Editing Toaru Majutsu no Index:GT Volume11 Chapter2 (section)

===Part 6===

A great commotion was underway.

Asking where was meaningless. Talk of the rose and the cross was so popular it was happening pretty much everywhere.

Even though it was all made up.

He had loudly insisted it was all a lie, but no one had listened.

Rosicrucianism had completely left Johann’s control. It now belonged to everyone else.

If they wanted to enjoy it, so be it.

As long as that was what they wanted, an individual might be happy living a blindfolded life.

But.

This was on another level altogether.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I am an official Rosicrucian member. Pray to me and you might just acquire a potion capable of curing the ailment destroying your body.”

That was one of the professors.

One of the important scholars who taught at the university. As much as the boy was loath to admit it, that man was a respectable theologian who had supported the protestants to critique corruption in the monasteries and the selling of indulgences in order to drive out the vested interests of the old world.

But…

This wasn’t the same as an individual refusing to face reality and blindfolding themselves. Stealing reality away from those who had yet to be deceived was something else entirely.

The boy attempted to fight it.

Recklessly.

The worst part was that this professor was a professor.

That meant he wasn’t trying to deceive people maliciously. He believed the Rosicrucian legend from the bottom of his heart and ''had truly convinced himself that praying to a member of the cabal would heal other’s ailments.''

So.

This was well past the point where a good argument could function as a weapon.

Only academic theories could be beaten with logic.

Logic was powerless against faith.

“You say you created it all yourself? …Nonsense. Even I have barely even begun to scratch the surface of its true depths, so you – you who are so close to flunking out – could never understand even a fragment of the Rosicrucian truths that flawlessly combine mind-bendingly complex theories with supremely simple answers!!”

There is no deeper meaning! It’s a joke! It’s my house crest!!

Johann’s shouts reached no one.

No one at all.

The people who spoke of his invented nonsense as if it were real instead mocked him as ignorant and uneducated, shunning him.

They were like a naked emperor who no one could judge.

They all were.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Johann wasn’t alone. The friend who had accompanied him in that small room was the only other one who knew of the prank. In that topsy-turvy world, only he understood the same truth as Johann. He had helped created this trend. So if they worked together, surely they could bring an end to this ridiculous festival.

Or so Johann thought.

“It wasn’t us.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

The original assumption had crumbled away within his friend.

“We didn’t create this. You said you searched through all sorts of old non-Christian texts, right? Well, couldn’t you have stumbled upon some real secret Rosicrucian document in there? That must be it. That makes so much more sense than thinking the two of us somehow managed to remake the world!! Right!?”

Johann could not forget the strange light deep in his friend’s eyes.

He could never forget.

Something had taken root deep inside his friend.

The monster those two had created had taken on a life of its own and grown to the point it could travel freely from person to person. And even swallow up one of its own creators.

Had that friend been unable to bear the pressure of breaking the world?

Or had he not wanted to destroy the Rosicrucian illusion. Even if it meant altering his own memories?

Yourself or the world?

When one or the other had to be wrong, an individual mind would give into the majority rule and rewrite its own memories. People would fabricate memories in no time as long as they were aware that simply lying to themselves would let them escape eternal isolation and join the crowd.

Hypnosis only worked when the subject wanted it to.

This was a perfect example of a self-suggestion no one had asked for.

…Johann didn’t know what happened to his friend afterwards. They had continued attending the same university, but they had barely spoken. He may have begun a search for nonexistent old texts related to the rose and the cross.

Johann had no allies left.

He was all alone.

In a storm of fierce words, Johann was forced to endure the gale of text all alone.

Meanwhile, the important people who believed in Rosicrucianism began pulling out dusty old documents. They discussed whether Greek mythology, Egyptian mythology, or other things might point to a piece of the Rosicrucian secrets and they tried patching it all together. The powerless invented story began to to change as the patchwork gradually took on a new form. By the time the original flavor was no longer recognizable, a drop of true poison had found its way inside.

In other words, various forms of eastern and western magic.

''They'' must have decided this would make good camouflage and help them in their factional conflicts.

So a kernel of knowledge taken from, of all places, an original grimoire was included.

Once the ball began rolling down the hill, no one could stop it.

Not even Johann.

He was its creator, but he had lost control.

Once people were wielding visible miracles, it became impossible to say whether it was a lie or the truth.

“Ahh.”

“Pray to me.”

“Help me.” “I’ll pay anything.” “Give it to me too.”

“No.” “It hurts.” “That’s weird.” “Help.” “I heard the Rosicrucian book could heal me.”

“L-L-Lord Rosencreutz!!” “Argh, I’m willing to spend my entire fortune to track down CRC!” “Are you sure that’s safe?” “Hee hee. Care to try some divination of the rose and the cross?” “Uweeeeaahhhhhhh!” “Please don’t leave me.” “This here is the sequel to the primary text of a secret cult! Any takers!?” “Wait, you seriously don’t believe in CRC?” “I heard you shelter Rosicrucians in your territory.” “Are you the enemy of mankind who dares defy Lord Rosencreutz!?” “All you have to do is believe, so stop making waves.” “They say it’s complete.” “You got what you deserved. You wouldn’t be sick if you hadn’t insulted the Rosicrucians.” “I am Rosencreutz reborn!” “I have the elixir of life!!” “You must be removed. Your lack of belief in CRC makes you an illness upon this world!!” “Hee hee. I’m making a killing off of this.” “Can you really call yourself an intellectual if you aren’t well-read on the rose and the cross?” “Help me!!” “Don’t worry. Everyone will be saved as long as they do as Rosencreutz says.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

Johann Valentin Andreae.

He was ''defeated by Christian Rosencreutz.

Reality was stolen from him.

He had invented it, but he was labeled the liar.

CRC had transformed into a secret truth. And the Rosicrucian legend with him at the top had left the control of the 15-year-old boy who had created it. He had been able to switch it on, but switching it off wasn’t so easy.

He heard the world changing.

Distorting.

Bending.

Twisting.

Breaking.

He had created an engine that convinced so many people they were happy even as it dragged them down to hell.