"Edward, ah, Edward… Why are you so foolish?"
"Oh? Even those who claim to believe in God and preach justice are so ugly… If that's the case, then reading the Bible won't bring enlightenment. Blindly following the teachings of ancestors while abandoning personal thought—what does that lead to other than wretched ignorance?"
The boy named Edward Alexander muttered, his tone laced with both questioning and ridicule.
"In that case… I'll find the truth myself. I'll reclaim the path lost to humanity's foolish blindness!"
London, England—1919
The turn of the 20th century. The Great War had ended, leaving behind a world still struggling to heal.
Seated at a worn wooden desk, Roy Crowley let out a sigh as he closed the book in his hands with a heavy thud. Pressing a hand against his forehead, he murmured in exhaustion:
"…It's truly deserving of its name—the ultimate grimoire. Just reading it feels like being poisoned. A normal person would either lose their mind or simply drop dead from the sheer weight of the knowledge within."
A self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips.
"…Does that mean I'm not normal? Or should I be grateful for the blood that flows in my veins?"
Closing his eyes for a brief rest, Roy exhaled before rising from his chair. His gaze swept across the modest apartment—its furnishings were old but well-maintained.
The wooden table was spotless, the few ornaments adorning the shelves had a certain rustic charm, and a small potted plant rested by the windowsill, basking in the dim London light.
There was nothing extravagant here. The most valuable possession in the room was the collection of books neatly stacked in the corner. Judging by the surroundings, one could tell that while the owner wasn't destitute, he was far from wealthy.
And yet, Roy was content.
In this era—London, just emerging from the aftermath of war—he didn't have to live in a slum. Instead, he had a small home in a decent residential area, where he and his sister could live in peace. That was enough.
Should he be thankful to the father he had never met? Or to the mother who passed away soon after giving birth to them?
…No, if gratitude was owed, it was to his mother. Even if she hadn't been able to raise them, at least she had given them life.
As for his father? He had likely long forgotten their existence.
Fortunately, Roy wasn't a helpless child. He had already been an adult with a stable job in his past life before reincarnating. Starting over in this world had been difficult, but thanks to his maturity, he had managed to raise his younger sister by himself.
With those thoughts in mind, his fingers lightly traced the book on the desk—his expression complicated.
The paper was cool to the touch, and the book itself looked relatively new, lacking any sense of age. Yet, if it were to be introduced into the magical world, it would undoubtedly send shockwaves through all magicians.
This was no ordinary book.
"The Book of 777"
Author: Aleister Crowley
Roy's lips curled into a wry smile.
"…A grimoire from the Forbidden Library."
By now, he had long since realized what kind of world he had been reborn into.
Familiar, yet unfamiliar.
This was the world of A Certain Magical Index.
He had watched the anime before—though his memory of the finer details was hazy, he still had a rough understanding of the overall plot.
However, something was off.
Roy wasn't in Academy City. In fact, he was in an era more than a hundred years before its creation. Aleister Crowley—the man who would later become the mastermind of the Science Side—was still alive, very much in his prime, and certainly not floating in a glass tube.
This world… was still in the midst of its own turbulent history.
In such a dangerous time, Roy knew better than to act recklessly. Instead, he made the smartest decision possible—living quietly in this small London apartment, focusing only on raising his sister.
He had no intention of seeking out Aleister Crowley. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with him.
If his memory served correctly, at this point in time, Aleister was still considered a rogue magician—a target of relentless pursuit by the magical world. If Roy were to claim to be his son, countless magicians would descend upon him like vultures, eager to erase him from existence.
No, he was fortunate that Aleister had completely forgotten about them.
As long as neither he nor his sister attracted attention, they could live in relative peace.
Not that Roy had the means to challenge the world anyway.
He wasn't a Gemstone—those naturally gifted with supernatural abilities. Academy City's esper development program didn't exist yet, meaning he had no way to acquire esper powers.
As for magic…
Roy knew a little. But only a little.
Whatever knowledge he had was self-taught, gleaned from the books Aleister had left behind. Unlike true magicians, he had never undergone formal training. His magic was crude, incomplete—a mere imitation.
Still, those books were his greatest treasure.
And the most precious of them all was the one currently resting on his desk—The Book of 777.
In the Christian faith, the number 7 holds great significance. It represents completion and perfection.
God created the world in seven days. There were seven churches in the Book of Revelation. The number 7 is associated with divine judgment—seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls, and seven plagues. Even Noah was granted a grace period of seven days before the Great Flood.
The list went on.
In the world of magic, 777 carried an even deeper meaning. Anyone who laid eyes on The Book of 777 would assume it was closely tied to Christianity. After all, it was filled with references to Kabbalistic rituals, angelic hierarchies, astrology, and divination.
But Roy knew the truth.
Having studied the book for over a decade, he understood what it really was.
It wasn't about the Tree of Life at all.
It was about the Inverted Tree—a perversion of the original system, crafted by Aleister himself. It was also known as the Tree of Qliphoth.
The number 7, once sacred, had been twisted into something sinister. Aleister had connected it to the Beast, filling his writings with paradoxes and defiance against God.
"It's no wonder they called him the 'Great Beast 666'… The most wicked man in the world."
Roy let out a long breath.
Even thinking about the contents of The Book of 777 made his head throb. The sheer weight of human sin, the overwhelming malice contained within… it was enough to drag a person's soul into the abyss.
And then—
"Onii-chan, I'm home!"
A sweet, cheerful voice echoed from beyond the apartment door.