟̪͈̞̳͈̜̘̘̗̜̀͗̍͘͝o̶͖̻̲͙̦͑͌͋͜ ̸̱̹͕͊͋̾̾́͗͊͒̊̋̄̓̅͘͝ų̸̣͍̭̩̹͆̄̍̈̈́̄̐̔͆̀̈s̵̫͚̙͍̜͋̎̍͆̋̄͂̈͠,̸̧̛͇̦͕̂̾́̐͒̇̈́̿̓͝ ̷͕̃̏͊̄͘̚t̶̡̪̦͉͎̜̱̰̃̅̽̐̈́̔̈̀h̵̛͚͍̹̗̙̫͕̲̻̩͖̝͉̜̑̉̾̾͂̎͑͘͘ȩ̶̠̞͕̝̱̯̳̲̫̥̑͜͝ ̶̹̼̥̀͌̆͋̌̇̀̿̈̅͘͝͝ͅͅF̴͓͓̥̞̌o̶͕͕͈͓̼̫̅͑̑͋̋̿̊͗̑͆̕͝͝r̶̨̯̼̳̼̬͇̞̮̻̝̜̪̍̃̾̒̾̍̂͠g̸̡̨͉͍͕͔͈̠̟̦̜͕̀̃͗̂̎̐̇̋̚͝ͅớ̶̜͙͙͇́̈́̀͋̿̅̀̈́̐͝͝t̶͉̮̪̦̍̇̾̿̑̒͌̉͝͠͝ṱ̵̛͕̜̼̱̟̻́̿̋͜ͅe̷̜̙̭̦̙̳̤̺̞̥͍͖͔̫͂̈́͐̉̉̎͊̿̀͑͐͛̔͗͝ǹ̴̮̀̽̊̑̉ ̵̨̡̭̠̙̱̱̫̭̲͂̏̈̐͋́͊̊̔Ơ̵̧̟̺̹̹͍̇̂͆̒́̽̅͛͑͒͛̀̚͝n̵͕͖̫̥̭̰͉̣̞͇̖̹͑̊̎̃̏͑͐̓̚ế̷͈̲̥̀͌̀̐̀ş̵̡̪͔͎̘̻̭̮͎̘̠͈̱̈́̑̋̔͛̎͆̋̀̕.̶̛̤̙̿̊́͑̈́̿̀̓͒͑̅͘̚͘ ̷̡̺̹͎̲̤̜̫͎̺̞̃̒̌͗̾̋͆̕ͅW̶̼͈̜̜͊͘͘i̵̢̛̥͙̱̖͓͓̲̮͙̹̭̒̎̅̊̆̓̑̀͐͜͝t̸̢̛̖̭̰̽̒́̊̃̓̌h̴̡̼̼̤͙̟̞͙͓̙͑́͒̌͠o̵̧̲̯͚̝̯̞̬̙̼͎̼͉͎̹͆̂̐̑u̵̟̯͇͚͙̻͇̠̎̔̽̿ͅt̶̪̖̱͎͉͍͍͔̥̾̍̎̇̋́́͆̋̅̈́̀͘͝͝ ̶̮̙͙̆̈̑͑̀͌̎̊͂͝͝͝ŭ̷̜̔̐͂̈͛͌͋̇̊͑s̴̪͐̓͆̋̔̕͝͝,̶̼̙̼̖̭̝̅̉̎̎̑̎̑͗͝ ̸̢̛̥̘̼̟̯͓̳̙̦̟̗̯̍͛̀̈́̈́̄͒̈́͋͐̓̕y̶̡͎̱̺̖̿́͐̀͌̐͐̀̑̍͛̐̚͝͝ơ̵͓̘̣̓͒̐̇̓̓͑̌͂̈́͋͘͘u̴͖͎̱̠̭͙̹̦̭̠̱̣̙̰͊́͑̏̆̐̑̐̑͗͊͑͐̂̚ ̵̛̜̜͉͖̍̆̐̒̎̾̏͑̃͐̇̌̅͝w̵͈͋̍i̷̡̱̞̬̟͎̣̬͖͈̔͂l̷̨͖̲̬̣̠̰̫͕̪͉̞͊͂͂͒̓̄́̚l̴̼̭͖̦̮̟̓͗͐̌͊͗͛̎́͋̚͝ ̴͚̏͌̇͛b̸͈͂̄̔̀̄̚e̶̯̥͛̌̀̿͐̒͑̊̀͑̾̈͠͝͠ ̴̬̀̓͛͐̒̒̎̓̃͂̚͠͝e̸̤̠̬̹̒̽̓͌̓͋̄͂́̄͆̂̄͆͝ͅņ̴͔̺̠͚̜͕͖̍t̸̻̻̘̻̍́̎͌̒̐̂͝ͅr̵͔͔͔͎̊̀̊̾̂͗̈́͘͜ą̴͈̮̞̖̗͓́͋̿̊̂̂̌̚p̵̼̟̻͂͑̈́̓͂̌͠p̴̛͍͍̖̜͎͇͉͂̃͂̅́̀̄͝ę̷̧̢̢̛̼̥̘̱͍̫̼̎̔̑̂̎ḍ̶̢̤̜̺̦̳͇̻͍̓͂͌͛̔̋̍̈́̂͘͠͠͠ ̶̛͎̯̖͓̞̼̖̀̈́̃̆̀̋̈̓̉͘͝͝i̴̡̥̘̟͌̈́͆̚͜ņ̷̛͕̭̥͙̱͈̰̿̂͗̈́̄͋͒͌͋̐̊̚͝͝ ̸̣̮͍̤̦̝̙͐͑̐̏̈́̌̑̚t̴̜̥̥̹̹͖͂͗̋ḩ̵̧̤̲̦͍͈̜̫̈̚͜ě̸̢̘̟̱̟̥̳̏͗͜ ̴̨̛͕̼͓̦̺͓̦̳̩͉͙̤̏͛̿̋̉̏̓̉ͅc̷̛̛̛͔͍̀̌͆̓̃̐͌̎̄̚͘̚ẏ̶͖̪́͊̀̈́̾͑͐͑̾̀̋̿̕c̷̼̦̬͖̭̝͍̖͚̒͂̀̇͛̒̎̚͘͝l̶͖̝̜͙͓͉͉͔̬͇̩̂ͅę̷̢͚̺̪̤̤̥̣̘̯̼̿̏̀̔̿̅͜.̵̨̜͔̣͕̭̻͇̙̜̓̈̋̅̀̇́͛͠ͅ ̶̡̨͈͉̤̻̮̜͙̋͗̆̀̔̎B̷̜̙̬̬̻̿́̇̃̊̄̉͒͂͊̕̚ǔ̴̺̠̭̋̀͑̄̚̚ț̷̱̱͖͔̹̬̙̞̻͙̺̋̃͋̈́͆̂̀̉͘͘,̸̧̧̬̞̘̰̣̼̞̩͑͋̒̂̓̋̃̓͑̕̕̕ ̵̧̦͈̥͙̪̞̹͙̝͔͋̄̿͒͠͝t̵̺̲͆̽͆̈́̅̾̈́̕ö̷̧̺͉̤͓̘͕̮́̈́̿̀̃͂̆͊͊̈́̂̽ģ̸̓̔͗́͝e̷̫͙̪̫̬̼̬̾̄͒̈́͆̓͂͆̚͝ͅͅt̶̨̨͙͖̲͎͔̤͙͈̙̤̗̆̉h̴̢̦̹̭̙̣̄e̴͔͈̞̰̓̆͆̄̚̕ͅr̷͓̠̼̳̲̮̋̅̅̒̽̽̔̊͜͝,̶̬͋̈́̀̈́̃ ̵̢͖͚̞̣̟͍̣̜̂̈̋͊̐́̂̀̒̋͝͝͝ẅ̵̢̢̢̠̦͖͉̫̖̦̝́̉͑̔͌ę̸̊̽̈͆̾̅̍̋̇͠ ̶͙̖̖̤̑̕͝c̶̬͓̪͕͙̬̳͎̹͇͔̮̄̍̊a̴̛̟͚̲̠͎͓̤͍̐́̈́́͆́̌̃̊̀̈́͠͠ṅ̴̼̉ ̷̛̼̹͔͊͛̊̈́͛̚͝b̸̧̦̱͙͉̙̼̩̠̈́́̋͐͑͘ŗ̸̫̪͕͙͂͗̂̀̚͜ͅë̷͚̣̪̰̼̂̇͌̌͊̉̒̅͊́̃̉̇͘å̸͍͎͍̤̬͚͗̀̒̓͑̋̀̓̆̃̃͑͊͝ḵ̴̡̠͖̮̬̮̝̎̽̀̚ ̷̖͙͉̦̳̲̮͇̥̮̅t̸̢̰̮̝͚̠̮̫̪̞̦̬͉̏̇̆̀̆̅̀͑͂̍͗̀̕ͅḩ̸̘̗̠̫̤͖̫̳̘͕̑͌͒̅͂̋̽̚ę̶̨̣̥͙̟̠͖̝͚̹̞͎͒̅̄́̏͛͛̀̓̀͝ ̷̢̛̼͓̻̘̹̗̤͍̓̄̌͐͐͝ͅͅc̷̭͇̞̫̘̟̳̫̫̃y̴̨̨̼͙̥͍̙̟̗̥̗̘͆̓c̷͚͖̳͈̊̔̀̃̀̕ͅl̵͓͍͈̪̝̝͙̎͆͛̂̂̓̾͘̚̕e̷̳͈̫̝͉̟̪̝͖̪̠̜̝̝̟̒͆.̴̢̗͕̤̮̳͚͎̗̗̳̺̭͍̒̃̀̊̋̔̍͘"
Kamijou Touma spoke no words in response, nor did Index.
"J̴̖̗̻̮̤̿ọ̸͎͈̜̖̤͎̟͚͔̮̈́̇̊̑͑̕̚͜i̵̜͈͚̲̝̺̯͎̝͕̋̀̉̆̀͌̂͋̽͘ͅṅ̶̡̢̛͓̪̘̩̥̤͈̘̜̙̯̦͑̾͂͝ ̷̞̰̣͖͉͚̪̜̜̻̉̍̎͒̍̈̈́̚͜͜u̷̞͚͌̈́̂̏́̈̒̈́͘͠s̷̜͖̮͎͉̳͇̥̠̏̌̀͒.̷̡̧͖̜̰̹̠̬̝̖͙̺̲́͑͗̾̆͋͛͛̇̓̑̈́͘.̴̗͓̋̄̓͋͌͝.̶̨̢̗͖̰̺̬̬͎̥̦̆͐̀̌̌͊̏̈́̆̂͒̈́̿"
With a shake of his head, no, Touma placed his hand on the little nun's shoulder. Its grip tightened, though not nearly enough to cause her any sort of discomfort.
Those maddening whispers. Those shrieking, horrific screams, like those of a completely deranged, psychotic serial killer flaying his newest victim. They mixed together, accompanied one another.
Kamijou's forcibly-ascended higher mind could not even begin to try and comprehend that which stood before him.
"I'm no better. Even after I figured out what was going on with you, even when you were knocked out, cold as ice, at the mercy of my right hand… I let you get out of there. I let you live. I saw Misaka's crying face, I heard her sobs, I felt her fucking… Pain… And I still let you live."
"Ṫ̶̨̨̙͍̬͕̘̰̤̠͇͙̯͙̈͛̃͝h̷͓͒͊̌̐̓̌͗̌͂̈́͝ê̷͙̞̥̭̠͍̪̳̤͔̏̽́̊̿̉ ̴̺͙͇̪̓̓̌h̶̢̲̯̮͇͚͓͓͔̬̭̳̳̽̈́̑̽̀̀̒̽̌͘͜͠͠u̴̧̫̤̤͖̬̯̺͔͎͋̀̓̃͊̑̍̅͆̍͐͝ͅm̴̻͉̺̩̘̱̬̼̋̈́a̴͔̘̩̫͓̜̦͔̣͊͆̀̚͜ń̶̡̨̢̲͔͈̱̙̥̀̔̓͗͂̓͘͝͝ ̴̢̹̩̹̺̜̝̣͙̹̠̟̔̇́̚͝y̷͙̬͇̯̦̗̬̘̰͖̠͓͌̾̓̂̀̐̈́̄̔͒̒̀̍͠ô̵̡̧̡̯̖̟̘͉̫̫̩̣̤͖̼ų̵̥̤̗͕͖͉̭̟̇̇̀̅͛̉̔͝͝͝ ̷̣͔̩̦̜͍̥̹̭͂̄k̴̥̦̘͚͈̞̯̼̏̈́ņ̵̥͔̀̅͐̏̍͊̿̆̓e̶̊͜w̶̧̼̻͎͔͇̎͛͌̽͒̓̽͊̄͐̅̾̈̇̕ ̷̛͍́̍̔̊̄̒̉͘̕̚͠͠͝͝î̵̡̠̱̙̦͚͙̘̜ś̶̡̩̯͕͍̯̬̩͉̯͓͂̈́͒̋̔̑̇̀͌̓́͝͝͝ ̷̨̧̮̩͉̘̖̻͕͍͙͙̠̞̍̌͗͌̅̈̅͜͝͝n̴̲̱͓͍̘̓̿̒͐̒̋̎̄͊̄̚̕͝͝o̴̠͇̅̎̈́̈̽͘͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̸͎̯̣̠͇̠̙̘̙̽̈̄̔͆̓̈́̈́͛͘͜ͅĺ̸̪ọ̴̧̫̱͇͔̱̽͆̐̚͘͜͠n̶̡̛̛̝̥̜͆̑̓͂̿̔̃̕͘͝g̶̮̮͈̹͓̮̀͂̾̅̚e̸̻̺̞̻̩͚͕̭͒̎̓̓̔̈̾͘r̴̨͖̰̣͖͔͓͔̿̽̉̅̃̋̽͛̂̔̆̃͘͘͜ ̶̙̟̭͆̌̑̉̂̇̀͌̈́͗ͅͅp̷̡͎̪̫̻̬̩̻̠͈͊͂͠r̷̻͇͍̰͉̳̥̲̦̫̍ȩ̷̧͍̞̺͎͍̟͉͇̬̲̲͋͜ͅś̴̱̥̜̬̘̮̺̺̥̳ͅe̵̞̮̗̥̠̮̯͒͑̾͊̎̈́͛n̷̡̝̜̣͕̲͚̼̗̖̠͓͈̳̼̾̍͊̓͊̊̆̈́̈́ţ̷̪͉̰͙͎͕̍̽͊͊̄́͋̎͗͋̉͘͜͜.̶͙͙̱̋́ ̶̡͓̟̞͕̗͇̟̩͇̜̽͘ͅO̶̹͐͌̈͌̑n̴͉͉͖̦̓̍̈̀̋̒̋̾͝l̷̢̼̟̪̜̲̩̞͖͐̈́̾͊͑̃͛̕͜͝ŷ̶̗͈͓͛̎͑̕͘ ̶̨̨̢̡͎̜͎̙͌̇ͅu̴̢̝̓́͒̈́͊s̴̬̹̘̳͉̗̪̻͎͔͒̔̒̈͑̂̔̊͘ͅ.̵̹̽̉͑́̓"
"Who said you could talk? I'm talking, you pipe down while I'm talking. Step over me again and I'll make you regret it, ACCELERATOR! What sort of fucked up power did you reach out to, you sick piece of trash?!"
"T̵̢͉̠͖͙̳̻̹̘̠̠͍͌̐̎̀͊̓̍͜h̵͙͚̀̑͌͋͂̉̊͒̽̿̄͗̌̕ě̴̦͈̣́̌̿̈́͐͋͊̓̈͝͝͝ ̵̱͕͕̺̯̙̱̀͂̑̾̐̀̒̿͋̕͜͝A̴̘͎͙̖̐̌̀̈́ć̸̨̪͓̠͕̲͇̓̊̆͆͑͗̄̋̊͝͝c̶̛̛͚͖̎͊̓̽̐̑̀̐̓̚ḕ̵̦̘̝͍͖̫͈͈̼̰̹̙́̒̌̍̓̊͌l̷̢̨̨̳̬̺̻͖̣͚̐̔͗̽̾͊̈͂̈́̓͊̈́̏̕͠ę̵̨̢̘͇͍͔̬̫̀̃̔̇͂͊́̏̌͋̿̉͑̈́̕r̴̨̨̡̻̹̤̳̜̥̜̬̥̣͇̓̿̽͌̓̎͛̓ǎ̴̩̠̀͒͗ţ̵̨̝̻͖̲̘̭̬̖̳͘ͅö̸̧͍̤̅̾̊́r̶͎̳̻̮̫̊̈́̑̉ ̵̰͇͕̮̜͓̬͌̂͐̂̈́̒̔̉̃̕͝͠ḯ̶̧̢̱̗̙͍̦͖̣̘̌s̴̬̤͔̿͌̓ ̸̡̼͇͆̄͂̌͘n̶͈̪͛̉ǫ̴̢̛̛̩̼̹͔͓͚͘͝͝ ̷̡̧̰͓͍̟̻̣͔̾̓̉̾̚͜m̷̧̘̞̞͎͉̜̞̈́̄̓̚o̷̡̨̡̪̠̟̜͆̇̓̉̌̿̓́̓͘̕͜͝͠ͅŗ̶̬̰͍͇̻͙̝̠̳̤̰̰͕͋̉̆̇ė̴̬̰͚̦͚͍͖̦̱̿̒̔̅̕,̶͕̝̻̥̦̦͖̠͚̥͉̱̈́̉͂̇̂͛̋͛̽͜ ̷̨͍̭̣̝̗̹͓̱͉̟̫̑̑́̒̏̚̚͜͜͜Ṱ̶̢͉͗̿ơ̸͎̯͖̺͔̠̬͑̒͛̀̋͘ư̷̗͍̼̝̝̖̰̹̪̘̟̤̮͚̖̂͛́̈̈́̓͊̀̑̕͠m̴̨̹̘̬̞̗̊̂̇̿̎̏͒̃̚͠͠a̵̢̢̫͎̮͖͔̩͚͔͎̯͎̦̮̽́̒̔͋̅̑͝͝ ̵̧͙̜͓̰̰̝̰̏̈́̋̽̈̇͋̀̔̇̀̄̀͘K̵͙̠͈͓̲̖͉͋͐͐͑͐͒͗̃̂̂̇a̵̲̿̉̄͠͠m̴̙͐͐͊͑̉́͛̇̍̎̂͗̕̚͠i̴̹͓͆́̉̃͂̅͒͒̀̔̊͊j̵̓͗͆͊̑̔̐̈́ͅơ̸͔͈͎̙̟̜̟͑̌̆̉͊̃̂̉̃͊̌̈́́̕ư̴̗̣͚̫̭̞̭̗̥̬̋̀̏̿̽̕ͅ.̴̫͈̫̳͕̃̍̎̄̌̓̓̑̐̄͘͝ ̶͉̥̘̳̦̗̰̖̭̙̟̝̽̍̈̈́̾͂͌̅͗͘T̸̨̗̬͈̲̱̱̠̯̭̼͙̞͋̃͆͘͜ḥ̴̟̝̙̎ȇ̷̛̻̻͙̲̣̔̈́̃͜͜r̴̛̙̹̮̜͛̈͑̌͑͗̎̓͘͠e̷̛̮̽̐́̎̓͂͐̾̄͗̂̀͝ ̶̮̬͋͒̆́̀̌͊͌̈́͌̅̓̚͝ḯ̸̢̡̥̪͋̾̆͗̇͘͜s̵̢͓̱̲̼̮̼̩̟̮̹̱͎̈́̓̿́̓̔̕̕ͅ ̷̪͛̚ò̴̭͐̐̽̊̍͆̀̉̊͌̾̔͜͝ń̷̳̦̓̑͊͐l̷̮͗y̸̭̫̝̅͐͆̆̃̾͆̐͘͘͝͠͠͠ ̷͖̻̥̪͍̝̼̩̳͎͎͆̎̍͜ů̴͕͎̪̝̥̳̤͊̎́͂͑̃̎s̸̞̯̜̦̩̀̎̈̓͆̊̚̕͝.̵̘͙͓̭̖̤̬̥̩̀̎̌͒̏̎͒̅̀̑̾͂̆̇̕"
"I… oh… ohoho… heh. Eheheh."
Kamijou Touma stopped speaking, for a moment, yet even as his words ceased to flow, vocalizations continued to emerge.
His arms found their way upwards, outstretched towards the sky above, spread apart from one another. The vocalizations were produced were like something between a scream, a cackle that wouldn't have been out of place emerging from the lips of a witch, and a hysterical giggle.
Kamijou could barely hear himself think.
As the little nun seemed to stare at her 'keeper', he forcibly calmed himself.
"Don't look at me like that, Index. You know I'd never hurt you. I love you."
"I love you too, Touma. We should really run away right now. You're strong, Touma, but you're not strong enough for this."
With a kiss to her forehead, Kamijou Touma moved in front of her, and stared down the number one strongest esper in Academy City, the Accelerator, he who could not be bested. Apparently.
"Just watch me prove you wrong, Index."
And yet, he'd been beaten to a pulp more than once. Such was the irony of the Accelerator's situation, an irony which Kamijou Touma proverbially drank like wine.
This was Accelerator. Somehow, he'd returned from the dead. This was him. Whatever nonsense he was spouting, whatever magic tricks he was using to project his voice, Kamijou would get to the bottom of it.
"Index… do you know just how much I care about her? Is caring something you can really do? I have to wonder… or do you keep those Sisters, Last Order and Worst around, just to make yourself feel better? Just to make yourself feel like less of an animal?"
"Ť̷̼̘̱̣̹̘͓̂͝ͅh̴̨̡̢̬̳̜͚͔̰͎̪̰̩͔͌̀͑̇̀͘e̸̼͓͚̰̘̼͓̫͐͗̌̓͂̄̆́͛̀͌̈̈́̏̕ ̴̨̨̱͕͇̘̮̲̮̪̬̝̤̖͍̍̆̈́̊̀̀̋̋͋͛͒̓̒̚̚Î̸̲̱̣̯̹̅̇͑͒̆̒n̵̛̯̔̄̏̂̉̂͑̌ḍ̴̨̻̘̭͍̠͇̻̗̗̗̪̠̌̍̓̇̈́͛̋̄̾̎̃͗͘é̸̡̢̛̙̤͎̝͙̺̠̄̓͛̒̎̄͐̋̌̓͜͝͝ͅx̶͔̦̀̄̾̀̾͝ ̷͕͚̒͆̔̇L̴̞̦̻̰͈̖̲̍̈́͛͂̌̓̈́̋̀̓̀͘͜͠͝ͅͅi̵̢̨̧̧͕͔̙͕̭͕̟̬̺̫̒͗̉͌̇͝b̷̨̪͎̄͛̉̇͋̏̈ṙ̷͍̗̳̗̟͕͙͎̫̩̣̆̈́́̉́̊͝ô̷̥̮͆͛̅̊͑̿́͝͠ȓ̵̨̢̢̢̪̥͓͓̱̪̯͕͐̎̍̕ǘ̷̗͈̱̺̝̜̝̞͓̜̱m̸̡̧͎͉̝͖̖̣̥͖̖̲̑̅́̋̆́̅̚͝͠ ̵̨͍̲̯͕͉̟̆̊́͂ͅͅP̵̡̡̡̦͓̜̹̠̝̻̖̌͆͋͒͊̚͜ͅr̷͚̳͓͊̓͌͌̚ŏ̸̳̉̃̚h̸̡̛̦̐̀̾̌͑̉̇̈́̓̋͠í̵̩̗̈b̷̧̯̩̞̱͈̬̟̲̩̗͍̪̙̼͑̔̄́͝͠i̵̭͍͈̟̠͖͉͎̩̱̩̩̤̅͒̓̈̚͜t̵̡̢͚̪̰̼͈̫̦̬̪̀̊̐̚͝o̶̯̻̳͉͉̺̳̹̤̅̓͑̈́̑̈̎̑͋̄̉̒͆̕ͅṙ̶̢̨̛͈̙͚͕͇̠̼̠͎̻̠̎͝͝͠ǘ̴̹̟͌́̿͛͊̄̽̃m̴̩͔͈̫̼̦̮̐̒̐̾̓̓͒͗̃̔.̵̺͇̝̙̩͚͖̞͕̹̑̀̋̈́̽͜ ̷̙̯̻͉̭̠͎̤̜̠͙̽̋̔̀̐̓A̴̬͖͍͙͍̰̼̞̅̾́͘ ̶̢̛̞̬̙͉̦͖̯̪̲͚͕̖̊͌̽́̂͐̀̏̐̕m̵̢̧̨̢̛̫̠̟̣̈̾̓̂̒̃͂e̵̯̦͕̻̟͛͐̀̈́̈́̂̉̐͛̓̅̀͜͝ȃ̶̡̛̪͎̙̻͖̭͙̤̰͆́̂̀͋͊͐̇͜͠n̸̩͑̏̎̓̌͑͑̆̽i̷̧̧̬̭̦̱̲͌̇̍̇̉̂̐ṇ̴͈̥̯̼̫̫̗̞̺̑̓͒͒͂̇͛̾̕g̵̨̧̩̹̋́͋̓͝l̴̢̹̲̠̠̲̝̏̍̌̍̽̄͐̅̽̚͘͜͠͠e̴͎̩̩̲̯̦͛͌̈́̎͘̚͜͝ͅs̸̪̙̊̿͋̽͋s̴̱͑͒̈́̈́͑̃̎̊̇̔̾̂̀͘ ̸̝̝̩͋̏̉͊͑͋̓̓̀͘͝r̴̨̻̩̲̜̤̥̮̞̹̘̲̓̂͌̒͗̈́̿̓̏͌̚e̴̡̨̋̈́̿͑̀́ļ̵̪̘͇͖̖͕͉̬̞̱̹̦͒̇͌̿͂̅͐͊̾̈́̋̒͌́̚͜į̵͕͎͕͕͙̭̜̭̳̞̀̋͠c̴̡̳͈͓̀̈́̀̚͜͜͝.̷̼͎̣͓̜̮̹͉̝̞͔͈̋̀̉̍̈́̑̐̑͋͜͜͝ ̵̢͕̜͉͙͕̦̇̐͊̈́̅̈́͒̉͑̈́́̊͂̕Ẏ̶̢̬̠͖̫̜̟̮ͅͅǫ̶̛̬̬̯̺͓̠̲̦͉̻̹̌̅́̔̾̉̆̿̿̓͘͜͠͠͝ụ̴̟̊̎̕r̶̙͉͉̜͓̪̰̰̫̆̏͛̏́̀͛̋̏͝ͅ ̴̡̢̢͉̪̬̞̥̭͕̞̣̣̍̿̀͜ͅs̶͔̮͙̰̠̱̲͖̰͍͇͓̣̼̏͐́͐̓̆̕͘p̵̡͙͉̥̘̜̰͓̳͙̟̱̫͐̃̐̉́͛̄̀̕ͅȩ̸̛̫͉̥̟̩͆̓͋̎̈́͆̈́́͠c̸̢̝̣͚̣̗̯̲̯̐̊̑͐́̊̄͘͜ͅͅi̷̡̨̹̹̱͚̱̣̳̠̣̮̤͛̈́̍̓̈́̅̃̽̅̃͘͝ë̵̬̐̓́̑͊̚͝s̴̨̰̲̪͈̻̠͇̖̩͍̈̔́̏̈́̾͗̄̇̚͠ ̵̘̘̩̤̹̤̪́̀͜c̸̜͔̏̇̀̉̿̑̏̈̓̇̿̒̕å̶͓̜͔͆͆͊̈́̀̈́̌͊̀̎͌͒͠͝n̵̙̮͎̗͓͐̈̄ñ̶̨͉̠͙̖͙͉͕͚̜͆́̾o̷̼̬̲̥̞̖̱̣͓̘̳̒͜t̶̡̧̮͇̺͚̹̤̹̮̻͕́̌̀̅͒̈́̀̂͆͛͘ ̴͖͍̺̬͋̑é̵̡̨͇̹͕̥̬͍̻̬̟͂̒͋̆̈́͜v̶̭̟̌̆̇̈́͂͛͘͝e̷̢̳̱̟̪͚̫͔̙̿̓̒́͌̑̔̐̒͊̚͝ͅǹ̷̡̧͚̩̜͙̞̼̼͓̥̊͘ ̸̧̛̗̖̟̠̗͚͉̱̜̺͋̔̇̀̈̓͂̃̀͂͊͆̎̕͜ͅb̴̯̙̙̘̝̫̭̞͗̿͌͌́̀͠ę̸͈̤̗̘̰̱̥͕̤̹͕̒͐̒͌͐̿͗͌̽̉͝͠g̴̛̘̩͍̙͓̥̼̋̾̾́̈̾͝į̴̩̮̜̬͓͍̱̏̍͊͋̆̐͂̌̔͝ň̶̢̨̖͔͙̻̠̗̿́̃͆̏͐͝͝͝ ̵̱̠̰̬͚̬͂̔̅̀̚t̸͙̭͖͇͎̯̔̎̆̅̾́̓͐͆̕͝o̶̞̩̭͐̈̌́̐̽̚͘͝͝ ̴̱̼͖̣̖͚̗̐̇̕̕͝c̷̨̨̢̛̛͉̺͉͉̮͗͒̍̑̐̿̑̅̚͠o̴̧̨̯̮̲̹͉̠͔͉͉̗͆ͅń̴͓̰̗͚͕̘̜͛̔̒̑́̔̋͋̽̔͋̊̑̕ͅc̷̢̧̪̖̬̖̣̄̈̂͊̃̍̀̿̊͐̀́͌ͅẹ̶̣̓́́̇́̂͝͝i̵̡͚̫̙̤̩̮̜̻͔̩̖͛͑̆ͅv̷̯̲̐̾̑͂͘ȩ̵̟̦̞͖̥̱̰͍̅̀͠ ̵̤͍̼̠̪̗̱̠̘̥̪̔̒̽̈́̄͂́̏ȯ̶̢͉̻̻͇̭̻͓̬͓̿̉̐̓̑͒̐͘͠͠f̵̢̢̢̣̣͚̪̮̺͙͔̣̳̑̒̐̓̈́̈͛̆̿̊͑ ̴͉͕̐̓̍̿̉͑͗̆́͗̍̉̕u̶͈͖̙͕͖͋̃̕͝s̴̩̄͌̈́̽̍.̶̨͚͙̣̓̃̂͛͂̔̃̍̈́̒͝ ̷̹̟̦͂̌̑̀͂̈́̚͝͝ͅY̴̥̗̒̋͋̈́̈͒͒͂͌͒͆̌̕ơ̷̢͕͈̗̜͕̲̟̤̠̞̭̆͑̏̅̾̓̒́̋͘̕ǘ̷̺̦̹̗͔̥̖͉̯́̎̃̀̍̂͒͂̆̅͝r̵̢̢̛͈͎͕͈̤̙̼͚͌͂͌͛͋ ̷̖̲͉̼̲̭̗̥̪̈͊̽̊̾̔̿̉̓̄̃͌͌̕̕ŝ̵̛̪̣̣͕̘̪̖͉̰̋͆̐͝ͅę̸͖̘̦̤̯̯̣̻͈͎̬͓̫͌͒̎̊̚ͅn̸͉͍͙̭͙̟̫͒̊͊͗̉͊͆̓̐̚̚͝͠t̵̙̣̤̖͔̜̦͓̠̑͛̆͋̃͜į̵̛͊̑̍̏̄̒̈m̶̢̩̈̔̔̃͆͐̾̚ę̸̢̛̛͕̜̳̩͇̦̳̲̹̐̈̌̃̋̉͛̎̌ͅǹ̸̝̘͚̻͜t̴̡̛̥̹͍̖̻͙̀͐͌͌̓̽͒͋͒̇͆̉͌͂ą̶̨̢̙̗̘̦̟̥̮̹̳̻̼̞̏̀̔́̎̂̒̀̔̃̌̽̂̀̚l̴̨̛̬͇̰̜͆͛̀̄̀̌͒̾̈́̇͝ī̸̯͚̭̉̇̎̍s̶̘̫͓͓̹̼̯̟̮͇͎͙͎̲̍͒̆̽̑ṃ̸̦͈͙͔̳̹̫̜͖͋̂̐́̀͌̑͋͆̈̔̓̀ ̵̧̛̯̺̦͚̣̙͉̳̦̮̤̟͉̇͒̂̒̿̂̍̚̚f̴͖̩̺̟͍̮̩̙̻̱͗̈͌͊ä̵̡͈̫̱̻̹̩͇̭̝̤͖̗͍́͂͌̚͜i̸̱̻̹̎̒͆͝͝ͅl̸̡̼͇͕̼̦͆̓́̔̐͘͠ŝ̸̠̩̬͙̠̘̭̠̬̘̜̦̘̪̚͜ ̸̨̢̠̳̟̞͚̱̮̱͎͓͕̣̆̈́̊̋̅͛̏̀ͅy̷̨̛̤̟͍̩̬͎̫͇̟̎͐̉͒ͅͅơ̸̢̮͙͔͒̒̓̈́̔ͅų̷̞͈̮̣͆̚͜ͅͅ.̸̻̘͍̬͎̰̫̙̲̳̒͠ ̴̡̧̨̻̹̝̠̓̔́͑̏́Ỳ̷̺͈̭͓̫͎̘̮̮̺͎̬̩̺̓̎͂̕͜ơ̵̬̮̘͚̜͇͚̮͗̽̏̃͂ṷ̷͓̥̼̣̯̱̘͉̺̬̩̻̣̈́͐͊̂͆͗̓͂̉̍̇̑͜ ̵̡̮̙͙͎̫͔̩̖͙̉͋̃̀̿̊͐̍̎̔̔̆̔̕͜͠w̸̢͕̱̱̩͚̙͖̤̜̬̿͆͑̌̎͐̏̈́̈̍͗̓͝͝ḯ̵̡̡͙͔̙̺̬͚̮̱͎̣̋̎̾l̸̢̰̱͍̹̲͍̳͉͕̭̖̏́͒͂̏̌̾̓̅̈̈̚͝͝ĺ̵̡͔͙͇̩̼̼̇̊̒ ̴̨̰̯̜̼̙̙̘̯͓̳̥͎̲͚͛̾̋̅̃̊͊͠͝f̵̛̗̹̭̬̩̤̤͚͙͛͒̋͌͒̈́͘͜ǎ̸̡̢̛͔͉͚̩͚̺͙͇͙͓̝̑̊͂̍̈́͊̈́̊͘į̶̗͖̰̩̝̔͛̏͌͑̈́͑̂̅̈́̕l̸̨͚̺̲̟͖͍̹͂̍̋̒̾͑̏́͐̐̍̚͠ ̷̗͍̼̦̫͈̙͖͑̊̋̍̀͒ͅh̴̡̨̙̩̘̜̼̯̣͕͚̅̐͑͘é̸̯̃̄̑̀̃͑̎͗̍͘͘͠r̸͍͂̓̂.̷̢̧̯͕̣̩̝͛̀͝ ̷͓̺͕͗̈́̅̆̉͗S̶̢̛̪̬̦̹̫͕͔̞̝̪̈́̃̔̑̂́͊̽̏̔̔̚͘͝ḩ̴̨͓̠͓̼̼͚̣̺͎̙̅̇̌͌͊̈́̅̽̈́̀́̽ͅe̴̤͛̈́̑̈́̿ ̴̰̠͈̦̑̍͜w̵̞̘͈̿͋̂î̶̭̮̜̣͓͉̬̭͕̹̎͌l̴̛͙̲̟͓̩̦̻͓̐̓̀̔̇̇̒̉̊͘͘͠͝l̴͎̠̩͕͈͗̏͋̒̊͛̔̀̎̄̀̔̀̆ ̵̰̯̦͑̌̒͠d̷̨̩͚̲͙͚͎̲̬̺̦͕͚̜̉̕͜i̴̛̛̜͍̦̼͚̳͒̈̒͐̑̕͝͝ę̷͙̺̞͔͚̪̞̗̜̩̳̬̟̓̽̏̂͂.̶̨̯̮̣̫̝̟̙̪͇͕̻́͑͊̓̒̀́̄̓̂͗͌͜͝ ̷̙̲̿͋̊̇̕Ỷ̷̭̤̭̫̋́̄̉̃͐̊̽͝͝ȏ̵̢̳̣̹̼̰̪̞̝͇̮̱̘̂́̈́̇̀͌́̄͆͒̅̓͛̕ͅū̷̡̞̱̬͔̺̦͠ ̶̘̯͓̦̓w̸̱̃̉͒̊͆̃͂̄͛͒͊͛̀̚͠i̵̡̘̗͍͕̠͝ͅl̷̢̥͉̯̱̟̪͉͙̦͖͔̣̋̽̆͌̾̏͝l̷̨̟͕̼͚͚͉̻̟͎̙̬͔̂͊̌̐͐̋͘͘͝͠͝͝ ̷̢͕̪̠͉̟̤̿̈́̃͒́b̸͔͚̜̪͓̄̍̐̌̀̒̑̚̚e̶͓͎͋̎́͆̈́̈́̇̏̎͛̐̀̀͝ ̶̡̡̬͖̣͎̫͈͍̭̻͌̂͐̋̎̓̕͜͝ͅr̶̡̧̮̬̝̞̻̱̬̫̲̳̦͒͗̇e̶̢̡̢͇̙̝̺̾̍͋̌͑͗̀̀̂̚̚͜͠ͅs̷̢̛͇͓͔͕̖̩̹̣̳͇̰͖̭͐̃̓̑̎́̈́͛̄̐̒̋p̶̡̡̺̜̍͌̿͋̊͋̄́͐̒̀͐̇̏͘ͅo̴̫̣̦̲̣̎̃n̴͉̪͈͇̙̎̇̊̈̔̓̏͊̈́̈́̈́̋̇̓̏ś̴̡̢̮͖̞͚̘̝̳̗̻̠͕͊̾̈̈́̊̿͊͐̅͆͝i̷̗͇̿̏b̸͖̫̽̐͆̒͆̏̀̔̕͠l̸̡̠̫̣̱̠̦̺̄e̵̺̦̺̓̐͐̌̌̑͂͋͑̓͂͝͠.̷̨̡̧͇̟͚̹͚̱̻̮̦͍́́̇̀͊̍̕ ̷̨̧̛̩̳̾̊͐̾̆̃̃̚͝͝͝͝͝J̶̗̺̻̜͍̯̺̥̫̞̋́̇̋̋͗̔̊̑̐̔́o̷̡̨̨̠̙̰͙̰̞̭̯͌͌̉̀̃̾̓͆̓͐͑͗͜ͅi̷̡̢̢̙͔̙͉̫̥̜̣̟͈̟͊̎̐̀͒ň̶̮̲͙̲̒̾̀͝ͅͅ ̷̝͖̝̲͑̒͆̔̃͑͗̂͗́̄̚͘͜͝ư̷̤̄͛̀̏̇̿̀̑̿͑͊̐̈͛s̷̳̰̯͈̝̟̞̰̞͓̤̱̎͌ͅ.̵̩̰̱͍̥̞̤̰͍͕̱̗̘͒̇͊́͐̒̽̆͜"
For a moment, Kamijou Touma reeled, a display of mock-fear performed swiftly, with very little concern for the feelings of the strongest esper in Academy City.
"And who's going to kill her, huh? You? I don't fucking think so! I don't care how many pieces I'll have to cut you into! I'll end this, I'll end YOU!"
The awkward, crooked half-grin that'd formed on his face dissipated, vanishing.
"I'd tear Academy City apart with my bare hands for her. I'd rip that building without windows right out of the ground, and I'd throw it into orbit, all Index would have to do is ask me to do exactly that, and I'd do it. I have a lot of unfinished business, actually, a lot of loose ends I need to tie up…"
Accelerator raised an eyebrow; Kamijou Touma responded by extending his arms outwards, and almost suggestively nodding.
"Oriana Thomson, I'm cool with. Those God's Right Seat motherfuckers, though? Not quite. Plus, I've got a whoopin' in store, for whoever it was that fucked with Index's head and made her memorize all these evil books… I'll make their death especially prolonged. Maybe stick 'em with a diseased needle or two, watch the bacteria take them… boohoo… Accelerator, I've got so much work ahead of me."
"I̵͖͉̟̳̜̼̹͈̎̍̍͗͊͂̆̀͋̉̀̈̔̏͘ͅm̴̺̞͔̦͖̮͔͕͉̒ͅp̶͇̼̹̺̥̻̯̝̦͓̥̤͐̊̿ͅr̵̲͔̲̝͕̂̾̒͒͑̆̊̀͋̂̌̚͜͠͝ȩ̸̦̱̼̣͚̦͑͆ş̴̝̫̪̲̣̮̤̰͕̫͍͊͑̒͛̐́̈́̓͠s̴̻̅̓̓i̵̧̢̨̗̲̻͇̥̣̰͂̾͋̿̾̅͝͝v̶̫̰͍̼̤̤͔̖̬̒͒͘ė̴͙͇̩̟͙̖̯͓̫̥̩̗̥̗̽̅́̌̈́̎́͂̉͛̕̚͜͝.̴̤͎͈̓͑͌̍̆̀́̒̉̎͘̚͝͠ ̵̛̛̹̜̺̈̔̏̾̽͋̆̓̾̊͛̌͠L̷̡̢̻̝͉̩̻̝̜̫̳̺̲̍̄̊̀͐̈́͂͑̇̉̑̇͘̚͝ͅȩ̶̣̫͉̰̠̥̳̮̖̝͍̥̦͙̇͆̏̐̅̾͆̌̓t̶̨̘̲̯̖̙̰̅̈́͆͊́̊͊͝ ̴̟̻̝̰̖͔̭̹̮̮͎̃ͅͅý̵̙̽̀̃̽̊̃ơ̴͚̺̩̖͍̦̰͈̱̭̋͆̄̈́̉͗̾̈́̿̀͘u̶̢̧̮̖̪̳̥̓͆͊ŗ̸̛̛̖̤̳̯̜̱̗̼͎̱̻̱̑͑̉̏͛̄̒̌̋̈́́͜͝ ̵͉̣͔̮̫̜͇̼͈̱̜̄͌̉̊͌͌̀̕r̵̪͆͛͊͐̀̑̀̈͑͛̇͘̕̚͝ả̶̧͙̖̲̟̻͎͎̈͋͗͋̃͜g̵̛͙̩̼͖̗͉̊̍̿́̀͜ẽ̸̢̠̰̗͇͙̗̰͉̱̰̩ͅ ̸̢̫͙̘͖̫̟̣̜͚̘̋̃́̊̋̂̈́̾̎̊̒̕͝ṫ̸̢̼̦̞̫̱͇̩͉̗͙à̴̺͓͙̼͈̩̝͔̳͉͙̫͓̃k̸͇͉̬̯̳͚̤͕͛̾̐̑̐̍̎̚e̵̗͌̆ ̵̦̯̗͍̜̰̝̯̗̳͔̤̣̖͍̓͂͠y̸̰̫͚̘̭͊͑ò̸̢̞͈̠͚̎͐̋̌̀̈́̇̑̽͜ú̷̯̩̂͘.̷̨̲̤̤͈̜̻͎̩͇̳̥͂̌̍̓͜"
"So much business I left unfinished! Pieces of shit, just like you, living when you should all be sharing a dirty, unmarked grave! Digging a hole for these pricks, it's got me thinking… Y'know? It's really got the old juices flowing. I'm just RARING to go here! I can almost TASTE it! The desire! I want to kill you again!"
As if it was wracked by the tremors of an earthquake, bubbling deep beneath its crust, the very earth beneath Accelerator shattered, and was tossed up around him, chunks of the stuff, mud, grass and torn sections of roots fluttering about, lacking any goal. It fluttered over his head, and soon found its way back to the ground, pulled by the force of gravity.
Accelerator was off. Following the explosion, he darted forward at an incredible speed, beyond that which could be properly observed by the likes of Index, a mere human being.
Kamijou Touma observed every movement, every twitch of every vein in Accelerator's dead expression. Kamijou too had rushed forward, tearing apart the innocent earth beneath him, nanorobotic legs allowing him to achieve near-Saintly speed. Index, the girl who'd memorized well over one hundred thousand Grimoires took a step back, but didn't falter for even a moment. Having become a bystander, she watched on.
The distance between them was closed.
"It takes a monster to kill a monster! Let's make like titans, Accelerator, and CLASH! Into the dirt with you!"
"Y̴͔̦̫̺̘͌̍́̅̐̂͝ò̷̢̨̮̤̰͉͕͕͚͚̞̞̮̰͋͋͐̅̈́̈́̂́̀̾̕̕ͅu̴͙̩̮̣͔͉͖̘͈̫̮̞̥̇̓̊̓̎̈́͗̄͆̃̾͑͠ ̵̥͊͐̔̄̌͊͆͑̚͘͝w̵̡͇̰̥̘̝̹̪̩̒͌̅̍͜͠͠ĩ̶̡̡̨̠͚̠͉̤̹͌́̾̄̋̈̓̂͌̚͘͘͠͠l̵̛̝̭͕̖̼̥͙̋͂͐̇̋̒̇͑͒͊́͐̆̚͜l̵̞̎̎̀́̀̄͘͠͝ ̶̨̏̿b̷̨̨̖͖̦͈̼̳̩̯̥̂͠e̷̗̼͍̟̟̻͓̳̟͇̳̺̅͝͠ ̵̢͈̞͖͓̖̫̀ͅǫ̶̭̥͖̯͇̪̖̺̲̝͉̣̳̈́̉͛́̄̆̓͐u̸̧̧̲̩̠̖̞͙̳̞̼̜̖̲̐̾̑͛̀͑̍̈̈́̑͜͠͝͠ŗ̶̢̨̱̜͖͉̘̠̞̠̘̩͙̺̉̀̓̿̃̋͊̆̀̚̕s̶̺͎͉̣̙̯̳̬̟͓̮̦̗̝͒͌͒͂̑̀͊́̋́͑͝,̴̡̫̓̒̏̊͒̒̕͝ ̶̡̡̡͔͔̘̱̖̟͍͕̰̫͍̽͜s̶̢̬̥͙̠̤̯̽̐̓̈́͝ͅǫ̴͕̠̙̠̥̦̲͙̩͓͉̑̓̇̆̿͒̈̇̽̕͘ǫ̴̡͉̪̗̪̹̔͛̏̎̇͊̂͑̆̒̈̇͘͝ͅņ̶̰͚̦͉͇͍̼̼̣̊̋̈́̐̃̓̃̿͂̿̉."
That idiotic old man had created a living weapon, one which could control its own actions, its own destiny.
The left hand was thrown outward, reckless abandon initiated. There weren't enough weapons in the world to kill him, there was nothing powerful enough, no force, no element.
Clenching it into a fist, the left hand, not the right slammed into the side of the Accelerator's face.
His cheek grew exponentially, expanding, his flesh struggling to make room for the massive object that had painfully crashed against it. Kamijou Touma's knuckles scraped against the cheekbone beneath, and nearly forced the eyeballs of the number one strongest esper to bulge from their sockets.
The forceful blow came, one which rattled the shredded brain of the number one strongest esper within the confines of his skull.
Accelerator's jaw was violently knocked to one side, nearly dislocated completely as the impact came and went. Globules of blood flowed like tears, merely of instinct down the cheeks of the strongest esper in all of Academy City.
A blow to his gut brought him to the ground. He uttered a pathetic gasp before his body crashed, tumbling.
All the while, Kamijou Touma shrieked in mad laughter, like something out of a nightmare, like some creeping horror who knew no sanity.
"If I could kill you, over ten thousand times… I'd do just that! Maybe I can… Or maybe I can't. Maybe you only have two lives, Accelerator. That would just suck. It's okay, we'll make the best of the moment, won't we? Must be hard… Being knocked around like this, again. You think you're on top, and then… Suddenly, you're on the bottom. Y'know, that could've come out better, but you get my point."
Accelerator forcibly jerked up at unnatural speeds. His spine was torn from his very back by the sheer velocity. It was as if Accelerator was merely a toy, lifted from the ground without tact by an overexcited child. As if he'd been 'helped' up, the air behind him forced him to his feet, and then coalesced above him. He rose from the earth itself, blood dripping from his nostrils, steadily flowing like the dying remnants of a waterfall in a land plagued by drought.
Then, he dove downwards.
The Accelerator reached out, fingertips touching the skin of Kamijou Touma, who merely responded by delivering a vicious kick directly to the face of the number one strongest esper.
A single, blackened speck of something formed there, upon Kamijou Touma's machine phase-matter resin, that which his immortal, forcibly-ascended form consisted of. That blotch, no larger than a spot of dead pixels upon a computer's monitor did not expand and did not grow. It merely clung there.
With haste Kamijou's right hand shifted, machine-phase matter spiralling and extending outward, forming a sharpened blade similar in shape and design to a medieval pike's head.
"You know what, Accelerator? You fucking know what? Really, this is all my fault… I had three chances! That switchyard, Eastern Europe, then Denmark… I had three chances to leave your corpse to moulder, and I didn't take 'em. This one's on me! Now, though… now I'm cleaning up my messes. I'll keep killing you! I'll never stop making you pay! NEVER!"
Then, from his back, rows of machine-phase matter were ejected, soon taking the form of four enormous, shifting wings. Nanorobotic units, billions, they buzzed about, swarming.
The Accelerator did not react. Further, malformed, twisted limbs began to jut from the corpse, that which Touma refused to recognize as a corpse being puppeteered by powers beyond humanity's scope of imagination.
"It's over, Accelerator… Your homicidal, gore-stained legacy ends here, with me, and your blood staining the grass. AGAIN! Grit your teeth, strongest, because… Eh-eh… Eh-eh… Hehehe! Because I'm STRONGER!"
Wings of machine-phase matter beat against the air, flapping and causing great commotion below; the grass flowed beneath the oxygenated air, pushed downwards and forced below the enormous, machine-phase matter protrusions.
Obviously, Tsuchimikado had been right about one thing – somehow, some of the Accelerator's memories in his dead, sundered brain remained capable of being accessed - that damnable hero was different. He was hardly the creature he'd once been. Hardly at all; just what "Kamijou Touma" had become was unclear to the Accelerator's partially-resurrected, yet paradoxically perpetually-dying brain. An angel? Some sort of synthetic angel, a malformed creation of scientific origin? Perhaps he wasn't even the original hero. Perhaps, that hero had well and truly died.
Perhaps this was a replacement? A clone?
God, no, anything but a clone.
Pondering would accomplish nothing, and get him nowhere. There was but one option, one solution; a One-Way Road.
More wings. Pitch-black, covered in those eyes which leaked hideous, bubbling, orange-white pus from between their thick, fleshy lids. Covered in hideous, misshapen limbs and gaping, monstrous maws that screamed silently as if tortured.
That which remained of the Accelerator's personality was silenced once more by the forces that pulled his proverbial strings.
He, Kamijou Touma, the hero, the Savior of the Misaka Network, he disintegrated. He fell apart, becoming a swarming, buzzing mass of nanomachines. Whatever it was, it lacked a cohesive shape.
With swiftness never seen before by the likes of the Accelerator, the great mass rose like it was some featureless, amorphous super-organism and surged, moving behind its foe.
Reforming behind Accelerator, Kamijou Touma forced his blade-hand outwards, just as the first-ranked level five esper managed to turn himself around. Upwards, and then upwards, in a curved arc.
Within the span of a millisecond, a mere fraction of a moment before Kamijou Touma's bladed extremity collided with Accelerator's corpse.
Slicing upwards, there was indeed the gritting of teeth, the biting of a tongue and the restraining of an anguished scream, threatening to tear itself from the throat of Academy City's strongest. Flesh was parted. Bone matter was ripped effortlessly, the blade of machine-phase matter slicing through, like scissors parting a sheet of paper in two.
The Accelerator's only remaining arm, ripped. It was separated entirely from its torso. Tendons dangling like the tendrils of a squid fell away from his torso and to the ground below, where it came to rest, the digits of its hand twitching.
But that wasn't the extent of what occurred. Hardly.
Accelerator's corpse looked onward, his head lowered. A great, toothy grin had stretched across his face; blood did pour from the stump that remained where his right arm had once been.
Aloud, the strongest esper screamed a truly hellish vocalization. High-pitched and seemingly without end, Accelerator howled like some feral animal, head tossed back, remaining arm outstretched.
Millions of screams. Billions of screams. It was unlike anything Kamijou Touma and Index had ever heard. It was a sound that was heard all throughout reality.
As he moved, there was a blinding, pitch-dark cloud of hellish obstruction that emanated, both around, and from within him, paradoxically glowing as bright, or perhaps even brighter than the visible sun situated in the sky.
They were forcibly ejected from his back, as if they'd been stored within the entire time, like they'd simply been waiting for the chance to emerge, and be free.
Even more wings.
The Accelerator's arm-less corpse was reduced to a mountain of shifting flesh, misshapen, deformed limbs, blinking, crusted, pus-filled eyes, snapping maws, and pitch-dark wings. Something from the nightmares of the Genius Author, he who dreamed into existence the likes of Cthulhu.
As much fiction did, the likes of Cthulhu, the creation of the Genius Author had taken inspiration from a fundamental aspect of reality.
A fundamental aspect of reality which Kamijou Touma and the little silver-haired nun faced together.
"TOU-MA! You're not fighting him! You're fighting the Old Gods! TOUMA! YOU CAN'T WIN THIS FIGHT! N-NO ONE CAN! TOU-MAAAAA! We have to run!"
Power beyond all mortals save those who sold their very souls for unspeakable power was harnessed by the corpse of an esper born of science.
From the back of the Accelerator, the strongest esper not only in Academy City, but in the world, two great winged protrusions like those of a bat formed of the Void emerged. Fleshy, partially torn and each easily twenty feet in width, these were accented by a crooked, pointed halo which floated over the Accelerator's head. From the thing, purple-blue 'magma' oozed and dripped freely, and from the centre of the halo, globs of the stuff were ejected. It spun around the crown of Accelerator's head, orbiting it like the world's moon orbited the planet that had become Kamijou Touma's battleground once again.
For the first time, Kamijou Touma seemed to hesitate. His hands, left and right became no more, descending into two streams of machine-phase matter, which hastily formed into two elongated blade, existing where hands should've been.
"▓▒▒░░ ▓▒▒░░ ▓▒▒░░▓▒▒░░ ▓▒▒░░! W̸̛̙͍̞͎̠͇̻̼̤̜̰̩͋̏͊̑͘Ě̵̠͉͔̤͎̜͚͔́͐̉̅̐͑͊̓͑̀͆͠͠ ̷̢̻͙̼̰̰̰̱̱̘̟̭̦͆̈́̈́̾̓͐͘̕Ą̸͖̰̼̬̼̄͌̈͆̇R̷̢̤͎͙̲̼͎̤̗̖̻̉̎̌̐͂̎̈̈̉́̈́̚͜͠͝Ë̴̼̮̜͍̼̩̲̬̙̮̼̭͕̝̹́͌̽̔̔̾̆͛̽͂̌͒̑͘͝ ̷̥͚̗̝̬̻͇̦̪͉̻͓̬̞͛͋͑̿͊̉͌̌̓̽͊̈́̚͝T̶̘̞̠̪̺̫̼̬̏̑͊͛͒͋͊͘͠ͅH̵̭̥̮̳͂̂͆̓͑̊̊̈́̑̕̕͠Ę̷̞̻̥͙̮̹̺̭͚̫̣̔̄̓̀̃̈́ͅ ̶̧̧̧̘͕̯͚̱̭͔̖̺͕̏̊́̃͗̿͌̎̿͒̕͜͝͝ͅL̸̥̗̻̥̪͍̆Ư̷̲̬̞͉͔̾͌̽̔̒̐̾̏̊̆̒̀̎̎C̸̢̘͎̻͚̫̭̙͓̜̜͋̃̊́̏̔͊͝͠Ì̵͎̋̓͒̎͘̕͘͠D̴̡̪̹̙̞̜͇̲͖̉̽̈́̈́̌́̓͝ͅ ̴͉̰͙̱̱̿̈́̄͌̀͋̎͗͐̐͝Ḓ̴̭͎̖̫̟̺̺̘̖͍̼̐̏̊̈́͊̎͊̿͗̀͐͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅŖ̶̨̛͙̲̪̝͉͚̙̩͔̠̲̀͐̈́̈́͊̽̾̅͠È̵̡̛̝̗̖̺̠̤̜̪̭̗̹̋̈́̄̈́̄͘A̸̺̭̼͛́̆͑͆̐͛́̿̑̑͋͠M̸̧̘̜͚̝̯͛̊̓̆́́!̵̨̫̞̮͔̲̣̥̒̆͋̐͘͘̕͜ͅͅ ̵͖̬͙̦͔̆͌͑̉͐̈́͋͒͗̒̓̈́́͠W̸̨̲̪̜̻̪͇̜̘͓͙̳̽͛͝E̵̢̥̖̮͉̜̝̻͇͙̣̺̥͑͊̃̇͘ ̷͙̙̈́̽̏Ą̶͇̳̲͚̲̞̂̌̊͝R̸͎͉̣̺̠̬̪͔͒̌̈̒̐̾̀̈́͑̒̾́̂̈́ͅE̸̛̥̩̮̘͐̊̈́͌͌̔͊̓͑̏͗̕͘̕ ̶̜̟̜͚̞̤̝͚̘͓̆͋̇͗͋̚T̵͈̥͈̻͂͑Ḩ̴̢͍̯̻̮̖̱̠̼̞̺̪̼̪̒̈̎́̍͊̓̾Ȩ̵̳̼̝͇͙̹̖̜̭̔̇͛̽̅̐̚̚͜͝ ̸̺͍̹͖̬̱̳͕̯̮̲͚̜̹͚̅̿͑͛̌̒͘E̴̖͆̉̂͂͘͘̚N̵̛͖̖̹̻̼̜̜͙̐̾͊̋̈̈́͆̅͋̄̌͘͝Ḋ̶̟̼̬̠̖͈͉̘̬̰̗͕̲̽̒͂̏̀̔̑̒̈́͗̐͊ͅ ̴̤̩͔͋͠O̴̡̧̢͕̖̟̘̟̜̪͎͍̖͘F̶͕̫̒͌͑͋̅ ̸̛̛̯͓͈̠̣͎͐͊̈́̈̓̈́̕ͅÁ̴̛͉̎́̏̃̇̋̋̿̄̓͘̚͠L̵̢̨̡̛͎̱͔̖̳͔̩̄͛̅̌͑̀̚͠͝͠Ḷ̸̗́̈́͛̍͋̾͜͝ ̵̨̌̋̏͒̿̏̔̈́̽͑͝T̴̝͙̪̩̼̺̀̏͘͘H̴̡̗̬̩̫̫͕̞̖̭͚̤̖̉̒Î̷͉̬͇̼̟̜̺̳̬͍N̷̟̱͔͓̿̋̓͂̓̌́̓̅̽̉̕͝G̶̢͖̯̮̝͉̙̖̪̪̰̑̆̀̽̄̀͋̆͑͘͜͝Ŝ̷̡̡͕͈̠̰͇̑̊́̍̑̈́̂͗͋͝!̸̢̛̙͈̰̘͍͆͛̽̒͊̀͊̍̽̈́̿͐̏ ̵̨̰̫͍̗̖͉͗̀͒̈̊͋͆̏͊̆W̴̡̗͔͈̖̬͙͍̘̙͓̙̊̃͋͜͠ͅȨ̷̛͈͔̭̭̰̗̹͕͉̎͗̀̆͌̂̾͑̎͐̚͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̪͎̮̘̦̑̓́̽̓̃͐̊̆̐̈́̇̚͝W̷̘̮͓̟̔̑͑̎̈́̍̋̐̔̾̉̕̕̕͠Ì̴̢̢̗̤̭̖̩̫̦̽͂L̷̡̟͚͉͚̟̙͉͓̃́̓̌̒̈͘L̵̡̛̟͚͔͍̫͕̹̖͇̏̑̋̀ ̵̫̠͔̹̭̝̜̝̬̉̑̇̂̍̾̈́̃͐B̵̞̩̩͈͙͚͆̈́͆̉̆͑͌̇̒̂̚͝Ę̴̪̥͒͐̌̈́͐͝ ̵̖̻̙̭͈̟̰̤̰̮͇̯͆͋͐͒F̴̧̙̳̦̦̮͖̥̿͌̃͆͗́̌ͅȮ̷̘̰͓̬̊̈́̚͜͝ͅR̷̥̋͑̈́͂̈́̕Ģ̶̛͓͍͛̐̃͛̓͆͋̊̋͘Ọ̷̯̓̽͐͌̚T̶̡̞̠̰͔̝̰͎͔͚̐͂͋̃͘Ţ̷͇̫̯̭͔͔͉̕ͅḘ̴͍͖̟̳͈̜͎͚̦̦͂̾͆̓͝N̴̗̮͎͇̺̞̰̠̔̈́̈̐͋̍͋̓̀̊̓̍͜ ̶̭̳͇͕̓͑͑̽̉̽̃N̷̡̨͉͖͈̜̮̪̘̙͚̦̗̅́̿̀͝͠Ỏ̸̙͉̤̱̫̗̎̐̚͜ ̷̬̗̮̝̼̆̈̓̑̐̀͘L̵̡̽O̷̢̡͓͙̤̪̗̭̬̯̳̹̝̍̑̃̅̕ͅN̸͇̫̱͖̹̄͜G̴͈͙̭͚͍̩̔͒̈́͗̎Ē̴̢̞͚̳͈͇̥̄̂͋̓̈̀̀̚̚R̵̖̱̤̊̾̉̌̍̂̈́̍̇̍͊!̵͕̔̂̾́̔̇͠͠͝ ̸͕͓͈̬͚̤̐̎B̴̨̢̳͔͓̳̻̙͎̘͚̝̮͐́Ȩ̶̜̪̖͚̹̠̣̜̳̭̤̼͌͗͒̓̽̑̃̍̈́͋͝H̷̢̼̦̯̪͕̥̉́̍̐͊͐̎̄͝Ǫ̸͛̎͛͊͗̄̓͊̚͠L̴̨̛͇͚͙̫̩͋̓̔͒̇̎ͅD̸̘͕̩̏͆͐̏͐̒̓̈́͛̓̈́̕̕̕Ḛ̵̫͍̮̼͋͂́͒͆̇̄̽͝N̴̘͔̓͒̃̂̔̉̇͋̀̈̕͝͠ ̷̡̧͚̘̞̪̦͓̭͙͒̔͛̀̕̕Ţ̶̬̭̣͕͔̦͕̜̹͉͇͍͒̚̚̕ͅƠ̴̢̧͍̲̫̝͚̣̜̘̄̀̇͊̒̕ͅͅ ̵̩̤̦̗̖̘̔̄́͜T̸̨̔͒̎̑̍̏̆̚H̵̳͙̼͎̏̈́͋̀̎̓͑͝Ȩ̷̛̪̜̘̫̻̺̪̫͎͖́͒̓̉̏̈́͛̇͊̓͆̅͘ ̷̡̩̥̘͙̠̗̤̦͍̿̃͛̒̆͐̾̌̈́ͅͅȄ̸̢͇̼͓̤͉̺͒̀̉Ṅ̵̡̨̡͍̠͇̖͙͌͛̊͋͛͗̿̉̈̅̎͝D̸̛̹͂̇̉̋͋͋̌̈ ̵̢̼̮͎̯̻̳̭͕̳̉̽̈̍̌͂͛́͗́̏͑O̵͚̻͖͓̠̲̠̔͝ͅF̸͖̩̈́́̋͊̐̊͆̕͝ͅ ̷̼̏͑̒̾̐̄̒́̇̔͂̚͠A̴̖̺̹͖̖̮̹̹̳̖̥͉̬͕͎̓̀̀̋̆̄̅̌̈́̔̍͝L̶͚̖̑̈̎́̒̆̃̃̃͒̔̕͝͝͠L̸̨̞̲͕̺̦̃͂̐̆̈́̂͝͝ ̷̲̰̫͓̦̱͉̖̥̖̤̣͛̏̉̔̈́̌̔̄̾̿Ţ̷̧̲̠̫̘̤̠̥͙̩̜̘̇̂̂͌̂̑͌̔̏͑͘͝͝Ḥ̶̨̡̡͈̣̳̦̼̟̼̻͉̬̩͊Ị̶̼̯̽̅͗͂̂̕N̵͈̦̠̟͍̲̻̞̊̀̅̈̒̈́̚̚͝Ǧ̸̫̰̃͋̒̅̇̃̊̓̅͝S̷͖̻̹̺̗͙͔͍̣̦̞͇̹̮̲̒̌!"
The words, if that's what they truly could've been called were heard but not comprehended by the Imagine Breaker's former Bearer. They simply couldn't be comprehended. Kamijou Touma's internal data-gathering protocols fell silent.
Index wept aloud as she screamed for him. For her guardian, her 'keeper', her dearest friend.
"TOUUUUMMAAAAAAA!"
Like a bolt of black lightning brought down by some hellish, merciless god, the Accelerator, screaming in unending incomprehensible languages surged forward, eyes swiftly, and completely consumed entirely by enormous, flowing orbs of crackling, empty void energies. From his nose, from his mouth, even from within his ears, void 'magma' flowed freely, dripping downward and outward.
There was nothing she could do. Her one hundred and three thousand volumes contained nothing powerful enough to counter that which tugged at this corpse's strings. Index's line of sight caught the corpse's own; the little silver-haired nun was caught, then. Staring deeply into his eyes, she realized quickly that was something was very much amiss.
Those eyes were not Accelerator's own.
They were wide, hideous. Pulsating, crusted, golden-coloured eyes, with black, cat-like slits. Pus leaked from the corpse's eyelids, dripping and bubbling and gurgling.
How could humanity devise spells to counteract that which the human brain could not possibly conceive of?
But it was not Kamijou Touma who faced the monster down.
No clash of monsters occurred, not there and not in that moment.
It was not the girl who'd memorized over one hundred thousand foul Grimoires, for she remained as a mere spectator, watching the grim event play out from afar.
Seemingly, from nothingness, an angel formed, blinking into existence.
A hand, palm smooth like silk, fingers long and thin wrapped around the throat of the perpetually-shrieking Accelerator, lifting him and preventing his continued rush. A gnarled appendage of pallid, sickly purple flame, sprouting from the stump where his right arm had attempted, but failed to touch her body.
Her loafer-clad feet pressed against the defiled, innocent earth, with many fluorescent, tendril-like protrusions emerging from her shoulders.
Long, golden hair flowed from the crown of her head, a bright golden halo topping it, floating peacefully and occasionally pulsating. Her eyes, coloured like the hues of a hope-bringing rainbow locked with the false eyes that'd come to overtake those sitting in Accelerator's sockets.
Clad in the uniform of Kirigaoka Girls Academy, she alone held the raging, screaming monstrosity at bay.
She'd saved Kamijou Touma yet again.
Directly into the beast's face, Kazakiri Hyouka screamed her own cry of challenge.
"You. Will. NEVER… HURT MY FRIENDS! To Hell with YOU!"
With a thrash of the many fluorescent ribbons protruding from her back, Kazakiri Hyouka reeled her arm back, the neck of the number one strongest esper in Academy City gripped in the palm of her hand like some piece of garbage she'd fetched from a dustbin.
Into the distance the corpse was thrown, travelling through the air at hundreds of miles an hour. Over the many rolling fieldscapes he passed before eventually fading from sight, 'consumed' by distance.
"T̴̺͇͖̫̙͉̫̩̮̊̑̎̽̅͋͌̀̂̀̊̕̚͘Ḧ̵͈́̈́́̚̚Ȩ̸̧̥̬̘͇̫̞̼̾̓͑͋̅͛͌̾̊͆̏R̴͇̠̓̍̌͐͠Ȩ̸̨̮̱̤͙͈̘̲͕̗͕͒̈́̿͑̇͑̈́̾̍́͘͜͝ͅ ̷̭̗͉̪̀Į̸̮͇̫̇̆̔͌̂̍͌͝S̴̞̙̯͚͇̀̿̅ ̴̡͖̪̺͓̜̺̰̥̮̩̀̓̀͌̑̓͜N̸̡̹̬̥̱̱̯̳̼̂͆̌̋͂̌́͂̈́̒̕͜Ơ̴̛̩̗̠͔̲̘͙̜͌͒̎̎̆͛̔̕͠͝T̴̛͓̬̟̱̤͎̝̑̌͗̓̚̕͘H̶̠͐͗̔́̈̈̆̊̄̽̀͘Ȉ̶̹̯̙̳͓̺̣̺̦̺̬̩͖̩͙̄̚Ņ̸̨̡̳̙͕̮̗͙̎͒̈́̇̾̈͜G̶̖̋̆̀̽̐̿ ̵͚͇̗̲̜͉̱̰̞̐̈́̍Y̶̹̫̠̆͐̃̾͂̽̚͝͝͝͝ͅǪ̷͍̪̪͔̟̯̀͛̓͂̓̄͐̓͊Ừ̴̡̬̰̱̱͙̫̥̫̟̈́͂̃͆̓̉̔͋̿͘͠ͅͅ ̵̳͓̌͒̌͜Ċ̶̢͎͎͉̤͔̱̲͙̖̭̺͔͛̑̑́͛̈Ą̵̠͚̫̺̬͚̓̌̾̓̇̿͌̾̓̓͘͜͠͝ͅN̴̛͎̫͎͖̱̤͚̈́̆̃̍̑̑̂̎̄̚͜͝ ̸̙̙̣̣̻̱̹͕͈̦͂̇̈́͑̈́̈́̌̚̚D̷̻̯̰̙̮̖͎̑̍̒̍̊̐̑̏̊́̑̇͘O̶̢͉͖͈̬̰̝̥̝͕̗̔̂̔͐̒͂͝ͅͅ,̸̧̲̝̊̈̅̄́̽͌̿͘͠͝ ̵̢̼̳̻̱̫͚͍̼͖̤̙̂̋͆̎Ä̸̘́́͒͒̌̓̓̆̾͆̇́̽̀̆N̵͖̞͎͚̮͎̘͍͗̌̕Ģ̵̛̺̟͎̜̮̣͈̦̋͌͑͒͘E̸̡̬͔͔͔̺̺̅͒̂͋̾͊͝L̷͉͖͓͓͙̯͇̟̙̯͍͊̀̉̃̀̓̀ͅ!̵͇͎̗̤̙̦̗̥̃͒̄͋̈́͐̑̆ ̸̢̪͎̬̰͓̺̰͇̯̻͙̈̓̓͋̎͠T̵̨͇̥̍̈̈́̊̈͛Ḣ̵̢̡̛̖͔̝̪̣̰͕͍̾́̂̾͋͊͜ͅE̷͍̋͐̃̀̊̑̌͐͠ ̵̧̢͔̙͖̞̗̩͔͕̖̪̏E̷͇͔̐̈́̀̂̋̈̽́̔̐̏͠N̶̨͖͎̜̘͔̲͚̾̍͜͠D̵̛̼͕̯̤̗̝͖͇̓̏͐͂͋̈́̋̽͌͘͜ ̵͔̂͋̋̑̋̆͒̒͛̔͘͝Ḧ̷̻̼́̋̎̀Ȁ̸̢̧͓̻̱͖̘͒̓̊̇̽̀̑̈́͆̆͆̽̅̀S̸̼͚͇̩͔̝̝͑ ̸̢͙̘̞͇̔̇̋͝Ḅ̸̧̛̳͓̺͚̮̞̹̬͚̪͔͙͆͐̅̀́͋̓̽ͅE̶̺̝̗̣̝̜͒̓͋̀̐̔̋̐́͗͘G̸̢̥̱͚̮̤̖̖̓́̌̄̏̐̄̚U̴͚̓N̸̫̣̞͚̭͙̫͉̓͒̀̇̎̾̃̀̊̔͋̕̕!̵̢̡̹͎̮͈͍̩̼͚̬̗͍̤̊̓͆̆̍̏́͋ͅ ̵̬̼̼͖̟̃̊̉͗͝͝͝Ȧ̸͕͚͇͇̳̐͋̌͜Ļ̸̡͙̟̩̰̗͈͓̯̰̓́̉̂͗̍L̸̺͎̙͔̖̇̿̍̽̉̾̅́̆̊͊͑̾͘͝ ̵͈̜͚͓̱̻̭̱͖̎̇̾͐͗̒̓̑̀̂̒͠͝͝W̵̨͍̣̖̼̮͎̯͆̓̾̑̅̍̕͜͝͝ͅI̴̧̡̛̟̣̙̜̘̼̦̪̓͐̐̓̈́̍̈́̊̈́̈́̓͜͝͠L̴̛̜͙̤͍͕̝͇̲͛̇͑̇̌̈́̎̅̚̕̚͝͠L̷͕̟̯̼͑͆̍̐̆̽͘̚̚ ̷̢̞̞͙̇͗̒̑̾͠P̸̛̪͗͊̆̄̕E̵̡̯͙̙͙͙̘͉̹͇̔̓́̃̉̒̕R̷̢̹̥̱̟͍͙̙̫̼̱̿̐I̶̢͇̰̟̠͙͍̜̬̻̽͌̉̊̅̋̉ͅS̸͓̯̀́͑̐̑͂̈́̆Ḣ̸̡̧̭̰̜̈̽̒̒͋̓̂̐̚̚͝!̴̡͔̞͐̽͒̎̕͝͝͠"
"Kaza… kiri…? Kaza… Kazakiri!"
"H-Hyouka?!"
Despite (or, alternatively, perhaps because of) the actions she'd taken, Kazakiri Hyouka smiled warmly, as she turned to face a Kamijou Touma stained with blood that couldn't have possibly been his, a freed Index; she was no longer enthralled by those false eyes.
So, what followed was a blur.
Kamijou Touma soon found himself embraced, held tightly in her arms. Index, too, was held in the arms of the angelic Kazakiri Hyouka.
Both Touma and Index returned the embrace. Both were desperate for the gentle, warm positivity emanated passively by the sentient collection of AIM Fields.
"Kazakiri! I… I don't get it, I'm not going to pretend to get it, but… I'm glad you're here. I'm really glad you're here."
"I'm glad to be here. Truthfully… My… Curiosity. It got the better of me, again. I decided to trail you, from that strange shop in Academy City. I couldn't resist. I'm glad that I made the decision, even if you wind up being angry with me."
"I wish I had a solid answer to that," Touma responded. "I… Index. Kazakiri. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It's just…"
Index shook her head, placing the tip of her finger to her 'keeper's' lips.
"Shush, Tou-ma."
The embrace was ended, but their love for one another didn't fade.
"Your feelings are justified," Hyouka stated, firmly. "I only recently learned what… He… Did. If I'd known before… If only I could've known before. To think that I fought alongside the likes of such a… A monster, in Eastern Europe… Regardless of the ends, the means feel like they were filthy, now."
Just how Kazakiri Hyouka had learned of that, he didn't know. Perhaps she'd gotten herself in with some of the higher-ups.
Then again, the higher-ups were worthless sacks of meat. If Kazakiri Hyouka wasn't fond of Accelerator, she likely would've been even less fond of THEM.
Slowly, Kamijou Touma crouched, and wiped his blade-hand in the grass, cleansing as best he could the bloodstains from it. To his surprise, Index took to his side.
"I still can barely stomach the fact that I didn't just kill him the first time around, that I… I was able to "accept" what he'd done, and say, "oh, yeah, that's fine! You killed thousands of people, but we're friends now!" I'm disgusted by myself, by who I was… I was less. Pathetic. Worthless. I betrayed the Sisters. I betrayed Misaka… but no more. That Kamijou is gone, forever..."
Kazakiri Hyouka cast her gaze to the horizon, as her angelic features faded. Her fluorescent ribbons dissipated, breaking apart before disintegrating. The halo atop her head's crown too dissipated, and, soon enough, her irises returned to their 'true' coloration, a light hazel.
To the uninitiated, she would've looked the part of an average, everyday schoolgirl, from Academy City's Kirigaoka Girls Academy.
"With his power," Hyouka began, kneeling before her friends, even as one unbloodied himself, "he could've halted those Experiments, quite easily. Yet, apparently, if his sympathizers are to be believed, he simply didn't think of doing so… if so many lives weren't lost, the frailness of the whole situation, the whole argument would almost be humorous."
For a while, the trio exchanged no more words. Some time passed, and, eventually, the darkness brought by the hand of dusk seemed to threaten arrival, lurking just over the horizon, just over the rolling hills and flowing fieldscapes, brushed and kissed by the breeze.
There was little to do but finish the grim business he'd originally set out to complete, then return to the motel, 'Hawkhaven'.
Elsewhere, the corpse of a certain vector-manipulating esper stirred, bathed in a combination of sand, mud, and his own bodily fluids.
To say that his clothes were ruined would be the understatement of the century. With a broken leg and two missing arms, laying in a field hundreds of miles away from the location in which he found himself, the Accelerator wasn't going anywhere, simply put.
This puppet, indeed, was near-worthless; but perhaps, they could still milk some usefulness from it. Browsing the shattered brain's memories like they were little more the pages of a cheap magazine read over a relaxing dinner, they took control. They put the corpse of the Accelerator to work.