1

“Isn’t this town sorta starting to look like Akiba?”

“We Adventurers must be influencing it.”

“You think that’s what it is?”

Hearing Lezarik’s explanation, Isaac folded his arms and cocked his head.

The town of Maihama, which abutted the spring, was bursting with energy. The wind was still cold in the mornings and evenings, but these days it felt warm when the sun was out, and the townspeople and the shops had grown more cheerful.

Well, that was fine; it was a good thing. The Adventurers had influenced the town in many ways, both tangibly and intangibly, and it was probably true that it had generated energy. However, that “we Adventurers” bothered him.

Calasin turned back, and Isaac glared at him steadily.

“What’s the look for? It isn’t all Shopping District 8’s fault.”

“It’s your fault.”

That was true.

The words on the banner over there read, BARGAIN PRICE—INARI-ZUSHI BOX LUNCHES, and the one next to it said, BIDET TOILET SEATS MADE HERE. Akiba-made hoes and plows were the reason the shops on the broad avenue were overflowing with foodstuffs. After all, plain farming tools wouldn’t have been imbued with magic.

But even if that was understandable, the 1/6 FIGURE—PRINCESS RAYNESIA (OUTING VERSION) and the 1/6 FIGURE—PRINCESS RAYNESIA (WINTER ROSE VERSION) were clearly the fault of Calasin’s Shopping District 8.

Isaac wanted no part in that “we.” It was “you.”

Even though he’d glared at Calasin, the guy was still talking cheerfully: “It sure is lively, isn’t it? That’s great to see. What do you think, Master Iselus?”

The small boy who was walking with Calasin, in front of Isaac, was Iselus El Aldo Cowen. He was Raynesia’s little brother, which made him a noble of Maihama. He was only eight years old, and he was still as small and innocent as one would expect from a child that age. Meanwhile, Isaac didn’t know anything about kids. All he knew was, at that age, Iselus would be about ready to start elementary school… Or were kids starting elementary school younger than that?

“Grandfather says that, in the coming era, it will be important for People of the Earth to incorporate the Adventurers’ culture.”

For all that, he was terribly serious, and the things he said were oddly mature, which made him really hard to deal with.

No matter what Isaac did, when he talked with Iselus, the doubt Was I like that when I was eight? welled up inside him.

“…Why are you tagging along?”

“I want to know about the Adventurers, like my elder sister. Please tell me all you can.”

He’d heard this several times before.

Apparently, this kid Iselus (he almost thought “this brat” but stopped himself. Lezarik had gotten terribly mad at him and told him that speaking like that would be bad for the boy’s education) was interested in swords and knights and combat. It was the only aspect of the kid that was actually childlike.

When Isaac was training, he sometimes came over and scampered around his feet. The way he looked up with those eyes of his, like large marbles, made him impossible to handle. The big sister was a luxurious cat type, but the little brother was a lapdog type. He couldn’t deal with him.

“Come, Isaac the Young. Personal security work is one of our duties as well.”

“Pain in the butt…”

“Wah-ha-ha. You’ve tired yourself out pretty thoroughly again. Men who like child-rearing get high ratings, Isaac.”

“That ain’t my thing.”

But apparently, he wasn’t going to get away with that.

As Lezarik had said, guarding the Cowen family was one of the requests Isaac and his group had undertaken. Training Maihama’s Glass Greaves, and guard duty. Those were the requests. Shiroe hadn’t said which request was the main one, and Isaac hadn’t asked. Up until he’d come to Maihama, he’d thought it would be an easy mission.

Even now, he didn’t think the difficulty level had gone up. Adventurers had far greater combat abilities than the People of the Earth, and although Isaac’s companions might be dumb, they were skilled. They’d probably manage both training and guard duty. However, “difficulty” and “complexity” weren’t the same thing.

He didn’t think it was hard, but he did think it was complicated. Unlike a game quest, it didn’t have an easy-to-understand display: “SUCCESSFULLY PROTECT WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN ASKED TO GUARD FOR THREE DAYS! (0/3).” And that wasn’t all. There probably weren’t any relationships you could easily pigeonhole as “just work” in this world, the way there had been in the game. After all, it wasn’t a game anymore; it was another world. Isaac remembered the solemn, bespectacled guy who’d said those lines.

Iselus, the main factor behind the annoyance, started walking with the springy motion unique to children; he seemed to be in high spirits. Probably due to his good upbringing, he hadn’t broken into a run. He was practically marching, though. He was so cheerful that, to Isaac, it looked like he was playing. In other words, it was embarrassing.

“This is good. It’ll strengthen the relationship between Akiba and Maihama. Besides, eventually, that boy will be the lord.”

“Hey, hold up. We don’t know that yet.”

“True, it won’t be for a while. However, the future is something you plan for in advance, no?”

Iselus was visiting a textiles store, and Lezarik and the maids had gone with him. Isaac had no intention of tagging along, so he’d folded his arms and was watching them when Calasin spoke to him.

Well, they said he was the successor and the first grandson, so sure, he might end up being the lord. If Calasin said so, there was a good possibility that would be the case. However, the word lord didn’t really seem to fit the little kid who was listening to the shop owner’s explanation.

“…Yeah, well, maybe,” Isaac answered morosely.

“What you’re saying is entirely correct, too, Isaac. Power relationships in Yamato are unstable. We don’t know what the future will bring. Westlande is threatening war, and there are reports of mysterious monsters. Akiba has troubles, too, internally. And actually, Shiroe’s reported that we may have found a clue regarding how to get back home.”

“Huhn.” Isaac gave a noncommittal response.

“What’s this? You’re not homesick?”

“I’ve never cared about places or houses and stuff. Home is where my comrades are. I’ve got lots of those right here with me now. I’ll think about trouble when it shows up in person.”

Frankly, if trouble showed up in front of him, Isaac’s policy was to just pick a problem and eat his way through it, so he had no intention of doing any thinking. In the first place, “thinking” was a move for guys who could come up with decent answers that way, and Isaac wasn’t one of them. On the contrary, he thought it was fine if he made an on-the-spot call and chose the best option when the time came.

After all, a lottery winner could think about what to do with the money after collecting the prize.

Thinking about what would happen if they returned now, or what he’d do after he got back, was counting his chickens before they whatevered.

“That’s pretty manly of you. Just what I’d expect from that eighty percent.”

“What about you, playboy? Do you want to go back?”

Those were Isaac’s personal thoughts, though, and he wasn’t denying other people’s desire to go home. After all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t understand. That said, he’d only asked Calasin that question on a whim. Iselus was listening to the shop owner’s detailed explanation of a dyeing technique that had recently been imported from Akiba. As a result, Isaac was bored, standing there in the road. That was the only reason.

“Yes, a little. There are a few girls I’d promised to take out to dinner over there.”

Still, the answer he received was so shallow that asking had been a complete waste of time.

“I’m real close to actually respecting you,” Isaac replied sarcastically.

Calasin was just about as carefree as he looked; in response to Isaac’s threat, he gave a thoughtless smile and began making excuses.

“If I don’t get my feelings about it in order, I’m likely to fall to pieces when we actually do get to go back, you know? I’m talking myself around so that I’ll be all right no matter which way things go.”

“Hmm. Can you get stuff like that in order?”

“Well, of course. Even if we do get back, though, I’ll probably quit my job.”

“What, seriously? Weren’t you at some fancy ad agency?”

This was information he’d heard when they’d disclosed their situations to each other over the course of several parties. The difference between their respective circumstances had been so great that they’d cracked up. He’d said he worked a bottom-rung job in a big building in Akasaka or somewhere like that.

“Yes, but…now that I’ve tried out my own skills here, I can’t very well go back, can I? I’ve gotten a taste of what it’s like to persuade people and work together and do business on my own. Drafting flimsy PowerPoint proposals and trimming budgets would just be a chore after that; I couldn’t get fired up about it. Do you think this world has poisoned me?”

Isaac gazed at Calasin steadily.

He was still smiling foolishly, but as he acknowledged and returned Isaac’s look, his expression was somehow impudent.

Even the flashy Young Gent had a few manly bones in his body, then. Isaac was impressed. To be honest, he didn’t know anything about ad agencies or PowerPoint, whatever that was, but Calasin probably meant he was going independent. This guy was saying he was stepping out from under that big roof—yeah, leaving the protection of the “first section market” or whatever it was called and taking a gamble.

There was something entertaining about that, and Isaac thumped him on the back with all his might. “Sounds like a plan,” he told him.

Calasin choked and coughed. “Quit messing with me. What are those blazing eyes of yours, you meathead? Are you a primitive gorilla?!” he asked with a laugh. Even when Calasin cussed people out, it sounded like he was playing around.

“Ah— Hey!”

Abruptly, Isaac stepped forward.

While their attention was elsewhere, Iselus had moved on to the next store. He gazed at the items on display in the storefront with shining eyes, and before long, he’d picked up a sword. It was more of a dagger than a short sword, but paired with Iselus’s hundred-centimeter height, it looked large and impressive.

It probably seemed that way to Iselus, too. The dagger’s blade was about fifteen centimeters long, and he examined it closely.

“This is very dashing.”

Iselus wore clothes suitable for the child of aristocrats. They weren’t showy in terms of Maihama’s culture, but compared with what the common people wore, even the quality of the cloth was different. The plump shopkeeper had probably seen this and understood that he’d be a good customer: He bolted out of the depths of the shop. Disgusted, Isaac stopped him with the palm of his hand, shutting him up.

“Kid, that sword’s nothing but shiny. It’s completely useless! Leza, you too. Stop him, wouldja?”

“You see, Master Iselus? Isaac the Young says he’ll lend you his expert judgment.”

“!! Dammit. You people…”

Lezarik must have known and been watching the whole time, smirking to himself. Aiming a kick at his shin (Lezarik was wearing plate-armor greaves, so something on that level wouldn’t even hurt), he took the dagger from Iselus.

The boy gave a disappointed sigh. “Aw…”

He really was a child. He must idolize stuff like this.

That was something Isaac understood, too. If he’d said his heart hadn’t beat faster at the weight of armor and the gleam of heavy swords when the Catastrophe brought him here, he would’ve been lying. It had been the same way when he’d ridden his motorcycle around. Steering a big hunk of iron wherever you wanted got people all excited, no matter how old they were. On top of that, this was an elementary-school-aged kid. He wouldn’t be surprised if Iselus got so worked up that he gave himself a nosebleed.

“Fine, okay. Here, get this one.”

“…But it’s… It’s expensive.”

With no help for it, he’d picked out a hunting dagger for him. Iselus had looked delighted, but then his face fell. When he looked at the price, yeah, compared with the earlier, gaudy dagger, there were a couple more zeros. That was the difference between something the People of the Earth had made and an article from Akiba. Not only that, but for being in a weapons shop on this broad avenue, the dagger Isaac had picked out had pretty good properties.

“Well, yeah: It’s one of Tatara’s mass-produced numbers. If you’re not interested, that’s fine,” Isaac said.

He had no intention of forcing him to take it, but although Iselus had turned his back on it promptly, Isaac had seen that he regretted it, just a little. Even Isaac thought it was true that Iselus was intelligent, brave, and a good kid. However, he was still only eight years old. It was impossible for him to keep his feelings out of his eyes and the way he walked.

Isaac shrugged, and Calasin spoke to him: “In that case, Master Iselus, Isaac will pick one out for you one of these days. Won’t you, Isaac the Young?” The words sounded contrived; he’d meant for the boy, who’d turned his back, to hear them.

Iselus turned around again, and Calasin spoke to him, his face perfectly composed.

“It will be a present, Master Iselus. Don’t stand on ceremony now, all right? I’ve started wanting to do something aristocratic myself, that’s all. Yes, I’m playing at being a noble. Isaac the Young is more than willing as well. It’s the dependability of merchants, you see.”

Nah, I’m not into this at all, you pain in the butt, Isaac thought.

Yet, Calasin looked nonchalant. True, winks did go well with that perfectly unsarcastic smile, but even so. This guy was incredibly slippery and frivolous.

“Well, we’ll have him pick it out next time. We’ll get a reward for the gorilla, too, while we’re at it. Now then, let’s continue the inspection. The sun’s still high.”

Iselus, who was elated, broke into a run. On reflex, Isaac caught him by the back of his collar. The boy didn’t weigh much, and his shoes kicked in midair as Isaac hoisted him off the ground like a puppy.

“Don’t start running just because your blood pressure’s gone up. What’re you, a kid?”

“Erm, yes, actually, he is a kid.”

“That’s indeed a child.”

Calasin and Lezarik answered respectively, but Isaac ignored them and set Iselus on his own shoulders.

“It’s so high!” the boy exclaimed, sounding deeply moved.

Yeah, it probably is high, Isaac thought.

It was easier to carry their ward around on his shoulders than have him running wild all over the place. And that made Isaac realize something: When parents carried their children or pushed them in strollers on their days off, they weren’t being overprotective. It was just that letting the kids free-range used up a lot of unnecessary energy, and it was rough.

Feeling resigned, Isaac started walking.

Guard duty really was a pain.

But, well, as far as vacation day walks went, this wasn’t bad.

2

Time passed slowly, and spring deepened.

Isaac was keeping pretty busy. As a matter of fact, there were all sorts of things to do, but he wasn’t hardworking enough to take them all on.

He could leave the knights’ training to Lee Jent and Zecca Eagle. The Knights of the Black Sword had lots of overpowered jocks, and even their brains were muscle-bound. Guys like that were too dumb to know what being tired was, so all the tiring jobs should go to them. Making an excuse that wasn’t even an excuse (“Besides, I’m the guild master”), Isaac spent about three days of the week napping. He was living like a lion.

On days when he’d napped, he had a hard time getting to sleep at night, and he often went on rambling strolls, the way he was doing now. Night walks.

Of course there were lots of times when he went to the tavern and drank, but Isaac’s companions were loud and macho, almost without exception. Dealing with guys like that wears you out, Isaac thought, although this was the exact same thing other guilds said about him.

Wearing the uniform tailored for him by the Round Table Council, Isaac wandered the halls. He was on the third floor of the main building of Castle Cinderella.

It was probably about nine at night. Most People of the Earth were probably asleep. In this world, light was more valuable than it was on Earth. That was true for the common people, at any rate. When it came to the manor of the lord who led the nobles of Eastal, the League of Free Cities, Magic Lamps shone everywhere in the corridors. They probably needed them to deter crime, too.

Lights changed the way people lived.

When Isaac poked his head into the office, Lord Sergiad Cowen was still at work.

“How is the training coming along?”

“It’ll do. The knights are leveling up nicely.”

Entering the office with a casual greeting along the lines of “S’up,” Isaac sat down on the reception set without waiting for permission. In response to a whispered inquiry from a maid, he ordered tea, then sprawled back in his seat.

This wasn’t his first late-night visit. Recently, he’d been stopping by about once a week.

Today in particular he’d been invited, but lately, he tended to just drop in. The maid handed him a deep-hued tea; Isaac said, “Hey, thanks,” and took a swallow.

He liked liquor, but drinking tea this way wasn’t bad, either.

He’d never mentioned it to Sergiad, but this office was pretty comfortable. It was magnificent, but the baptism of years had washed away any showiness. Everything about the place felt simple, quiet, and calm. It was the same sort of atmosphere that a well-tended temple would have had back home.

Isaac liked that, and so he’d put this office on his nighttime sauntering route. It was even better when he’d kicked up a ruckus with his friends and was tired.

Sergiad, who’d finished organizing the documents on his desk, came over to the reception set to join Isaac and sat down across from him. His face softened.

“That’s good to hear. You never know what could happen these days, or when.”

“Did you call me out here to make small talk?”

“Indeed I did.”

“Aw, man. C’mon.”

Well, it’s not like I really care.

Isaac shrugged.

“I don’t have many years left, you know. Don’t take my pleasures from me.”

“Gramps, you look like you could take a punch from a level 90 and be just fine.”

Isaac and Sergiad both laughed.

What with this and that, it had been more than three months since Isaac had come to Maihama. In the time since he’d first greeted Sergiad, they’d talked about all sorts of things.

Of course, Isaac knew that the other man was a Person of the Earth and that he felt an emotion close to awe regarding Isaac’s and the other Adventurers’ combat abilities. He also knew that, as a noble lord, Sergiad was attempting to get close to the Round Table Council and hoped to gain technological and economic aid.

However, Isaac did feel that that wasn’t all.

He thought this old man, Sergiad Cowen, was a pretty magnanimous guy. He interacted sociably with Isaac, who was less than half his age. There were probably factors like status and interests in play as well, but above and beyond that, he met Isaac halfway, on a personal level. Isaac didn’t know much about manners, and he thought the man had come down closer to him to keep him from embarrassing himself.

He was a big-boned old man with good posture.

He must have trained a lot when he was young. He had a sturdy build, and even now, when he walked through the halls, he didn’t seem the least bit unsteady. He was dignified even when he sat on a sofa.

For all that, he was also mischievous and brimming with curiosity. Isaac had heard that the man liked dorayaki and had them delivered, and the man had shown Isaac a pair of spectacles he’d had made to order. “I heard that, if you wear glasses specially made by the Adventurers, ingenuity wells up like a fountain,” he’d said, disappointed. That had been a fun story. Since Isaac had been asked not to, he wouldn’t tell a soul about it.

“Well, I asked you here today about Iselus.” Sergiad broached the subject nonchalantly after they’d laughed for a while.

Isaac knew he’d been invited for a reason, so he responded, “Yeah. You got it. Just speak your piece.”

Sergiad was a wise ruler whose subjects respected him enormously. However, Isaac suspected that, as an individual, Sergiad might be a funny old guy with a great sense of humor. He fooled everybody with that dignity, but quite a lot of stuff entertained the guy. Lately, he seemed to have been experimenting on Isaac to see whether Adventurers understood jokes. As a result, Isaac was able to speak to him quite casually, too.

“His birthday is coming up soon, and we’ll be holding a grand festival in celebration. Do you think that will seem incredibly absurd to the Adventurers?”

“Hey, we throw parties, too. When our birthdays come around, we drink liquor and run on at the mouth a lot, at least.”

“Hmm. I thought you might reproach aristocratic politics for being trivial.”

“I dunno about politics, but this is Iselus’s birthday, right? We’re not so lame that we’d nitpick your party,” Isaac said dismissively.

In all honesty, since it was a festival-level occasion, well, parts of it would probably be a pain. He thought it was bound to be a lot of work for their side, too. Iselus was still just a kid, so he couldn’t plan his own.

However, just as Isaac was thinking this, Sergiad’s words reverberated in his ears: “I intend to take that opportunity to name Iselus the heir to the House of Cowen.”

“The heir? C’mon, guy, the kid’s only eight.”

Isaac couldn’t believe it, and he’d hit him with a retort, but Sergiad didn’t respond. He just took a sip of tea.

“And anyway, Gramps. You’ve got a son, right? A serious type.”

At Isaac’s follow-up question, Sergiad stroked his beard; he seemed to be putting his thoughts in order. The gesture suited the man, and Isaac was used to seeing it.

“Phenel married into the family, you see. He’s a very good man. He was originally a civil servant, but he hasn’t forgotten the warrior’s spirit, either. He suppressed Maihama’s rivers well. I value him highly, but the people wouldn’t settle for that. They want the heir to be a Cowen by blood.”

“Hmm.”

Isaac had heard about that already.

He wasn’t particularly interested in other people’s family situations, but when it came to the structure of the ducal house he was supposed to be guarding, he couldn’t stay disinterested. In addition, entertainment was limited in this world, and the family circumstances of statesmen were the perfect fuel for gossip.

After living here for three months, knowledge about the matter had been imprinted on him—both at the tavern and at the market—as the foundation for idle gossip.

“My daughter Saraliya and her husband, Phenel, have three children. The oldest girl is Risselthea. Their second daughter is Raynesia. Iselus is their youngest.”

He knew that as well.

Sergiad hadn’t had a son. His children had both been girls. Saraliya was the oldest, and her sister was Langrissa. Both were in their thirties by now, elegant beauties and very popular to boot. Saraliya, the older sister, had taken a husband. This was Phenel, who’d come up earlier in the conversation. At this point, while Sergiad governed the territory of Maihama as its lord, Phenel handled trade and internal affairs as his right-hand man.

Phenel’s children were the three already mentioned.

“Risselthea gave up her succession rights. She married a knight. Once the girl’s said something, she won’t listen to anyone. She said if she couldn’t marry the man she loved, she’d stab herself in the throat and die. It’s deplorable; I don’t know who she took after.”

Probably her granddad, Isaac muttered silently to himself. The knight she’d married was a man called Jaris. He was the most able of the Maihama Glass Greaves’ young knights. He wasn’t old enough to serve as the order’s captain, but in terms of grit and skill with a sword, he was probably one of its top three heroes already.

“That leaves Raynesia and Iselus,” the old man said lowly.

“Well, you’ve got the princess, right? If your daughter took a husband, so could she.”

Although, he already suspected what the answer would be.

“I believe that girl’s suited to different work.”

“A different job, huh?”

With a faintly bitter smile, Sergiad glanced out the window at the moon. Isaac looked that way, too, keeping him company.

“In ancient times, Yamato was ruled by a nation known as the Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Do you know of it? This was in the distant past. Later, there was a war. It was an immense conflict, fought in all parts of the world between the alv race and the other human races. During the Ruquinjés’ war, the Westlande Imperial Dynasty fell, and Yamato subsequently split into two halves. One of them was our Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the other was the Holy Empire of Westlande, which governs the West. The Cowen duchy’s rank was granted to us by the old Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Both Eastal and the Holy Empire of Westlande are descendants of that ancient dynasty.”

Sergiad had begun to relate Yamato’s history. “The Holy Empire of Westlande calls itself the rightful heir to the ancient Westlande Imperial Dynasty.”

“Huhn…?”

“They have told Eastal to submit to their rule.”

“Pain in the butt.”

“As you say. It is a ‘pain in the butt.’ It’s also dangerous. To us, Yamato appears to be approaching a great turning point in its history. This is an uncommon age. We People of the Earth and Adventurers have begun to talk. Many wonderful things will happen, but many terrible things are bound to occur as well.”

Isaac didn’t understand complicated stuff. People could talk about “rightful” and “heirs” at him, but he couldn’t tell which of them, or even what, was correct in the end. Still, it didn’t look as if anything was inconvenient for either Maihama or the Kansai region at the moment, so he thought they could probably just let things stay the way they were. There was no reason to start trouble on purpose.

Talking to Isaac about this sort of thing was a mistake in the first place. It was the sort of thing he should be discussing with Machiavelli-with-Glasses.

“So, long story short, what’s that mean?”

Isaac scratched his head as he asked the question. Sergiad cackled, then slowly began his story again.

“Becoming a lord in an age like that will be harsh— I misjudged Raynesia. I thought that she was a reasonable girl but that she had no spirit. When I saw her step into the great conference hall at the Court of Ice and snap at the nobles, I realized how foolish I’d been. ‘We should afford them courtesy; take a good look at the Adventurers,’ she said. She was right. I looked back and realized that what she said was right.”

Sergiad laughed a little, then spoke of his mistake as if he were proud of it.

“This old man didn’t even understand his own granddaughter, so how could I understand the Adventurers? It showed me that, at the very least, if I didn’t face the Adventurers squarely and listen to everything, I would be a genuine fool and a complete simpleton. Raynesia, that idle girl, might as well have struck me with a maul. When I saw her fly away on that griffin, I felt as if I’d been sent back to my roots, at my age. Imagine.”

Isaac didn’t interrupt. In this hushed, nocturnal office, those words sounded like a confession.

“She’s a very intelligent girl. She’s indolent, but she understands duty. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to give her the position or find her a husband and leave Maihama to them.”

“There, see? You could just use the princess.”

“But would that be the correct thing to do?”

Sergiad was still hesitant; he seemed to be searching empty space for an answer he couldn’t fully see.

“There may be an even bigger job for that girl. I don’t know, but in this grave situation, I think there might be a greater destiny waiting for her… Besides, I do think that ‘lord’ is a man’s job. Iselus understands that, too—at his age. He’s clever. And more than that, he loves deeply. He loves this territory. That is one of the vital qualities of a lord.”

Isaac’s answer was to shrug.

This was Maihama, and Sergiad was its lord. If Sergiad said he was going to make Iselus his heir, Isaac was an outsider, and there was nothing he could say. In fact, even he didn’t think Iselus was unsuited to be a lord. In terms of common sense on Earth, eight seemed too young, but you couldn’t choose the family you were born into, either here or there.

Stuff like this probably goes on over there, too.

“The League of Free Cities is most likely headed into a turbulent era. Or rather, it isn’t just Eastal. When Yamato and the world welcomed the Adventurers, they ushered in a new age. Your people and ours may be similar beings, but even if that’s the case, now that we’ve met, new possibilities are being created one after another. I can hear their first cries in the town, from up here in the castle.”

“Yeah, wow, you’ve got great ears, Gramps.”

“In Yamato, in the future, it won’t be possible to lead the people unless we foster mutual understanding with the Adventurers. As you know, Isaac, that boy is still young. While you’re in Maihama, would you teach him the things we are unable to?”

“Uh. Are you sure you want me doing that? Not that I’m proud of it, but I’m dumb.”

“I don’t think so. I think what that young boy needs is a light like yourself.”

Since Sergiad had made this decision, all Isaac—an outsider—could do was obey his request and train the knight brigade. That, and protect the lord’s family. Since the little kid was part of the lord’s family, naturally, he’d have to protect him as well.

Everything else was incidental.

Fortunately, Adventurers were strong. Isaac and the Black Sword of Pain had enough power to smash most dangers. The city of Maihama wasn’t a bad place. The Cowen family weren’t bad people. Of course, there were things like organizational relationships and various interests in play. However, it was a fact that they’d entertained a group of reprobates like the Knights of the Black Sword.

Isaac remembered the much-used phrase “houseguest’s obligation.” The corners of his lips rose in an enigmatic smile.

“Yeah… Yeah, sure. I’ll do what I can anyway.”

“Please do, Sir Isaac.”

The two spent more time together that night, conversation rambling onward.

3

In early summer of Iselus’s eighth year, an event occurred that would later be known as the Catastrophe.

There had been no explosions or flashes of light, and the earth hadn’t rumbled, but it had definitely been a major incident. It had begun with the sudden disappearance of Adventurers from the city of Maihama.

For the first few days, the adults had thought it was probably just a coincidence or accident. Gradually, though, they realized it was not just temporary confusion, but some sort of serious incident.

At that point, all sorts of rumors began to fly. Many of them were critical ones, to the effect that the Adventurers had suddenly grown lazy or were plotting a revolt, but even in the beginning, Iselus had thought those accusations were false and misdirected.

This was because he adored tales of chivalry, and to him, the Adventurers had been legendary beings.

Before long, slowly, new information began to trickle into the city:

People said the Adventurers had gathered in Akiba and held a meeting. Iselus had heard from his mother, Saraliya, that the Adventurers had come up against some sort of big problem as well and that, having no idea how to resolve it, they were at their wits’ end.

On learning this, the adults had begun to argue energetically over whether they should negotiate with them or make them part of the Lords’ Council instead, but Iselus knew what they should do.

If the heroic Adventurers were up against a problem that had them confounded, it meant this was a worldwide emergency!!

Under such perilous circumstances, it was a mistake to discuss things like who was superior, or what to do about rank, while the other party wasn’t present. Iselus told them as much, but the adults were getting dragged around by their own situations, and they didn’t seem to hear him.

It hadn’t been the adults’ fault, of course. Iselus hadn’t been able to explain himself properly. Now, after a year had passed, he understood that.

Iselus was the grandson of the lord, so the knights of the Glass Greaves and the territory’s wealthy merchants bowed their heads to him politely. It did make him feel proud, but at the same time, it made him feel terribly uncomfortable.

When they complimented him, the words sometimes rang false. That was sad. When they yielded to Iselus, he sometimes felt it was because they wanted to get into his grandfather’s good graces, not because Iselus himself was right. It made him feel as if his existence was trivial, and he’d flown into a temper a few times.

In short, the people around Iselus listened to what he said when it was convenient and didn’t listen when it wasn’t. Since he was still a child, there was probably was no help for that, and it still hurt him.

It was his big sister Raynesia who had changed the situation.

Raynesia had participated in the Lords’ Council, simultaneously making her debut, and he’d been told that, after many twists and turns, she’d been granted a post in Akiba. After the council had ended, she had departed for Akiba on orders from their grandfather, Duke Sergiad, and had been given the mission of helping their subjects there. Iselus wanted to see Adventurers, and he’d been terribly jealous.

It had also been a great shock to him.

He loved Raynesia as a pretty, gentle family member who had to be protected, but at the same time, Iselus had been given a boy’s upbringing, and he’d unconsciously assumed that he—not Raynesia—would be the one who would help his family (in other words, the duke) in its work someday.

Even with the age difference, the fact that his older sister had been the one to be given a job had shocked him.

He’d heard that his sister had ridden off with her guardian knight Krusty and fought against the goblin forces. However, it hadn’t been out of adoration for the Adventurers; she’d done it as the sacred duty of the ruling family.

Yet, his sister didn’t dream of tales of chivalry. As her little brother, he knew this. When she’d joined hands with the Adventurers, then used that friendship to rescue the people, she probably hadn’t felt giddy, the way Iselus would have.

Iselus, who’d wanted to catch a glimpse of the Adventurers and see them fight, really was still just a child. He thought his sister was not merely beautiful, but a proud, splendid woman. Compared with her, he was only a fledgling. He wasn’t even qualified to complain about how people treated him yet.

And once he’d realized that, there were mountains of things he needed to do.

In order to work with the Adventurers, Iselus had to have sufficiently complete knowledge of his family’s work, and he had to grow as a noble. His big sister was able to work with the Adventurers precisely because she was the most beautiful noblewoman in Eastal, the intelligent lady known as the “Winter Rose Princess.” Iselus was half his sister’s age, and there were countless things he had to learn.

Fortunately, Iselus was the prime candidate for heir to Sergiad’s duchy, and he had no shortage of tutors. He learned about history and geography both inside and outside of Eastal from his mother, Saraliya, and his father, Phenel, told him about the territory’s industry and terrain in detail. It was still too soon for him to join the knights in their training, but at this point, everyone—even the gardeners and grooms—seemed to Iselus to have expert knowledge and techniques, and to be teachers he should learn from.

About a year had passed since then, and Iselus had almost reached his ninth birthday. He had (as far as he was concerned) grown a lot taller (he thought), and he was being trained by Isaac, an Adventurer whose byname was “Black Sword.”

A dry, high-pitched sound echoed in the small courtyard.

The wooden sword had been made to suit Iselus’s height, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t even touch Isaac’s clothes with it.

“Isaac the Young… Is this…not going to work?” Iselus asked, hiding his rough breathing.

“I dunno. Move around more and swing that sword all over the place.”

“Yes, sir!”

He unleashed a two-handed diagonal downward slash, then a sideways sweep, and then he inverted his wrists and thrust.

For an eight-year-old, Iselus’s swordsmanship wasn’t bad, but naturally, that was with the qualifier “for a Person of the Earth child.” Isaac held a great sword in one hand as if it were a stick, even though it had to weigh ten times what Iselus’s wooden sword did, and whenever he moved it, he deflected Iselus’s attacks.

Training with Isaac was different from what it had been with his other instructors.

There were no practice swings or forms. All they did was fight mock battles. There were no pauses, and no set time limits. If Iselus got out of breath, Isaac started prodding him with his sheathed great sword.

Iselus knew quite well that this wasn’t an attack or anything like it: He was just pushing his body with the scabbard of his sword. He wasn’t able to parry the thrusts, though, and if he took them, he couldn’t keep himself from rolling away like a billiard ball. These fights continued for as long as his strength held out, and when he finally started to have trouble breathing, he fell down right where he was and rested.

Since there were no explanations of forms or technical theory, he didn’t even know how he should swing his sword. Of course there was a skill difference, but even before that, Iselus was an eight-year-old Person of the Earth, while Isaac had fought in scores of raids. Since there was such a huge difference between their fundamental physical capabilities, it wasn’t even possible to tell whether that difference had shrunk or grown. He didn’t know whether he was better or worse today than he’d been yesterday.

Of the training Iselus had experienced, Isaac’s variety was far and away the strictest. However—and this startled Iselus—it didn’t bother him at all.

“Hup.”

“Oh!”

Before he noticed it, Isaac’s sheathed great sword had moved, and the sensation of the object Iselus held in his hands had disappeared. Behind him, there was a whistling sound as something spun through the air: His sword had been knocked flying.

When he tried to look up, Iselus lost his balance, fell down, and gazed up at the sky.

He was breathing hard, and he couldn’t get to his feet.

“Isaac the Young, you’re—hff! Haahff!”

“Yeah, break time. That’s fine; just lie there and catch your breath.”

“Yes, sir. Hff, hff.”

“You sure are weak.”

“Yes…”

As you’d expect, hearing it said straight-out like that made him sad. He was so tired he couldn’t even move, but the words he got out sounded disconsolate.

“Well, uh, you know. Don’t let it get you down. You People of the Earth are all weak, so you’re not that different.”

“Is that right.”

His thoughtfulness made Iselus laugh a little. The wind felt soft, and the sunlight was warm. Pansies swayed in this courtyard, too. Feeling gentle, Iselus said, “Do the members of the chivalric order also seem weak to you, Isaac the Young?”

“Yeah. They’re weak. They’ve still got a long ways to go.”

“Hmm. How can I become stronger?”

“I dunno if you really need to get all that strong, do you?”

That’s irresponsible, Iselus protested. He might be the lord someday, and he had to polish both his sword skills and his horsemanship.

“Having guts is more important. The strength’ll follow, bit by bit.”

Isaac let the comment slide, ignoring it. Then he rummaged through the bag at his waist, pulled out a straight dagger that was about twenty-five centimeters long, and casually tossed it to Iselus.

“There, use that.”

“Huh…?”

The dagger had spun through a half rotation to land neatly in the palm of his hand. Iselus stared at it, immediately realizing it had cost an incredible sum.

As a noble, Iselus was more used to seeing different types of weapons and gear than the average native. He’d actually seen things referred to as “famous swords” and “demon swords”—even those had been handed down through his House.

After the Catastrophe, a variety of Adventurer-made tools had flowed into Maihama, and weapons had been no exception. However, equip items came with their own levels and levels at which you could use them. As a result, items created by top-class Adventurer artisans went for sky-high prices, which only people of his rank could even think to afford.

“You don’t weigh much, so that wooden sword puts your center of gravity too far out. If you learn to use that well, your sword skills will improve, too.”

“But this is an Adventurer dagger. It’s really expensive.”

It was true.

To him, this dagger must have carried an unbelievable price.

Isaac was an Adventurer, and an unmannered one with no common sense at that. So he probably didn’t know, but in Maihama, he could have bought a house with a single dagger like this. The knife had a gleam to it that looked obviously strong, and Iselus had very nearly been captivated by it already. Even so, he had managed to force that question out. Because of the economics, he’d had no choice.

Iselus really liked Isaac. He loved this huge warrior, who was cheerful and rough and didn’t pay any attention to fiddly details. That was why, even though the training was as harsh as it was, he’d never once thought that he didn’t want to do it.

“I’m not giving it to you just because. I hear it’s your birthday. Unless guys have that sort of thing, they go bad. Like a motorcycle, or armor. If stuff like that stops getting you all worked up, you’re done, y’know?”

“There’s something wrong with your sense of money, Isaac the Young.”

Iselus didn’t know what a motorcycle was, but his chest was so hot he thought it might burst. He’d said something blunt to hide his embarrassment, but his face kept trying to smile, and he couldn’t stop it. He was probably wearing a pretty pitiful smile for a boy.

“What, you don’t want it? Well, fine. Give it back. C’mon.”

The part about being so worn out from training that he couldn’t move a finger had been a lie.

Hugging the knife and spinning around, Iselus thanked Isaac: “Waaaaah! No. I’m tremendously happy! It’s an Adventurer Dagger! Thank you very much!”

What was this crest? When he examined it closely, he found the signature “Tatara” and a small Black Sword mark.

What’s more, this dagger was custom-made, and it matched the ones Isaac and the others had!!

The discovery made the boy’s heart overflow. He believed without question that the Knights of the Black Sword were the best chivalric order in Yamato, and their crest was more splendid than a knight’s rank.

“You should’ve just been honest and said ‘thank you’ to start with. Sheesh.”

“Heh-heh-heh. Oh!”

“What?”

Iselus, who’d spun around several times, jumped and pointed upward.

There was a shadow there, racing toward them across a sky of light spring clouds. He knew that shape; it was the same as the one Isaac had shown him, and Iselus raised his voice openly.

“It’s a griffin!”

“Ah. Somebody from the Round Table? Little Miss Riezé, huh? Maybe she brought the princess back for the reception.”

“Isaac the Young, we must bathe forthwith.”

“Maaan, pain in the butt.”

Come to think of it, tonight was the presentation banquet.

Iselus, who’d abruptly remembered this, nearly tackled Isaac, pushing his back from behind. The shadow of the griffin was rapidly coming closer. If his big sister was riding it, he might not have much time left to get ready.

“We have to. Ladies who are looking for husbands are coming to the banquet, too!”

“Okay. Okay already. Seriously, kid, that’s the only stuff you’re fussy about.”

Isaac protested, and Iselus scolded him. However, again and again, his eyes went to the dagger he wore at his waist. This was an important treasure. It was also proof that he’d learned swordsmanship from Isaac.

“You have to wash behind your ears, too.”

Iselus went into the manor, clinging to his beloved Isaac.

4

“If we’re developing the type that uses radio waves, we’ll need an antenna of a suitable size.”

“Size?”

“The parabolic antenna. You know: the dish-shaped thing. Its size is important. Our technological level is low, so we’ll just have to cover for it with brute force, or size.”

“What about the time and the budget?”

“With Akiba’s current finances, the budget… It may take about three years’ worth. Adventurer inventions are suited to making one-off products, but we still don’t have enough power to mass-produce or build something enormous. The construction period depends on the manpower we invest, but there is technical development work to do… If we’re including lab time, I can’t give you a quick answer.”

“…I see.”

“I couldn’t call it realistic, not with Akiba’s current system.”

That was how his conversation with Roderick had ended.

It was springtime in Akiba, and Shiroe was on his way back to his guild.

He hadn’t meant to let his emotions show, but Akatsuki’s senses had been unusually sharp lately. She tugged on his sleeve and said, “My liege, don’t be discouraged.”

Although he replied with an “I’m fine,” he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d reached an impasse.

“You have an old-man forehead again, my liege.”

“Do I really? I don’t think I do…”

Akatsuki’s gaze was stabbing his forehead. Shiroe put a hand up to it, trying to relax it by massaging it. It felt no different from normal. In this world, unless you applied some kind of external power, hair didn’t grow. That meant that, when his fingertips touched his bangs, they were the same length they always were.

When they got back to the Log Horizon guild house, it was quiet and empty. On the blackboard, there was a note in Nyanta’s handwriting that said “I’m going shopping for dinner” and a cat mark. Naotsugu had gone along with Shouryuu and the others on their training, and Tetora had headed over to the Crescent Moon League. Lately, Minori’s group had been deciding what to do on their own, without relying on Shiroe and the others.

Even when it was deserted, the guild was a relaxing place. Breathing in its atmosphere, Shiroe and Akatsuki climbed the stairs. They crossed the landing that looked out over the living room, then opened the door of Shiroe’s usual office. When he shot a casual look down past his side to the rear, Akatsuki seemed to prompt him, using only her eyes: What are you doing? Hurry up and go in. She was apparently planning to follow him in, have tea, guard him, and hide.

Chuckling a little, Shiroe beckoned her in.

Secure a way to contact the moon.

They had a goal now, but that didn’t mean their mundane worries had evaporated. The town of Akiba was bursting with energy, and there were new inventions and developments every day. However, that also meant that new trouble and problems were invented on a daily basis.

To Shiroe, it seemed as though more than half of Akiba’s problems were based on a shortage of personnel. Even if there were resources that could be used to resolve issues, there were few people who could operate or direct them. That was the current, unvarnished state of the Round Table Council.

There were many causes. The disappearance of Krusty, who had acted as the Council’s representative, was one of them. His charisma, leadership, and command abilities had been splendid beyond complaint, and Shiroe thought his disappearance was a heavy blow.

Stirring up enthusiasm in the people around you, or giving them a feeling of confidence in any situation—these abilities were completely different from actual business skills. In terms of Shiroe’s acquaintances, she—Kanami, who’d retired from Elder Tales and moved to Europe—had been like that. The Debauchery Tea Party had been her, without a doubt. She’d brought gamers together under the banner of her unlimited optimism and a reckless smile.

She’d simply been an enthusiasm engine, but Shiroe thought making that enthusiasm contagious to the people around you was a special ability only chosen people had. Krusty was one of the people with that rare charisma.

That said, in Krusty’s case, he was also able to govern, field paperwork, command, and be athletic and artistic, to the point where complimenting him on purpose was just a pain. At the Lords’ Council, Krusty had been slippery and evasive, and when asked later, it turned out he had more than a decade of experience with social dancing. When he’d heard that, Shiroe felt as if he’d been completely had.

Even if beings like Krusty and Kanami were outliers, there was a strong tendency among Akiba’s Adventurers to concede to one another and avoid responsibility. This was probably less about Adventurers than it was about the Japanese character. Everyone thought the role of “leader” was a demanding, nearly thankless one in which everybody took potshots at you whenever there was trouble.

Shiroe thought the Round Table Council organization had come into being and managed to exist for the past year because, initially, he’d established it by going straight to the leaders of the major guilds. If he’d addressed everyone equally and suggested they decide the matter with a vote, he probably wouldn’t even have been able to organize an operating body to run that vote.

In addition, there were technical problems as well. There was no e-mail in Theldesia, no spreadsheet or document creation software, no recording equipment, and the postal service was underdeveloped. In this other world, just holding a meeting like the ones on Earth was difficult. They didn’t even have copy machines. Simply making outlines of what that day’s meeting would cover for each person turned into a full day’s work if you did it by hand.

In that sense, Shiroe was immensely popular.

The Scribe subclass granted abilities related to overall copy creation, including craft skills used to make paper and ink, support skills that helped the user draw charts and title lettering, and the ability to copy the document or map in front of you. Naturally, he couldn’t copy magic items, and he needed a certain amount of material, but for conference documents, he could use low-ranking materials without any trouble.

People leaned on those abilities, and the Round Table Council guild masters and guilds brought him documents they wanted copied. They treated him like a human copy machine.

Abruptly coming back to himself, he noticed that the shadow of the pen in his hand was more than ten centimeters long.

Apparently, he’d been absorbed in work for several hours.

When he stretched, his back made cracking, popping noises. His seminar had involved a lot of desk work, so he was completely used to it, but when he looked up, thinking about cleaning his glasses, he saw Akatsuki and Li Gan having tea at the reception set.

“Hello there.”

The Lore Master waved at him with a droll smile. He looked exactly the same as he had when they’d parted in Susukino.

“Li Gan. When did you get here?”

“Just a moment ago, Master Shiroe.”

“Ahem. I entertained him for you.”

Akatsuki, who was kneeling formally on the sofa, puffed out her chest and glanced pointedly at the low table in front of her. Bean-based snacks and Japanese-style teacups filled with roasted green tea: Everything was tailored to Akatsuki’s own tastes, but as far as showing hospitality to guests went, it wasn’t wrong.

In that case, I still wish you’d called me, Shiroe thought, but he didn’t say it. He knew that, whether they’d spoken to him or not, he hadn’t even noticed he had a visitor, which meant the fault was his.

“My investigations in Susukino have finally reached a stopping point, you see. I’m very sorry to have taken so long, Master Shiroe.”

“Is everyone well?”

As Shiroe spoke, he took his own teacup and sat down next to Akatsuki. Li Gan was smiling cheerfully, his eyes half-closed.

The man seemed a bit young for the title of “sage.” For example, from previous interactions, Shiroe was well aware that, although he could have a sharp tongue, he was funny and interesting. But he also knew that the man’s academic interest in magic, magical devices, and the history of ancient civilization as it related to those fields was the real thing.

“Yes. I was told to give you their regards.”

“Did you learn anything about the transport gate?” Shiroe asked.

Li Gan had stayed in Susukino in order to investigate the intercity transport gate, which had fallen silent. Of course, his investigation would be beneficial to Shiroe and the other Adventurers as well, but Shiroe’s question had been meant casually, as small talk.

“The transport gate is silent because it isn’t being supplied with sufficient mana.”

However, the answer was exceedingly straightforward.

Shiroe was startled, and Li Gan cocked his head, smiling bashfully. “…I learned that much on the first day of my investigation, to be honest.” However, he said, he’d continued to study it because he hadn’t known how mana was supplied or what the energy source was. The more he investigated, the more its function and mechanism as a large-scale magic item had intrigued him, and he’d ended up examining it thoroughly, down to the details.

“While investigating this and that, I learned that the Fairy Rings really do have some connection to the lunar phases. According to legend, there are ancient alv ruins on the moon as well. The intercity transport gates seem to make use of similar functions. I’ve pulled it all together here, in these documents.”

Drawn in by the unexpected keyword moon, Shiroe picked up the report Li Gan had put together. It might have been a summary; there weren’t many pages.

If you cut out the magical technology details, the remaining information was about the positional guide functions for teleportation that were managed by the moon. The Fairy Rings, the intercity transport gates, the Temple—this element affected all teleportation.

So there really is some sort of facility on the moon…? If we can believe Roe2’s letter, there’s a community of Fools up there. They’re probably using Adventurer bodies from the test server. Are they doing some sort of work in the alv ruins?

Or were they waiting for something?

Shiroe gave it a moment of thought. Taking into consideration the report from Minori, although “Fools” did have great power, they seemed to be bound by the rules of Elder Tales and the world of Theldesia. The fact that she had fought using the abilities of a Summoner, one of the twelve classes, probably proved that.

“…Then we really will need to send a transmission, hmm?”

“A transmission?”

That feeling came through in his voice, and it seemed to pique Li Gan’s curiosity. Shiroe decided to explain, without holding anything back:

“Yes. The Adventurers are searching for a way to return to our old world. In order to do that, we need to communicate with the moon. We’re trying to find a way to do it.”

“Oho! An Adventurer transmission device? I wonder what that’s like. How exciting!”

“No, it won’t be that easy. We can’t get the funds or the technology anytime soon…”

He remembered Roderick’s bland expression. If it had been just barely impossible, he probably would have looked more frustrated, so that meant there really was no hope for the time being.

“Well, developing technology does take time. It’s the work of a lifetime. There’s really no help for that, no indeed. Still, in that case, couldn’t you use the transmission equipment in Shibuya?”

“Huh?” Shiroe said.

Contact the moon. Go to the moon. Investigate the moon. In the days of the game, quests like that hadn’t existed. Shiroe had practically lived on strategy sites, so he could vouch for that. However, it wasn’t as if the moon had made no appearances within in-game tradition. On the contrary, there had been speculation that the moon where the test server was located might, at some unknown point, become the stage of an adventure. As evidence, people had cited the moon-related ruins found in a variety of areas.

“In Shibuya. The one in the ruins,” Li Gan repeated.

“Wasn’t that broken?”

Because of all that speculation, he had given a little thought to the ruins of the broadcasting station in Shibuya. Yet, he’d discarded that possibility almost immediately. According to the background information, those ruins had been completely picked over, destroyed, and abandoned. Even in the days of the game, nothing had lived there except low-level, nonaggressive animals.

“But when I was examining the gate, there was a response on the transmission network. Isn’t it live?”

Shiroe mulled over Li Gan’s words. Had he been thinking about it the wrong way?

He’d discarded the possibility of Shibuya based on his knowledge of Elder Tales back when it had been a game. However, Theldesia was another world now, and there might be something new there. A hidden room they hadn’t been able to find in the game, an antenna reached by climbing an exterior wall, or maybe an underground facility with no entrance—those were all possibilities that might exist.

Shiroe started to get up, meaning to investigate right away, but a telechat came in just then.

It was bad news.

Sleep-inducing lunar moths had crept into Yamato’s night.

5

“The kid’s gonna be a real lord, huh…?” Isaac grumbled. He was holding a glass of sweet liquor, which wasn’t his thing.

The great hall was filled with countless lights and the strains of chamber music. Even in People of the Earth culture, soirées seemed to be something aristocrats held. Being able to hold a feast flooded with light even at night, after the sun went down, was a very easy way to demonstrate how much power you had.

Maihama was the leading territory in Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Since this was about its next leader, the number of invited guests was significant. All the neighboring lords and their families were present without exception, and even nobles from distant territories had sent proxies. Between them, their guards, and the servers from Maihama, the hall teemed with at least three hundred People of the Earth.

As Iselus accepted greetings, Isaac watched him from a distance, wineglass in hand, feeling impressed. He admitted that the kid was sharp, but still, he was eight. As far as Isaac’s common sense was concerned, that really was young.

“Yes, that’s right,” Calasin replied, from where he stood beside him. “Besides, the coming era will be a hard one; he may have a rough time of it.”

“‘Coming’? Is that something to do with whatever the lot in Minami is planning?” Isaac responded, without looking at him.

It was a royal pain, but during this presentation event, Isaac and Calasin were being treated as the senior envoy and vice envoy from the Round Table Council. Isaac was bad with formal roles like that, and he’d wanted to make a break for it, but they’d told him the Round Table Council was currently short-handed, so there was no help for it.

He’d thought he’d leave the negotiating to Calasin and get himself good and drunk, but aristocrats’ parties didn’t suit him. He’d have appreciated cold liquor with fried rockfish to snack on a whole lot more.

Since he was a guard, Isaac had no intention of skipping out, but he couldn’t help but remember the sizzling hot delicacy.

“Hmm. That’s unusually perceptive of you. Was that animal instinct?”

Calasin teased Isaac, paying no attention to his feelings. “Watch it,” Isaac said, but although his mouth was set in a cross line, his mood had improved a little.

“I’m kidding. Look, you’ll scare your popularity away if you keep making that face. Smile, smile. I’ll have them send you some fried rockfish later.”

“Huhn.”

He grunted, but Calasin seemed to see through that, too. No matter what he actually said, the guy was considerate.

“Minami’s teamed up with the Holy Empire of Westlande. If Westlande seriously tries to get Eastal under its control, we probably won’t be able to avoid a war.”

“What the old guy was talking about, huh?” Isaac muttered.

“Oh, was he?”

“Yeah. He explained it to me a little.”

All the nobles seemed to know about the discord between Eastal and Westlande and the current confusion already. That atmosphere had been reported to the Round Table Council’s top brass.

However, Isaac had felt it only since arriving in Maihama. Apparently, people didn’t think problems were “theirs” unless they had a direct connection to them. Tragedies that happen to people I haven’t met are somebody else’s problem, Isaac thought it was. That was only natural.

“Heh-heh. Well, where people gather, trouble ensues. The more there are, the more there is. We Adventurers are involved, and the situation’s complicated.”

“You sure know a lot about it.”

“Whoa! What do you think I am, Isaac the Young? I’m a merchant, a merchant. To merchants, information is life, you know? What about you?”

“It feels like something’s buzzing around.”

As Isaac answered, he fiddled with his elaborate ear ornament. The People of the Earth—even the men—often wore accessories like this in order to show off their rank or power. However, in Isaac’s opinion, it seemed like something host club workers would wear, and it made him feel fidgety.

“It’s because we don’t understand nobles. I wonder if this sort of thing is normal. Do use it, all right?”

“If it doesn’t get in the way, yeah, sure.”

His perfunctory reply to Calasin was interrupted by cheers.

Technically, Iselus was the center of today’s gathering. However, an individual’s majesty and charm could disregard the event’s intended focus. The great doors were opened, and a delicate girl with silver hair gracefully advanced across the floor, followed by an escort of guards in Round Table Council uniforms that matched Isaac’s.

At that, Isaac began to make his way back toward Iselus.

“It’s Princess Raynesia.”

“She’s as lovely as always.”

“I heard she’d been posted away from home for an extended period, in order to act as an intercessor with the Adventurers of Akiba.”

“She apparently returned to the castle by griffin this morning.”

“By griffin?!”

Even if the voices were speaking in hushed whispers, that many of them together created a significant amount of background noise. Raynesia’s head was bowed slightly, and she wore a modest smile; true to her reputation, she seemed to be overwhelmingly popular among the People of the Earth as the Rose Garden Princess.

To Isaac, who saw Raynesia’s popularity in Akiba as well, nothing about the response felt strange. On the contrary, he smirked at Riezé’s previous assessment of his remark: “She sure is elegant.” “Regardless, I hear she possesses resourcefulness equal to that of a prime minster who controls a territory.”

“I fear I am late, Grandfather.”

“Welcome home, Sister.”

“I’m sorry to have arrived late for your birthday. Do forgive me, Iselus.”

“Well, you are working in Akiba, after all!”

Isaac pushed his way through the crowd, arriving at what seemed to be the best moment: Raynesia was greeting Sergiad and Iselus. As Raynesia bent down, smiling at her brother in the heart of the hall’s warm radiance, her beauty really was the sort that made you long to preserve it in a picture.

Well, there’s no need to actually talk to them, Isaac thought. He took a couple steps back, taking up a position where he could watch the whole Cowen family at once. He thought he’d keep an eye on their quality time from there, but Iselus’s next words made his expression freeze up.

“Sister, I’ve made friends with an Adventurer, just like you.”

“…Iselus? You mustn’t think it’s so easy to befriend Adventurers. Friends are something you earn after overcoming difficulties with tremendous courage.”

“And you, Sister?”

“Yes, of course, I’ve made it through that trial.”

“Amazing!”

That ain’t amazing.

Friends are just something you sorta end up with.

When he shot a weary glance at Riezé across the room, she looked bewildered, and also as if she felt powerless to stop Raynesia even if she’d wanted to. She lowered the arm she’d half raised. She must have given up.

He didn’t know the details, but he’d heard she was Raynesia’s guard and supporter. The female Adventurers of Akiba had based themselves in Water Maple Manor during the murderer incident and had resolved the matter by working together; that fact had been reported to the Round Table Council. Since it had been a raid, Isaac had seen the records as well, and this girl, Riezé, was the one who had taken command during the operation.

“Besides, menaces and monsters and bespectacled ones lurk among the Adventurers.”

“Menaces…?”

“Yes. Beware those who wear glasses. Nothing good ever comes of defying them. Or rather, in the unlikely event that you find an opportunity to defy them, it is a trap.”

The conversation seemed to be heading further off the rails.

In her attempt to persuade Iselus, Princess Raynesia had crouched down all the way. Her graceful eyebrows were drawn together, and she was speaking in worried tones. To the nobles who surrounded them at a distance and couldn’t hear what they were talking about, she looked like a kind, intelligent princess dispensing advice to her little brother, who was about to shoulder the important position of lord, but what she was actually telling him was a pack of lies.

Or, wait, maybe not.

Isaac changed his mind. She was probably talking about Krusty (the four-eyed elite) and Shiroe (Machiavelli-with-Glasses). In that case, the bits about how “nothing good came of defying them” and “traps” probably weren’t lies. Apparently, when the People of the Earth spoke with one another about Akiba’s Adventurers, descriptions got twisted. If this was how things were, there was no telling what they thought of him.

He didn’t care about Krusty, but if he let her keep talking, he thought it might stir up trouble. He started to say something to her, but he was just a little too late.

“It’s all right. Isaac the Young doesn’t wear glasses.”

“I’m so sorry I’m not a four-eyes.”

Iselus’s loud declaration rang out, and Isaac ended up delivering a morose comeback. Nothing Iselus said about him could really bother him, but due to his position, he couldn’t move away. After injecting his flippant comment into the siblings’ conversation, he looked around.

He wasn’t used to the phantom noise that echoed right by his ear, so the audio was imprecise and slipshod. There were so many guests in this hall that it could detect things only vaguely.

“Huh? Oh. Eh-heh-heh. That wasn’t what I meant at all, Master Isaac. How are you faring this evening?”

“I’m ‘faring’ fantastic, and hey. Hey, you. I’m gonna tell Krusty on you.”

“…He isn’t there.”

What’s with this princess? …Huh. So she can make that face, too.

Isaac didn’t know anything about how aristocrats were born, how they were raised, or how they lived. He had the fuzzy idea that, since they were rich, it was likely they’d been strictly trained since they were tiny. They were probably completely tied down by duty and restrictions and things like that. Bizarre stuff. He’d never want to live that way. Those were his only thoughts on the subject.

All he’d thought about Raynesia was that she was an important guest of the Round Table Council and a major figure among the People of the Earth. In terms of the real world, she’d be a rich idol singer or something like that, and the conditioning that she was a game NPC was hard to shake.

However, he thought the sulky face she’d pulled a second ago was far better suited to someone her age than the tranquil, polished smile.

Apparently, that idiot Krusty wasn’t seeing what was right in front of him.

The thought was highly gratifying.

“Oh, Sister! This is yuzu citrus juice. It looks delicious. Isaac the Young, this is yours.”

“Uh, hey. Iselus. Don’t skip around like that.”

“But I’m happy.”

When your mind’s made up, your body responds to that, huh?

Feeling oddly calm, Isaac whisked Iselus off his feet, then set him down again nearby. His silver hair was just like his sister’s. It was as fine as silk thread, and when Isaac swiped at it affectionately, it slipped between his fingers smoothly.

“Guys should act more dignified. Besides, you’re about to become a head honcho.”

“A head honcho?”

“A lord— Ain’t that right, you over there? You too, and you.”

Isaac raised a thick, sinewy finger. To the People of the Earth, the finger seemed to be drawing an unfamiliar magic circle in the air, but it was actually the gesture Isaac used to materialize the Black Sword of Pain from his item menu. When the big red-headed man in the Round Table Council uniform summoned an object from another dimension, and that object turned out to be a large, jet-black, ominous sword, the hall grew noisy.

The uproar was funny, and Isaac smiled savagely into the tense, pale faces of the maids and nobles he’d pointed at.

“Don’t you think that’s a little too rowdy, people?”

The Surprise Attack Alert Earring that Calasin had made him take had rung loudly.

“Assassinations are supposed to be sneakier than that.”

The noise sounded like the roar of a fierce wild beast, threatening its enemies.

6

“Hah, uh, um… Has there been some sort of mistake?”

The Person of the Earth noble’s words were resolute and defiant, but Isaac flat-out ignored them. He glared at a frightened maid who had fallen down, and then he clanked the great sword he held over his shoulder.

“The idea of bringing out a huge, sinister sword at a festive occasion like this one!!”

Calasin went forward, both hands raised, to placate the bravely yelling noble. The young man’s expression was mild and soothing, but there wasn’t a shred of mercy in his words: “You’ve been outed, so no, I don’t think there’s been a mistake.”

“That’s a RoderLab-made accessory. Its effect is ‘surprise attack alert.’ It uses magic to give alerts about ambushes, stealthy approaches, poison attacks, instant death attacks, and hostility within a twenty-five meter radius. It may not look like it, but it’s a semi-fantasy class item. It uses magic materials from the One-Eyed Dragon.”

“You’re pretty handy there, Calasin.”

“Thanks for your business.”

Upon hearing the two men’s effervescent conversation, everyone around them took two steps back en masse.

This was the leader of Maihama’s ball, and the guests had gathered from all over. Some of them were probably acquainted with one another, of course, but most of them were special envoys from other territories or ladies-in-waiting or guards, and they didn’t know many others well.

Isaac’s words had hinted that there might be someone suspicious here. No, he’d practically said, in much clearer terms, that the envoy in front of him was an assassin.

As a result, people exchanged uncertain glances with the guests around them, putting distance between themselves and the others with the timidity of small animals.

With a light sound as if someone were beating a futon, Isaac turned to the maid he’d glared at and the protesting noble and, in one motion, ripped off their clothes. At the transformation, the subdued atmosphere in the hall changed abruptly, and screams went up.

The lithe black outfits were reminiscent of ninja garb, and they were clearly intended for combat. He’d thought it was just the noble in front of him and his guards, but apparently, it wasn’t. In the time it took to blink, a dozen or so assassins had appeared. From the looks of the elderly noblewoman who was backing away, petrified, she hadn’t ever dreamed that the lady-in-waiting she’d employed was a spy.

“Scatter!”

Without even glancing at one another, the infiltrators evaded the sword aura Isaac unleashed, dodging to either side.

Frankly, at that point, Isaac’s opinion of them went up. He’d been thinking about beating them within an inch of their lives; he hadn’t had the slightest suspicion that they might manage to dodge. They were People of the Earth as well, but they were probably more skilled than the Maihama knights his group was training.

“Dammit! For the peace of Yamato!”

“What’re you getting all melodramatic for?”

Although, that was only “in comparison with.”

A ninja ran at Isaac with a dagger at the ready, intending to ram him, but Isaac hit him with the flat of the Black Sword of Pain, then sent a hard, leather-shod kick into the side of another one who was trying to circle around him.

“Damn you, Adventurer!”

“Yeah, and?” he snapped at the groaning assassin. So what if I’m an Adventurer? There wasn’t anything Isaac could do about it, no matter what the guy said, and it didn’t bother him one bit.

However, as far as the assassin was concerned, it had probably been a curse. Eyes bloodshot, the man shrieked a few words in a piercing voice, then took a spherical item out of his shirt and threw it at his own feet. There was a metallic sound, and it began to spew out smoke of a disturbing color.

This time, an uproar as if someone had poked a hornets’ nest welled up in the presentation hall.

“Hey, nobody breathe that! Get back! Open the windows, and— Calasin! Detox!”

As he issued the warning, a new assassin who’d come out of nowhere growled and attempted to run past Isaac, seizing his chance. The man looked as if axes would suit him, but Isaac sent him flying with a fist, then scooped up Iselus, the intended target, as if he were a cat. If he kept scampering around, he’d be insanely hard to protect.

“Isaac the Young!”

“I’ll give you a shoulder ride, Isel!”

He was actually carrying him over his shoulder like a sack of rice, but Iselus seemed to have nodded without hesitation.

“Hand over the boy, and we’ll spare your life.”

“What’s the condescension for? Huhn?!”

“This is basilisk petrifying poison. An accumulation will numb, paralyze, then turn even a high-level Adventurer to stone,” the man boasted in a flat, toad-like voice, smiling at Isaac with a viscous gaze. It was a despicable, cloudy expression. “There are any number of ways to combat Adventurers.”

Isaac detested his tone.

“Leza!”

“Leave it to me!”

No sooner had he shouted than the elites of the Knights of the Black Sword, who had to have been stationed in an anteroom, rushed in. They scattered green light around, neutralizing the smoke and poison with magic, then began to guard the People of the Earth in the hall, who were screaming in terror.

It was true that cumulative poisons would affect even high-level opponents. Poisons had levels as well, and while low-ranking versions wouldn’t affect high-ranking opponents, cumulative types kept raising your “Poisoned” level by overwriting it. However, that was true only if you didn’t get detoxed partway through. Cumulative poisons were initially slow to act anyway, and there was no Knight of the Black Sword who would mess up a detox.

Confused fighting had broken out everywhere. To the People of the Earth, the assassins seemed to have significant combat skills. That earlier poison and their special items hinted at the presence of a specialized organization and training. However, the assassins seemed so powerful to the natives simply because they didn’t know otherwise. Levels over 90 and Adventurer equipment gave the Knights of the Black Sword capabilities that were just plain unfair.

Of course, that didn’t mean that developments were one-sided. This hall was filled with Eastal nobles and their families, which meant the Knights of the Black Sword were protecting those who weren’t nobles as well: the ladies-in-waiting, the knights, the merchants, all of them.

With a clang, a guild member’s sword struck an assassin’s shuriken out of the air.

Behind the vanguard, who wore dauntless smiles, Healers radiated detox auras. They weren’t able to exercise their full power, either. This wasn’t a dungeon, and if they used wide-range destruction spells or enormous summoning spells here, they’d cause massive secondary damage.

Still, even fighting defensively, their skills were overwhelming.

“This is going nowhere. Kill the boy!”

The assassins must have understood the difference in combat power as well. The group’s leader and a band of five individuals who seemed particularly skilled fell into formation, hiding one another, then rushed swiftly toward Isaac.

This wasn’t a normal formation in which they covered one another’s positions.

It was an offensive formation—or, more accurately, a formation geared toward surprise attacks—in which each member hid in the blind spots created by the others’ figures. A wishy-washy attack wouldn’t bother Isaac’s Armor of Divine Flame one bit, but Iselus, whom he’d flung over his shoulder, was different. In particular, if they used poison darts, nothing would be more of a pain. He could swear he wouldn’t let him die, but the day a stray arrow hit Iselus, there was no telling what kind of harassment he’d get from the maids.

With a ferocious smile, Isaac turned around, unleashed Merciless Strike as a parting gift, then set off running with Random Step.

“Iselus, don’t breathe that stuff. Just hang out up there a bit longer.”

“I can’t, Isaac the Young!”

As Isaac had expected, the pseudoninjas chased after him. Well, no, they were probably really after Iselus, on his shoulder. There were five of them. His earring was vibrating slightly, alerting him to hostility. There seemed to be several more of them lurking outside the hall as well.

Isaac had seen that coming. In the first place, he and the others had realized early on that spies were watching them. Shiroe had also warned them that the spies might be planning some sort of attack.

They probably could have caught a few of them. However, they hadn’t thought they’d be able to shut down their plan or see the whole of it that way. The Knights of the Black Sword was a large-scale guild specially designed for combat: Intrigue and urban espionage were outside their field of expertise.

For that reason, they’d decided to let them attack and round up the whole group at once. He didn’t think that had been a mistake. Every member of the ruling family had a guard covering them.

Isaac swung his right hand in a familiar gesture. He concentrated, sending the heat in his body flowing into his wrist. When he stuck his elbow out and accelerated it, it became Aura Saber. With a shock wave, the attack he’d activated carved a slash into one of the windows of the light-filled hall. With no hesitation, Isaac charged at it.

Shattering glass danced like a blizzard on the terrace outside.

Leaping out into the spring night, Isaac launched himself off the surface of the stone wall with a kick, heading for the parapet. For someone with an Adventurer’s physical capabilities, a distance of five or ten meters was nothing to worry about.

Castle Cinderella was a European castle with a medieval, or rather fantasy, silhouette. The main building and annexes, the parapet, ornamental corridors, and several towers with cone-shaped roofs that clustered around the central tower were distributed with complexity, nestling close to one another.

Today, because of the presentation, the castle town was in a festive mood. Unusually for a People of the Earth town, even now—after sundown—the broad avenue below him was crowded with shining orange lights.

With a noise that reverberated in his gut, flowers of light decorated the sky.

They were celebratory fireworks. With their light at his back, Isaac kicked the indigo roof and ran.

“Isaac the Young—”

“No talking, Iselus. You’ll bite your tongue.”

True, in order to break out of the hall, he’d had to pass through that suspicious smokescreen. Onslaught—the wind from his sword, which he’d unleashed in the darkness—should have dispersed some of the smoke in the hall, though. He’d leapt out onto the roof in order to avoid the poison’s effects.

“I mean, they said poison…”

“I’m fine. It tingles a little, that’s all.”

“But, Isaac the Young, you’re…”

“Guys shouldn’t think in circles like that.”

Even though he was in the middle of a fight, the feelings that filled him were strangely tranquil.

“Today is my debut. It’s the day I became an adult, so even I… No, I have to fight.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I mean, Isaac the Young, you’re…”

Well, that’s true, Isaac thought.

You’re an Adventurer. Was that how he was going to end that? Or was it, You’re going to disappear?

What a sharp kid. He was appallingly bright.

The windows of the presentation ceremony hall were being flung open or broken, one after another. The Knights of the Black Sword were probably letting the smoke out and beginning relief activities.

Up on his shoulder, Iselus had stiffened up and made himself as small as he could, so as not to get in the way. He’s a good candidate for lord, Isaac thought. The boy was desperately reining in his fear so that he wouldn’t get in Isaac’s way when he fought. He was planning to fight, too. Why? Was it aristocratic pride, or overconfidence?

No. It was because he’d said they were friends.

Because he’d gone and publically declared that he was friends with an Adventurer.

Even little kids cared about posturing like that. Because he was a guy. Not bad. Interesting, too. Isaac had been planning to think about it after he made the decision, but that wasn’t it. He’d already made the decision, so there was no need to think about it. Isaac’s country was wherever his friends were.

“En garde!”

“What’s that ‘en garde’ crap about, you damn loser?!”

A throwing knife whizzed toward him, and a Person of the Earth in a ninja outfit followed it—he’d knocked the guy flying. Since Isaac hadn’t been able to take a good stance in midair, the man spun around upon landing; he seemed to have escaped most of the damage. Almost immediately, he began pursuing Isaac anew.

A phantom crackling sound warned him of a new threat.

There were probably about ten of them. Pushing back the tail of his Round Table uniform, Isaac touched down in a courtyard.

When he looked up, Calasin was leaning out of a window on the spiral staircase, waving wildly and yelling. The distance between them was too great for him to make out the words. What is that guy, an idiot? Isaac thought. Just hit me with a telechat. Still, he could tell what he was trying to say from his gestures and expression. They’d probably secured the hall.

From what he could see, he’d managed to draw the attackers’ best people here with him.

Ordinarily, this place might have been used for garden parties: Neatly pruned trees surrounded a three-dimensional, terraced garden. A lawn covered its center, and Isaac lowered Iselus from his shoulder to the grass. At that, although there was no telling what had gotten him so psyched up, an excited assassin charged at them, brandishing a sword.

A glare from Isaac was enough to make him falter; as he took the last step, he was moving a little uncertainly, and Iselus caught the sword with the dagger he wore at his waist. The dagger rang cleanly, protecting the boy. It was an Akiba-made piece, and there wasn’t a single chip in the blade.

Isaac was impressed that he’d caught the strike, even though there was bound to be a great level difference. Even if the equipment was good, that was really something.

However, weight was an element that was completely different from technique and fighting spirit.

Unable to completely absorb the impact, Iselus fell, rolling over and over on the grass. Isaac had known that was coming, so he caught him by the collar and casually set him back on his feet. He’d let him do it because he’d been where he could see him, and as it turned out, Iselus really did have a feel for this. Today was his official debut. He wouldn’t be satisfied unless he got to swing his sword around a bit. After all, Iselus had taken his first step into the world of men.

“He’s tough!”

“No, the smoke bomb has to have weakened him! Use the Hakko formation!”

“He can’t move anymore. Circle him several fighters deep and finish him off!”

The attackers surrounded them, swords at the ready. The lawn was wide, with no obstacles on it, and Isaac and Iselus just stood in the middle of it, illuminated by the thundering fireworks. Viewed logically, the attackers who’d surrounded them had an overwhelming advantage. Their tactical decision had been the right one. If Isaac had been level 50 or so, like they were, he probably would have been done for.

However, Isaac had a retort:

“You guys must be idiots.”

These guys really are genuine morons.

The way they thought numbers like theirs would be enough to break “Black Sword” Isaac was truly hopeless.

Only idiots didn’t know what it was they were taking part in.

Only idiots purposefully grew fox ears.

Was that why they had no choice but to get their hands dirty with a job like this?

The Knights of the Black Sword were a group of morons. They were dumb, all of them. Watching them running around and around that grassy hill with the People of the Earth, he’d sometimes thought, What’re you guys, a pig farm? Since they were turning in and rising early, they’d started eating and drinking twice as much, and the way they howled for “Fried rockfish, fried rockfish” was dumb, too. When he’d seen them putting together a plan to all chip in money and buy princess figures as a group, he’d wondered whether they’d soared past “dumb” and achieved “crazy.”

It was weird they thought “half killing” somebody meant knocking their HP down to the halfway mark, and when they’d called recovering half of that damage “half healing,” it had made his head hurt. Doing that would leave 25 percent of the damage unhealed. They were completely hopeless idiots.

Even then, though, they were way better than these pathetic attackers. Who’d ordered a thing like this?

“Black Sword of Pain.”

“Wh-what are these chains?!”

Isaac had swung his dark, steel-colored sword sideways in a horizontal slash, and with a creaking noise, translucent chains had flown out. The chains scattered in all directions, writhing, and burrowed into the ground. Using the ground itself as an anchor, they wound around the attackers, trapping them.

Anchor Howl was a basic Guardian special skill, used to concentrate aggro and hold the enemy in place, and Isaac’s black sword reinforced it.

“They’re your aggro. I’m limiting your freedom.”

Eyes glittering, Isaac threatened the fox-eared attackers.

From the information Calasin had given him, he knew who they really were: intelligence operatives from the Holy Empire of Westlande. Foxtails were a small, new race, and they didn’t have much power in Westlande. Frankly, they were treated like slaves. That was why they’d been used as what amounted to suicide bombers on a one-way mission like this one.

These guys probably have their own stories and issues, but…

Isaac found this intensely irritating.

“…that doesn’t mean you can swing a sword at a kid and act like you’ve accomplished something!”

“Isaac the Young, don’t!”

He didn’t use a sword technique. He swung the Black Sword of Pain all the way through, with all his might. He wasn’t swinging it like a sword, either. He swung it like a baseball bat, sweeping all the attackers away with the flat of the blade.

Isaac had enough power to do that. He had no idea whether it was the right move. That was something for Shiroe and Krusty to think about. Isaac wouldn’t do anything agonizing. He would only walk in directions that made him feel better. He’d decided that a long time ago.

“Hmph!”

For that reason, he just snorted at Iselus, who looked worried.

The attackers had all fallen to the ground, unconscious.

If he was just beating them back, fine, but Isaac didn’t intend to take their lives. That was what their aggro and luring them out here had been for. Isaac was a Guardian, and he’d only fought as Guardians naturally fought: by taking the enemy’s attacks, keeping them pinned down, and protecting his companions.

The cleanup work was probably a job for the People of the Earth. He wanted nothing to do with quarrels among aristocrats. If you thought of it as fighting over a spot to do business, it sort of made sense, but Isaac’s brain wasn’t suited to tracking down criminals.

“Oh, good.”

“No, it ain’t good.”

Iselus was smiling brightly, and as he responded, Isaac’s mouth twisted crossly. Iselus beamed at him. Fireworks shot up into the sky, one after another.

The kid’s just genuinely happy that I didn’t get hurt, Isaac thought.

He might not have realized that he was at the center of the uproar or that they’d been after his life. Well, no, there was no way he wouldn’t have noticed that: They’d been yelling stuff about “getting the kid.” In that case, he was pretty tough.

At any rate, the assassins who’d attacked Maihama had been driven off. If they questioned the ones they’d captured, future developments would probably be a bit better.

“Hey, Iselus.”

“Yes, Isaac the Young?”

“Back where I’m from, you’re an adult when you hit eighteen.”

Official adulthood started at twenty, but whatever. Isaac had been about that old when he’d started working.

There was another enormous explosion. Sparks sifted down. Golden flowers bloomed in the night sky, then, glittering, rained down over the earth.

“Is that so? I suppose I still have a long way to go, then.”

With the night sky and its bursting, sparkling fireworks behind them, Isaac stuck his fingers into the dejected Iselus’s hair and shook his head roughly.

“Well, I’ll hang out with you until then.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll be your friend.”

Iselus didn’t understand what he’d just been told. Then it sank in; his head snapped up, and he broke into a brilliant smile. The kid was easy to read.

Still, this had been one crazy presentation event. He could see people hurrying in and out of the venue, and he spotted the Glass Greaves as well. They were probably securing the assassins.

That’s the problem with the upper class, Isaac thought, shrugging. Iselus pulled at his hand.

“We need to go back to my grandfather, Isaac the Young.”

“Yeah, don’t rush me. The place is probably trashed; let’s wait till they’re done cleaning up.”

“Are you planning to play hooky?”

“No. I just don’t want to cause trouble for the maids.”

“But there are lots of maids who want to take care of you, Isaac the Young.”

“Like heck there are.”

“What? There’s even a shift for when you take naps!”

As Isaac joked around with little Iselus, an alarm that was shriller and sharper than anything else he’d heard that night reached his ears.

Instantly, Isaac’s tension returned. He listened hard.

Was there something lurking there, hiding in the sound of the fireworks? Isaac looked around the area. All he saw were flecks of golden light, shining like flames. Guided by a premonition he couldn’t put into words, Isaac looked up.

He watched, lips drawn and tense, as the sparks poured down over Maihama.

Countless points of light were approaching, scattering sparks, as if the Milky Way were overflowing. So many status windows were popping up that the noise was almost unbroken. The shining points were monsters.

Thousands upon thousands of flying menaces had invaded Maihama and Yamato.