Nanatsu no Maken ga Shihai suru - Volume SS01 - Chapter Pr

On average, 20 percent do not make it to graduation. The reasons why vary: Death, madness, and disappearance are only the tip of the iceberg.

Kimberly Magic Academy—a name given to hell on Earth.

“Fortis Impetus!”

Powerful winds, born from a wand, converged into a spear that shot toward their foe. The wand was held by a third-year student, one Michela McFarlane, her deep mana pool allowing this double incantation. A spell strong enough to bore a hole through rock, yet the wall of water before them stifled the momentum. It dissipated.

“…Not even a doublecant worked?!”

“Gladio!”

A water tentacle shot out to strike back, severed by a spell from another third-year—Nanao Hibiya. The severed portion lost shape, becoming mere water once more, but they were in a swamp; there was plenty of water for the creature to convert into new tentacles.

“Hrm,” Nanao grumbled. “Slicing these accomplishes naught. A perplexing beast.”

The boy beside her—Oliver Horn—nodded. The massive shifting wall of water was but a cloak, controlled with elementals; squint hard enough, and beneath that rippling surface one might glimpse the kernel. A streamlined body covered in slick scales, broad limbs evolved into fins, the sharp teeth of a carnivore lining the maw atop that slender neck. Distinctive even among waterwyrms. He knew the creature’s name.

“A mizuchi. A divine beast familiar found in Azian rivers. I’d heard there was one dormant on the third layer, but…”

As he spoke, Oliver’s gaze rose to the top of the watery armor. A male student, buried to the waist, laughing maniacally.

“Hee! Hee-hee! Kya-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee! Excellent! Far better than anticipated! Run wild! Demonstrate the power of the river divinities! I shall make you lord of the third layer once more!”

Drunk on power, his own mind on the verge of assimilation.

Oliver frowned. “…He believes he’s tamed it, but it’s taking control. He’s on the verge of being consumed by the spell.”

“Such conceit, Mr. Seitz,” Michela said, stepping up beside Oliver, athame in hand. “You should have known this was beyond a third-year’s reach.”

Three younger students stood behind them, under their protection—but determined to pitch in. They’d all suffered injuries in the fight, but they were disinclined to care. A friend of theirs had been swallowed up in the mizuchi’s waters.

“…Dean…”

“…We’ll get you out…!”

“Deep breaths!” Guy Greenwood said. A tall third-year, he waved his juniors down. “This is a real nasty customer. Rush in, and you’ll get yourselves killed. That includes you, Teresa.”

He’d spotted Teresa Carste, a second-year, about to make a solo play.

The waters of the marsh lapping at his ankles, Pete Reston—a smaller third-year—narrowed his eyes.

“…These ripples…”

“Look out! The visible shapes are not the only threat! Assume all water here is a part of it!”

This warning came from Katie Aalto, a third-year well-versed in magical biology. In response, everyone channeled a portion of their magic into walking on water—just as the mizuchi turned its reservoir into a thirty-foot-tall wave bearing down on them. No time to dodge. All third-years formed ranks before their juniors, wands raised—

“Impetus!”

A gale flew over their heads, slamming into the water. Before the wave could hit, the wind blew it back, then slammed hard against the mizuchi’s water armor. The unexpected spell made everyone swing around—and they found a man standing behind them, athame raised.

“Once more, I find you fighting monsters. You make a real habit of it.”

“President Godfrey…!”

A strong gaze beneath upturned brows. The upperclassman they trusted most. He soon stepped between them and the mizuchi, staring it down and speaking over sturdy shoulders.

“Mr. Seitz is well on his way to being consumed by the spell. That much is obvious, but since when is a creature like this on the third layer?”

“He seems to have awakened a dormant mizuchi!” Oliver said. “There’d been several sightings…”

“A mizuchi…? Ah, the mate to the corpse Rivermoore employs. I see Mr. Travers trapped within—how’s he faring?”

“He should still be okay!” Katie cried. “Prey with mana reserves aren’t immediately eaten; mizuchi keep them alive inside the water, like sucking on a hard candy. They stand to gain more from that in the long run.”

Caught up to speed, Godfrey nodded. A captured junior was a pickle, but he was unlikely to be used as a hostage. Mizuchi were animals; such notions were beyond them. Erich Seitz was likely too far gone to think of it himself.

“Got it,” Godfrey said. His mind made up, he barked an order. “Extract your friend.”

They, too, were Kimberly students. He need not offer detailed plans. Godfrey’s role here was clear—keep this creature busy until the young mages’ efforts paid off.

“The die is cast,” Godfrey declared. “They’ll be forced to deal with me.”

He took a big step forward. The mizuchi tracked his movements, clearly aware he was the greatest threat. It tried to take him out quickly; part of its water wall formed a projectile, which it fired at top speed.

“Hah!”

That aim was true, but Godfrey kicked it with a force greater than the launch, sending the water orb back along the same trajectory. It smashed against the mizuchi’s armor. Not a remotely practical approach, and it left Pete gasping.

“H-he kicked the water?!”

“An application of Lake Walking! The strength of his legs is beyond compare!”

“Ducere!”

The man’s next spell hit the water armor and forcibly peeled a chunk of it away. The rest of them knew just why he was going for chip damage over anything more powerful.

“The president’s weakening the armor! Now’s our chance to free Dean!”

The third-years spread out around the mizuchi, all wands aimed at the same thing—the boy trapped within.

““““““Supernatet!””””””

Their spells melded, flying toward the boy. The mizuchi’s interference weakened the power, but their combined might applied levitation in the same direction. And that force pulled the boy upward, out of the water’s depths.

“He’s hit the surface!”

“Now, Nanao!”

“Gladio!”

Nanao’s severing spell cut through the water, and the portion holding their junior was freed from the mizuchi’s control. He fell away—and Guy caught him. The boy’s friends raced over.

“Dean!”

“Hang in there, Dean!”

“Shoulder him and skedaddle! Teresa, back ’em up!” Guy cried.

“Will do.”

Dean’s friends hoisted him up and ran off, Teresa guarding their retreat. Certain they were out of harm’s way, Godfrey grinned and glanced up at Seitz.

“No more distractions. Let’s see who’s better, Mr. Seitz.”

“Hee-ha-ha-ha! Such airs, Purgatory!”

The challenge grabbed Seitz’s attention, and the mizuchi drew in all water from the vicinity. Its armor swelled to several times its original size. All too aware of how powerful this next attack would be, the third-years moved to back Godfrey’s play—but he stood his ground, athame at the ready.

“Calidi Ignis!”

A torrent that could gouge through steel—and he fired a spell right into it. The crimson flames slammed into the water, explosively vaporizing it. The Sword Roses leaped back out of harm’s way, while Godfrey poured yet more mana into his wand.

“Rahhhhhhhhh!”

The balance shifted, his flames pushing the water back. Plumes of steam rose up, a sight so patently absurd his juniors forgot to think. The crimson pierced the water armor and reached the root of the torrent, vaporizing the mizuchi too fast for it to even burn. The remaining water burst, splattering to the ground—and Seitz fell into Godfrey’s arms.

“All done, gentlemen. Case closed.”

He said this as if it was nothing. His juniors lowered their wands, jaws hanging open.

Within the hellscape of Kimberly stood a man known as Purgatory.

Alvin Godfrey, student body president. Armed with extraordinary magic output and an unflinching heart, he drew like-minded students together and formed the Campus Watch, the mages in their ranks doing battle with all they deemed unfair. The witches and warlocks who lined these halls feared him. Even those following their spells toward realms outside the domain of humankind could hardly dismiss him.

Was he always like that? No, not at all.

Once—he, too, was just a student. Scorned for lack of talent, frustrated by what he could not do, buffeted by the horrors of the darkness all around. His suffering was beyond that of any average student. But even before he found his strength, he stood tall, attempting to protect those around him.

The Watch Headquarters contains accounts of those times. Anyone who wishes to can peruse them.

It is not clear who first gave these records their name, but all Watch members call them:

The Purgatory Files.