Chapter 146: I’ll Shatter That Illusion

Those words were the very ones that had once brought Kamijou Touma to his knees.

“I want to die.” Back then, Kamijou Touma hadn’t known how to confront such a desire.

If the Sisters—Misaka’s clones—had said they wanted nothing more than to die, Touma would have been powerless. In fact, when Motoharu Tsuchimikado had silently hurled himself toward death, Touma had been unable to save him. And when the Doppelgänger had wished for death, Touma couldn’t save her either.

But that night, there had been one person who was different.

In a world that had given up on offering salvation to such words, there was a girl who could still empathize with the suffering hidden beneath them.

Reicia Blackguard, in that instant, had seen through it. She had recognized the torment and the true wish buried beneath the words “I want to die.”

Because of her, even Touma had been able to stop and think when he heard them.

The pain of realizing that his own “misfortune” could cause suffering for someone else. If it only rained down on him, that was fine. If he alone had to draw the short straw, he could swallow that. Touma had endured that kind of “misfortune” more times than he could count.

But what if that “misfortune” dragged someone else down with him?

Just imagining it sent chills down his spine. If that were the case, he would rather disappear entirely. He knew all too well that such thoughts lurked inside him.

It might sound unexpected, but that was the kind of person Kamijou Touma was.

The transparent boy who carried only a few months of memory had walked a path of saving countless people in that short life. He had built his personality through those choices, steadily stacking up fragments of identity by expanding the circle of people around him.

That was why he understood—why he couldn’t deny the feeling of being unable to endure dragging others into his “misfortune.” If his misfortune was going to cause pain for the people beside him, then maybe he should step back entirely. To say otherwise would be a lie.

…No. Is that really where it ends?

“…No, that’s wrong. Yeah, that’s not it. If I spout something that pathetic, that underclassman of mine would tear me a new one.”

Touma let out a faint laugh.

In his mind appeared the image of a blonde girl smiling timidly, and another blonde girl sighing in exasperation, shrugging her shoulders.

That night, he had been taught something—that behind the veneer of self-sacrifice, there often lay a truer wish. And he was no exception.

“Wanting to disappear because you can’t stand the thought of making someone else suffer—that’s not it. That’s not what this is about, Oriana Thomson.”

“…”

Touma’s words carried no hesitation.

Because he truly understood what “misfortune” meant, Kamijou Touma could speak without faltering.

“To save someone—to be acknowledged through that act—that’s what you really wanted from the very start. Isn’t that right?”

Holding his wounded side, Touma stepped forward.

He should have been too injured to even remain standing, and yet there was a strange strength in his steps.

If Oriana Thomson’s wish had truly been only to save others out of pure goodwill, then her actions didn’t add up. If all she wanted was to escape the pain of her goodwill backfiring, she could have just stopped getting involved with people. An ordinary person would eventually tire of extending goodwill and let it fade away.

But not her. The fact that she sought a “standard” by which her goodwill could be rewarded—that revealed something else.

It meant she couldn’t stop giving.

It meant Oriana Thomson was someone who had to live that way.

Someone who could only find recognition of her own existence by extending goodwill—by saving someone. And if saving someone ended up hurting another, then she herself would no longer be able to acknowledge her own existence.

That fragile, transparent way of life—Touma knew it well.

But there was still a difference.

The paths that had led them there were undoubtedly different, yet their conclusion was the same.

They wanted to be acknowledged for being alive.

Even in their transparency, even without any anchor in life, they had stacked up what little they had to keep moving forward. At the very root of that was the same wish.

“…You’re right.”

It was precisely because he stood before someone carrying the same distortion that Kamijou Touma could declare this. Even if the words hurt, he could say them without hesitation.

“You might have failed time and time again. You might have been trapped in a ‘misfortunate’ cycle where no matter what you did, you ended up hurting someone. Maybe saving others was the only way you could recognize your own existence!!”

It was like looking into a mirror.

Touma, who had expanded his circle by saving others and thus come to believe he was allowed to exist—was now standing against the exact opposite.

Or perhaps, against what Touma himself might have become in a different future.

And to that woman, cornered into such a dead end, Touma—the one who had found success—spoke words that the old him never could have.

Words that cut through everything.

“But that’s only the result of trying to do it all alone, isn’t it!?”

In the canon history, Kamijou Touma had mostly fought alone.

He would happen upon someone trying to choke back tears in some corner of the city, and he could never stand it. He would clench his fist and step forward. It had always been his own self-satisfaction, and his fights had never been about standing alongside someone else.

—In the original history.

But in this history, things were different.

In a world warped by the intervention of a certain young lady, Kamijou Touma was not alone.

On that night—already lost to his memory—when he saved Index, there had been a girl by his side.

It wasn’t just the Sisters who didn’t want another girl to suffer from the death of a certain boy.

To save a single girl from a horrific experiment, it wasn’t only Kamijou who stood up—two other girls rose as well.

The elder sister who truly saved the Sisters with her own hands. The young lady who couldn’t abandon a girl destined for the same sacrifice as herself. He learned that his fists weren’t the only ones clenched.

When he opened the eyes of that foolish woman who had tried to erase herself out of self-satisfaction, Kamijou had been nothing more than a supporting actor.

And the story that followed was the same.

The one who clenched his fist and faced down the tragedy before him was never just Kamijou Touma. Kamijou Touma was never alone.

Having walked through such a history, Kamijou had already grasped one truth that, in the original timeline, he had yet to realize:

That there is no need to face hardship entirely alone. That fighting alongside someone—that involving someone in your own ego—is not always a sin.

“Then don’t you dare let some ‘misfortune’ beat you down. Don’t you dare get crushed by something so small, throw away your way of life, and turn your eyes from the real wish buried in your heart, Oriana Thomson!! Your illusion isn’t something that cheap!!”

But even as Kamijou shouted, Oriana did not retreat.

Raising her voice even higher than his fury, the woman of the “Original Text” screamed back.

“Don’t you talk like you know anything!! How could I possibly be forgiven now!? Yes, that’s right. Big Sister wanted to be recognized by someone through saving others! But look at me now—I’ve even become a barrier that blocks the only path for everyone to be saved through the function of the ‘Original Text’…! There’s no way out of this, is there!? After everything I’ve done, to still want to be saved myself—that kind of selfish wish shouldn’t even exist!!!!”

“Yeah. I get it.”

At her desperate cry, Kamijou nodded gently.

His IF self. That was why he could empathize with her pain. But even so, Kamijou’s words were already decided.

“If you’re going to be like that—if you’re going to let yourself drown in despair and deny your true wish from the start—then first off, I’ll shatter that messed-up illusion of yours!!!!”

Final Chapter: The Kind of Stand Where the Whole World Becomes Your Enemy – Are You Ready?
Episode 120: Break That Illusion – Imagine Breaker

“…I wonder if Touma really understands.”

A shadow lingered at his side, steadying Kamijou as he clenched his fist and forced himself upright.

Dressed in a pure white nun’s habit, Index supported him with both arms, keeping the boy—who had made such bold declarations yet looked ready to collapse at any moment—from falling.

“If you touch her with that right hand of yours, Touma, she’ll vanish instantly. In a situation like this, there’s no way you can both neutralize her and save her by yourself. And yet, you just keep pushing forward with the conversation like it’s nothing.”

“…Yeah. Sorry about that.”

If this had been the Kamijou Touma of the original history, he would have said something like: That’s just my selfishness. I’m not dragging anyone else into it. No matter how reckless, I’ll find a way to save the idiot in front of me all on my own.

That was the path he had always chosen—bearing the distortions of his ego without forcing them onto anyone else.

But this time—

“…Still, I’m a little happy. Happy that Touma is relying on me like this.”

Index smiled. And this time, Kamijou accepted that smile without hesitation.

“Let’s save Oriana Thomson. There has to be a way.”

“Oh? Planning to ‘read’ Big Sister, are you? That’s certainly the first idea that would come to mind. With your one hundred and three thousand grimoires, the thought of becoming my ‘reader’ and disabling the automatic defense system.”

But Oriana only laughed bitterly at herself.

“My grimoires can’t be read by anyone but me. It’s not about ciphers or codes. At their core, what I write just falls apart—the script is so unstable it can’t even qualify as proper grimoires, let alone be read by someone else. They’re defective from the start.”

The fighting style later known as Short-Range Original Text had been the result of her desperate trial-and-error, trying to make use of even such flawed writings.

Index could decipher every code and hidden script in existence. But something never written with the intent of being read was beyond even her reach. Which meant that the only possible “reader” for the Original Text—Oriana Thomson—was none other than Oriana herself, who now stood broken.

“…Really?”

But that was only the opinion of someone who had already given up on herself.

Perhaps, for now, it was true. There was no simple answer where Index could glance at Oriana’s writings, unravel the script in an instant, and resolve everything.

But was Oriana Thomson truly so far gone that even the full wisdom of the Library of the Grimoires couldn’t reach her?

The answer was simple: you won’t know unless you try.

“Touma.”

“Yeah.”

At Index’s call, Kamijou smacked his fist into his palm, bracing himself.

The maid-clad Xochitl, carrying the person in need of rescue, and Nayuta, burdened with her cross, were in no condition to fight. The only one left who could face Oriana’s attacks head-on was Kamijou.

“Show me. Show me your wisdom. With the one hundred and three thousand grimoires stored in my mind, I’ll read you—and save you.”

“…Very well.”

Their exchange ended there.

The four-colored tornado swirling around Oriana suddenly expanded with violent force.

“Then give me everything you’ve got. Don’t you dare give out on me so easily!!”

And the spellwork of the Original Text bared its fangs at a single boy.

The spellwork of Oriana Thomson, now transformed into a Grimoire Original, was nothing like what she had once used as a human.
She still employed magic through colors, letters, angles, and numbers—the realm of Kabbalah and numerology. But instead of relying on pre-prepared formulas, she wove together countless “pages” on the fly, constructing entirely new spells to fit each situation.

Thus, even as a perfected “system,” the Grimoire Original was endlessly adaptable.
One moment she conjured fire, the next, water—a level of flexibility no ordinary magician could ever dream of.

And unlike the Oriana who had once faced Kamijou in the proper timeline, she no longer bore the telltale weakness of the Short-Range Original Text: never repeating attacks from the same direction.

In fact—

“Water and fire magic… cast simultaneously…!?”

Xochitl gasped in disbelief.

Ordinary magicians could never wield such opposing elements together without a specific ritual or narrative framework. But Oriana the Grimoire Original managed it without any special pretext at all.

“Pointless!!”

Kamijou didn’t bother using his right hand on everything. Instead, he let the dispelled water cancel out the fire for him.

As for the slicing wind guillotine that followed, he didn’t even raise his hand—just twisted his body aside and slipped past it.

Despite the wound at his side dragging down his performance, Kamijou fought with deliberate restraint, minimizing strain wherever possible.

“…Straightforward attacks won’t work on you, it seems. In that case—”

A bolt of lightning raced across the ground.

It snared Kamijou’s legs, and suddenly his throat turned to stone. He couldn’t breathe.

He clawed at his neck with his right hand—nothing changed.

“Touma!! The spell’s origin isn’t your throat—it’s your legs!!”

“…Ghhk!!”

At Index’s words, Kamijou bent down and touched his legs. Instantly, the suffocation vanished.

But the instant he broke his stance, a sweeping gale struck from the side. He rolled away just in time, dodging—but the reckless motion tore open his wound again.

Kamijou grimaced as Oriana, calm and composed, spoke.

“Now tell me, which of us is really wasting effort? On the surface we may look evenly matched, but your wound has already reopened. Your stamina is draining away second by second. Meanwhile, the Grimoire Original doesn’t tire. You’re only stalling for that little girl’s analysis, aren’t you? But will it make it in time? If you collapse first, it’s over. Truly over.”

“You just don’t get it.”

At her attempt to coax him into surrender, Kamijou bared his teeth in a defiant grin.

“How many spells have you thrown at me already? Even now, Index is deciphering your magic!”

“And you think that’s all there is to me? The combinations possible from the countless basic spells engraved in these pages don’t just number a hundred thousand. They go far beyond that!”

Her inscriptions were already fiendishly difficult to interpret. On top of that, she wielded an overwhelming variety of configurations. And while shielding her sole remaining “reader,” she pressed the fight herself. Under such conditions, properly deciphering her spells should have been impossible.

“—Addendum. The lightning that runs along the earth and brings suffocation carries the attributes of earth and wind, the numerical value seventy-eight, and corresponds to the direction west.”

Click.

At that moment, the four-colored vortex swirling around Oriana froze.

No—Oriana herself had no choice but to stop.

“…What… did you just say…?”

“Yeah. It’s true that unraveling your inscriptions directly would be tough. At least, not in time before Touma falls. Solving it the normal way would be impossible. But that’s fine. Because there are other methods.”

In Index’s hand was a small notebook.

“A ‘supplementary text.’ Among grimoires there are copies and forgeries, but this is something else: a separate book prepared to aid in reading the original.”

And of course, that was a perfectly legitimate way to approach a grimoire.

Deciphering a manifested spell, jotting down interpretations to guide the process—an act that could even be called “creating new readers.” Far more so than leaving those inscrutable inscriptions untouched, forever unreadable.

In other words—

At this moment, Index had become, in a sense, a more valuable reader to the Grimoire Original than Oriana Thomson herself.

Even if Kamijou severed the link between Reader Oriana and Grimoire Oriana, the “reader” would not be lost. On the contrary, assisting Index could now be judged as more beneficial for the Grimoire Original.

The reason to fight—was gone.

“…Is this really okay?”

Faced with that reality, Oriana still asked in a trembling voice, like a girl crushed beneath the unbearable weight of her own fear.

“I’ve dragged so many people into misfortune. You too… And now someone like me, after everything I’ve done, is just supposed to be saved like this? …Is that really okay?”

Kamijou only listened. Then, with a slow laugh, he sat down on the floor and answered as though the very question was absurd.

“Of course it is. That’s what we were fighting for in the first place.”

And so, one illusion was saved.

The tragic barrier shrouding the laboratory was utterly, completely destroyed.