A Certain Magical Index: The Primal Spirit Descends to My Side

The scorching afternoon sun at the end of July poured down on the abandoned warehouse area, turning the dust on the ground white.

The air was thick with the mixed smells of rust, sweat, and gunpowder. In the distance, the factory windows were shattered, leaving only the jagged frames creaking slightly in the hot wind.

Twisted steel bars, overturned oil drums, and several abandoned vehicles reduced to mere skeletons were scattered on the open ground. A rusty forklift lay overturned beside a pile of rubble, its tires flat and cracked.

The melee continued, the crisp sound of iron pipes clashing with wooden knives, the dull thuds of flesh hitting the concrete, and angry curses and painful groans intertwined into a cacophony of noise.

Shirai Kuroko, her left hand on her armband and her right hand gripping three steel needles, moved swiftly through the gaps in the chaotic crowd. Each movement landed precisely behind a thug, the needles grazing their collars and embedding themselves in walls or the ground, blocking their path.

Her original goal was to control rather than kill, but the disparity in numbers was too great. For every one she took down, two more would take their place, making it impossible for her to pay attention to whether the thugs were injured.

Misaka Mikoto stood about ten meters behind her, blue and white lightning crackling in her bangs. She didn't use her full power, because as an ordinary citizen, overusing her abilities would only complicate the Disciplinary Committee's enforcement actions. But her very presence was a deterrent; the crackling of the electric arcs made several thugs who were trying to flank her hesitate to approach.

Just as the situation began to tilt in favor of the disciplinary committee, a low humming sound suddenly came from the rear of the giant spider's camp.

The sound wasn't something a human could make; it came from a modified stereo in the back seat of a van that had been driven into the middle of the open space. The stereo's casing was painted matte black, reinforced with angle iron at the four corners, and the horn was pointed directly at the battlefield.

The buzzing sound suddenly rose in pitch.

Shirai Kuroko was calculating the coordinates for her next move, a clear image of her landing point appearing in her mind. She activated her ability...

But there was no response.

She was stunned. The eleventh-dimensional coordinates still existed in her perception, and there was nothing wrong with the movement formula, but when she tried to "project" herself to the target coordinates, something interrupted the process in the middle.

It's not a spatial barrier, nor is it control; it's something more fundamental, hindering the body's command of its abilities, as if a nerve between the brain and the body has been suddenly severed.

"How……"

Before she could finish speaking, a violent wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision blurred, and the voice of Chuchun in her earphones became distorted. She tried to activate spatial teleportation again, but this time she couldn't even form coordinates in her mind.

A thug wielding a large spider charged from the side, his metal baseball bat slamming into Shirai Kuroko's back without slowing down.

Click—!

The sound of bones cracking was drowned out by the ear-piercing buzzing. Shirai Kuroko was thrown up by the enormous impact and knocked to the ground by the blow, crashing heavily into the pile of rubble.

His hands came undone from the impact, and steel needles scattered all over the ground.

"Kuroko!" Misaka Mikoto rushed over. Although the sound affected her, it didn't seem to hinder her movements too much.

Without hesitation, she unleashed her full electromagnetic potential to its limit in an instant. Blue-white arcs of electricity erupted simultaneously from her bangs, shoulders, and arms, emitting sharp, crackling sounds. The air was ionized, and the stench of ozone was so intense it was almost suffocating. She raised her right hand, fingers spread, and a thick spear of lightning coalesced in her palm.

Then, it got out of control...

It wasn't launched outwards, but exploded in all directions.

The electric current poured out of her body indiscriminately, without calibration, without locking onto a target, and without even following her pre-set attack direction.

They simply darted out wildly, striking the nearest thugs and electrocuting them until they convulsed and collapsed to the ground, but much more current vanished into the air, leaving charred marks on the ground and sparking blinding flashes on the metal scraps.

"What...?!" Mikoto's eyes widened as she stared at her uncontrollable right hand. That feeling returned; the electric current no longer obeyed her limbs, but was disrupted and altered, rampaging around her, searching for any way to break through.

She tried to rein in, to regain control. But each attempt triggered a more violent backlash, with electricity leaking from between her fingers and scorching her own palms.

She gritted her teeth, clenched her right hand into a fist, and forcibly stopped the discharge. A burnt smell came from her palm, and her skin was burned red by her own electric current.

Just as her body stiffened from the electrical overload, a thug dressed as a black spider rushed out from the side. He held a rusty steel pipe high in his hand, a ferocious smile on his face.

The steel pipe swung down—

A red afterimage swept across the open space.

That was hair, vibrant, fluffy, and curly red hair, burning like flames in the afternoon sun. The figure moved with astonishing speed, not like the teleportation or acceleration of an ability user, but simply pure, honed physical skills.

Every step is taken on the most stable foothold on the ground, and every turn is precisely to avoid everyone's attack path.

He appeared beside Mikoto, grabbing her shoulder with his left hand and pulling her behind him. Simultaneously, his right hand lashed out, striking the thug's wrist with pinpoint accuracy. The moment the steel pipe flew from his grasp, his foot kicked the man in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The entire process was devoid of unnecessary movements or dazzling special effects. He didn't even pant; he simply turned his head, raised a carton of Musashino milk with one slender hand, and took a sip.

Black Wife Mianliu.

He was wearing a slightly faded black leather jacket, with no clothes underneath, revealing his well-defined collarbones. A chain of unknown purpose hung from his black jeans, gleaming metallically in the sunlight.

His tousled red hair swayed slightly in the hot wind. He removed the milk carton from his mouth, his voice hoarse with a hint of helplessness. "I told you, don't come near here again. Two little kids wandering around in a place like this, something bad is bound to happen sooner or later."

After saying that, he turned towards Shirai Kuroko and was about to take a step when a shadow suddenly covered the ground behind him.

Kurosawa Mianliu didn't turn around; he merely tilted his head slightly, as if he had already anticipated the source of the voice. Then he raised his hand and casually waved it behind him, as if brushing dust off his shoulder.

His arm blocked the falling metal pipe, and he used the momentum to turn around and kick the man in the abdomen. The man let out a muffled groan and bent over. Immediately afterwards, he delivered an elbow strike to the back of the man's neck, knocking him down completely.

"Kill him...!"

A rough, trembling roar echoed from the edge of the battlefield. The voice was a mixture of anger, fear, and a near-mad obsession. Standing atop a pile of wrecked tires was the man who called himself Kurosawa Myanryu. He was a size larger than the real Kurosawa Myanryu, with a spider tattoo on his arm, though the lines were rough and the colors faded. His pompadour was half-collapsed in the earlier melee, and a few greasy strands clung to his forehead, making him look both comical and pathetic.

Shirai Kuroko tried to stand up, but the sharp pain in her back made her grit her teeth. She slowly sat down, using the nearby pile of rubble as support. She looked at the burly man, then at Kurozawa Watari beside him, confirming her earlier suspicions.

"Shut up!" Snake Valley's face flushed crimson, veins bulging on his forehead. "Attack! All of you, attack! Whoever kills him becomes the second-in-command of the Great Spider!"

The members of the Giant Spider exchanged glances, none of them moving. They looked at their leader, then at the red-haired man standing in the middle of the arena. They weren't stupid; everyone had clearly seen the exchange just now, and the red-haired man's strength was nowhere near their leader's level.

"Are you deaf?!" Snake Valley roared hoarsely, "He's just one person! There are dozens of you! Kill him!"

Finally, a few die-hard members moved. They grabbed their weapons and charged towards Kurozuma Mianliu, shouting. Kurozuma Mianliu sighed, placed the milk carton on the abandoned air conditioner unit next to him, and then took a step forward.

Snake Valley stumbled and scrambled down from the pile of tires, running towards the depths of the abandoned factory. His footsteps echoed through the empty warehouse, growing fainter and fainter until they finally disappeared with a loud crash behind the dilapidated iron gate.

A moment of silence fell over the open space. The members of the Giant Spider watched their leader's disheveled retreating figure, then glanced at the red-haired man standing motionless in place, and their weapons began to fall to the ground one by one.

The sounds of metal clashing against cement rang out one after another, followed by panicked footsteps as a group of people scattered and fled, not even bothering to help their injured comrades. Only scattered iron pipes, baseball bats, and several pools of dark red blood remained on the ground.

Kurosawa Watanyu didn't chase after them. He turned around, his gaze sweeping over Mikoto and Shirai Kuroko, who was trying to stand up straight, and scratched his fluffy red hair.

"Can you still stand up?"

Shirai Kuroko braced herself on her knee with one hand, gritting her teeth as she stood up. Her forehead was scraped, and her armband was askew, but her tone remained as calm as a disciplinary committee member. "Thank you for your help… The Disciplinary Committee hereby… cough!"

Shirai Kuroko was speaking when she suddenly choked on something, coughing violently, and then blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Kurozuma Watari was startled by this. "Are you...are you alright?"

Shirai Kuroko paused for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Please don't tell my onee-sama..."

"Oh...oh..." Kurosawa Mianliu picked up the milk carton from the air conditioner unit, realized it was empty, and casually tossed the empty carton into the trash can some distance away. The empty carton traced an arc in the air before landing precisely in the bin.

He looked at Shirai Kuroko's forced expression and scratched his head. "Ah... this is really troublesome... I've finished my milk. So, Disciplinary Committee member, do you know where the supermarket is? If I want milk, I guess I'll have to..."

"Musashino Milk..."

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps came from the edge of the open space. A figure appeared at the edge of the open space, wearing a school uniform with a disciplinary committee member's armband hanging on her right arm.

Kurosawa Mianliu also saw her, and for the first time, his expression changed. In his eyes, something deeper, something that had been tempered by time, seemed to emerge. He tilted his head slightly, and a very faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Yo..." Kurosawa Miyu raised a hand and waved at Kofuku Miwei, the gesture as casual as if she had bumped into an old classmate on the street. "Long time no see, Miwei..."

Kofumi didn't answer; her hands hung limply at her sides, trembling slightly. The rise and fall of her chest betrayed that she wasn't as calm as she appeared.

"senior……"