1

“Mademoiselle Isuzu, Mademoiselle Isuzu.”

Rundelhaus had contacted her with a party telechat first, so he knew she was awake, but that didn’t make it all right for him to just walk into a lady’s boudoir, so he called at the door of the girls’ room.

He’d received a report that wyverns had been sighted near the town.

Touya, Minori, and Serara said they were already headed for the reservoir to help defend the town. Rundelhaus had been ready to run to them, but they’d told him to meet up with Isuzu. The monsters hadn’t invaded the boundaries of civilization yet, but under the circumstances, there was no telling what could happen. Meeting up with Isuzu first and going to join Touya’s group together was probably the right decision. Rundelhaus felt that Minori wasn’t the sort of girl who’d issue poorly conceived orders.

After a few moments, just as he raised his hand to knock again, the cheap-looking wooden door swung open, revealing the room’s interior.

Isuzu had fastened her equipment to herself, and she nodded, ready, but Rundelhaus fell speechless.

Her face looked awful.

Her eyelids were swollen, and her nose was red, as if she’d rubbed it too much.

When he’d left her in the back garden that night, she’d been crying pearl-like tears. She’d probably continued crying when she was alone. Isuzu was kind, and Rundelhaus had indeed thought she might blame herself, so he’d also thought he should stay near her despite her directive. However, he’d reconsidered, thinking that it might be presumptuous, and had gone away quietly. It had only been about fifteen hours since then. Rundelhaus had waited for dawn in his room without sleeping a wink.

That meant that Isuzu’s tear-swollen face wasn’t something he hadn’t anticipated. Yet, even so, he found it hard to speak. There was a lump in his throat. Faced with this, he felt as if he’d done something terrible. Rundelhaus was the one who’d made Isuzu cry, and he’d left her when he should have stayed to dry her tears.

He didn’t think it was the wrong decision, but of course that didn’t make the pain go away. Needless to say, Isuzu’s grief was clearly several times greater than his own.

“Rudy.”

“Y-yes, Mademoiselle Isuzu.”

“Quit looking dumb.”

“What do you mean, dumb? Who’s dumb?!”

“Hm.”

Mouth set in a cross line, Isuzu pushed Rudy’s shoulder, making him do an about-face, then pulled him down the inn’s corridor.

“C’mon, let’s go. Minori and the others are waiting!”

“I know. I’ll walk on my own.”

“Look sharp, Rudy.”

You’re the one who isn’t looking sharp.

You look awful.

Here, wipe your face with this.

Rundelhaus swallowed all those words.

If he said anything like that, Isuzu would hit him with a fist more powerful than a Frost Spear, but that was only a very tiny part of the reason. It was because imagining himself saying those things and wiping away Isuzu’s tears had made his chest ache strangely.

Having left the inn at a trot, the pair quickly looked to either side, then hurried toward the northwest section of the city, as instructed. There were no figures on the road. The townspeople seemed to be hiding in their homes. As proof, shapes watched them through narrow gaps in the shutters and cracked doors.

Rundelhaus knew that feeling very well.

Before he left Nine-Tails, he’d been just like that. Even when you knew you didn’t have the strength to stand against a disaster, you couldn’t keep from peeking out at it. If you shut yourself up in your house, closed your eyes, and plugged your ears, it made the terrible things you imagined swell and grow, and that was really hard to take.

Without speaking to Rundelhaus, Isuzu set off at a jog. She seemed out of sorts, but Rundelhaus was relieved.

It showed him that she’d recovered from her depression of the previous night. Besides, for some reason, he could tell she wasn’t as angry as she looked. It must be the magical telepathic ability peculiar to Adventurers: Sometimes Rundelhaus could tell exactly what Isuzu was thinking.

She looked angry right now, but she wasn’t actually all that mad. She was troubled, or flustered, or sulking, or embarrassed; something along those lines. At times like this, he knew from experience that if he gave Isuzu practical advice—“Your nose is red,” for example, or “You should go wash your face”—he’d get hit.

This was a point that was particularly worthy of note: Astonishingly, Isuzu would strike him even when she wasn’t angry!

In fact, it happened faster when she wasn’t mad.

He might have learned to read her feelings to some extent, but that didn’t mean he was any faster at evading (and Sorcerers’ defensive abilities were lower than Bards’). In any case, as a rule, he didn’t understand her feelings at all. Rundelhaus had decided that, whether or not one was an Adventurer, this was based in the difference between the sexes, and had given up.

In any case, Isuzu jogged away, and Rundelhaus ran through the streets after her.

A sizzling, fizzing tension hung in the air. It was the atmosphere of combat.

“Rudy.”

“What is it, Mademoiselle Isuzu?”

“I feel kind of scared.”

That was a statement he had to agree with.

According to what Minori had said, the enemy was wyverns. Although they were powerful and their numbers were great, the Odysseia Knights had rushed them on the outskirts of the town, and the results of the charge were currently unknown. It wasn’t yet clear which side would win, but either way, it would take time for the conclusion to appear.

No matter what outcome presented itself, it would be a while before it made its influence felt in this district, near the center of town. The fizzing tension seemed as if it might be an overreaction.

Rundelhaus concentrated on searching for the sword attacks he could hear in the distance.

Right beside him, Isuzu was listening hard, her expression serious. Her adorable, shell-like ears worked much better than his did, and they were able to probe the state of the battle.

“How is it?”

“It sounds all right. They aren’t close, anyway.”

“I see.”

“Let’s go, Rudy!”

“Oh—Mademoiselle Isuzu.” On reflex, Rundelhaus stopped her.

Isuzu turned back, looking puzzled. He searched for words to say to her, but couldn’t find any. He gazed at her face, trying to think of what he should say to her, but since it was so sudden, he came up empty. All he felt was that the longer he looked at Isuzu, the crosser she got.

“Um?”

“Right. Mademoiselle Isuzu.”

Rundelhaus threw out his chest. At this point, as a guy, he should probably do his best to dispel the unease of a girl disturbed by the atmosphere of battle.

“I know the sudden monster attack has made you anxious, Mademoiselle Isuzu. However, while the Adventurer Rundelhaus Code is here, you have nothing to fear! My Orb of Lava is sure to protect the town of Saphir, and you, and Mademoiselles Minori and Serara! In any case, we are a party seasoned by combat! This hardship is no more than a modest trial… And so, Mademoiselle Isuzu, have no fear!!”

She hit him.

Even though he hadn’t been joking.

Still, the attack completely dispelled the haze that had hung over his heart.

His vision cleared, and even the things which had been clouded over for him were sharply visible. He’d probably managed to dispel the unease Isuzu felt, and because of that, at the same time, the dismal feeling inside Rundelhaus had disappeared as well. He didn’t really know what he’d been holding inside or why he’d hesitated, but the fact of the matter was that his heart had grown lighter.

Unconsciously, he felt that this very lightness of heart was the Adventurers’ nature. After all, it was the treasure he’d gained in the village of Choushi.

At the time, he’d thought that there was a secret to Adventurer strength. Adventurers’ combat abilities were many times greater than those of the People of the Earth, and he’d assumed that they had some sort of secret magic or tool that they used to develop those abilities. He couldn’t tell Isuzu and the others, but when he’d resolved to participate in the summer training camp, Rundelhaus had been planning to steal that secret method from the Adventurers.

But he’d had it wrong.

The Adventurers didn’t have any secrets like that.

They were strong because that was the sort of beings they were, and it seemed to be more like a curse than a secret or any sort of training. They were unable to return to their home, and in exchange for that tragedy, they’d been given their current combat abilities. Rundelhaus thought one would have to call that a curse, not a blessing.

Then, too, Adventurers were noble people.

Just as they’d done for him, they never abandoned those who were struggling. That was the sort of Adventurer Rundelhaus had wanted to become.

During the battle for Choushi, when he’d clung to the Dire Wolf and shoved his gauntlets into its mouth, his heart had been light.

There had been no terror or regret in it. Only his companions and his mission.

Shiroe, the man who’d saved him, had said that Rundelhaus was already an Adventurer—that by then, his heart had been one of theirs.

Rundelhaus thought that he’d had an Adventurer’s soul, and that was why Shiroe had come along.

Just as it had then, his heart grew lighter. The fist Isuzu had landed on his forehead hadn’t hurt at all.

It had struck him with a thunk, and it seemed to be a method of Adventurer telepathy that Rundelhaus hadn’t yet learned. Masses of heat were born with every heartbeat, and he could tell with clarity that they were racing around inside his chest, carrying energy throughout his body.

“Mademoiselle Isuzu!”

“Honestly. What now?”

Isuzu turned around, pouting, and Rundelhaus waved his staff at her. Invisible mana gave the power of the wind a physical shape, forming a shining blue force field. The force field raised the two of them about ten centimeters off the ground.

“Whoa! Wh-what is this?!”

“It’s the flying spell Lark’s Shoes. At my skill level, we can’t run through the sky, but it will ignore bad roads and increase our movement speed.”

“Whoops—! Um, so… You mean it’ll make us faster?”

Isuzu stepped lightly, testing the transparent platform with her toes, and grinned. Her eyelids were still puffy, but her smile was like a rainbow after rain.

With this, they’d be able to go to the outskirts of town, to the battlefield, or absolutely anywhere. When they broke into a run, their progress was smoother and several times faster than it had been earlier.

Rundelhaus felt deeply satisfied by his choice of magic. It was a spell that demanded prodigious study and vast talent. At this point, unfortunately, he wasn’t able to exercise its full potential. It was all he could do to levitate Isuzu and himself slightly and get them to the battlefield. However, if Isuzu’s smile was his reward, it wasn’t bad at all.

“Nice, Rudy.”

“But of course, Mademoiselle Isuzu. I am a genius Sorcerer, after all!”

“Don’t get full of yourself!”

Even as they bantered, the two of them glided along, roars raining down around them alongside striking metallic echoes. It was the wyverns. Even though they weren’t out of the town yet, a wyvern wounded by arrows dropped out of the sky, shearing away the wall of a ruined building. At its roar, Rundelhaus knew something with certainty.

The fizzing tension he’d felt up until now had belonged to the townspeople. It wasn’t his own. The anxiety and fear of people with nowhere to run had been clinging to the two of them. That was what Rundelhaus had sensed as eyes trained upon him.

However, at this point, it was no hindrance whatsoever.

One step ahead of him, a girl was running through space.

Her braid looked like a brown tail, and Rundelhaus leapt with all his might to keep from losing to it. He’d manifested a fireball near his hand, and he condensed the energy of its magic, then released it all at once. Flare Arrow joined the tip of Isuzu’s spear and ran the wounded wyvern through.

Fearlessly, Rundelhaus and Isuzu joined the defense of Saphir.

2

“I’m going, too! Wolfie!”

Serara broke into a run, worried about Touya, who’d been sent flying on the front line. However, without sparing a glance for her, Minori looked up at Roe2. Technically, Touya and Serara might need her support, but she chose to stay where she was.

She knew instinctively that this conversation with Roe2 was important and that she would probably never get another chance to have it.

Abruptly, her vision grew sharper, and a premonition whispered insistently in her ears. It was the same agitation she’d felt when she’d run off to defend Choushi from the goblins. The same feeling she’d had when she’d decided to support Shiroe at the Production Guild Liaison Committee.

Something had come to Minori and presented her with a choice. Minori held her breath and, inwardly, chose to take a great leap. She might be wrong, and she might regret it. However, she had to choose. She opened her eyes wide. The assumption that she couldn’t do anything was a chain that bound her. She’d learned that earlier in Hamelin. It had been an expensive lesson. For that reason, she’d never forget it.

Touya had run off toward the battlefield. It might not be the same one, but Minori had to stand on her own battlefield.

Minori instinctively felt that her most important opponent was the one currently watching her with great interest.

“You’re sure you don’t need to go over there, Minori?”

Swallowing, Minori nodded.

“I see. That’s the second time you’ve heard that question, isn’t it?”

Minori nodded again. Roe2 gazed at her.

Behind the round glasses, her eyes were intelligent, and Minori knew she was reflected in their luster. It might have been those eyes that made her think Roe2 looked a bit like Shiroe. Her eye color and the shape of her eyebrows were very similar to his. Even more than the shape of those eyes, that pensive expression reminded Minori of her teacher.

“……”

“……”

The two watched each other wordlessly.

Even with the tension in the air, Minori wasn’t the least bit frightened anymore.

This was very odd, and she thought about the reason. This was an Adventurer she didn’t know, someone she’d only met a few days ago. Because the woman spoke candidly, she was easy to warm up to, but considering what she’d said a few moments ago, even if she viewed it favorably, she had to consider her an unknown.

It should have been all right to feel fear or alarm regarding someone like that, but although Minori felt tense, she couldn’t feel any of those other things. The fact that she felt this way struck her as odd, and she remembered it.

Abruptly, Roe2 raised her eyes and looked in the direction of the battlefield.

Following her gaze, Minori saw an ugly fight. The broken battle lines had made systematic combat an impossibility. She didn’t know where the Moving Temple was, but members of the Odysseia Knights who’d probably resurrected there charged indiscriminately at Nightshades and wyverns alike.

Ordinarily, the level difference should have given the Knights an overwhelming advantage, but the decrease in abilities that followed on the heels of resurrection meant they couldn’t exercise their true power. Not only that, they weren’t even attempting to. They just attacked blindly, killing and being killed, with no regard for aggro management by the Warrior classes or status management by the Recovery classes.

It was a chaotic war of attrition, a lunatic battlefield.

Confusion she’d never seen even in this other world, let alone on peaceful Earth, unfolded before her eyes.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

After she’d nodded in agreement, Minori realized it had been Roe2 who’d spoken.

“That’s really ugly. I’ve never been there, but I think hell’s probably a lot like this. There’s not a single thing to be gained here. Getting involved is terribly risky and lacking in merit. I really can’t understand why they’re doing this… Not that I particularly want to. I doubt it would be possible to recoup the cost of doing so.”

Roe2 spoke to herself, in a voice that was unusually low for a woman’s.

Minori didn’t fully understand what she had said, but her tone seemed to resemble Shiroe’s somehow.

Roe2 and Minori gazed at the battlefield for a while.

A wyvern that had been dragged down to earth and was writhing around as if it had gone mad was killed, the Knight who’d killed it took a Nightshade’s black, flame-like spell in the back, and the confusion deepened.

“That’s not what I meant! Why are you so… There’s gotta be some other way, right, brother? Another way to fight, a better way—”

She heard Touya’s heartrending shout, physically struggling against something.

His voice reached Minori and Roe2 over the party chat. The yell was filled with anger, but what Minori felt was Touya’s sadness. She heard herself in it, the one that couldn’t do anything, that wasn’t allowed to do anything, because she was a child.

That’s not true, she wanted to tell him. There are things you can do. She was saying it to herself as well: There were things she could do. They might be little, trivial things, but she wouldn’t get discouraged over how small they were anymore.

In order to prove this, Minori kept gazing at Roe2.

Lately, the distance between her and Touya had been growing, and although Touya’s thoughts and feelings had once been as close to her own as nested spoons, she understood them less and less often now. However, even so, they were twins. She understood Touya’s anger. His wordless wail was grief for their own powerlessness. It was pure white rage at themselves for being mere children. As his twin, Minori knew this.

The world was far too big and powerful. It was so unfair, it was overwhelming, and it didn’t care one bit about Minori and Touya’s feelings. Everything was like massive construction equipment. It carried Minori and Touya along like a conveyor belt, taking them to the future whether or not they wanted to go, and that future consisted of nothing but being small and overawed. To Minori and Touya, that was how the world was.

At school, at home, and even when they walked down the street, there were far too few things that they had any real control over.

They could choose the color of their sneakers, for example, and the patterns on their notebooks. Sometimes they were able to put in requests for the dinner menu. However, not a single one of the important things was up to them. Not when they’d transferred schools. Not when they’d wanted to spend their birthday with their parents. Not when it came to making Touya’s legs normal again.

Minori knew that Touya, who’d played the part of an obedient kid, had hated his own powerlessness twice as much as anyone else. Precisely because they’d been powerless, they’d tried to push themselves just that little bit further. Because they’d been helpless, they’d dreamed of having their own strength and had fallen into Hamelin’s trap.

Because she understood Touya’s wail, Minori gazed at Roe2 without wiping away her own falling tears.

“Touya is howling. Serara is casting Pulse Recovery on any Person of the Earth she can reach. Isuzu and Rundelhaus are on their way here, protecting the townspeople as they go. —And yet, even so, there’s nothing to be done about this.”

Roe2 gestured theatrically with her right hand, indicating the whole battlefield. Minori nodded in agreement. It was a fact, plain and simple. No matter how her heart ached, facts were facts.

When she saw this, Roe2 asked Minori a question.

“I’m going to ask you something, right here. I hope you’ll tell your answer, Minori.”

“My answer…?”

“Since you asked a question like that, you must have an answer, correct? What are you, Minori? And who am I? Where have I come from, and where am I going?”

The woman’s questions stopped the world.

The roar of the battlefield abruptly receded in Minori’s mind, turning into something like white noise in the background.

Minori thought about what those questions meant.

She had no idea who Roe2 really was. Shiroe, who was an outstanding Elder Tales player, might have been acquainted with her. Alternatively, he could have used his excellent powers of reasoning to solve the mysteries that surrounded Roe2. However, Minori couldn’t do it. She did think there was some sort of secret here, but she had absolutely no idea what it was. Something about the atmosphere Roe2 wore made it seem as if she had come from very far away. That was about all she could say.

Even so, as Minori gazed at the woman, she searched for the answer in her eyes.

She thought not about the parroted question, but about the intent behind it. She thought about the meaning of Roe2’s intelligent smile. She thought about her wish.

And in the midst of that question, Minori found herself.

Roe2 wasn’t asking about Minori’s insights regarding herself. Who was Roe2? What was the truth? Right now, in this moment, even those questions grew less important.

Minori realized the real reason she was so calm: She liked Roe2. She’d felt close to her from the very beginning. She’d wanted to hear what she had to say, and she’d wanted to know what she was thinking. That was why she hadn’t been afraid.

She wanted to get closer to Roe2. That was a strange emotional development.

“That’s not true. I don’t know what you guys think, but this world is—”

“Like that’s even possible. We’re always—”

As she heard the pair’s yells across the party chat, music drifted down with them.

In the midst of a world where wyverns fell from the sky in slow motion, she heard a nostalgic melody. It was Isuzu’s voice, singing as if she was desperately gathering up thoughts that were on the verge of being shredded and stitching them together.

She hadn’t thought she wanted to get closer to the woman because she knew everything about her.

Minori had started wanting to know who she really was after wanting to get close to her.

She hadn’t wanted to be born because this world was fair, because everything was right and brimming with benevolence.

She’d set out on a journey in order to meet something she didn’t yet know.

In other words, the self Minori had encountered was her own wish. Roe2 had been kind enough to ask about the shape of Minori’s wish. It was possible that even the guess about “asking out of kindness” was no more than wishful thinking on Minori’s part. Still, simply having the thought made her feel a gentle light.

The time for solving riddles was past.

All Minori had to do was say her wish aloud, just as it was.

For that reason, she told Roe2 the one answer she needed to say at this point:

“I am Shiroe’s apprentice. You are our big sister, Roe2. You came from far away, and you’ll go far away again, but here, right now, you’re with us.”

Roe2’s eyes went wide, startled.

She really did look a lot like the person Minori loved.

3

“Elegant Act!”

Isuzu, who’d sent a Nightshade Servant flying with a close-range attack skill, detected a counterstrike through the delicate wave that surrounded her body like a cape and spun to dodge it.

The evasive maneuver had opened up a line of fire, and a ray of flame traveled down it. The Nightshade Servant was already wounded, and after a moment’s delay, it turned into iridescent bubbles and vanished.

“What on earth are these things?”

“I don’t know. They sure showed up suddenly, though.”

Isuzu and Rundelhaus had been making for the outskirts of the town, where Minori and the others were waiting. That said, Minori had said that the battle was still far off, so they’d taken her at her word and helped with the evacuation in town, with the result that they were quite late. While they were doing this and that, for some reason, the northern side of town seemed to have been overrun by confused fighting.

For the moment, there weren’t many enemies, and very few of them were big ones, so even with just the two of them, they were managing somehow.

If they stuck to defeating individual enemies, a Bard-Sorcerer combination had solid attack power and wasn’t bad at all.

There was also the fact that Rundelhaus had ended up in high spirits after a look at Isuzu’s face and was fighting even more energetically than he usually did. Having anyone see her disgraceful, tear-swollen face was the last thing Isuzu wanted, but she chased the shame out of her mind. There was too much to think about, and she was in the middle of a battle.

The truth was that, although Isuzu had treated Rundelhaus harshly to camouflage her irritation, she hadn’t even begun to prepare herself. She’d blown off steam, and it was true that her feelings were lighter now, but the question she’d agonized over all night wasn’t that simple. It was the first “real” problem Isuzu had ever faced. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could produce an answer for on demand.

For that very reason, she couldn’t just leave it alone, either. She had really, seriously worried about it. Many wishes went to and fro in her heart, messing her up inside. The truth was that even she wanted to take that first step.

Admitting it to herself was scary.

Even now, when she was fighting, when she let her mind go that way, the thought made her want to scream.

In a word, Isuzu was an ordinary high school girl. She was a supporting character, the type you could find anywhere.

She knew she’d be a laughingstock if she tried anything overambitious. Her skinny, pipelike arms and legs, her obstinate hair, and the freckles that wouldn’t disappear no matter how well she cared for her skin all seemed to be warning her to remember her place.

“Honestly! What a mess!”

“What’s wrong, Mademoiselle Isuzu?”

She’d accidentally grumbled to herself out loud, and Rundelhaus, ahead of her, turned around.

“No, it’s nothing—ack!”

“Hm?”

“That’s dangerous, Rudy. This way, over here!”

Isuzu pulled Rundelhaus’s arm, taking him over to a ruined building off to the side. Rundelhaus’s MP had fallen to 30 percent before she’d realized it. Cautiously looking from side to side, the pair went into the leaf-covered ruin. The walls on the second floor had fallen, leaving only pillars, and they sat down with their backs against the rubble.

“I wonder if we’ll be okay here, enemy-wise.”

“I didn’t sense any Nightshades around this building. I’d wager we’ll be all right for a little while.” As he answered, Rundelhaus pinched his chin between his fingers, looking pensive.

Of the twelve main classes in Elder Tales, Sorcerers had the greatest firepower. However, in exchange, they consumed MP ferociously, and no one could have called them fuel-efficient. Even if you ignored the demerit of increased aggro, the more attack power they wanted, the faster they ran through MP, so it was absolutely necessary to take short breaks like this between battles.

Since they had Isuzu’s support song, Rundelhaus’s MP would recover in five minutes or so. That said, even if it was only for a few minutes, getting this type of rest was pretty difficult. If a monster found them, the break would be interrupted and they’d end up fighting another battle immediately. If that happened, his MP would hit bottom, and they might even be wiped out.

Even if they were only resting for a few minutes, it was best to make sure the area was safe and, if possible, to get out of sight.

Since they’d done lots of this during group training, the pair was very used to it.

“Mademoiselle Isuzu, are you having any trouble? You aren’t out of breath?”

“Mm. I’m fine. What about you, Rudy?”

Rundelhaus was a show-off, but he was a Magic Attack class, and Isuzu, who was a Weapon Attack class, had better stamina. Rundelhaus knew this, so even as he asked, he was consciously getting his breathing under control. He might not look it, but he was very competitive. Isuzu knew that he trained on his own, in addition to their basic training.

In the distance, explosions and ruptures echoed. They were sounds unique to large-scale magic.

They strained their ears to listen to them. It was the noise of the battlefield.

Apparently things had turned into a complete melee. In addition to the ocean side, pillars of flame were going up all over the north side of the town, and the ring of steel echoed. Since the Nightshade Servants were the same size as humans, they could break through the front line, and the wyverns used their flight capabilities to lay waste to the battlefield. Defense had been impossible from the very beginning. That was the only way to put it.

Through the party chat, they heard Touya’s scream.

“People live here!”

At Touya’s voice, she felt Rundelhaus clench his fists. Minori’s brother was right: Saphir was a People of the Earth town, and lots of them lived in it.

Rundelhaus had become an Adventurer, but he hadn’t stopped being a Person of the Earth. Isuzu knew this. She’d known it during the defense of Choushi, too, but she hadn’t really understood it.

Back then, all she’d been worried about was protecting Rundelhaus’s life. When Rundelhaus tried to dash out recklessly, she’d thought that he was a young man who didn’t think nearly enough, but she’d been wrong. He’d been trying to protect the People of the Earth, his people. He’d been trying to fight, not as a fool who didn’t fear losing his life, but as a hero who didn’t hesitate to risk it.

After all, that was the type of Adventurer Rundelhaus had wanted to become. In the village of Choushi, he’d been an Adventurer even before he signed that contract with Shiroe.

“Spread out! Use the buildings as shields!”

“Why?! Aren’t you our protectors, sir Knights?”

“Shut up!”

The screams from the avenue were far too ghastly. The Odysseia Knights seemed to have finally abandoned even the pretense of defending the town. It was clear that, now that the fighting had grown this confused, they didn’t have the leeway to protect what lay behind them.

She couldn’t tell them to protect it. The Knights weren’t being paid to be guardians. They’d just happened to be in this city; they stayed all over, in all sorts of places. Isuzu didn’t know, but they probably had goals of their own. It wasn’t okay to selfishly look up to them and expect things from them, and to demand their protection because an enemy had come. Not even if Adventurers were immortal.

However, next to Isuzu, Rundelhaus’s fists were trembling. He was biting his lip, glaring at his remaining MP as it crept back up.

It’s not suicide. Nobody dies in this world. That means there’s no such thing as suicide. We want to go back.

Isuzu heard that yell across the telechat.

It was a lone man’s scream, and it seemed to pierce her heart. It was a straightforward confession of homesickness: He just wanted to return to their old world. Isuzu wanted to make it happen for him. However, at the same time, she thought, What an awful thing to say. People—the People of the Earth—certainly did die in this world.

Isuzu could still hear the sound of the surf from the night of the gig.

Hadn’t the hands that had waved in response to her clumsy song belonged to People of the Earth?

When they’d cheered, what had their shining eyes been trying to tell her?

“Mademoiselle Isuzu.”

“Rudy?”

The words that had slipped through his gritted teeth were forceful, and they seemed to be bearing up under something, but they cut off after just one phrase: “Even so, we’re…”

What had he wanted to say? Even so, we’re alive, or Even so, we’re here? Isuzu didn’t know. In all likelihood, Rundelhaus didn’t know, either.

His eyes were as wide as if he were glaring out across the battlefield, holding tears he couldn’t hide.

Rundelhaus, who’d held his head high even in mortal combat, and who’d smiled a little even as he was about to lay down his life, was clenching his teeth and fighting back tears. Those tears weren’t for himself. They were tears for the injustice the People of the Earth were enduring. His comrades, who had been attacked by calamitous monsters, had counted on a group of Adventurers who had coldly abandoned them, and they were being hurt. That wasn’t all: The Odysseia Knights didn’t even see the People of the Earth as human.

Rundelhaus’s fists were clenched in anger. His people were fragile, but that didn’t make it all right for Adventurers to treat them any way they pleased. However, Rundelhaus didn’t even have anyone to file a complaint with. Even now that he was an Adventurer, that hadn’t changed a bit. How many more times would he feel like this? Probably too many to count.

Even so, he wanted to stand tall. Wanting to live courageously had nothing to do with strength on the battlefield. It was a problem of how one lived. Isuzu thought that all People of the Earth probably shared that wish.

That’s right, she thought.

I was…lucky, wasn’t I? Lucky to be born on Earth, lucky to be Dad’s daughter.

After all, even when I was sad, even when things hurt, I had lots of songs.

Isuzu shut her eyes tightly, asking herself a question.

The feelings that had rampaged all last night, the ones she’d kept a lid on, finally overflowed.

Isuzu had been saved.

She’d been saved repeatedly.

By sad songs in sad times.

By fun songs in fun times.

By brave songs when she was feeling brave.

They’d flooded the world around her.

This place is just too awful, isn’t it?

I really have to complain to the gods about this. Things should never be this bad. No songs? Only forty-two of them… I can’t stand that.

She’d never even imagined that such a place existed.

Ever since she was born, it had seemed natural for songs to be there. They’d been so close to her that she hadn’t realized how fortunate she was.

Not being able to sing when you want to cry? That’s not right.

Not having any songs for when you’re angry is just too sad.

Having no songs to use to tell off the gods isn’t fair.

Sunrises, clear blue days, crimson evenings, and starry nights. All the places Isuzu had walked and every moment she’d lived through had overflowed with music.

Sounds had been everywhere, like countless shining stars.

The People of the Earth…don’t have that.

Isuzu threw down the spear she’d been holding. It rolled away with a metallic clatter, but she didn’t even look at it. Instead, she readied Flying Dolphin, which she’d been carrying on her back. Her tears made it hard to see, and she scrubbed them away with her sleeve, then strummed the strings roughly.

Isuzu’s favorite instrument emitted a menacing tone.

She was sure it felt the same way she did.

Flying Dolphin was shouting: This sucks. I don’t believe this. It’s wrong!

It was wrong to have your feelings betrayed, to be unfairly kept from appealing, to be unable to smile, to not have music. The People of the Earth should live gallantly. Being weak or strong had nothing to do with it. That was what songs were for. The People of the Earth should sing at the top of their lungs and tell off the Adventurers. They should protest this misguided world.

Isuzu was just a high school girl, but what was wrong was wrong. Whether she was an imposter or not didn’t matter anymore.

“Mademoiselle Isuzu…?”

“We’re going, Rudy.”

“Huh?”

Her heart was on fire. She thought, I’ll never forgive this.

She was going to pick a fight with the gods who’d only made a bare handful of songs before they cast this world aside. It was the biggest resolution Isuzu had ever made. Something she loved and had always cherished had been held in contempt. She swore she wouldn’t stop, never, not until she or the gods were completely exhausted and dropped in their tracks—no, not until the gods cried and apologized.

There was absolutely no need for Rundelhaus to clench his fists and be at a loss for words.

“To go fight.”

“Fight?”

Startled, Rundelhaus echoed her words back at her. Ignoring him, Isuzu looked down over the wide avenue through the ruined building’s crumbling floor. Even the idea of using the stairs was irritating to her now.

The first stroke was a warm-up chord.

“Mademoiselle Isuzu?!”

Like a glissando sliding down the strings, Isuzu leapt out into the dusty air.

Rundelhaus, Touya, Minori, Serara.

Isuzu herself.

They didn’t have a single reason to hang their heads.

4

“Keh-heh-heh-heh. Ah-ha. Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha…”

Roe2, who’d looked startled, bent nearly double and laughed for a while. Then she patted Minori’s head, gently.

“Here, on this battlefield, that’s your answer?”

“On this battlefield, that is my answer.”

The eyes behind the round glasses narrowed softly in a smile. “Even if nothing changes?”

“It means there are some things we can change.”

Roe2’s question hadn’t been intended to make her give up. Minori took it as encouragement.

“Now, at a time when Touya’s huddled up?”

“He’s just resting for a little while. He’ll get up again soon.”

For that reason, Minori was able to answer without hesitation. Predictions of indefinite misfortune were a hammer meant to temper her blade of blue steel. They were the ring of the anvil, so that Minori could obtain the strength she wanted.

“I doubt your words will get through, Minori.”

“But we’re together right now.”

It might be no good. There was a possibility that it would fail.

Still, that mattered a lot less than the fact that she was able to make an attempt now.

Some sort of important choice had been made. It wasn’t that Roe2 had presented the options and Minori had chosen. Roe2 had helped with an answer Minori had carved inside herself. Like the time she’d determined to protect Choushi, and the time she’d decided to act as the rear guard for the Libra Festival, the resolution had welled up from deep inside her and had dyed her in its colors.

A premonition of change set Minori’s heart trembling. It wasn’t a vague assumption. It would truly change her, and had changed the world. Just as she’d experienced before, her vision was rapidly recolored, starting at her feet, and in the midst of it all, Minori gazed at Roe2.

She held out a hand to the woman. She’d been given permission to reach out.

Minori carefully stored Roe2’s kindness away, deep inside herself.

This experience mingled with Shiroe’s words in her and became the root of a new, great tree. She knew this quite clearly.

“I heard the word ‘please.’”

“Yes.”

“Right. Good, Minori. Fine. I am your big sister, after all.”

“Yes!”

“Summon!”

Backlit by the evening sun, Roe2 waved an arm casually, and a powerful magic circle appeared.

The Pale Horse came running up. From where she sat astride it, Roe2 held out a hand to Minori. She took it; it was noticeably tepid.

Startling at the thoroughbred’s energetic movements, Minori clung on tightly. But Roe2 spoke to her merrily: “True. I seem to have overlooked that. We have a duty as those who lead the way. It would be very uncool of us to shake off the hands you’d stretched out to us. Yes, ‘uncool.’ I’m glad that word was in my brother’s vocabulary—we really should live gallantly.”

With the sound of powerful hoofbeats, the Pale Horse raced through the air.

Minori was so taken aback by its true abilities—which it hadn’t shown once while it was pulling the cart—that she couldn’t even open her mouth.

“Big sisters don’t abandon little sisters. I’ll internalize that rule. I’m probably the first Traveler to stand beside you. I didn’t think this would happen, but I feel quite cheerful.”

Minori burned those words into her heart.

Unfortunately, she didn’t understand their meaning in the slightest.

However, every single one was a piece of some important secret.

Without being told, Minori assigned herself the role of delivering them to Shiroe. Right now, Minori was in a special, reborn world; in this world, meetings were part of an important secret ceremony, and they had special meaning. Even now, she could feel Touya’s bitter grief so keenly it hurt, but her heart danced at the premonition of a storm that would blow all of it away.

“The larger element clusters grow, the more stable they are, but their behavior becomes deterministic. That’s true for countries, and for planets, and for the Milky Bridge. They also begin to let tiny pieces fall.”

An iron pole fell toward them, but the Pale Horse knocked it flying, not even bothering to go around it.

“It’s only natural for all people to wish for happiness. However, that’s also the origin of sadness. For example, in Theldesian history, take the alvs, who shook off their former neighbors’ hands, and the humans who destroyed those alvs. Individual anguish is truth, but errors of misunderstanding are compounded, and when they become too great for individuals to manage, they sear the world. Grief, anger, and despair are poisons released into the world.”

Roe2’s words were mild, but they held the ring of sublime wisdom, something like the echo of a memory keeper relating a legend of irreparable destruction.

“You don’t understand, do you?”

Behind Roe2, Minori shook her head.

She didn’t want to pretend she had understood.

“Your words are inconvenient things, aren’t they? This restriction-riddled protocol is dragging down the inference engine’s maximum. You can’t even construct proper clouds, and everything you do is peppered with loss. You don’t even have a method for stably expanding clusters. You live in the midst of this unfair isolation, as if you were in the Stone Age. That’s awful. It’s just too much.”

There was no accusation in her voice. No pity, either. Only understanding and empathy.

Her cloak fluttered in the wind, and Minori squeezed it tightly.

“But Empathiom is transmitted. So much so that those of us who are suffering from a lack of resources don’t understand it. This is how you do things, isn’t it?”

An enormous explosion went up.

It was probably a phoenix’s suicide attack. The Pale Horse Minori and Roe2 rode charged straight through the middle of the roiling flames. At that point, Minori was finally able to see the state of her surroundings. There was fighting. Fighting everywhere.

Skillfully maneuvering her summoned horse, Roe2 destroyed wyverns and Nightshade Servants the whole way, brandishing the true power of a level-90 Adventurer.

Minori cast Purification Barriers. She cast them on People of the Earth and on Odysseia Knights.

Yet even as the rapidly changing scenery and battlefield kept her on her toes, Minori came to a curious conclusion.

What she was casting right now were countless barrier spells. They were the foundation of Kannagi healing, barriers to halt falling HP. It was one of the major spell systems from which battles were composed.

Minori had wanted to make them into something that wasn’t a combat technique.

She wanted them to be like water to the thirsty and the possibility of rescue for People of the Earth who were fleeing from the flames. For the Odysseia Knights, who were swinging their swords as if they’d gone mad, she wanted them to be a small reminder that their bodies were precious.

In other words, they were Minori’s hope, her ego: She wanted to protect all life, to put an end to this. With the wish that that ego would become a prayer, Minori kept casting Purification Barrier to the limits of its recast time.

The confusion of the battlefield seemed endless.

Several times, she saw Serara and Touya. Both were still fighting.

In the midst of the dizzying melee, Minori was on the verge of grasping something mysterious. It was the “full control encounter” she’d been chasing ever since she’d heard about it from Shiroe, but it seemed to have been expanded in places. The People of the Earth parents and children who thanked her over and over as they fled, the knights who knelt as if they were exhausted—they weren’t Minori’s friends, but in this moment, they were companions who were sharing this place with her.

As Shiroe had shown her several times, in the midst of a mental world without clouds or conjectures, Minori felt as if she’d heard their wordless cries.

They were cries of hatred for this place that brimmed with sorrow, and cries of longing that wished for better choices.

If Minori had used her own awkward words to express them, she would have had to call them prayers of entreaty.

“Little brothers and sisters!” Roe2 called out loudly.

She’d raised her Staff of the Wise Horned Owl high in the air, and white light was drawn to it. With a smirk, she made a mischievous announcement.

“Your big sister will not abandon you! The first friends I made in this world are angry at this place, which generates only sadness. A ruined princess who was once unable to understand or be understood and was abandoned is screaming inside me.”

Touya, who was standing in the rubble and crossing swords with a knight, abruptly looked up.

Rundelhaus, who was encasing countless wyverns in coffins of ice, turned around.

Drawn by Wolfie’s gaze, Serara lifted her head, bewildered.

Isuzu, who was singing without bothering to wipe her tears away, saw white wings spread as if to enfold the town.

It was the white of a snowfall that covered everything.

“Thou who hast broken thine contract, walk with me. Sword Princess: Al Quinjé!”

Roe2’s summoning spell activated with a flash of light that illuminated the area.

Her summoned servant, Princess Lace, revealed her true form. Minori thought it was probably the Combat Skill Summoning known as Sword Princess, a woman holding a harp, but it was completely different from the spell she knew from Shiroe’s classes.

The spirit’s face was covered by a veil-like sealing cloth, and she couldn’t see her expression, but she felt a tranquility woven with sadness. Radiating a divine light, the beautiful woman with the harp raised her arm in a gesture that seemed to trace Roe2’s, layering the sound of her harp over Isuzu’s song.

In the midst of the notes emanating from the legendary Ruquinjé’s harp, Roe2 looked decidedly proud.

5

She kept strumming the strings intently.

She yelled enough to make her throat hoarse.

She didn’t care whether she was for real or a fake. Isuzu was singing all the songs she knew.

She ran and ran, racing down the street. Right now, she was turning into eighth notes and bursting in the crimson evening sunlight. An arched quadruplet, a stroked long-tone chord. Isuzu’s footsteps were a snare, and her heart was a bass drum.

Isuzu sang, letting her Bard Style–reinforced endurance do the heavy lifting. The repertoire she played became rainbow-colored melodies that filled the air.

Dirge of the Captured Lion!!

The torrent of a rippling scale froze a group of Nightshade Servants as if they were mechanical dolls who’d run out of oil. Isuzu didn’t even glance at them: She knew her partner would slip in to fill the empty solo part.

“Orb of Lava!”

The violent riff wasn’t melodious; it was more like a drum solo. By the time she’d transitioned through an interlude and into the song’s C section, the Nightshade Servants were already turning iridescent.

She made eye contact with People of the Earth who were peeking out of a cellar like wild rabbit siblings.

The two of them were huddled close together, and they looked as if they were about to cry.

The town had been pulled into this battle, and there was no place for them to run. Their mouths hung half-open, wretchedly, seeming more stunned than angry or despairing. One of the Odysseia Knights fell on the road, turning iridescent right in front of them.

Just now, the world had probably collapsed in front of those siblings. The hope that would have saved them had fallen.

Isuzu slammed a melody into the scene.

I can’t do anything, but I’ll sing.

She raised her voice.

She sang at an impossible volume, stinging her throat. But she didn’t think about backing off.

I’m looking. I do see you.

She spun those feelings into a phrase.

There really wasn’t a thing Isuzu could do. She could play her lute and scream, and that was all.

Evading the Nightshade Servants’ spells, Isuzu nodded to the pair. The brother and sister ran away like rabbits. Feeling relieved, she sang a song at their backs.

Songs were trivial things. No matter how recklessly Isuzu raged, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to save those siblings. It was a fact that, in terms of the whole town, there had been lots of casualties. Even if Isuzu sang, she couldn’t change that. She liked John Lennon, but she thought the idea of world peace through music was ridiculous.

The music that had saved Isuzu, the famous songs by great performers, probably couldn’t do anything that big.

That awareness was endlessly bitter, and it wounded Isuzu with a weight that was completely different from when she’d poked fun at it in a peacetime world. Even Isuzu’s father’s guitar couldn’t save the world. Not even the songs of Japan’s King of Rock Kiyoshiro could do that, and Isuzu herself certainly couldn’t.

But that was only natural.

Even Isuzu, an ordinary high school girl, knew this.

However, she’d never thought about why they raised their fists in the air. She’d thought it might just be some sort of fad.

Now she felt as if she understood it a little.

It was a bluff, a show of bravado. They raised their fists because if they didn’t, they felt as if they’d lose heart. When they played, it was so they could scream, I’m right here! They sang to tell people, It’s okay; I see you. Songs were fleeting exchanges: I know you. I know what you’re feeling. It’s all getting through to me.

So what if you lost?

So what if you couldn’t be saved?

If you got discouraged over stuff like that, you wouldn’t need songs in the first place.

In order to stand and fight again, songs were necessary.

Throughout Isuzu’s life, music had held her close.

At times when nobody understood her, it felt as though music did. On lonely nights when she was all by herself, the ballads she heard from her music pod had seemed as if they were about her. When she was happy, old rock numbers took her for drives down endless coastal highways.

Even as she was surrounded by a host of songs, Isuzu hadn’t really understood singers.

Now she did. She was sure they’d been trying to tell her, at the top of their lungs, I know how you feel. I’m feeling the same way right now, as I sing. Don’t let ’em get you down. You can do it! After all, there wasn’t much else they could do. Isuzu’s songs were powerless, but her spear was just about as helpless. She knew it wouldn’t save this world.

Still, she didn’t stop.

After all, she’d started running because she was picking a fight with the gods.

Enveloped by Rundelhaus’s magic, she raced through the streets with winged shoes.

She was running to her companions, who were waiting for her help. To Touya, who’d raised his fist against unfairness and been sent flying by it. Leaping onto a glacier-like spell that Rundelhaus had cast, the two of them ran.

Even now, she couldn’t say she had any special talent.

When she sang with all her might, her voice wasn’t transparent enough. Her fingertips only chased after the melody, and sometimes they stumbled. She was fully aware of it. For that reason, she couldn’t say she planned to become a pro. The mere thought of making music for a living scared her so much her knees went weak.

Still, Isuzu was sure she’d never forget this moment as long as she lived.

She wouldn’t forget this evening, when she’d worked up reckless courage and started to sing.

She couldn’t say she was going to be an artist, but she could guarantee that she’d love music her entire life. That was the best she could do, and in fact, it was enough.

With an explosion that sounded as if the heavens were roaring in anger, lightning ran across the sky. Rundelhaus erased a layered magic circle with a wave of his arm and ran up beside Isuzu. The young man couldn’t possibly know about her secret resolution, but his profile warmed her heart.

Rundelhaus had said from the very beginning that he wanted to become an Adventurer, that he wanted to be like the Adventurers. He hadn’t meant the class, but the way they’d lived. Even if the occupation of Adventurer really wasn’t worth the cost, he probably wouldn’t care one bit. This blond guy, who’d chosen to live a certain way to fight injustice, had always known the answer Isuzu had finally managed to reach.

…No. Rudy pulled me closer to it.

She remembered her father’s faint, mocking smile, the words he’d seemed to use to inspire her in a roundabout way.

Now that she thought about it, those words hadn’t been directed at her alone. They’d been a promise a musician—one who’d harbored bitterness and regret, but had still resolved to spend his whole life making a living with music—had made to himself.

It was just like Dad said. I didn’t have talent. Worrying about whether or not I had talent meant it wasn’t rock at all.

A little laugh bubbled up inside her.

“Isuzuuu!!”

Their group had grown. Nodding to Serara, who’d come running up to them with a pure white wolf, she swung the head of her lute around. She heard the sounds of combat rising all over: weary sword strikes and attack spells chanted as if they’d lost sight of the way home. Even so, dyed by the fading light, the town was beautiful.

“Mademoiselle Serara!”

“Thank you!”

Serara stumbled clumsily two or three times. Even so, as Rundelhaus’s flight spell levitated her heels and she hopped up and down with an earnest expression, she laughed a little to hide her embarrassment. Isuzu felt warmth building inside her.

“It’s all right! I checked all the buildings from this point west with Wolfie’s nose. We’ve evacuated all the People of the Earth.”

Isuzu, who was still playing, wanted to shout for joy, but she put her feelings into the song instead.

Suddenly, light filled the sky.

The glow belonged to a spell they’d never seen before, and as the three of them stared in its direction, they immediately understood.

They’d heard the loud yell across the party chat, and they launched themselves into a run. Roe2 and Minori—and probably Touya—were under that light.

Isuzu understood Touya’s pain: There’s no way in hell this world is the real thing. Touya had heard that heartrending scream; Isuzu and the others had heard it as well, over the party chat. The voice had been excruciatingly sad, as though even the one who’d screamed it had been hurt by it.

That sorrow was Isuzu’s enemy.

Defeating it was her challenge to the gods.

She might not have a shot at winning, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight. Touya was out there, beneath that light.

“Mister, get back!”

“Shut up! Don’t get in the way. This is the Odysseia Knights’ fight.”

“I’m not backing down! Echo Rebound! I’m not gonna give up on you, mister!”

“You’re just a kid! What do you know, anyway?!”

She heard Touya’s scream. It was coming closer. The sound of that voice relieved Isuzu, and she and Rundelhaus exchanged nods.

“It’s okay now.”

“Right!”

“Touya hasn’t lost!”

“Right.”

He was probably all torn up. He probably hadn’t managed to persuade the Odysseia Knights, either.

Still, Touya hadn’t stayed crouched in the rubble! He’d stood up, latched on again, and was fighting alongside the Knights.

As Serara had said, that meant he hadn’t lost at all. Let’s go save him right away, Isuzu thought. Perfect! Bring it on.

“Touya! Don’t slip up until I get there! Rundelhaus Code, Adventurer, is coming to your aid!!”

At Rundelhaus’s shout, Isuzu smiled a little.

His energy had skyrocketed the moment he’d heard Touya’s voice. Like lightning, he’d switched over to his aggressive self. The mature-looking young man who worried about Isuzu was generally cute, but as he was now, Rundelhaus was strikingly manly. If she let go of his leash, he was sure to sprint all the way to the horizon.

I’m just the same, Isuzu thought. Like him, she wanted to run flat out: Just a bit farther, just a little longer, and they’d be there.

“Knock it off or I’ll turn you into Onslaught fodder.”

“Hey, go right ahead! I’m still not backing down.”

When they turned the corner, there was the river, red with blood. The silhouettes of several wyverns were impaled on a collapsed bridge that had gone up in flames. Fighting with the glare at their backs were a group of Nightshade Servants, who’d grown more powerful and ominous, the Odysseia Knights, and Touya.

“This is where we die. Don’t block the path to the underworld!!”

Fire blazed up inside Isuzu.

The scream “Don’t even give me that!” energized her legs, giving them wings.

Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred, but it wasn’t from sadness.

This world, where she’d played her lute in the midst of torrential cheers—

This world, where she’d gone on a long journey with friends she loved—

This world, where she’d met Rundelhaus—

—was not a “path to the underworld.”

For that reason, right now, Isuzu sang the forty-third song.

Some parts of it are pretty uncool, but…

Even so, it was the first song she’d ever written.

It was meant to tell them I understand, and she’d filled it with the message I’m cheering for you. Even if no one else acknowledged this world, Isuzu would bless it, all on her own. She’d scatter the forty-third song, the one the gods hadn’t made, and the seeds of many, many other songs all over the world.

As her friends plunged into the fray, she saw Minori in the lead. She’d gotten to Touya a step ahead of the rest and had protected him. Roe2 was beside her, her white cape-mantle flapping; she looked like a large bird. She glanced back over her shoulder and nodded. Rundelhaus, Serara, and Minori all exchanged looks with Isuzu.

“I’ll protect you.”

“I’m not letting you protect me, Rudy.”

That brief exchange was enough to fill Isuzu’s heart to the brim with courage. Her energy meter was at 100 percent. The intro she strummed loudly was the best sound she’d produced that day. The bright red sky seemed to be hurrying her on, as well as giving its blessing to eternity.

Isuzu pushed out the first word like a prayer.

As if it were skipping over the surface of the water, the lute sparkled, and every time it danced, rainbow-colored notes encouraged the world. Right now, Isuzu was cheering for every Adventurer on the battlefield and for the People of the Earth.

Ocean wind and asphalt / Once we’re past the hill road

The next town will be in view / The gig’s sure to shine tonight, too

A little bag, filled to bursting / So much magic

You wave your hand, and so / Come on, we’re starting

I won’t forget that shine / Sowing all the rainbow’s colors

My ambition / Is turning into musical notes

I won’t forget that shine / This song’s a promise

My lute was timid / But it’s something else today

In the end, Isuzu hadn’t been able to write a stirring fight song.

She hadn’t been able to write a song that would save all the sorrows of every Person of the Earth, either.

No matter how she’d searched, crying all the while, the only important things she’d found lying around inside her were personal ones, the sort ordinary high school girls had.

And so Isuzu had written a song of beginnings.

She wasn’t anybody yet, but even so, she’d written a song she could start singing with pride.

She’d created this clumsy first song with the intent that, if someone was beginning something because they wanted to, no matter what type of person they were or what world they lived in, she would absolutely join them and loudly cheer them on.

Isuzu’s new song, unlikely to save anything, cast a spell on the world.

The song, which spread in widening rings, gave its first cry with Theldesia’s approval. Magic had been born. Everywhere, small rocks about the size of eggs rose into the air and began darting around like squirrels. They formed an impromptu defense, hurling themselves against all attacks on the battlefield and attempting to turn aside spells.

It really was a trivial song. A song that only little rocks danced to.

It was doubtful whether the song would add even a tiny bit to the combat situation, but Isuzu didn’t give up on it.

She struggled precisely because she was limited.

Her heart blazed precisely because she was impatient.

The despair that it might not reach anyone now was also the blessing that, someday, it might reach somebody. Isuzu thought she might be a weakling for needing reasoning like that, but it was possible to walk all the way to the ends of the earth on just one hope. That was “little rock.”

Right now, Isuzu was music, “the forty-three.” The world was hers.

She splashed bright lemon-yellow notes all across the madder red sky. No matter who this melody reached, it was fine. She wanted it to crumble and scatter, raining down like stardust, over People of the Earth who raged helplessly, and over the Odysseia Knights who were crying for their home like children.

Come to think of it, the rainbow light that rose into the air like bubbles when they died was the same as the rainbow colors of the scale.

The realization startled her.

When the sun set, the rainbow-colored light broke off. After that, it simply drifted upward, toward the moon.

6

The graceful woman walked calmly through the streets, just as if she were moving through the fading light of an Indian summer.

Sometimes she’d stop and think about something, looking up at the sky, only to begin walking again.

Black, burned-smelling smoke mingled with the air, and her surroundings were noisy. Magic flames generally didn’t give off smoke, so this probably meant that something somewhere had caught fire. After all, Saphir was currently at war.

Possibly because it had decided that the beautiful woman with long hair the color of dried grass plumes was prey, a circling wyvern plunged into a sudden dive. Its undulating tail lent it a ferocious mobility, and its steel claws could probably pierce a Person of the Earth’s soft flesh with ease.

Dariella didn’t even look up at it. She raised her left hand and sighed out a spell—Astral Hypno. With only that, the dragon froze, mind and body, as though it had been tangled in an invisible net.

The wyvern fell in a tailspin, disappearing into a cloud of dust and rubble. With this at her back, the white woman’s figure blurred, as though she’d been enveloped in a flutter of ebony wings. Phantom tails that held vast magical power waved seductively, as if they were caressing the air, and a beautiful, jet-black woman with fox ears appeared in her place.

Astral Hypno was an Enchanter spell that plunged its target into a deep sleep and froze its spirit. Even though it was a spell with no offensive power, and thus usually used defensively, it had caused massive destruction.

It wasn’t just the wyvern. An Odysseia Knights Druid who’d been caught up in its fall had died due to the extensive damage as well.

Glancing at the damage with a dismissive sigh, Nureha began to walk again, just as before.

She passed between buildings, crossed through the shade of leafy green trees, and walked over the sunset battlefield.

Strangely, no one seemed able to see her. Not the Nightshade Servants and wyverns; not even the People of the Earth or the Odysseia Knights.

She swept away the sparks that flew toward her like it was a game, stopping them with small spells. And stopping them was all she did; she still scattered destruction and death across the battlefield.

The Enchanter build that specialized in motion obstruction spells was called Freezer. They’d acquired the nickname for their ability to “freeze” all enemies around them like an intensely cold blizzard.

Nureha walked as though she were the embodiment of that word. She moved through the town, sometimes stopping, sometimes muttering.

Melancholy clouded Nureha’s expression slightly.

She’d only meant to slip away from her stuffy duties at Plant Hwyaden and take a little stroll around western Yamato, but she’d had a chance encounter.

She hadn’t had any malice or ill will toward them. The thought that they were Shiroe’s guild members had made her meddle with them, that was all… And then she’d gotten hurt.

Nureha had to admit that she’d been looking down on them, making fun of them. Shiroe was special, but she’d assumed it couldn’t possibly extend to his companions. She’d thought that if she smiled her usual ingratiating smile and projected consideration for them through little details of attitude and gesture, she’d be able to blend with their group easily.

As a matter of fact, the girls—Minori, Serara, and Isuzu—hadn’t noticed a thing. That was probably true of Rundelhaus, the former Person of the Earth, as well.

She didn’t think she’d been careless. It was true that she’d tried to close the distance a bit, but that was because she’d given into the temptation of wanting to see what Shiroe saw.

She didn’t know what the boy called Touya had seen in Dariella, the Person of the Earth travel writer. She didn’t think he’d uncovered her true identity, but he’d clearly seen through something about Dariella with some sort of special ability.

That young boy had pitied her.

He’d rejected the fingertips that stroked his hair with a cross look:

I hate when you’re like that.

That single comment—trivial, silly words—had become a thorn that dug into Nureha. The pain wasn’t so great she couldn’t ignore it, but it was too sharp and new to forget.

It was a fact that she’d mischievously wondered what would happen if she invited Touya to Minami. She’d only wanted Shiroe to pay attention to her. In other words, she’d meant to make him a substitute for Shiroe.

However, the boy hadn’t simply been in Shiroe’s guild, just part of the background. Even though he was young, he’d had claws to dig into Nureha. The look of the atmosphere on the battlefield had told her the same thing. The People of the Earth who’d fled, holding their wounds—hadn’t their eyes been shining? Hadn’t the air held the faint tones of a lute?

Shiroe really was special. The boys and girls who carried echoes of him were keeping the atmosphere in this miserable town in check, one step away from the worst it could be.

Seen through his eyes, this dingy dump of a world might look different. Imagining it, Nureha smiled as if it pained her. Shiroe’s teachings were probably that boy’s blade. If she thought of the little pain as a tie that bound her to Shiroe, there was an edge of sweetness to it.

At the same time, she felt envy. Shiroe had that boy. He had younger guild members. Shiroe had people he could pass his achievements down to. Nureha did not. The idea stirred up something black like jealousy inside of her. If the scales had tipped ever so slightly, she might have shut Touya up in a sealed temple that would have made death look mild by comparison… But it hadn’t happened. In the morning mist, that straightforward boy’s serenity had left her with a sympathy that was not unpleasant.

It was envy that gave rise to jealousy, but Nureha managed to accept that envy calmly. Its destination might overlap with the one and only person she wanted.

At any rate, Nureha was the sort of being who might as well not have been there at all.

The magic in Astral Hypno had revealed her original shape, but when the recast time ran out, she’d retake Dariella’s name and figure. Even Dariella was a false form. After all, so was Nureha.

There was no “real” her anywhere.

She was like a ghost. The idea struck her as funny, and she smiled a little.

She’d felt oppressed by the form she’d chosen because she wanted people and wanted them to want her; she’d fled from that form, had gained another that was beautiful and bewitching, but had fled from it as well. Wearying of being spoken to, Nureha had disappeared from the train, and now she’d changed her form yet again.

Even she found it incoherent, and she nearly had to avert her eyes from its misery and absurdity.

Nureha felt as though she’d been cursed: No matter what she obtained, it slipped through her fingers like sand. She’d thrown away far too much, and now she didn’t even know what she should try to take. Even if something she’d thrown away had been valuable, she’d already discarded her regrets as well.

The only thing that illuminated her ignorance was Shiroe. In Nureha’s mind, he was always in profile, looking at something far away. It was probably because her impression of him on the raid where they’d first met had been a vivid one. Even now, after she’d managed to speak with him, when she visualized Shiroe, the expressions he wore always seemed to be looking into the distance.

Nureha clasped her small, white hands in front of her chest, as if embracing that memory.

“Lady Nureha!”

A knight came running up to her and bowed so low he practically knelt. Nureha glanced at him.

Roreil Dawn. His blond hair, which was normally trimmed evenly and looked rather affected, was in disarray, and even his holy knight’s armor was dingy. He’d probably run all over the countryside like a dog searching for her after she’d disappeared. Nureha felt contempt for his wretched appearance, and she said nothing.

She had no words to waste on the group—imperial guards in name only—who had tried to confine her.

However, Roreil seemed to have interpreted her silence differently.

“Lady Nureha, it’s rather dangerous here. With your stasis spells, it may be of no consequence to you, but could I trouble you to evacuate?”

“Explain the situation surrounding this town. What is Mizufa doing?” Nureha asked.

Conditions in the town were abnormal. The fact that Nightshade Servants had appeared in such numbers probably meant that Mizufa had dispatched her Crimson Night troops here. She couldn’t imagine that the outbreak of wyverns was unrelated, either.

“From what I’m told, the town has been chosen as a battlefield on Lady Mizufa’s orders.”

“I see.”

Nureha walked.

She gazed at the ground, quietly murmuring Shiroe’s name.

She had no particular feelings about this.

She’d approved Mizufa’s plan because she simply hadn’t cared.

She’d inspected the troops because she’d been asked to.

She understood Mizufa’s dream. Everyone, without exception, wanted a world of their own. In their own kingdom, people became king. The kingdom Mizufa dreamed of was a sacrificial sheep that lay under the sword she brandished. She wanted to confirm the fact of her conquest through the choking smell of blood

That dream was close to Nureha’s own. Nureha also wanted to live in her kingdom, surrounded by happiness. All people were like that. They simply wanted their own kingdoms.

However, that cross-looking boy was in this town.

The boy who’d insulted Nureha mercilessly. Even if you’re not smiling, your face is weird.

If she asked herself whether it was all right to smash the town where he was staying, the answer would probably appear on its own.

Nureha was the master of Yamato, and this place was her garden.

It might be the kingdom Mizufa wanted, but it was Nureha’s kingdom now. If Mizufa wanted to make her enemies lie in a pool of blood for the sake of her kingdom, then there was no reason Nureha couldn’t interrupt Mizufa’s ambition for the sake of her own kingdom.

When they’d passed through the area where the fighting was fiercest, Nureha issued an order to Roreil Dawn, who trailed behind her like a slave.

“Destroy as many wyverns and Nightshade Servants as possible.”

“Yes, milady… Are you sure that’s all right?”

“It’s an order from the State Councilor of the West.”

Those words affected Roreil like a high-voltage electrical current.

Still prostrating himself on one knee, he leapt back without another word and sprinted toward the town.

Looking over her shoulder at Roreil’s armor, Nureha knew the time had come. Her own shadow hazily changed its shape, and her nine tails transformed as well, caressing the air. She’d paused the effect of Overlay, but now it had reactivated and was forming a new shape.

Nureha’s time had ended, and Dariella was returning.

The vague boundary made Nureha smile. Surprised that it was a real smile instead of her usual careless one, she resolved to exercise her right to issue orders as guild master for the first time in a long while.

“Master Shiro. I’ll assist those children, too, just a little. Our days together were short, but they treated me as a traveling companion. Will you notice, Master Shiro? Will you think I’m a nuisance? …Or will you tell me I’ve done well? I’ll make the Nightshade Servants withdraw. This is merely a whim, not a present. And so, hurry… I want to hear your voice, Master Shiro.”

After nine tails stretched away from the shadow, then flew away in an effect like crow feathers, the figure that stood there belonged to a solitary, gentle-featured Person of the Earth writer.

In the midst of the white phosphorescence that streamed down over the battlefield, she began to hum softly.

It was a pop song from Earth, one the People of the Earth didn’t know.

7

Rundelhaus and the others left town the day after the battle.

They’d talked it over and decided not to journey farther. All sorts of things had happened, and they’d agreed that they needed to report them to their guilds. In addition, since they’d defeated wyverns, they’d gotten the materials for their Magic Bags and fulfilled their original objective.

The journey could probably be considered a success in that respect.

However, several bitter points remained.

The northern side of Saphir had become a battlefield, and including the collapse of the ruined building and the bridge, the damage to the town had been great. There had been several dozen casualties among the People of the Earth.

To Rundelhaus, this was tragic, but not unusual. The world of Theldesia was a harsh one to begin with, and the lives of People of the Earth had always been a series of trials. Even his own birthplace lay buried under ash.

The People of the Earth made no particular attempt to hide the damage that had been done to them, but they didn’t make a fuss about it, either. This had been what had worried Rundelhaus: He’d been afraid that Touya and Minori, with their strong sense of responsibility, innocent Serara, and kind Isuzu would blame themselves after coming into contact with the deaths of People of the Earth.

However, strangely, the atmosphere in the town hadn’t grown gloomy.

The People of the Earth were used to supporting one another, and there was still a lot of hope in the town. Its heart remained unscathed, and the town’s key industries—fishing and highway commerce—hadn’t been damaged. Saphir had taken a heavy blow, but the townspeople told them in no uncertain terms that they would be able to rise again.

The morning after the battle, Roe2 and Dariella said their good-byes to the group and departed.

It had been sudden, but after all, monsters had appeared: Naturally they needed to hurry to their destinations rather than postpone the decision, and so Rundelhaus’s group saw the two of them off in the morning mist. Roe2 had really become part of their group, to the point where Serara clung to her with tears in her eyes.

She was a mysterious woman.

Rundelhaus hadn’t seen many of the summoning spells she used. For a Person of the Earth, he was an outstanding magician, and he’d accumulated knowledge and combat abilities that made him the equal of a court magician or great mage. For an Adventurer, however, he was still barely average, and although he lived in Akiba, he couldn’t claim to have complete knowledge of all magic.

That said, the necromancer magic Roe2 used was unusual, and it had left a vivid impression on him. There were necromancer magic users in Akiba as well, but he’d never encountered one of her caliber before. Her vast magical power and discernment, her excellent combat sense… The Sword Princess she’d summoned had been as elegant as a death-dealing princess, rather than a sword spirit.

Roe2 had given Minori a letter and made some sort of request.

At that point, Rundelhaus readily gave up thinking. From what he knew, Minori was very nearly the finest commander there was, and she was the twin sister of his good friend Touya. If Minori decided it was necessary, Rundelhaus would probably be asked to help, and if they timed things wrong and ended up in a dangerous situation, he’d simply have to go save them. More than anything, from what he’d seen in Minori’s expression, it had been a startling piece of information, but certainly not bad news.

The last thing she’d said to them had been “Later.” While brief, it was a promise that they’d meet again.

Rundelhaus and the others had also promised: “Absolutely.”

If he’d had to say, it was the other traveler that had concerned him, for a certain reason. Dariella, the People of the Earth writer. A beautiful, delicate lady like that going to Ikoma. No matter how accustomed to travel she was, he’d worried that it might be a difficult journey for a lone woman, but apparently, once she reached Sanaru, she knew where she could find a guard.

Unlike Roe2, the woman hadn’t blended with their group to the point where they could call her a companion, but when they left, while Serara, Minori, and Isuzu surrounded Roe2, Dariella had watched them, smiling quietly. Rundelhaus had been born into a lower noble house, and the smile was very familiar to him. It was a wary smile, meant to feign goodwill and affection—in other words, an aristocrat’s smile. Rundelhaus didn’t have it in him to take it negatively. But while he was accustomed to it, now that he’d been dyed in Akiba’s colors, it struck him as slightly remote.

In any case, the two women said their good-byes and departed. They went west, and Rundelhaus’s group headed east, toward Akiba.

Dariella had told them, “I do hope we meet again somewhere,” and offered that same gentle smile. Rundelhaus and the girls had replied in turn, but Touya had looked as if he was hurting somehow.

After seeing the two of them off, as they walked slowly toward the center of the town, which was hurrying to rebuild, Rundelhaus approached Touya.

“Are you sure it was all right to let her go like that?”

“Her who?”

“Mademoiselle Dariella.”

“Oh.”

Touya looked up at the sky. Feeling compelled to do the same, Rundelhaus raised his own head.

Even though it was the day after a battle like that one, the sky was a cloudless, transparent blue.

As they walked along silently in the March sea breeze, their ears caught the idle conversation of the three girls up ahead of them. They were familiar voices, the voices of their companions. In this moment, walking beside his good friend Touya, listening to their comrades, Rundelhaus felt that this was where he belonged. He had a duty to protect his young friends.

“It’s fine.”

“I see.”

His friend’s voice was subdued.

You liked her, didn’t you?

But Rundelhaus didn’t ask. He didn’t understand what had begun and what had ended. Either way, his friend had already waved and seen her off, so it would probably be rude to quiz him about the details.

Romantic matters weren’t Rundelhaus’s strong suit.

He had been born into the aristocracy, which meant that love had been a distant issue for him. He’d had the vague idea that “establishing family ties” probably wasn’t the same thing as “love.”

When Touya addressed older members of the opposite sex, he tended to call them “big sis.” If they were male, it was “big bro.” He’d even called the Odysseia Knights Adventurer who’d taken him to task “brother” with no hesitation.

…But he hadn’t called Dariella “big sis” once. For that reason, Rundelhaus thought it was probably that sort of thing. He wasn’t yet familiar with that particular heartache, but Touya’s profile looked far more grown-up than it had when they’d left on this journey.

As Rundelhaus watched his friend, he felt there was something just a little dazzling about him.

“Listen. About Dariella…” Looking up at the sky, Touya spoke as if he were talking to himself. “Her nails were all raggedy. Like she bit them because something hurt her too much.”

Rundelhaus hadn’t noticed.

It was likely that Isuzu, Minori, and Serara hadn’t, either.

But Touya had noticed those wounds. Rundelhaus imagined what his friend must have felt at that time. Then he imagined the feelings of the lady who’d done it. There was a pain there that Rundelhaus wasn’t familiar with, and he thought Touya must have encountered it.

He considered giving him some sort of advice, but thought better of it.

He wasn’t enough of a sage to wade into the matter, and he was even less confident about his knowledge of the subtleties between men and women. Besides, his friend Touya was a warrior. If Touya had decided something was all right, it probably was.

“Hm-hm. Touya. If anything’s troubling you, you may discuss it with me.”

“Nah, I’d never go to you for advice, big bro Rudy.”

“What?!”

Apparently Touya had come to terms with the matter all on his own. He was wearing his regular genuine smile, so Rundelhaus was able to respond in his usual cheerful way as well.

By the time they finished preparing for their journey and left the inn, it was already afternoon.

It had been Rundelhaus’s idea to hurry their departure, because—although he hadn’t told his companions—there was no guarantee that the People of the Earth wouldn’t make them the targets of their irritation and slander them.

Their five-person group had fought desperately, but it was a fact that the Odysseia Knights had used the town as a shield.

Currently, Rundelhaus was both a Person of the Earth and an Adventurer. For that reason, he understood the feelings on both sides. The Odysseia Knights were under no obligation to protect the People of the Earth. It wasn’t part of their code, and it hadn’t been their mission. They were free to do as they pleased, and they hadn’t personally harmed the People of the Earth. There were probably a great many People of the Earth who’d been saved because the Odysseia Knights had been there. At the very least, in the early stages of the battle, they’d prevented almost all damage to the town.

However, Rundelhaus knew that, deep down, people weren’t convinced by that sort of thing. When you met with an unjust disaster and someone with the power to help was on the scene, it was only natural to get your hopes up. All those Adventurers were right there, so why didn’t they save my family? Rundelhaus knew that grief all too well. There were bound to be People of the Earth who were so heartbroken that they screamed their grievances.

If those people lashed out at Touya and Minori, they’d probably feel awful, and Serara and Isuzu would be hurt as well. In the end, even the People of the Earth who said those things would be hurt. Nobody was to blame, but Rundelhaus knew there were wounds that only time could heal. There were moments when people just couldn’t be kind; it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

That meant it was best to get away from the town now.

It would mean leaving the cart behind, but at this point they’d be able to get home just fine on foot. Their entire group was confident about that.

One practical problem was that the town would have to be rebuilt. They probably didn’t have the spare energy to bother with Rundelhaus’s group, and the inn said they’d be receiving aid from the West, so when Rundelhaus told his group that it would be better to free up their rooms, they let him persuade them without protest.

“It’s over already, huh…”

“Things were pretty awful at the end. I wonder if the town will be all right…”

“There’s nothing to fear. This is an important stop on the red clay highway. They’ll have it rebuilt in no time.”

“But we—”

Rundelhaus put a hand on Isuzu’s shoulder.

Her expression was clouded. She was probably thinking of the victims. He knew how she felt, but when this hazelnut-haired singer was depressed, it made Rundelhaus very uneasy. It wasn’t fair, but he felt responsible for her smile.

In part, this was probably due to that violent declaration at the temple. Although it had been half-compulsory, Rundelhaus had apparently placed himself under her protection. He wasn’t entirely okay with that, but even so, a promise was a promise. It was his duty to stay by her side and protect that smile.

…And so Rundelhaus tried to say something to her.

However, at the sound of a whispery voice on the wind, he stopped. He strained his ears, listening.

Far in the distance, he heard a song.

Isuzu had sharp ears, so of course she’d caught it, and her eyes went round.

It was that song, the one Isuzu had sung in battle, the song that was hers alone.

A griffin swept down from the sky, and Serara broke into a run. A moment later, Minori and Touya did the same. Their bright, glad cries washed away their companions’ dark moods.

However, Isuzu and Rundelhaus kept listening to the young, childlike voice that drifted to them from the town. This had been the last stop on their tour. Rundelhaus and the others were powerless, and their limits had made themselves felt at the end of their journey.

Even so, that song would probably make its way farther west. Isuzu’s song wasn’t powerless or meaningless. He began to tell her so, but Isuzu’s eyes were so full of tears that they were beginning to overflow. His partner always cried easily. Rundelhaus offered her a handkerchief.

On that day, a modest birthday song for Isuzu and the world echoed through the streets of Saphir.

<Log Horizon, Volume 8: The Larks Take Flight—The End>