Divine Right of Various Anime and Manga — Author: Zhu Zhiyue
Synopsis:
In Christianity, God is the One God, and all miracles are governed by this one God;
God's "right hand" in Christianity means "being equal to God";
The "Demon Gods" of A Certain Magical Index, the "Beasts" of Fate, the "Gods of Heaven" of Campione!, the Witch Cult of Re:Zero, Humanity's Final Trial of Mondaiji-tachi...
This was the story of someone who transmigrated into the son of "the world's most evil man," Aleister Crowley, wielded his own right hand, and ascended to become the God of Christianity.
"My Magic Name is 'BEAST' 777, meaning, 'I Shall Transcend Human Evil!'"
Chapter One: The Book of 777
(Please bookmark this new book and show your support!!)
"Edward, ah, Edward!! Why were you so foolish?!"
"Heh. Even the people who believe in God and loudly proclaim justice can reveal such an ugly side... If that's the case, then reading the Bible certainly won't lead to the truth. Blindly following the teachings of one's predecessors and abandoning one's own judgment can only lead to that ugliness."
The boy named Edward Alexander spoke softly in a questioning, mocking tone. "...In that case, I will find the truth myself. I will reclaim the path lost because of humanity's foolish blind obedience!"
In the early twentieth century, London, England, 1919—
Roy Crowley placed the book he had finished reading on an old solid-wood table and slammed it shut. Rubbing his forehead, he muttered wearily, "...As expected of the Grimoire, the 'Demonic Path Canon.' Just reading it is agonizing, as if I've been poisoned. If an ordinary person read it, the poison in its contents would surely erode them. They would either go mad or die."
"...Ha. Am I not an ordinary person? Or should I be grateful for the blood flowing through my body?"
Roy gave a self-mocking smile. After resting with his eyes closed for a while, he rose from the chair matching the table.
He looked around. Before him was a somewhat shabby apartment, its furniture clearly showing its age.
Everything was wiped very clean, and even the few decorations on the table were tastefully arranged. A small potted plant sat beside the window.
There were no luxuries in the room. The most valuable things were the densely packed books in the bookcase against the wall. From the furnishings alone, it was clear that although the owner was not utterly destitute, wealth was certainly beyond their reach.
Roy was very satisfied with this warm little home. In London at the beginning of the twentieth century, in a city that had only just emerged from World War I, he had managed not only to avoid living in a slum but also to share a home in a residential district with his sister. He could ask for nothing more.
He did not know whether he should thank that father he had never met, or the mother who had died not long after giving birth to the siblings.
Ah, he should probably thank his mother. Although the mother of this body had failed to raise them, that had been beyond her control.
As for the being called their father, he might already have forgotten the siblings entirely. Fortunately, before transmigrating, Roy had been a working adult. Although starting over after transmigrating had been difficult, he had at least used his maturity to raise his sister successfully.
Thinking this, Roy looked at the book beneath his fingertips with a complicated expression.
The paper was cold. The book looked new and had none of the weight of history, but if it were thrown into the world of magic, it would certainly cause every magician to erupt in uproar.
—The Book of 777, author: Aleister Crowley
"A Certain Magical Index..."
Roy muttered under his breath, then shook his head helplessly.
Not long after arriving in this world, he had already realized which world he had entered.
A Certain Magical Index was a world both familiar and strange to him. It was familiar because he had watched the anime. Although he could not remember many details, he at least knew the general progression of the plot.
It was strange because he seemed to have arrived roughly a hundred years too early. There was not only no Academy City yet—even Aleister Crowley, his father in this life and the mastermind behind everything, was still alive and kicking, not yet sealed inside a life-support tank to become the Hanging Man.
In this era, where he was unfamiliar with both the people and the various factions, Roy had not run outside to court death. Instead, he had chosen the wisest decision: living honestly with his sister in this dilapidated London apartment.
Roy had no intention of seeking out Aleister Crowley. In fact, he wished the man would stay as far away as possible. If his memories were correct, Aleister was currently being hunted across the world by magicians. It would not be an exaggeration to say that he was an enemy of the entire world.
If Roy dared to go out and announce that he was Aleister's son, countless magicians would probably come knocking that very day. Surviving until the next day would be difficult.
Roy was rather glad that Aleister had forgotten the siblings. Even their father had forgotten his own children, so other magicians certainly had no reason to remember them. This gave Roy and his sister a relatively stable life.
Besides, even if Roy wanted to cause trouble outside, he could not. He was not one of the perhaps few dozen Raw Stones in the world. He had no innate superpowers, and Academy City's ability development did not yet exist.
Roy knew a little magic, but only a little. He had learned it through self-study. He had never received a basic magical education as a child and could only teach himself from some of the books Aleister had left behind.
Roy's mother had probably been Aleister's closest lover. Aleister must have lived in this apartment before; otherwise, he could not have left so many of his works here. The books filling the bookcase were Roy's greatest wealth.
And the most precious of those treasures was the book Roy had placed on the table—The Book of 777.
In the Bible, the number seven held extraordinary significance, representing completeness and perfection.
God took seven days to create the world, and rested on the Seventh Day.
In Revelation, God listed seven churches, representing all the churches throughout the entire age of the Church.
Seven was God's seven spirits. During God's judgment, there were seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls, and seven plagues.
After Noah entered the ark, God still granted seven days of grace.
Solomon took seven years to build the Temple and observed the festival for seven days.
Lord Christ spoke the famous Seven Words upon the cross.
—And so on.
"777" was the most important number in the Bible, and possessed tremendous magical power.
If anyone from the magical world saw The Book of 777, they would certainly suspect that it was connected to Christianity. In reality, the book did record analyses of the Kabbalah Tree of Life, occult rituals, the names of Angels, and even astrology and divination.
(Note: The Book of 777 truly exists in reality. It was written by Aleister Crowley.)
However, only Roy, who had read the book for more than ten years, knew that the knowledge recorded in The Book of 777 was merely its most superficial layer. What the book truly expounded was Aleister Crowley's philosophy. It could be called the culmination of Aleister's work and the true source of his power.
What the book described was not the Kabbalah Tree of Life at all, but the Inverted Tree personally twisted by Aleister, also known as the Tree of Evil.
"Seven" was originally Christianity's sacred number, but Aleister had linked "seven" with the "Beast," filling this Demonic Path Canon with Human Evil. Every page was packed with rebellion against God, displaying Aleister's arrogance.
"As expected of the man called the 'Beast of Revelation,' the 'most evil man in the world.' This is practically a rejection of the world God created."
Roy exhaled heavily. Merely thinking about the contents of The Book of 777 made his head ache faintly. The original sin filled with Human Evil seemed almost ready to drag his body and soul into a filthy mire.
Just then—
"Brother, I'm home!"
A sweet, melodious young voice came from outside the apartment door.
Chapter Two: Laura Stuart
(I went to work out at the gym today. My body feels weak, so I need to exercise more...)
The voice was light and pleasant, carrying a girl's liveliness and sweetness. Roy, who had been staring solemnly at the Demonic Path Canon in his hands, relaxed his facial muscles and revealed a gentle smile.
He had listened to that clear voice from outside for more than ten years. It belonged to his sister.
When facing his sister, Roy did his best not to reveal any troubles or sorrow. Instead, he displayed his happiest, most carefree side before her.
That was what a qualified older brother ought to do. He could not allow his adorable, delicate sister to worry.
Roy's nature was simply like this. He perfectly carried out whatever suited his identity. As an older brother, he would become the finest older brother possible, without the slightest negligence.
The old door opened. Through the narrow gap, brilliant light completely filled Roy's vision. It belonged to an exquisite, innocent girl.
The girl had long, pale-golden hair that fell all the way to her ankles, fine as sand on a beach. Even in the old, dim apartment, it shone brilliantly, bringing a ray of hope to Roy's irritated heart.
"Laura, you're back."
Roy hurried to the door and took the basket from Laura's hands. When his palm brushed against her smooth golden hair, he saw a faint layer of dust in his palm and said with concern, "...Go wipe your hair clean first."
London in the early twentieth century was like a black factory, a true City of Fog. People walking through the streets quickly acquired a layer of filthy haze, and the houses also needed to have the thick dust outside them cleaned away regularly.
"Don't worry about my hair. As long as the food isn't dirty, that's enough."
Laura's slender, tender fingers carefully lifted the white cloth covering the basket. The cloth had already gathered a layer of dust, but the bread and fruit beneath it were clean and warm. Seeing this, Laura sighed in relief and patted her gradually swelling chest.
Roy reached out and smoothed the messy strands stuck to his sister's sweaty forehead, making Laura reveal a sweet, innocent smile.
Laura Crowley was Roy's twin sister by the same father and mother. After their irresponsible father left and their mother died of illness, the siblings had supported each other in London, growing up together like two flames embracing one another for warmth.
Roy gazed at his sister. Her features were as beautiful as a painting, and her lovely face resembled a blooming flower. Crimson lips adorned it, while her deep-blue eyes were like the most magnificent sapphires, filled with innocence and shyness. Her gradually maturing features possessed a naturally breathtaking beauty.
Unlike ordinary Western women, Laura's features were not overly pronounced. They were softer, more like those of an Eastern woman. Her porcelain-like skin was flawless as jade, carrying a faint pink hue and delicate enough to be broken by the slightest touch.
Under Roy's gaze, the fifteen-year-old girl's cheeks gradually flushed. Embarrassed, she turned her head away and dared not meet his eyes. Her fingers tightened around her faded, plain dress as she whispered, "...Mrs. Mary from next door gave me some extra fruit today."
"Yes, Mrs. Mary has looked after us a great deal. I only helped her write a few letters, which was hardly anything. Her husband should be returning from the front soon as well. We should stop troubling her after this."
Mrs. Mary was the Crowley siblings' neighbor and an extremely warmhearted person. She would always give Laura one or two pieces of fruit she had bought, allowing the poor siblings to improve their meals a little.
Roy and Laura had not grown up in an orphanage. Their deceased mother had left them some money, very likely provided by their father, Aleister. As an adult who had graduated from university and worked before transmigrating, Roy had been careful with his spending and used that money to get them through their childhood while they were still young.
Afterward, Roy used the knowledge he had learned in both his former and current lives to write letters for others. It barely allowed them to make a living. In this era, there was no rule forbidding the employment of child labor, either.
Although he was a transmigrator, the current world was historically no different from the one in his memories. Yet Roy had not leaped around like those transmigrators before him, trying to alter history through some grand event. That was closely related to his identity.
Being Aleister's son was no honor in this era. It was a true death warrant. As long as Roy did not want to leave home and get killed by magicians, he had better continue living cautiously.
"Water... The fruit should be enough. I'll make some jam. We can be a little extravagant today and spread it on the bread."
Because Roy had been lost in thought, Laura assumed that her brother had been staring at her. She clutched the basket at her side and hurried away from his sight with her head lowered, like a gust of wind. A bashful expression appeared on her fair face.
Seeing this, Roy only smiled helplessly. But when Laura left him with her back turned, and he saw the painting on her magnificent golden hair, the smile gradually vanished from his face.
Above Laura's golden hair was a layer of patterns resembling one of Picasso's abstract paintings. It was like an endless starry sky, deep and heavy. Within that "mural" painted across her hair, Roy clearly saw the face of a demon taking shape.
In the Middle Ages, people said that demons dwelled in women's hair. Now, a truly terrifying demon was dwelling in Laura's hair.
"Laura..."
Roy could not help calling out his sister's name.
"What is it, Brother?"
Laura stopped and turned her head slightly to ask.
Although she felt embarrassed inside, she did not want to ignore her brother. The two had grown up together and experienced all the bitterness and warmth of the world. In Laura's heart, her brother was her only family, her entire life. Even if embarrassment burned within her, she would do her best to fulfill any request he made, unwilling to disappoint him.
Roy did not speak. He merely walked step by step behind Laura and embraced her soft body from behind. The two had a sufficient difference in height, so he lowered his head and gently kissed her beautiful golden hair.
Then, as if testing her, Roy spoke her name. "...Laura Crowley."
Suddenly, a heavy, oppressive, murderous aura surged from Laura's delicate body. The innocent blue in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a gloom that could never have appeared in a fifteen-year-old girl. Even the corners of her mouth, which had formed a sweet smile, stretched open and turned sinister and dark.
"I don't like that name, Brother... I'll say it again. I want you to call me Laura Stuart!"
After speaking, Laura walked into the narrow kitchen with heavy steps, carrying the basket.
Roy's eyes gradually narrowed. He bit his lip, then suddenly turned around and spoke to the empty air behind him. "...How am I supposed to save her?"
Behind Roy, a figure resembling light gradually appeared. It was an Angel!
Chapter Three: The Great Angel and the Great Demon
(Illustration: Aiwass)
In modern occultism, there was a name that could practically be called an object of faith: the "Secret Chief."
A "Secret Chief" referred to a human or extraterrestrial life-form possessing immense power and wisdom. They held knowledge too vast to describe and abilities approaching omnipotence, then passed some of that knowledge on to lower-ranking magicians.
In the famous "Silver Star System" of the Golden Dawn, the magical organization that had profoundly influenced modern occultism, "Secret Chief" described the highest realm. It was divided into three levels. The most basic "Secret Chief" was called (8=3), meaning "comprehending the will of God in human form"—in other words, the God of Magic!
Helena Blavatsky was a famous occultist of the modern era and the founder of Theosophy. It was said that she had received the favor of a certain "Secret Chief" and thereby gained wisdom.
The Angel behind Roy was also a "Secret Chief." According to this explanation, she could be regarded as an extraterrestrial life-form possessing knowledge and a legacy.
This Angel had long golden hair, a tall figure shining with a pale light, and a simple white robe. A pair of jade-like feet radiating a faint glow were bare, while an Angel's halo hovered above her head.
From a human perspective, it was impossible to distinguish her gender. Yet Roy felt that he ought to refer to her as female. Perhaps because of this belief of his, the Angel before him grew increasingly close to the concept of "woman" in both appearance and the feeling she gave others.
"Holy Guardian Angel" Aiwass was her name. She was a mysterious being, a "Secret Chief" summoned by Aleister Crowley through the body of his beloved wife.
Roy did not know when Aiwass had appeared behind him like a guardian spirit. From the moment he had gained consciousness, he had already been able to see Aiwass.
Roy had once asked Aiwass why she appeared beside him. Aiwass's answer had been—
"You are an interesting person, a person who should not exist, and the person I wish to find. I will observe you from your side and find that place I have pursued bitterly but never found."
Aiwass's words were ambiguous, making her a complete mystic. Roy was not annoyed by this. An enigmatic existence like Aiwass was mysterious by nature and would never easily reveal the truth or knowledge. She was more like an observer, watching the beings who interested her—such as Aleister Crowley and Roy Crowley.
An existence like Aiwass could not possibly be a single individual. She could completely turn herself into "multiples." In other words, there was one Aiwass beside Roy and another beside Aleister. They were all Aiwass, jointly observing this pair of father and son.
"Answering your question..."
Before you continue