---
Kazuki stared at the table.
Across it, three notebooks sat open.
One was filled with sketches of circles, symbolic markings, and ancient characters. Another held notes he'd transcribed from listening to Index ramble in her sleep. The third was blank, except for one word written dead center:
MAGIC
Underneath it, he'd written,
Structure: Undefined
Laws: Fluid
Energy Source: Unknown
Systemic Boundaries: Inconsistent
Observable Patterns: Unstable
He leaned back in the chair, chewing the inside of his cheek.
This didn't make sense.
Everything else in this world—Esper abilities, Academy City systems, even Touma's nonsensical luck—could be broken into probabilities. Physical rules. Inputs and outputs.
Magic?
It didn't even follow cause and effect.
He could trace spell frameworks using logic.
He could identify linguistic patterns in ancient tongues.
But the moment he tried to assign numerical weight or structural constants to it, his brain returned the mental equivalent of a shrug.
He was used to information flooding into him, like unlocking doors that were always there.
But now?
Now he was banging on a wall, and the wall didn't even exist.
"It's like trying to measure smoke with a ruler," he muttered.
Index shifted under the blanket on the couch, mumbling something about "dragons and reversed bindings."
Kazuki looked over at her.
She was peaceful again. For now.
But whatever she carried, whatever those 103,000 books were—they weren't peaceful. He could feel it. Not like a sixth sense. Just... a quiet pressure on the edge of everything.
Like standing next to an engine with no sound.
Or staring into a library and knowing none of the words inside would ever be yours.
He flipped the blank notebook shut and stood.
Maybe magic couldn't be processed.
But he'd keep watching.
Because something told him they were running out of time.
---
It started that evening.
First came the smell—burned metal and something sharper. Almost like incense twisted into ozone.
Kazuki's head snapped up.
"Touma," he said sharply.
Touma blinked, half-asleep, drooling into a manga.
"Whuh—what?"
"Something's coming."
A moment later, the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then a knock. Heavy. Deliberate.
They looked at each other.
Kazuki moved first. Quiet. Smooth. He reached for the umbrella near the door—not as a weapon, but just in case.
Touma opened the door.
Smoke drifted in from the hallway.
Standing there was a man in black.
Tall. Red hair. A cigarette glowing at the corner of his mouth.
He wore a priest's uniform—black coat, white collar.
But he didn't look like any priest Kazuki had ever seen.
He looked like a bouncer from the gates of Hell.
"Kamijou Touma?"
Touma blinked. "...Yeah?"
The man smiled without warmth.
"My name is Stiyl Magnus. I've come to retrieve the Index Librorum Prohibitorum."
Kazuki stepped forward slightly.
"She's not a package."
Stiyl's eyes flicked to him. Measured him. Not as a threat—yet.
"I've received no reports about you," Stiyl said.
Kazuki didn't answer.
"Good. That means I won't have to write a report if you burn."
Index suddenly stirred, eyes wide.
"Stiyl…?"
She stepped out of the room, bare feet slapping the floor.
Stiyl bowed slightly.
"Index. You weren't supposed to be here this long. You've delayed the memory reset too far."
Touma stiffened.
Kazuki's eyes narrowed.
"You're the one who resets her?," he said, voice flat.
"It's not a choice," Stiyl snapped. "It's the only way she survives."
Index backed up slowly, shaking her head. "I don't want to forget again."
Stiyl sighed.
"I'm not the enemy here. But if you don't come quietly, others will come. Stronger than me. Less patient."
"What happens if we say no?" Touma asked.
Stiyl exhaled a long breath—and the flame glyphs lit up under his feet like sunbursts etched in fire.
Kazuki stepped in front of Index, almost without thinking.
"Then I guess this becomes a math problem."
Stiyl smiled.
"Then let's test your equation."
—