Divine Right of Various Anime and Manga

December 1, 1947. In a rural village along the Severn River in England, inside a dilapidated straw shed, Aleister Crowley lay sprawled on a pile of straw. His breathing was heavy, his body stained crimson with blood, like a broken doll.

Life was withering within him. It would not be long before he welcomed death.

"How unsightly. So I failed in the end... This is the price I must pay for killing my own child with my own hands."

Aleister lay there in a spread-eagle position, unconsciously recalling the thirty years of his life.

In 1919, Aleister was hiding in Egypt, beginning to lay the foundation of his plan. But one day, he unexpectedly encountered a stranger in the "Imaginary Phase." He guessed that the other party had deciphered The Book of Law and thus found the Imaginary Phase where he was hiding. Without hesitation, he unleashed his ultimate spell—one that, when the enemy was set as a "demon god," would unleash enough power to trigger ten times the force of the Big Bang—and killed the stranger.

Aleister succeeded. He was the greatest magician of the twentieth century, a mortal who could stand against demon gods. Aleister also failed, because the one he killed was not an "enemy" at all, but someone of his own blood, a being called family—his son.

The moment he saw the other's true form, through genetic inheritance, the flow of bloodline, and the resonance of magic and soul, Aleister was absolutely certain that this was his child, born to him by one of his countless lovers.

In that moment, Aleister went completely mad. He abandoned his human rationality, gave up the plan he had just begun, and without hesitation left Egypt, stepping back onto the dangerous soil of England to fulfill his final duty as a father—to search for traces of the child he had mistakenly killed.

He knew what he was about to face. It would be a hunt by every magician in the world. For this "greatest heretic" who sought to destroy magic and had the power to do so, no one wielding magical power would ever let him go.

Among those hunting him, the English Anglican Church was the most frenzied and reckless. Though Aleister was strong, he was still only a human. From 1919 to the present day of 1947, Aleister had fought magicians from all over the world for twenty-eight years. Just the day before, exhausted and spent, Aleister was finally caught by the assassination squad of the English Anglican Church and gravely wounded in this English countryside.

"...This suits my ending well."

Aleister felt no sorrow or despair. All his despair had been filled to the brim twenty-eight years ago, the moment he killed his own child. He knew clearly what his life was like—forever facing failure and setbacks. And failure and setbacks could never defeat Aleister.

Whether it was a demon god that could destroy and distort everything, a path harder than climbing to heaven, or any desperate situation—none could overcome this terrifyingly strong man. The only thing that could defeat Aleister was his family.

Creak—

The door of the rural straw hut was pushed open. Aleister listened to the footsteps approaching from outside. In the face of death, he was so calm that he could even joke frivolously: "...Which lucky one found me? The English Anglican Church? The Roman Orthodox Church? The Russian Orthodox Church? Or some Magic Society? I'd guess the English Anglican Church is the most likely."

"...Take my head and claim your reward. I imagine my head is still quite valuable in this world."

The person entering the hut did not speak, as if trying to use this oppressive silence to make Aleister feel fear.

Then, Aleister finally saw the visitor—

"A frog?"

Aleister stared in astonishment at the old man with a frog-like face who appeared before him. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses and was somewhat stout, but Aleister had definitely never seen him before. This old man didn't seem to be one of the magicians who had been hunting him.

"How can you call someone a frog the moment you meet them? That's very rude."

The old man muttered with some dissatisfaction, then came before Aleister and examined him with a serious expression. "...What severe injuries. If I were a step later, you would have already passed on."

"Who are you?"

Aleister was now as weak as a newborn baby. Facing this old man who could take his life at any moment, he felt little wariness and only asked calmly.

"Who am I?"

The old man murmured. He turned his head to look at the Severn River not far from the straw hut, as if seeing the surging rivers of the Jiangnan water towns of long ago, and a friend a hundred years ago at Humen who, unafraid of power or death, recited poetry and laughed as he burned the opium that had broken the nation's spine.

He shook his head and smiled. "I no longer use the name I had in the past. If you wish, call me Soul of the Underworld!"

"Soul of the Underworld?"

What an arrogant name. But Aleister did not laugh.

"That's right. Time is short, so don't speak. I need to extend your life right now."

With that, the old man called Soul of the Underworld crouched down and prepared to begin emergency treatment.

"There is no hope of saving my body. No magic can heal me."

Aleister continued calmly. He knew his own injuries well.

"If magic won't work, then use science!"

Soul of the Underworld retorted without concern.

"Science..."

Aleister looked at this old man he had met by chance. His dim, lusterless eyes brightened once more.

Of course, he did not want to die. It was not out of fear of death, but simply because he had not yet accomplished his goal, fulfilled that wish.

For Aleister, even death was merely one of his setbacks, never a reason to give up.

"Do you know who it is you're saving?"

"I don't care who you are. I only know that you are a patient in urgent need of surgery. And no matter what happens, I will never abandon my patient!"

Soul of the Underworld declared resolutely and solemnly.

"What an overly gentle and strange fellow..."

Aleister paused, then continued: "...I have too many enemies in England. I cannot stay here."

"Let me think... Then go to Japan. Japan has just been defeated in war. That land is hungry for everything and will take whatever it can get. The environment there will surely accommodate you."

Soul of the Underworld thought for a moment and pointed Aleister toward a path.

Afterward, with Soul of the Underworld's help and treatment, Aleister clung to life and relocated to Japan.

And in the perception of the magical world, the evil and fearsome magician Aleister Crowley died on December 1, 1947, in the English countryside.

1950—Academy City was founded.

In the midst of darkness, Roy suddenly opened his eyes.

Chapter One: "Rebellion Against My Glorious Father"

(Updates may be slow before going premium, but will speed up after.)

Roy really didn't want to use the cliché of a familiar yet unfamiliar ceiling to describe his current situation, but he had no choice but to do so.

Because the place where Roy now found himself was precisely the bedroom he had before his transmigration. He was still lying in bed in his pajamas, his sudden eyes snapping open like someone just waking from a deep dream.

"A dream?"

Roy propped himself up from the bed, rubbing his head. The more than ten years of life in early twentieth-century London were far too vivid. If this was a dream, it was far too long and too real.

"No."

Soon, Roy sensed something was off. He first looked at his hand—the skin was unnaturally pale, completely different from his pre-transmigration self. The pajamas he wore were also too small, because the pre-transmigration Roy hadn't been that tall.

He quickly got out of bed and walked to the mirror from memory. Seeing his reflection, he knew that what had happened in early twentieth-century London wasn't a dream but reality.

In the mirror was Roy Crowley, not the Chinese name 'Roy.'

'Roy's' parents had passed away long ago—not from any accident, but from natural old age. He was a late-life child. At twenty-two, his elderly, frail parents died one after another. Spoiled since childhood, Roy was born in Jiangsu but grew up in the imperial capital, where his parents worked.

After their deaths, they left him no significant cash inheritance, only two apartments in the imperial capital—one for himself, one rented out. In this city of sky-high housing prices, he lived comfortably alone.

With no worries about food or clothing, Roy's job was purely his passion. After years of effort, he became a competent photographer, shooting weddings and charging a few hundred to a thousand yuan for cosplay shoots for girls in the two-dimensional world. His life was content.

Aside from being average-looking and lacking a rich romantic history, 'Roy' was quite well-off in every other aspect.

"But now, by blood and soul, my father should be Aleister Crowley."

"So what's going on? I transmigrated, and now I'm back?"

For a moment, Roy was utterly bewildered by his situation.

Suddenly, he felt the atmosphere in the room shift. His muscles tensed, and he spun around to find behind him the presence of a guardian spirit—the "Holy Guardian Angel," Aiwass!

But Aiwass's body looked strange now. It was like an old black-and-white TV losing signal, covered in mosaic-like patterns, faint as if it might dissolve into the wind at any moment.

"Aiwass?"

Seeing this 'familiar face,' Roy relaxed a little. After living over a decade in early twentieth-century London, returning to this world—Roy's original world—made everything feel alien, even though this should have been his homeland.

"You finally noticed me, Roy... I thought you could no longer see me."

The "Holy Guardian Angel" wore a human-like expression of curiosity on her faintly glowing face, surveying her surroundings.

Roy knew she wasn't examining the room but this 'world.'

"I remember I was hit by Aleister's magic formula."

Recalling the scene before darkness took him, Roy clearly remembered Aleister kneeling in despair and the pain of his soul and mind being torn apart.

"Did you save me?"

He asked thoughtfully.

"When you were struck by Aleister's formula, I lodged my spirit into you through possession, taking the blow for you... Aleister's formula is powerful but not without weakness. Its maximum output could reach the level of the Big Bang, but he can't control it—its power varies by target."

"So it's stronger against strong targets and weaker against weak ones?"

"Exactly."

Aiwass's explanation made Roy nod. At the time, Aleister had targeted Roy with the formula, unleashing power akin to an intercontinental ballistic missile—enough to kill a low-tier mage like Roy. But that level of destruction couldn't harm Aiwass at all. So she used possession to shield Roy from the blow.

Unless Aleister had targeted Aiwass directly, he couldn't have hurt her in the slightest.

Then, Roy recalled something Aiwass had said when they first met. He blurted out, "...You once said I was the one you were looking for, someone who could lead you to the place you'd long sought but couldn't find. Is that place this world?"

Aiwass smiled at Roy, and he could feel the joy she was trying to convey. "...This is the place I sought. Not entirely, but it's a crucial part. I'm glad I found you first, with your unique trait. If the 'Gods of Magic' had found you first, they would have imprisoned you, trying every means to obtain the key to 'here.' You carry the 'ideal and hope' they pursue."

"Hah, that's not funny at all. A trait that attracts the attention of Gods of Magic only brings danger."

Roy shrugged, unimpressed by his so-called 'trait.'

The 'Gods of Magic' Aiwass mentioned were properly called the "Gods of Magic."

Life must die. Apples must fall downward. One plus one must equal two. These are unchangeable 'laws' of the material world. Those who can reverse all this—making one plus one equal three, apples fall upward, and the dead rise—are what we call 'Gods of Magic.'

They are mages who possess infinite power, capable of overturning all laws, to whom the world is fragile—beings who have reached the realm of gods!

According to Aleister's system, a God of Magic is one who has achieved the rank of "Secret Chief." Aiwass before him was also a Secret Chief, but in Roy's view, she only matched them in status, lacking the true expression of a God of Magic.

Being targeted by such beings, truly 'gods,' was no fun at all.

Roy picked up his phone and checked the time. Thinking back, he realized his transmigration had taken very little time, like waking from a nap.

He opened the fridge, grabbed some food, and wolfed it down. Those dozen years in London had been hard—he'd suffered a lot from poverty. Now that he had the chance, he had to make up for his taste buds and stomach.

"Aiwass, what's the deal with this world I'm in?"

"Roy, do you know the Fourfold World theory of Kabbalah?"

"Kabbalah divides the universe into four worlds: the Archetypal Realm, the Creative Realm, the Forming Realm, and the Material World. Are you asking me about that?"

Roy answered without hesitation, thanks to the books Aleister had left him during those years in London. He had deep theoretical knowledge of mysticism and magic.

As he spoke, he looked at Aiwass again. In this theory, the Archetypal Realm corresponds to God, the Creative Realm to archangels and wisdom, the Forming Realm to angels and the primal wind behind matter, and the Material World is where humans live.

Roy knew that Aiwass existed as a kind of "spirit body," so was her essence in the Archetypal Realm or the Creative Realm?

Just as Roy was pondering this, Aiwass picked up his train of thought: "...And this world is very likely located outside, or perhaps above, the Four Worlds. Even a Magic God can only traverse infinite phases, but can never transcend the Four Worlds."

"...You, who can move between the Four Worlds and the world beyond, are naturally the object of their covetousness."

After a pause, Aiwass suddenly said: "...I've made up my mind. In the past, I only wanted to observe you, not to interfere. But you've brought me so much information and surprise. Now I intend to intervene in your life—this might allow me to gain even more."

"Roy, is there anything you desire right now?"

"What do I desire right now?"

Roy laughed. "...Right now, I only want to do one thing: 'Raise the sword of rebellion against my glorious father.' If he had fulfilled his duty as a father, if he hadn't sown his seed everywhere without even knowing he had a child, how could these tragedies have happened—to me, or to Laura!"

"...But before that, I need to figure out how I crossed over, and whether I can cross back!"

Chapter 2: "God Ascension Stairway"

The Kabbalah is the mystical philosophy of Judaism. According to this esoteric theory, the universe is divided into four parts. The world where A Certain Magical Index takes place, as Aiwass said, follows this theory. But the world Roy is in now, the world before his crossing—called the Real World—exists outside this framework.

Why does this Real World contain novels, anime, and manga about other worlds? Are those other worlds real? And why did he cross over? These questions nearly suffocated Roy with their weight.

He shook his head and looked at Aiwass. "...Forget it. These aren't problems I should be worrying about right now. Aiwass, can you still use your abilities in this world?"

Aiwass, who had been curiously observing this world, paused before speaking. "...My power is greatly restricted and weakened here."

Only then did Roy notice that Aiwass's voice was no longer muffled as if through a veil, like it had been in the Index world. Her voice had become clear, with a more feminine tone. This made Roy suspect that, due to the peculiar nature of the Real World, the gap in their status had shrunk dramatically, allowing him to understand her words with ease.

Roy frowned. He grabbed paper and a pen and drew some magical diagrams and mystic symbols. In the Index world, though he was a third-rate magician, he at least knew some basic magic.

"Magic can still be used, but as you said, Aiwass, its power is heavily suppressed here. Still, some basic suggestion magic works fine. As long as there are no other supernatural forces in this world, if I wanted to, I could stand at its peak with just suggestion abilities alone."

Roy shrugged, his expression lacking any excitement or thrill. Compared to the magnificent and colorful "Two-Dimensional World," this Real World was far too dull.

Unlike Aiwass—a "Secret Chief" curious about the unknown, incomprehensible world before her—Roy didn't yet have the qualifications to explore the secrets of this Real World.