1

All across Yamato, gleaming scales poured down through the darkness.

Into the spring night, the shining stream that had seemingly descended from the red moon released its venomous flow. Those who breathed in the dust felt only a little dizzy, but the People of the Earth who were attacked by the moths lost consciousness and didn’t wake again.

More than anything, the enormous creatures that glided down from the sky bred terror.

Theldesia was a world dominated by monsters; even if the People of the Earth couldn’t defeat grotesque creatures, they were at least used to seeing them. However, they didn’t usually see giant insects in their everyday lives. In particular, the people in the urban areas were so afraid of these enemies—which attacked from the sky, ignoring the presence of the defensive walls—that they panicked.

What prevented the situation from deteriorating into a complete collapse was the fact that the moth monsters weren’t strong enough to break stone structures and force their way in.

After gathering in temples, shrines, and assembly spots to pass an uneasy night, the people discovered several of their comrades, as still as if they’d been frozen.

Their condition was diagnosed as a deep sleep, but it was obvious to everyone that they weren’t simply sleeping.

The window information revealed an intermittent decrease in MP. Attacks from the shining moths or excessive exposure to their scales resulted in lowered MP. In serious cases, the symptoms settled in, becoming an ongoing, sporadic MP decrease. This appeared to be MP-based physical deterioration. When an individual lost all their MP, they were unable to stay conscious. These comas had clearly been caused by such a loss, and what’s more, the leaks were fast and continuous enough that standard recovery wasn’t possible.

One day had passed since the night the moth monsters, known as Eternal Moths, had appeared and attacked.

“They’re asleep…”

“As we expected, they’re People of the Earth.”

Minori’s group, led by Nyanta, had left Akiba and were traveling northeast. It was a volunteer initiative to find People of the Earth who had lost consciousness in field zones and protect them.

Shiroe and the other executives who represented their guilds had had a very hard time leaving the guild center. Even Minori and the others hadn’t felt as if they could just saunter out and go hunting. In which case, they’d still wanted to help, and this volunteer activity had been the result.

It was likely they were able to do this because no damage had been confirmed among the Adventurers. That was why even Minori’s group could perform relief work.

Immediately to the east of Akiba, there was a ruin called the Metropol Circular Overpass. The People of the Earth called it a defensive wall, but Shiroe thought it might be the Metropolitan Expressway’s Mukoujima Route. In other words, it was the ruin of the highway that once ran through the heart of the city.

There were many ruins like this one, and they were well-preserved. Back when Elder Tales had been a game, the region around Akiba—in other words, the Kanto area—had been a place where players gathered. If you were going to distribute a variety of monsters across a limited area, naturally you needed some sort of borderline or divider. The elevated roadway had been just the thing.

All the elevated roads around Akiba were called “the Metropol Circular Overpass,” and the Mukoujima Route stretch was simply known as “the East-Side.” Many Hill Giants had lived in the vicinity, but due to the plague incident and a large-scale military drill by the Knights of the Black Sword, their population had been thinned out, and the area was now safe.

Immediately after the Catastrophe, this ruined elevated roadway had been mossy and decrepit. Rusted-out hunks of metal had sat here and there, and there had been many places where iron poles had fallen down and you could only get through on foot.

However, in the time since the Catastrophe, Honesty and the other combat guilds had cooperated with Shopping District 8 to improve the situation considerably. This was because it was expected to join river transport on the Kanda River as an artery for commodities.

At present, the rubble had been cleared away, and it had been improved to the point where even a large horse cart could travel along it without trouble. It was far more pleasant than the low-lying roads, which had many bumps and dips and were forced to weave between lots of ruined buildings, and it had acquired particularly great support from the People of the Earth who traded mainly with the Northeast. It had gotten to the point where People of the Earth merchants told one another that, once you crossed the river at Moriya, you’d practically arrived in Akiba.

Minori and the others were currently exploring this Metropol Circular Overpass, traveling north from Akiba. In the past half day, they’d found three groups of victims.

“I wonder where they’re from,” Touya asked.

“I believe they’re from the North,” Nyanta responded, looking thoughtful.

A man was slumped limply in the driver’s seat, leaning forward; Minori checked him but found no external wounds. He’d only lost his MP and fallen asleep.

“The horses must have run off.”

“Yes, just like ours did.”

“Times like this make you think that’s convenient, huh?”

Serara and Isuzu, who had been investigating the bed of the cart, had that exchange as they came back. Minori was looking up, watching an enormous circling bird that called once, then flew away to the south. It was a Giant Owl; it had probably been carrying an Adventurer scout from Akiba. Shiroe had told Minori they were excellent flying mounts, but because they couldn’t keep it up for all that long, they weren’t sent very far from their home base.

This area, a dozen or so kilometers northeast of Akiba, had many rivers. There were fewer ruined buildings, and the percentage of land covered by forests and stands of trees grew. If this area were cultivated, it would apparently be the perfect place for a settlement. In fact, there were several pioneer villages in the area, but she’d heard that other teams had already been sent out to help them evacuate.

“We’ll have to send them back.”

“Yeah.”

Minori and Touya promptly laid the sleeping People of the Earth down inside the cart. They had to put them in the gaps between cargo, but this partially stabilized them, so it was probably all for the best. Rather than carry three People of the Earth directly, it would be faster to just push the cart with them in it. The summoning pipe they’d borrowed was able to call strong, high-performance military horses, and one of them would be enough for a cart this size.

“I wonder what they’re gonna do about Shibuya.”

“Yeah…”

“I hear Old Li Gan said there’s some kind of ruin there.”

“Under the circumstances, I don’t think this is the time for that,” Minori told her brother.

Now isn’t the time described the current situation in a nutshell. Actually, now that she thought about it, she got the feeling that that had been the case ever since the Catastrophe. All sorts of things kept happening all the time, and they were constantly hard-pressed to deal with them.

Little by little, they’d grown accustomed to that, but, of course, that didn’t mean that when trouble broke out, they immediately knew how to handle it. To be accurate, it was more that they’d simply gotten used to the fact that “things happened.”

Here, something was always happening—crazy things. So much had transpired in Forest Ragranda, and in the village of Choushi, and then in the town of Saphir, too. Even now, they were vague on what should be done, but there was no point in running away and nowhere to run to, and Minori had learned that they had to face things squarely.

“The older guys have it rough, too.”

Touya sighed as he spoke; he had his arms folded behind his head.

She thought that was entirely accurate.

Adults have it rough was something Touya and Minori had stopped thinking a long time ago. The conclusion they’d come to was that there weren’t really any “adults” in this world. Minori had finally realized there hadn’t been any in their old world, either.

To Minori, adults were people who’d reached maturity and were affiliated with an organization best referred to as “the Adult Union.” She’d christened it herself, and even she thought it was an insubstantial-sounding name. In any case, the Adult Union was a vague organization to which mature grown-ups invariably belonged, and within that organization, difficult decisions were made and debates carried out. These mature individuals acted on orders from the Adult Union. Since that union was an extremely large-scale organization (after all, every adult belonged to it!), all affiliated members were swiftly contacted with the appropriate way to handle difficult problems. That was why adults were able to assume developed attitudes.

The Adult Union was something like a company, or society, or insurance, or accounts, or municipalities, or the government—in any case, something along those lines. Minori thought, vaguely, that it was probably some sort of mixture of these.

However, there was nothing like that here in Theldesia, or the town of Akiba. The Round Table Council was probably something like an Adult Union, but it was Shiroe who was there, not “somebody from somewhere.” In other words, that meant there was no “clever, responsible, yet vague and rather confusing somebody-from-somewhere” who would solve Shiroe’s problems for him. Shiroe couldn’t be a member of the Adult Union: He was responsible for solving other people’s problems.

To put it another way, Shiroe wasn’t benefiting from the services of the Adult Union, so he wasn’t an adult. There wasn’t one single adult in this world.

In the same way, Minori and Touya’s parents hadn’t been adults.

After Touya’s accident, when they learned that it wouldn’t be possible to heal him completely, their parents had been heartbroken, and they’d fallen to pieces. They’d tried their best, but they hadn’t succeeded. Their mother had had to change workplaces, and their father had started coming home later. Minori had been a little shocked by that; after all, she’d thought, hazily, that her parents were far more “adult” than she and Touya were. That they had to be “adults.”

But now that she thought about it, that was only natural. Back then, the Adult Union hadn’t helped Minori and Touya’s parents. It hadn’t sent them anything resembling correct orders. Their parents had tried to face the problem all on their own, but it hadn’t gone very well.

Confronted with the disaster that had struck Touya, Minori and her family hadn’t been adult parents and twin children. They’d simply been a family of four people. There was no help for that, and she didn’t think it had been a bad thing. Minori and her family had become a team and searched for a way to get through the problem. Minori had done what she could, and Touya had done the things he was able to do. In retrospect, it had been like the Forest Ragranda training camp.

“I hear that Lord Sergiad collapsed in Maihama as well.”

“He stood at the head of the knights’ brigade and took command. That territory has a wonderful lord.”

A thin girl with a brown braid and an expressive youth with shining blond hair came around the side of the slowly moving cart.

They were Minori’s companions Isuzu and Rundelhaus. “Do you think he’s all right?” Serara—a kind-looking girl with a gentle profile—stuck her head out of the back of the cart as she spoke.

They were all Minori’s precious friends. She had no idea how long it had been since she thought about whether they were adults or children. Just like Minori, Isuzu was a girl named Isuzu, and because Minori knew her well, when she thought about her, there was no need for her to forcibly categorize her as an adult or a child. There were things Isuzu could do, and things she couldn’t do, and things she’d be able to do someday. The members of Minori’s group knew very well what the others could and couldn’t do.

“I think he’s all right. At the very least, they say there won’t be any immediate problems. His MP is gone, and he’s unconscious, that’s all.”

At Minori’s words, her companions nodded.

Minori knew that Shiroe and the others were currently at the guild center, arranging for various kinds of assistance. The listless people of Akiba, the Odysseia Knights in Saphir, the People of the Earth who wouldn’t wake up, their return to the old world… Shiroe and the rest had a lot of things they needed to think about. It certainly wasn’t because Shiroe was an adult; it was because he’d just happened to be sitting in that chair. Minori and Touya’s plea for help probably wasn’t completely unrelated, either.

And so Minori and the others had to help Shiroe, and it was what they wanted to do. Because he was family. When families worked together, it didn’t matter who was an “adult” and who was a “child.”

Minori flexed her biceps slightly and threw out her chest.

She’d thought it over thoroughly, and it had made her feel better. If that was how things were, then there was no problem. It was like acquiring more family members. Like, say, marrying Shiroe…

At that point, her cheeks grew hot, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear them. That wasn’t it; something purer. That sort of thing.

“Sh-shining…w…ings…,” murmured one of the unconscious men.

“Are they dreaming?”

It was Serara who’d spoken. She was watching an unconscious Person of the Earth in the back of the cart. He seemed to be delirious. When dawn had broken, the moths had vanished, but maybe they were still being attacked in their dreams.

“Those moths… I wonder if they’re gonna show up again tonight.”

“I don’t know, but we need to return to Akiba and get ready.”

“Mew’re right. Let’s break off our exploration here and head home.”

At Nyanta’s words, Minori and the others all nodded.

The full shape of the incident wasn’t yet clear to anyone.

2

As Minori had imagined, Shiroe and the other core members of the Round Table Council hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night. It had been the second such night in a row. On the night of Minori’s group’s expedition to the Metropol Circular Overpass, the monsters attacked again.

It was an even bigger shock to the Adventurers than the previous night’s attack.

Akiba spent a noisy night with many messengers racing back and forth, and in the gray predawn light, there was only a slight break before they began moving again. At the guild center, in the hall that was now called the Round Table Room, the same members who’d been there half a day previously were all assembled.

“So they’ve finally struck Adventurers, too?”

“According to eyewitness statements, it appears to be the work of mothlike monsters with shining wings.”

The mysterious flying insectoid monsters that had attacked Yamato two nights ago had used unidentified bad status attacks to trigger comas. The damage wasn’t immediately life-threatening, but it also wasn’t a threat they could overlook.

Two nights previously, the hostile monsters had attacked many People of the Earth. There had been well over a hundred victims, and that was just the ones the Round Table Council was aware of. At that point, they’d assumed that this unknown phenomenon affected only them.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case, though.

The faces of the Round Table Council guild masters who’d gathered in the conference hall were gloomy.

They had nearly limitless physical strength, but even for them, mental stress was different. As he looked around at them, Shiroe suppressed a sigh. Under the circumstances, anxiety was something that should probably be kept hidden.

“So these are moth spirits or somethin’, right?”

“They’re called Eternal Moths. Their level range is wide, from the eighties to around ninety. When this was a game, to the best of my knowledge, no such monsters existed.”

Riezé supplemented Marielle’s question with information that had been reported. All the members had been given reports that Shiroe had copied, but they were a mere two pages thick. They knew far too little. In the end, the sparseness of the reports seemed like a visible representation of the members’ psychological unease.

“It happened just as the moon rose, didn’t it? At six twenty-two PM, to be exact. We believe there will be a third wave of attacks tonight.”

“The first attacks put People of the Earth into comas, and the second affected Adventurers as well.”

“There were more moths, too. Even some of the monsters are asleep and foaming at the mouth.”

Roderick, Akaneya, and Michitaka—the heavyweights that formed the nucleus of the Round Table Council—spoke as if confirming the content of the report. This was shared information, already stated in a report that had been drafted in very little time that morning, but it was important to actually say it aloud. Staying silent was the worst possible option. On that thought, Shiroe nodded and added his own opinion: “There will probably be even more during the third wave… There’s a possibility their mysterious abilities will keep growing stronger as well.”

“What the heck are those things?” Akaneya complained with a groan.

“Currently, all we can say is that they’re a new type of monster,” Roderick responded in scholarly tones.

Additionally, there was new information:

“According to the Grandale members, they came from above. From the moon.”

That answer had come from Woodstock, who rode a wyvern, a flying mount. Grandale, the midsized guild he led, was a support guild that specialized in transport. Most of its members had tamed mounts, and a fair number of them had rare flying types.

“From the moon up in the sky, y’mean?”

In response to Marielle, Woodstock nodded, his whiskered face set in a grimace. If you went into a coma on the ground, you just fell down, went to sleep, and stayed there. Of course there was a danger that you’d be physically attacked while you were like that, but there was no direct, immediate peril. However, if you lost consciousness while you were on an airborne mount, you’d plunge straight to the ground, headfirst. Since it wasn’t clear how tough Adventurer bodies were or how much defensive power they had, they weren’t sure what the results would be, but it was a crisis that was pressing enough. To Grandale, these monsters were probably more of an urgent, troublesome danger than most Adventurers thought.

“Hey, hold up. What was that stuff you said about a community of Fools on the moon? I thought that was a pretty epic-sounding idea; is it true? And there were monsters called Geniuses, too…”

“Are those Eternal Moths a type of Genius, then? But why are they takin’ everybody’s MP? Are they eatin’ it?”

Shiroe had already reported an outline of Roe2’s letter to the Round Table Council. In fact, this trouble had come up just after he’d made that report. The crisis had been so exquisitely timed that they were practically bound to doubt him.

Even if that’s not right, it may not be far from the truth, Shiroe thought. In her letter, Roe2 had said they were collecting Empathiom. Of course there was no conclusive proof, but when he combined the contents of the letter, the sequence of events up till now, his experience on the moon, and Li Gan’s story, he could imagine something.

These Geniuses probably weren’t ordinary monsters.

From what he could see when he looked through the reports, they were intelligent. They could anticipate the Adventurers’ movements and lay plots. In fact, that was the monsters’ distinguishing feature.

If he believed Roe2, these were beings that were “using” monster bodies. They could probably think of them as creatures that were making use of the shapes and capabilities of Elder Tales monsters but were more problematic.

“Geniuses, huh? I’d heard stories about ’em, but…”

“No, we don’t yet know for sure whether these are the Geniuses themselves or not. It’s strange that such a huge horde should appear so suddenly.”

“They take MP from your physical body, don’t they? Should we call it ‘the soul-stealing disease’?”

Beside Shiroe, who was deep in contemplation, Roderick spoke, tracing letters in the air as he did so. The soul-stealing disease. According to the Spirit Theory, MP was the vehicle of the soul. If that MP was being taken, then yes, you could say the soul had left the body.

If the theory was correct, this attack had unintentionally proven that People of the Earth and Adventurers were the same. Although there had been a day’s difference, both had sustained damage. That meant that both had MP and souls. Shiroe sensed a warped humor in the idea, and he smiled wryly. It wasn’t as though that evidence would resolve the current situation.

“Yes, but some folks are just fine, y’know? Our Henrietta got attacked, but she only got a li’l bit dizzy.”

“Isn’t that due to the level difference?”

“No, we can’t say that. Damage occurred even among high-level Adventurers.”

“So this is about the difference between those who fall asleep and those who don’t, you mean…?”

Besides, if the Spirit Theory and the presence or absence of souls were connected to this incident, that raised new questions. The difference between those who fell asleep after being attacked and those who did not… Shiroe thought there had to be some sort of secret there.

However, as he ignored his doubts, the conference moved on.

“So nobody’s dying, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“If we die, we can resurrect at the Temple. However, it doesn’t work that way with sleep. We don’t know if we can break free of this slumber by dying and resurrecting, either.”

“That’s worrisome.”

In a way, Riezé’s words spoke for everyone present—worrisome was an apt way to put it. It didn’t seem like a catastrophic crisis, but they couldn’t find a way to combat it.

“Where are Calasin and Isaac, and Soujirou of the West Wind?”

“We’re having the first two continue to guard Maihama. Souji’s out scouting.”

“Maihama had it awful, didn’t they?”

“They were holding a social debut, and lots of lords were gathered there, after all.”

“Duke Sergiad, too?”

“How are the other cities doing?”

“Plant Hwyaden seems to be protecting Minami. We’ve received reports that there is no great confusion there. Silver Sword is guarding Susukino. The city’s population is small in any case.”

As Shiroe answered, he visualized the strategy terrain map in his office. Plant Hwyaden’s defense was tight in Minami, the Kansai-area player town. It had more frontline personnel than Akiba did, and it probably wouldn’t fall easily. Susukino had been a fortified city to begin with. With the city’s outstanding defense and its small People of the Earth population, Silver Sword was probably more than capable of routing their enemies.

Shiroe was more concerned about small territories and settlements where only People of the Earth lived than he was about those central cities, but at this point, he wasn’t all that worried. The Eternal Moths seemed predisposed to attack major cities. In East Yamato, the reported attacks seemed to have been concentrated on Akiba, Maihama, Susukino, and Yokohama.

In general terms, monsters had intelligence appropriate to their forms. When this was a game, insectoid monsters that looked like moths had spawned in designated spawning zones and had simply prowled the area, attacking victims indiscriminately. The mere fact that they were attacking big cities made it clear that something about this situation was very unlike Elder Tales.

“What are we going to do about Shibuya?”

Ains, who had been silent for a while, asked about Shibuya as if he’d made up his mind about something.

“Shibuya?” Woodstock asked dubiously, but Ains didn’t even look at him. He faced the center of the round table and kept speaking, as if he were squeezing the words out.

“I hear Li Gan has informed us that the ruined broadcasting station in Shibuya is live. Shouldn’t we hurry to investigate it?”

“Gimme a break; at a time like this? People are getting hurt over here.”

Michitaka was the first one to object. His big, solidly muscled body was trembling, clearly betraying emotion. As Ains looked at him, Ains’s own expression turned sorrowful, almost as if asking for forgiveness. But still he kept speaking, resolutely.

“I know it sounds heartless, but if they’re only sleeping, there is no immediate danger to their lives… Isn’t it our job to attempt to break through this while we still have the manpower to do so?”

“But—!”

“We’ve been driven further into a corner than we think. The rogue guard, the flavor text becoming real, the tensions between East and West, and now this incident, plus the new threat of the Geniuses… I don’t think we have the wherewithal to be altruistic at this point, do you? Isn’t that arrogance? We’re at the end of our rope.”

Shiroe had had a hunch that Ains would say that.

There were victims among the Adventurers. At this point, there were only about a dozen, but there would probably be another Eternal Moth invasion tonight. Shiroe couldn’t muster the optimism to hope that there would be only two days of attacks, after which the trouble would clear up on its own.

He understood Ains’s sense of impending danger. Up until now, the Adventurers’ altruistic spirit had been supported by their outstanding combat abilities and wealth, both of which were based in their immortality.

This crisis shook the foundation of that immortality. If they lost consciousness and became vegetables, neither their immortality nor their combat abilities would have any meaning. Both the People of the Earth and the Adventurers would be nothing more than powerless, perpetually sleeping shells.

The fact that the situation hadn’t developed into a panic yet was probably because not many Adventurers had registered what that sense of impending danger really was. It was likely that there were still a lot of people who felt, on some level, that it wasn’t their problem. Once they caught on, the desire to escape was bound to plant opinions like Ains’s in them.

Fists clenched, Shiroe endured the silence that filled the conference room.

Finding a certain name on his friend list, he lasted through several tense minutes before a cool, bell-like tone notified him of an incoming message.

He’d issued a quest before this meeting, and apparently, his reliable younger friend, who delivered results no matter what was going on, had accomplished it.

“Mr. Shiro, we found it. The Eternal Moths’ nest!”

Shiroe nodded. Soujirou seemed to have sensed this; he reported the results of his scouting expedition in a voice that was tenser than usual.

“Erm… Please don’t be disappointed, all right? It’s in Shibuya. The entire town of Shibuya is a dungeon. According to the zone settings, I mean. The core is the Shibuya broadcasting station ruins. You know: the low-level dungeon. The area’s turned into a raid zone. Its new name is Fortress of the Call. It looks like it’s going to be tough to clear.”

In a way, that’s what I was expecting.

He’d designated Shibuya as the very first area to scout precisely because he’d known.

He was also certain the fight that awaited them would be harder than anything he’d anticipated.

The Geniuses were intelligent monsters. They were bound to have picked up on the situation over here as well. If he were a Genius, how would he attack Akiba? How would he shatter the town’s hopes? The answer was clear.

The Geniuses had created a dungeon in Shibuya. When he murmured that news as an impromptu report, a commotion ran through the Round Table Council. Turning pale, Ains slumped down into his chair.

“A raid? This is a Raid-rank Genius?” Marielle murmured, stunned.

Shiroe nodded.

The enemy had taken the transmission facilities that could communicate with the moon.

3

In the chilly morning air, Shiroe was depressed.

Members of the Round Table Council and the D.D.D. supply division were busily running up and down the broad avenue. They had decided to dispatch a raid unit. The preparations for that, the members they’d selected, and their surroundings were all enveloped in a hurried atmosphere.

Shiroe sat in the shade of a tree, watching everything.

There were no people around him. From time to time, he responded to telechats requesting confirmation of prepared materials, but he was deep in thought.

They’d already finished organizing the capture team. He wasn’t fully satisfied with the formation, but it had been the best he could do.

The unit was composed of the smallest possible number of select members. This was because they hadn’t been able to ignore the voices that called for them to prioritize guarding Akiba and Maihama. As a result, they’d ended up choosing only Adventurers who were close to Shiroe—including all the members of Log Horizon—and only the ones who’d fought the Eternal Moths and proved their resistance to sleep. This meant they’d decided to take Minori’s group, who were midlevel players, and he felt uneasy about it.

Yet, the situation was unstable, and they weren’t able to invest their most elite members.

Even if they decided to prioritize returning home, there was no guarantee that the transmission facilities in the Shibuya ruins would actually prove to be the key. It wasn’t even a question of whether they’d be able to secure them safely. If they did secure them, would they work properly? Even if they were able to use them, would sending a transmission to the moon really lead to a return home? At this point in time, the only answer to all these questions was “maybe.”

On the other hand, if they made protecting the People of the Earth their objective, at present, they couldn’t be certain the Shibuya raid would help them do that. Soujirou and the other West Wind Brigade members had informed them of the emergency, but there was currently no known solution. They hadn’t yet investigated the interior of the former ruins, now a raid zone known as Fortress of the Call: The entrance was sealed, and even Soujirou’s group hadn’t been able to get inside.

Because of that, he couldn’t say their forces were sufficient. Still, that Soujirou, Riezé, and other Adventurers with plenty of raid experience had said they’d participate had been a stroke of good luck.

But all this wasn’t actually the source of Shiroe’s melancholy.

Shiroe had sunk deep inside himself. His thoughts were torn and confused, but if they could have been summed up briefly, that summary would have been that he didn’t feel quite satisfied.

An enemy had appeared. They were headed out to defeat it. Put into words, that was all this was. However, it wasn’t a situation Shiroe had created. Danger had appeared, and they were going to eliminate it, so the initiative lay with the danger. To Shiroe, that in itself felt vaguely off. When he traced the feeling of unfocused dissatisfaction back further, it took him all the way back to the words he’d said to Captain Nyanta.

I think we should go home.

Of course, he hadn’t said those words thoughtlessly. He’d worried and hesitated before choosing them. However, in the end, no matter how far he went, it was only “should”: Shiroe couldn’t say that he wanted to go home, but he also couldn’t say that he didn’t. He’d simply come to the conclusion that, taking all of Yamato’s present circumstances into consideration, it was probably the correct move, something they should do.

It was an answer that the circumstances made nearly automatic, and it held nothing of Shiroe himself. The situation had the initiative, and he’d given the only answer he thought was likely to be correct under the circumstances.

There was a murky feeling inside Shiroe. It wasn’t something unrecognizable; on the contrary: It was an emotion he was very familiar with. There was a situation he couldn’t do anything about, and when he tried to deal with it rationally and logically, the answers appeared on their own.

There weren’t many answers. In most cases, there was only one.

This state was practically routine for Shiroe. His parents had both worked, and when they were away at their jobs, he’d had no choice but to eat meals by himself. If they moved house, he’d had to go with them. There was a certain, specific problem or situation, and in it, there was always only one answer that was meaningful and valid. This was sense so common that there was no need to give it any real thought.

Shiroe’s correctness, common sense, and choices helped the people around him, and there had been many times when they’d headed off trouble before it began. Those choices had made it possible for him to “do well” both at home and in school, but as a result, he’d had to walk for ages over the asphalt late at night. What he was feeling now was the same thing he’d felt back then.

That common sense was terribly suffocating, but he thought, That’s just what answers are like, in the end; I doubt there’s any help for it. It had always been like that before, and it probably always would be.

The true shape of his irritation was his anxiety and hesitation.

He thought he’d said good-bye to those days on that lunar beach, but he was still carrying this pain. Determination alone wouldn’t be enough.

Right now, Shiroe had no other answer.

“Master Shiroe.”

Li Gan, smiling bashfully, had poked his head halfway out and was beckoning to him.

Standing up from his place in the shade, Shiroe went closer, dubiously. At that, the Person of the Earth sage dashed out of the ruins, spread both arms wide, and spun around, showing off his equipment.

“What do you think? Does it look good? Am I fully prepared now, too?”

Li Gan wore an enormous box-shaped knapsack that seemed to be made of metal on his back, and he was smiling. When he reached around behind himself and fiddled with the meters and pipes attached to the box, the pulse of the magic stone grew stronger.

“Well, you know. The history of Miral Lake is nothing to sneeze at, is it?! We have proper equipment for individuals as well, Master Shiroe. This is a barrier generation device, created during the time of the Alv War. I do believe I’ll be able to accompany you, I do indeed. You see?!”

As Li Gan spoke, he seemed to be enjoying himself as much as ever, regardless of the circumstances. As if provoked by his words, a little white steam went up from the magical device, as if it were excited.

“What, you’re coming too, guy?” Naotsugu had been passing by, and as he spoke, he set his large shield down in the square.

“Yes, I am. There seems to be a special seal set on the entrance to Fortress of the Call. Master Shiroe has asked me to break its spell.”

Li Gan scratched his head, seeming a little self-conscious.

Shiroe felt deeply apologetic about this.

This Person of the Earth researcher didn’t have very much HP. He wouldn’t be able to be part of the raid capture unit; Shiroe was planning to have him come with them in a safe position. He thought this dungeon, the broadcasting station ruins, would be relatively safe compared with ordinary raid zones. From what he could gather from the attacks, most of the monsters would probably be Party rank, not full Raid rank. Still, naturally, that didn’t mean there would be no danger.

“This sort of situation is unprecedented in the history of this world. As one who has inherited the name of Miral Lake, I have a duty to see it through to the end.”

That was how Li Gan responded when Shiroe had apologized.

Even though he was beaming, there was strength in his expression, and it told Shiroe that he wasn’t doing this out of a mere sense of obligation. Li Gan had things he wanted to do and learn, too, and he felt it was worth risking his life to do so. To Shiroe, right now, that attitude was dazzling, and it made him a little jealous.

“Well, and in any case…”

Possibly because he was embarrassed, Li Gan scratched his head repeatedly, smiling awkwardly.

“I did admire this sort of thing, just a little. They’re called ‘dungeons,’ aren’t they? And it’s ‘exploring,’ correct? And ‘adventure’! I call myself a Lore Master, and as you’d expect, we scholars have a particular, instinctive desire to see things we haven’t seen before. My research into world-class magic has made progress, you know. I tell you, strange things really do exist. There are moments when research you thought was unrelated suddenly connects, out of the blue. It’s possible the maximum and the minimum in magic may be—”

“I’m in full equipment, too, hon!”

“Well, I’m in full armor, Naotsugu!”

With an unspeakable metallic noise, Marielle and Tetora crashed into Naotsugu from either side. Naotsugu, crushed in the middle, couldn’t shove them away with his full strength, and he turned pale, looking like a guy who’d been in a car accident. Even if Guardians boasted the highest defensive abilities of all twelve classes, if they let their minds wander when they weren’t in the middle of a fight, this sort of thing could happen. Not only that, but both of the others were Clerics, and they weren’t inferior to any of the other classes in terms of equipment or physical strength.

Smirking, Li Gan murmured, “Excellent synchronization. Now, there’s a fine example of teamwork.” All Shiroe could do was smile wryly at the comment.

“What about that’s full armor, huh? You’re wearin’ your best outfit.” “How rude! Idols are always at their most adorable in front of their fans. This isn’t my best outfit; it’s my best effort!” The pair had begun to argue. Caught between them, Naotsugu looked flustered and tried to say something, but it didn’t seem to be going well. If it had been just Tetora, he could have argued fiercely, but even for him, this was a rough battle.

The thought made Shiroe laugh a little.

There were problems for which it was hard to find answers.

“Only time passed in the midst of illusions”: The world probably held questions for which that was the correct answer. However, anxiety burned coldly in Shiroe’s chest. He knew he’d thought it through logically and chosen the right answer, but even so, his feelings were still clouded.

The terror that something precious was being lost washed over his back like waves over a shore. He held his breath, forcing strength into his emotions. If he didn’t do that, it felt as though his fists and knees would start trembling.

It was likely that this raid would change the destinies of many Adventurers and People of the Earth. The idea was right in front of him, not as a premonition, but as a realistic possibility. Under these tense circumstances, Shiroe hadn’t been able to find sufficient options. He hadn’t prepared enough. This wasn’t his field of expertise. He might be wrong. He might not be able to make up for that. The premonition of failure clung to his back, trying to submerge his spirit in cold, pitch-black water. Intentionally suppressing that feeling put a significant strain on him.

“Shiroecchi. It looks like we’re all ready.”

“Okay, Captain.”

Glancing up at Nyanta’s words, Shiroe stretched and looked around the square.

A full raid was assembled there. Twenty-four people, all in expedition equipment.

Shiroe’s friends: Naotsugu, Akatsuki, Nyanta, and Tetora. His guild’s younger members: Minori, Touya, Rundelhaus, and Isuzu.

From the Crescent Moon League: Marielle and Henrietta, Shouryuu and Hien, plus Serara.

From the West Wind Brigade: Soujirou and Nazuna, with Isami the Samurai, Kurinon, and Olive.

From D.D.D., participating at their insistence: Riezé, Richou, Yuzuko, and Koen. Then there was Kushiyatama, a high-level “ranker” Healer with ties to D.D.D.

With the addition of Shiroe and Li Gan, that made twenty-five members. It was a small unit.

In the end, Shiroe hadn’t been able to muster a group that consisted entirely of free hands in the truest sense of the word. His own guild, Log Horizon. The Crescent Moon League and the West Wind Brigade, with whom he had longstanding relationships. D.D.D. (or rather, Riezé, its unit leader), who’d offered to help. That was all there was to this capture unit.

He thought saying he was “bad at relying on others” was a kind way to put it. He couldn’t help but despair, wondering whether his ability to build human relationships might be completely hopeless.

Shiroe had thought he’d foreseen all sorts of things and taken appropriate steps, but it still wasn’t enough. Reality is always merciless, isn’t it? he thought, and his shoulders slumped. Even so, it probably wasn’t all bad. Isaac and Calasin had supported Maihama. Even if it had all been according to some unknown entity’s plan.

However, the monsters wouldn’t wait. Geniuses were too much for Shiroe to handle. He was just an ordinary person. Still, even now, the sun was traveling across the sky, and night, when the Eternal Moths would take flight, was bearing down on them.

“We will watch to see what sort of decision the Adventurers hand down.”

Nodding to Kinjo, who had come out to see them off, he exchanged glances with the Round Table Council guild masters, who had all assembled behind Kinjo. When he spotted Ains, who looked highly concerned, a small, wry smile found its way onto his face. Shiroe didn’t hate the guild master; it was likely that they were trying to reach the same place. The man had thoroughly gotten off on the wrong foot, that was all.

For that very reason, with the idea that even feigned confidence was better than nothing, he raised his voice and announced their departure.

“Our destination is the raid zone Fortress of the Call, in the depths of the Shibuya dungeon. We will destroy its antenna, stop the Eternal Moths’ numbers from growing, and wipe them out.”

Nine thirty-two.

Shiroe and the rest of the Fortress of the Call capture unit left Akiba. They were bound for the player town of Shibuya.

With this, Shiroe had ended up taking a seat at a new table. But this time, the stakes of the gamble were high. And what’s more, even he didn’t know what “victory” would look like this time around.

4

“It’s quiet, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s not. This is a raid zone. They’re drawing a bead on us from somewhere.”

When they reached Shibuya, the town was eerily silent. As she listened to Kushiyatama—the woman who’d drilled raid expertise into her right after she’d made it into D.D.D., before she’d known right from left—Riezé nodded.

The cluster of ruins eroded by greenery was the same as in Akiba, but since this town had originally been a commercial mecca, it was rather more colorful. “Living” ancient buildings showed off exteriors made splendid with a glass-like material known as Glastal. However, although the buildings’ appearance suggested otherwise, they couldn’t sense any people.

The raid capture team passed Mobile Armor that had run out of mana; it was the sort that the Kunie clan’s patrolling guards wore.

The scales of those Eternal Moths stole a certain type of mana. The selection standards weren’t clear, but it was enough to wear down even the defense and magic resistance of Mobile Armor, which boasted unrivaled power. The comatose Kunie clan members had already been rescued, but the armor was heavy, and it had been left behind.

When it came to raids, raid enemies—which boasted more than ten times the HP of Party-rank monsters—tended to be seen as the only threat, but this wasn’t the case. With a full twenty-four-member raid, considered in simple terms, the Adventurers had more than twenty times their regular combat power, and teamwork brought it up to fifty times more. The real threat lay in the enemy’s teamwork and reinforcements: In other words, the zone’s very terrain turned against the Adventurers. As befitted a player town, Shibuya’s blocks were carved up like a mosaic, and they intersected in three dimensions. Now that it was a combat area, it had become a battlefield with poor visibility that was crowded with places to take cover.

Brushing hair back from her cheek with gloved fingertips, Riezé took out a pocket watch.

“Moonrise is in…six hours.”

This area was a city that had been established as the fifth player town in Elder Tales. Based on reviews of the previous four towns—Akiba, Minami, Susukino, and Nakasu—it had been put together differently than the rest.

The problem with the preexisting towns had been that crowds tended to accumulate at the cities’ core functions—in other words, at the guild center, the bank, the Temple, the market, and the intercity transport gates. These were important facilities that game players had to use on a daily basis. On top of that, even if the cities had been player towns, in the days of the game, everything except those facilities had been mere background. That was why they had become sources of congestion.

Taking this issue into consideration, Shibuya had been created as a player town that had no guild center, bank, or market. Instead, it was equipped with many intercity transport gates and had been designed to fulfill its urban functions by being constantly connected to the other four cities.

At present, when the transport gates had fallen silent and it was swarming with Eternal Moths, the town was practically deserted.

“Hey, there they are!”

“Eight from up ahead on the right! Humanoid, Ogre subspecies.”

“Assassinate!”

“Izuna Cutter!”

“Flare Arrow!”

The battle had begun.

Even as she fired highly inductive Serpent Bolts, Riezé studied the situation around her. For D.D.D., the most important issue in early information gathering on raids was understanding the structure of the area and the composition of the enemy. However, that was because all the members had a sufficient understanding of one another’s abilities from the teamwork training they’d done in advance. The members in this unit had been pulled together from many different places, and for them, the biggest issue was learning about their companions’ abilities and constructing team plays. Fortunately, the monsters’ abilities weren’t high at all, so Riezé was able to spare some of her attention for information gathering while continuing to fight.

This was true of Kushiyatama, who’d been playing longer than Riezé, and of the veteran West Wind Brigade members as well. Ingrained actions might have been the term for it. They knew what was important during raids without having anyone put it into words.

Strangely, the same thing appeared to be true of Log Horizon’s younger members.

The golden-haired youth Rundelhaus; the middle guard Bard Isuzu; Minori in her miko outfit; her little brother, Touya the Samurai; and the rearguard support Druid Serara. Those five were a little under level 60. Considering that most of the members of this exploration team were level 90 and above, they were relatively low-level players who shouldn’t have been here.

Despite that, they’d proven to have extremely high resistance to the Eternal Moths’ MP-draining attacks. Even high-level Adventurers couldn’t avoid losing MP to the moths’ scale attacks, but these players were able to nearly negate them. It wasn’t clear why this was so, but notice had been taken, and they’d been added to the invasion team. Furthermore, for the sake of Akiba’s defense, they’d been hesitant to assign too much combat power to the assault unit. Including Riezé, only four members of D.D.D. had been loaned to this raid, and they had pushed very hard to be allowed to go.

As a result, she hadn’t been hoping for much from the five midlevel players as regular raid members, but they were moving far better than she’d expected. They looked sharp.

Of course, they had a few things in their favor: Even if their personal levels were around 60, the level of the raid team that was buffing them was over 90. In other words, they were getting support from ultra-high-level ability-boosting skills.

Not only that, but in a full raid, they could get varied support from more than ten players. This meant that support itself was multilayered, and their current practical combat abilities were probably around level 70. If a level-90 team received similar support, they’d see an increase of only two or three levels. When thinking about it that way, it was a definite advantage.

Then there was the issue of aggro. Even if they were getting support, their abilities seemed to be only about level 70 as a result. In other words, even if they attacked and recovered with all their might, they’d never match the aggro that the Guardian Naotsugu generated in his current role as the full raid’s main tank. Not having to worry about accumulating excessive aggro meant the enemy wouldn’t go after them.

In short, the midlevel group was in an environment where they were getting sufficient support from the people around them and were able to freely exercise their abilities beyond their normal limits.

However, even without those advantages, they moved well.

As someone who commanded the training unit at D.D.D., the leading ultralarge guild on the Yamato server, Riezé could tell. The way they positioned themselves in the front and rear. The way they launched and fielded attacks from angles that wouldn’t block the vanguard. The order and composition of the special skills they chose. The way they relied on the surrounding members and stayed conscious of overall attacks, even though they weren’t taking attacks from monsters personally… And the way they conveyed messages out loud. Even at level 90—no, regardless of level: In the area of player skills, from the way these five moved, you’d never have thought they were beginners.

She’d been asked, via Akatsuki, to “look after the newbies” in advance, and as someone from a training unit, she’d accepted the request as a matter of course. However, their skills seemed to be more than she’d imagined. Actually, they were at a pretty absurd level. She would have liked to scout them for D.D.D.

“I’m sending some your way.”

“Eat ’em up, Riezé.”

The voices seemed too cheerful for the situation. They belonged to Soujirou and Nazuna of the West Wind Brigade. Those two had been members of the Debauchery Tea Party once, and in a way, they were legendary. They were acting as the sub-tank and second healer for the invasion unit’s second party. If the first party’s role was to hold off the brunt of the enemy forces, their team’s job was to provide mobile defense, to catch and stall the monsters that slipped past that first party.

These two were intentionally letting monsters pass them.

This action wasn’t a standard move. It was a message: Run through the movements you’ll need for melee fighting. Polish the third and fourth parties’ teamwork. And most of all, Help the midlevel group grow.

As proof, the attacks unleashed from Soujirou’s Dim Crossing were pasted with the icon that signaled a move speed decrease for the Ogres.

“Four Ogres have broken through the vanguard!”

The girl Minori looked back at Riezé, giving a report. Of course, Riezé had been able to see them as well. Technically, the girl could have left the action undone. She hadn’t, though. She’d done it to send a message: Requesting orders. Minori had an outstanding eye for tactics. Or rather, she was sensitive to the thoughts of the people around her. She was trying with all her might to sense what they wanted to do. As she did so, she looked like a small, very wary animal.

“Richou, switch to backup! Minori, lead the unit and attack with everything you have!”

The group of five sprang forward. As she watched them, Riezé’s eyes narrowed in a smile. It was a good use of a unit.

On the other hand, the commander had been a disappointment.

There were many elements that determined whether a raid succeeded or failed, but Riezé thought that one of the most important was its commander. This was particularly true of this capture unit, which was full of talent.

Naotsugu, the main tank, was powerfully maintaining the front line with stable taunt work. Soujirou and Nazuna, the pillars of the mobile attacks, were magnificent as well. Akatsuki and Nyanta, the attackers, had high processing abilities. In terms of individual skill, Riezé thought they were at a level where they could conquer even a server event.

For that very reason, there seemed to be nothing particularly noteworthy about the overall tactical decisions; they were mediocre, and not very decisive. Calling them “careful” sounded good, but they lacked boldness.

“What’s this, what’s up? You’re looking glum.”

Nazuna, who’d left the front line to the first party and dropped back, spoke to Riezé amicably. Riezé hesitated just a little, then went ahead and told her what she thought.

“Timid.”

“What is?”

Nazuna took a swig out of a gourd-shaped canteen before asking her question lackadaisically.

“—Milord acknowledges the Debauchery Tea Party, and Shiroe was its famed counselor. I’d hoped to see him directing combat, but he isn’t as impressive as I’d imagined.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha. Well, maybe not. Shiroe’s a wimp, after all.”

“He… He is?”

Nazuna’s words had been unexpected, and Riezé looked up.

Nazuna must have spent a long time fighting alongside him in the Debauchery Tea Party, but she didn’t seem to have taken offense at Riezé’s evaluation; she was smiling her usual, teasing smile and puffing out her chest.

“Yep, that’s right. He’s a wimp. He’s more a wimpy counselor than a famed counselor.”

Riezé felt a pain in her chest.

She wanted to argue with what Nazuna was saying, and that was when she noticed: The hopes she’d been trying to force onto Shiroe were her own affair. As if he would resolve all the things she couldn’t do anything about, such as the guild’s current administrative problems and her unease at Krusty’s absence. Like a gust of cool wind. Riezé had been hoping for that sort of omnipotence from Shiroe. She hadn’t wanted him to save her personally; she didn’t think she’d had hopes that naïve. However, she realized that she wanted him to show her the sort of talent that would be capable of those things. She finally realized that she had asked to join this capture unit because of that wish.

“‘If it was someone Milord acknowledged, then…’ I’ve been acting like a spoiled child, haven’t I?”

Although, reaching that conclusion didn’t mean she could shake off her disappointment and self-loathing.

Riezé’s own hands were small, and there wasn’t much she could do.

Still, even so, she had to make sure this raid succeeded. If Shiroe’s commands were lackluster, then she’d have to step out in front. Loading the attack with the pain and irritation she felt, Riezé sent a Freezing Liner at the cluster of enemies that had appeared up ahead.

5

After they’d entered Fortress of the Call, the monster attacks grew more ferocious.

“These guys are tough to fight.”

“Naotsugu, a little farther forward! Miss Mari!”

“Gotcha! Reactive Heal!”

As Shiroe pushed the front line up, he desperately scanned the surrounding situation.

It wasn’t that the monsters’ individual combat abilities were high. Monsters that appeared in proper raid zones were Raid-rank monsters. About 70 percent of the monsters that showed up in this zone were Party rank. Even if their levels were high, if they used concentrated attacks and teamwork that made use of their class characteristics, the individual monsters were easy to destroy.

The problem lay in the structure of this zone and the continuous reinforcements.

As a player town, Shibuya had been an open field area. Spain-zaka Slope was complicated, but the road was more than five meters wide in most places, and there had been plenty of room to form ranks or execute team plays. However, this ancient ruin, which was said to have been a broadcasting station in the old world, was an interior zone. Its corridors were complex, mazelike, and barely three meters wide, with lots of corners and bad visibility.

The high-carbon steel doors, which showed no signs of deterioration, all looked the same. If they weren’t careful, there was a danger that they’d lose track of which way was forward and which way was back.

And from the depths of that labyrinth, an inexhaustible supply of monsters welled up, like some sort of waste product. There were Ogres and Minotaur Warriors, but the majority were Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits.

Having to check every single door put stress on the speed of their progress as well.

Fortress of the Call had many large rooms. The spaces were high-ceilinged and empty, but they weren’t linked to the ends of corridors or to corners. They were on the other side of identical-looking steel doors. For the most part, they didn’t have monsters lurking in them, but the walls of the rooms were often densely covered with Moon Rabbits in translucent eggs and with cocoons wrapped in white thread.

When they got close to them, the eggs burst and the Moon Rabbits sprang at them, or the Eternal Moths hatched. If they left them alone, it was possible they’d close in on Shiroe’s capture unit from the rear, intercept them, and launch a pincer attack. Even if that didn’t happen, once the sun went down, they’d probably emerge and attack Akiba. When they thought about it that way, they had no choice but to put them down.

“Six additional bunnies manifesting,” Soujirou announced.

“I’m not letting you fight all of them, Boss!” Isami called.

“Three hours and forty-five minutes remaining!”

Even as they protected their companions, a Samurai named Isami switched with Soujirou, taking over as the tank. Both belonged to the same guild, and they were used to this: She crossed with him skillfully, picking up the targets, and stepped onto the front line. It was a basic team play, meant to lighten the load. However, it shattered Shiroe.

He should have noticed that move first.

The members had used their own individual skills to cover for Shiroe’s delayed commands. Inattention, hesitation, incomplete predictions: These things were making the entire raid team less efficient.

Shiroe’s weakness was holding them back.

And even though he was aware of this, he was unable to take steps to fix it.

There were about three and a half hours left until moonrise. From what he could guess from the scenery outside, they should have enough time to explore this dungeon. Even so, there was a strange anxiety inside him, making him unsure of his decisions. This might be an unfamiliar area, but raids had their own standard moves. Even capture methods had them, so it was only natural that the zone design and the distribution of monsters would have them as well.

Shiroe had seen five types of monsters in this area. They’d probably seen all the patrolling and regularly stationed monsters by now. Even if there were additional ones in specific rooms or as midlevel bosses, he had a good grasp of the types of monsters that would appear in this zone. He was also gradually figuring out the dungeon’s structure. It was a combination of narrow, low-ceilinged corridors and vast rooms, of generic stairwells and high-steel doors. From the corridor a short while ago, he’d seen another enormous facility outside. The enemy boss was probably either in that facility or, if not there, in Fortress of the Call’s distinctive tower, where he’d initially predicted it would be.

It’s all right. There’s still time.

As if trying to convince himself of that, Shiroe ran over the current situation, then instructed the unit to head for the courtyard. They’d lost nearly half their MP. If it wasn’t going to last all the way to the end, they’d have to recover it somewhere.

Resting in the middle was a basic tactical move during raids. It shouldn’t be a bad idea. Shiroe nodded to Naotsugu, who was looking perplexed, then led the way to the courtyard, the only remaining spot of greenery.

“Ooh. Oh my. Girls wiping off the sweat of battle. That sparkling scent!”

“You get along with one another well in West Wind, don’t you?”

They finally managed to take a break in a courtyard about ten or so meters square, near the center of the dungeon. Although it was surrounded by several dozen meters of concrete ruin, the well-like space felt open and airy. It might have been a garden once: Ornamental plants and tall, broadleaf trees grew on the lawn.

“Well, Boss is strict, you see. No fighting allowed.”

“Thanks to that, every evening is a titillating ‘happening.’”

“Kurinon. Down, girl.”

Although the West Wind Brigade had kicked their legs out and collapsed, exhausted, they still seemed to have enough energy for backchat.

“Bweeeh.”

“You okay, Miss Mari?”

“Eh-heh-heh-heh. This full-dress stuff really is rough, isn’t it?”

Meanwhile, the Crescent Moon League seemed to be very worn out. Their MP was down to 20 percent. In Elder Tales, there were a relatively large number of ways to recover HP, beginning with healing spells, but MP recovery methods were extremely limited.

The most effective way was to get away from the fighting and rest. If you sat quietly or lay down, you could fully recover your MP in about two hours. That was when you had no additional help; it was possible to speed it up with appropriate food items, an Enchanter’s mana recovery special skills, or a Bard’s songs. Now, as a raid team, they’d probably be able to recover half their maximum MP by resting for thirty minutes or so.

In the days of the game, that would have meant a break of no more than a few minutes, but things didn’t work that way in this world. On top of that, it was difficult to secure a safe area in an unfamiliar raid zone. They’d been fortunate to find this open courtyard.

It was surrounded by walls on all four sides, and there were only two places that looked as if they could be used to get in or out. Apart from the Return Point near the entrance of Fortress of the Call, where Li Gan was waiting, it seemed like the safest place.

Shiroe sat down and gazed steadily at his MP display.

Like water filling a cup, the display bar lengthened. As an Enchanter, Shiroe recovered MP faster than any other class. He also had a lot of equipment with effects that emphasized recovery speed.

The other ones who recovered quickest and were surprisingly energetic were the younger group. Although they were tense, they were sitting back to back, their expressions watchful, keeping an eye on all four directions as they rested.

Soujirou, Nazuna, Naotsugu, and Captain Nyanta were speaking to tired team members and passing out drinks. They looked exactly the way they had back during the days of the Debauchery Tea Party, and it made Shiroe feel like smiling.

The Crescent Moon League group—Marielle, Henrietta, Shouryuu, and Hien—had their heads bowed, and they were breathing so roughly that their shoulders heaved. From what he heard, this was their first time on a serious raid, so that was probably only natural. Marielle in particular was a member of the first party and had been acting as Naotsugu’s dedicated healer, so she’d been concentrating the whole time. Tetora’s plentiful combat experience had assisted the Cleric countless times, but even so, Marielle’s mental fatigue was bound to be pretty serious. It might be better to change our formation here in this courtyard, Shiroe thought. That said, it wasn’t easy to come up with alternatives. Nazuna certainly was a skilled healer, but she was too good at working with Soujirou. It had been that way since the Debauchery Tea Party.

Shiroe’s thoughts spun through a variety of expressions, toying with him. It was a little better during combat, but while he was resting, apprehension and anxiety flooded him.

He was worried about the depression in Akiba that Ains had talked about. Even though Isaac and the others had gotten them out of a tough spot, the assassins who’d attacked Maihama were harbingers of the coming deterioration of the relationship between the Holy Empire of Westlande and Eastal, the League of Free Cities. The unfathomable sense of wrongness he’d felt when he’d heard of the Spirit Theory. The post-Catastrophe world, which was cycling through endless changes. The group that called themselves Travelers, and Roe2, who should have been Shiroe’s sub-character.

The Odysseia Knights and Boreas’ Moving Temple.

There was a flood of countless conflicts, things that were too much for Shiroe to handle, but which, at the same time, he couldn’t ignore. No, that was probably self-serving, under the surface. He wasn’t that arrogant and conceited. This was a more personal problem: He didn’t feel settled regarding the decisions he’d made. He wasn’t satisfied. He thought that was all it was.

When he’d established the Round Table Council, when he’d backed Raynesia’s speech, when he’d saved Rundelhaus, and when he’d sought the gold of the Kunie, he’d made his decisions resolutely. He’d been satisfied with them, and even if those choices had resulted in losses, he would have had no regrets.

When he looked back, he wasn’t prepared now. He wasn’t satisfied enough with his choices. That was why he was afraid they would fail, and why he wasn’t able to believe in the future he’d chosen. That was all it was.

Abruptly, the light dimmed.

Several dozen Ogres plummeted down from directly above the open courtyard, blocking out the blue sky.

For a moment, Shiroe was very nearly disoriented, and as if to strike an additional blow, fissures ran up the east and west walls, and minotaurs leapt through them, sending rubble flying like an explosion.

“Enemy attack!”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be a safe area?!”

“Where did they come from?”

“—They’re working together—”

“Wait, not yet, I’m not—”

“Eeeeeeeeek, not good! This ain’t good!!”

It was a bolt from the blue.

Powerful monsters had attacked their safe zone. On top of that, they hadn’t done it through the doors they’d been watching, but from other angles.

“These guys are Raid rank!”

“I’ll take the right! Go ahead and take the left, Mr. Naotsugu!”

The two tanks split, heading right and left. However, the healers weren’t able to follow them. Marielle had been in the middle of changing equipment and was caught off guard, so she got a late start, and Nazuna and Soujirou had been a good distance apart. To fill the gaps, Minori and Serara cast spells in rapid succession with all their might, but the courtyard was instantly filled with confused fighting.

Their ranks had completely disintegrated.

And once again, it was individuals’ skills that were trying desperately to keep them afloat.

“So they’re not gonna let us rest, huh?”

“Raids are always like this, aren’t they?”

The group from D.D.D. had the most raid experience of any of the members. They managed to regain their poise before anyone else, then sprang into action, beginning to build battle lines. The Monk Richou was in the lead, and Kushiyatama, a vanguard-type Kannagi, followed.

“Well, this warrior has been prepared since the moment he heard he’d be with you, Miz Buzzkill.”

“You wouldn’t be thinking of me as a plague god, would you? You’ll make me cry. And I’m absolutely going to make you cry for that ‘this warrior’ nonsense later!”

“I’m going, too!”

“I’ll cover you. Dread Weapon!”

They carved their way through the enemy forces with ferocious speed, bantering the whole time. Koen the Assassin, Yuzuko the Summoner, and Riezé the Sorcerer followed.

“Rrraaaaaaargh!”

The Ogres bore down on them, bellowing.

They were a type of giant, and they had enormous heads and thick limbs. They were only about three meters tall, but they probably weighed close to a ton. Their jaws were as sturdy and powerful as construction machinery, and although the teeth that lined them weren’t sharp, they looked like something out of a nightmare.

Richou was a big guy, and his fists detonated on the arm of a giant Ogre that was easily taller than he was. It staggered, and Koen grabbed the opportunity to dash in. Yuzuko’s Salamander breathed fire on it, finishing it off.

The balance of their five classes wasn’t bad. They had one tank, one healer, one close-combat fighter, and two long-range magic attack types. In fact, as Shiroe watched, the five from D.D.D. put down close to ten monsters.

All in all, this was an intrinsically bad move.

A twenty-four-member raid was composed of four parties, numbered One through Four. Each of these four parties was composed of six members and had been calculated to fulfill its own function. What happened when five members abruptly dropped out of those four parties? The balance of the remaining nineteen fighters broke down.

If this had been a full group from D.D.D., that probably wouldn’t have happened. Their training almost certainly covered recombining team members in unexpected situations like this. However, this was a patchwork team put together specifically to capture Fortress of the Call.

“Yeep!”

“Serara!”

Serara had turned around, eyes wide, and had instantly frozen. Nyanta shielded her.

Hien had attracted a monster’s aggro with Assassinate, and he retreated. Eternal Moths flew in through that slight gap in the ranks and scattered golden scales around. They were inhibiting magic. Like a pitch-black river of terror, Minotaur Warriors poured in.

In order to rebuild the confused battle lines, Naotsugu yelled out Front Line. For the moment, he was trying to draw the frontline enemies to himself. When he’d made that decision, he’d been prepared to die. To save Naotsugu, Shiroe broke off Force Step, but he couldn’t think of the next move. Tetora was comparatively calm. Raising Resonant Jewel Rod, the idol began to chant Aurora Heal. Even in the midst of this lethal melee, the powerful overall recovery spell would probably prolong all their companions’ lives by ten seconds or so. They just had to use that leeway to put together a scheme that would let them turn the tables. Right now, that was the calmest, most strategic idea.

However, as Tetora looked around in order to set the center of Aurora Heal, the ground split wide open.

As if mocking Shiroe’s and the others’ efforts, a plant monster with enormous tentacle-shaped vines appeared, sending the soil in the courtyard flying.

“New enemy! Venom Hydrangea!!”

A level-93 Raid-rank enemy.

Its tangled shape was actually multiple individuals. A handful of vanguards wouldn’t be able to provide enough support.

The ground cracked as if it were boiling, pushing out rubble that was taller than they were, opening the jaws of the abyss.

“Ah—yeeeeek?!”

“Noooooo!”

Tetora gave a cute little scream and was on the verge of being swallowed derriere-first when Marielle shoved the idol out of the way. The idol gazed at Marielle with round, wide eyes. Marielle was a beginner at raids, and she’d just tried to save Tetora, a seasoned veteran. It was pointless, of course. After shoving the other Cleric away, Marielle got caught up in the collapse, and Tetora was run through by the Venom Hydrangea’s purple spear-roots. The raid team was on the brink of annihilation.

Nevertheless, in the midst of that, Marielle had shown good will.

“It’s no good! My Four Quarters Prayer won’t last a moment!”

Everywhere, the battle lines were tearing like paper.

The emergency recovery spell barrier that Minori had chanted couldn’t hold back ferocious attacks of this rank. The sound of shattering glass signaled its destruction.

Shiroe, who was stopping several monsters with Astral Hypno, felt his back freeze immediately. This was as futile as throwing water on hot stones. Nyanta, Marielle, Touya, Olive, Koen—they all turned into rainbow-colored bubbles of light and burst.

“Three lost! Five dead!”

Beyond the dust clouds, he heard a voice scream.

Shiroe’s error had caused this tragedy.

Carelessness in assuming this place was safe. Reluctance to give up, insisting they could regroup. Both had increased the damage.

The capture team was already almost beyond saving. The well-shaped courtyard that should have been a sanctuary was like the inside of a blender, filled with rampaging monsters. Was it a trap? The thoughts just circled around and around inside his head, and he wasn’t able to respond intelligently.

“Mr. Shiro!”

“Shiroe, we can’t hold out any longer!”

As if the urgent voices had kicked him in the back, Shiroe bit his lip. His body was so cold that it might already have been in the land of the dead, and his heart was as heavy as if it had been frozen.

“—Retreat! Flip Gate!!”

Enveloped in a severing light, with half its forces lost, the Fortress of the Call capture team retreated.

The ruined courtyard echoed with the victory cries of monsters from another world.

6

A dizzy sensation dragged on.

It was the disorientation that always accompanied teleportation. The vague sensation of movement felt during Call of Home or when being sent to the Temple.

He’d used Flip Gate several times during the capture with Silver Sword. The spell teleported everyone on the team to the emergency safe area within the active raid zone. In most cases, safe zones were either at the zone entrance or in spaces near it where monsters didn’t appear. Now that Theldesia had turned real, there was no telling how safe they would actually be, but for now, there didn’t seem to be any enemies in sight.

Team members had been sacrificed in the fight. “Lost” meant that resurrection spells hadn’t been cast in time after they’d died, and they’d been sent to the safe area at the zone entrance; in other words, here. After some time had passed, the “dead” members were also switched to “lost;” therefore, a total of eight people had met up with them through teleportation—and not from Shiroe’s spell, but from death.

When he looked around, he saw that they were in a large, box-shaped space about twenty meters square. The room held no furnishings, only rubble piled up against the walls, and it looked like a storeroom.

After a few minutes, the tense atmosphere that had hung over them immediately after teleporting snapped and vanished.

He listened carefully, but the sounds the monsters made were far away. At the very least, they’d gained a minimal sort of safety. Right after resurrection, a penalty was inflicted on their ability values. High-level resurrection spells or resurrection at the Temple reduced this penalty, but coming back from death during a capture meant that almost all values, including physical strength and agility, dropped by several dozen percentage points. If a third of their members had reduced ability values, it would be hard for them to fight right away. That meant this rest was going to be a deal breaker.

In the midst of a very slightly relieved atmosphere, people began to make small talk here and there.

Since there were dead members who hadn’t woken up yet, the conversations were subdued.

Some of the D.D.D. members were joking about how they hadn’t been on a raid like this one in a while. Since Shiroe had been to the Abyssal Shaft, he understood this, too: Raids weren’t the sort of thing you beat on the first try. You were wiped out over and over, and in the process, you figured out how to capture them.

However, he didn’t see their current battlefield as a raid in the purest sense of the word. As proof, this zone was small compared with the Shaft, the corridors were narrow, and the majority of the monsters that appeared were Party rank. The zone clearly hadn’t been designed as a raid area. It was a facility that had been abruptly requisitioned by some unknown factor. Because of Roe2’s letter, Shiroe knew, dimly, what that factor had been, and his companions had also probably guessed that it was the work of the Geniuses.

Shiroe had gone into the capture with a decent shot at success.

In the end, though, they’d retreated following the collapse of their battle lines.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mari. I was right there, and it broke through anyway.”

“It’s fine, hon. You can’t predict that somethin’s gonna come up through the ground and go ‘Graaah!’ like that. I knew what I was gettin’ into when I signed up for this. I got some raid practice in with Akatsuki.”

The sight of Naotsugu and Marielle exchanging whispered apologies made guilt well up inside him.

He didn’t think they hadn’t been capable of lasting through that surprise attack. The enemy’s level and numbers hadn’t been anything they couldn’t have dealt with, if he’d only seen it coming. And he should have seen it coming. This had been Shiroe’s mistake.

“I’m sorry, you guys…”

So this was what it felt like to be disgusted with yourself.

He’d brought a crowd of friends to this battlefield on the strength of an imperfect decision. Shiroe was the raid conductor. Being in that position meant he should take responsibility for this raid. However, he didn’t know what he should be responsible for. Victory, he thought. But what would victory look like? He’d been trying to convince himself that it meant defeating the Geniuses. Doing that wouldn’t solve anything, though. It wouldn’t save the people who were sinking in despair in Akiba, or the young man that Nyanta had met, or the Odysseia Knights.

Even now, Shiroe wasn’t able to reach a clear conclusion. He felt it was spineless of him, and he was irritated.

In the end, what Ains said is bothering me.

He’d understood a sliver of something he hadn’t been able to put into words before.

This world was small.

Its narrowness was the reason Shiroe was feeling suffocated.

He understood the “people who can’t move” that Ains had told them about. Shiroe didn’t think the assistance Ains wanted was wrong.

However, if he accepted that request, the majority of people in Akiba would probably object. The major guilds might break up.

Wondering which choice was right was probably a trap in and of itself.

The world was small. At present, there were a little under thirty thousand Adventurers on the Yamato server. According to their estimates, there were several dozen times that many People of the Earth. Altogether, the population of Arc-Shaped Archipelago Yamato was only about a million, and it was likely that those numbers weren’t much different across the whole of Theldesia.

In addition, the Adventurers were too powerful. In terms of combat abilities alone, they probably had a hundred times what the People of the Earth did. It was likely that their production abilities were even further removed.

A small population and excessive abilities were shrinking this world to the point where, if a person was unhappy, they immediately convinced themself that it was someone else’s responsibility. That was why fissures opened up between the haves and the have-nots, and why enmity grew between people who thought returning home was the most important issue and people who didn’t share that opinion. Each thought the other was to blame. The fact that the distance between them was so small, and that there was no one else in the world, meant they couldn’t help but think it.

The world was sealed, as if trapped in the curse of a zero-sum game, and there was nowhere to run. In this world, everyone was a victim and an interested party.

Of course Shiroe didn’t think that was true. However, he understood what it felt like to believe it implicitly.

He understood that that was probably the reason his heart had been choked on this raid capture.

In this small world, defeating the Geniuses and saving the People of the Earth, and abandoning the People of the Earth and defending the facility so that they could send transmissions, were both imperfect options. Both would probably put someone at a disadvantage. Actions that Shiroe and the others took, convinced that they were for the greater good, would be the acts of usurpers as far as somebody out there was concerned.

I think Captain Nyanta’s suffering is probably the same, at the root…

The hunch that there was no right answer.

The pain of knowing he would fail, no matter what he chose.

These had nailed Shiroe’s feet into stagnation. The path he was walking down probably didn’t lead to anything.

There was a dry sound, and for a moment, Shiroe didn’t understand what had happened.

His cheek felt as if it was on fire. When he raised his head, he saw his friends, looking worried. Henrietta stood at the front of the group. Apparently, she’d slapped him.

Henrietta looks like she might cry.

That was the first thing he thought. Isuzu was the same. Minori’s lips were drawn and tense, and she looked determined. Touya’s resolution, Serara’s worry, Rundelhaus’s expectations.

He saw their faces through eyes that seemed abruptly clear. He thought about those expressions very calmly, and he felt guilty and ashamed about having thought that this was someone else’s problem.

Shiroe looked up at Henrietta. The lovely woman was furious.

Her soft hair fell down around her shoulders, and he thought ineffectual things like, Truly beautiful people look gorgeous even when they’re mad. Naturally, this was escapism: He’d gotten slapped, and his mind had overloaded, that was all.

He tried to find the words to say next, failed, attempted an apology—driven by his stinging cheek and the atmosphere—then thought that that was something he mustn’t do.

After all, he was the one who’d made Henrietta look like this.

“Master Shiroe.”

“Yes.”

“Gentlemen should live…more selfishly.”

“Yes.”

Shiroe nodded, reflexively.

He couldn’t live that way immediately just because someone had told him to. Shiroe didn’t know what was right. He couldn’t just choose something, in spite of that. Yet, Henrietta was serious, and her seriousness wouldn’t allow him to make excuses. In this situation, “yes” was the only possible answer. Even he knew that much.

I’m always causing Henrietta trouble, aren’t I? With the Crescent Burgers, and the strategy to pull in the commercial guilds, and at the Libra Festival, and for the zone release project, and now…

Now that he thought about it, he’d probably been leaning on her too much. Feeling apologetic and spineless, Shiroe looked at his elder. Leaning on people without being aware that he was doing it could be said to be a bad habit of his.

*   *   *

“U-um… Shiroe? I… We can stay in this world.”

“Minori?”

“…In Saphir, things didn’t… It didn’t go so well. People thanked us and told us we saved them, so we didn’t completely blow it. But listen, maybe we just plain can’t go home. So… I don’t really get it, but…”

“Touya.”

As the twins spoke to Shiroe, they sounded desperate.

“Going back to our old world would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? We want to go home because we want to be happy. In that case, we’ve all got to be happy, together.”

“Yes, he’s right! It’s wrong to abandon the People of the Earth so that we can be happy.”

As they spoke to Shiroe, the meaning of what they were saying sank in, slowly. He began to understand: They were probably saying he shouldn’t worry, because the Adventurers’ issues could wait.

Children were shouting “You don’t have to worry” at an adult. They might be putting on a bold front, but at the same time, they were demonstrating their willingness to cooperate with everything they had and that they didn’t want to hold anyone back. Shouldn’t he have known that better than anyone?

“Um… We don’t mind waiting, either, Shiroe.”

“Not that I am qualified to comment, mind you, but I’d rather not see my guild master suffer.”

As proof, Isuzu and Rundelhaus spoke up after Minori and Touya. Isuzu’s mouth was set in a cross line, and Rundelhaus was looking proper and stuffy. Behind them, as Nyanta watched her, Serara held her small fists in front of her chest and nodded several times.

“You heard ’em, Shiro.”

“There’s no need to say it, Naotsugu. My liege… Both my liege and I will be fine. Absolutely.”

When he turned around, there was the pair who had stuck with Log Horizon from the very beginning. Naotsugu was wearing an encouraging, macho smile. Akatsuki’s expression was a mixture of shy and morose. As the two of them sent playful kicks and shoves at each other, Shiroe finally understood the significance of what he was seeing.

While he’d lost hope in himself, these people had been putting their hopes in him.

Like a clear stream, that awareness rinsed away Shiroe’s frayed thoughts. When he took another careful look, not a single one of his companions wore an expression that seemed to blame him.

Shiroe was the only one who’d been torturing himself with feelings of self-condemnation.

There was nothing the least bit good about that. In the end, he realized, he’d been full of himself, thinking he had abilities high enough to feel regret over. He was the one who hadn’t been seeing himself as he was.

His friends had understood him better than he had.

“Shiroe. Woodstock is out on aerial patrol, and he’s just contacted us. They’ve pinpointed the enemy leader’s position. It’s a full Raid-rank boss: Taliktan, the Genius of Summoning, level 86. They say it’s at the base of the iron tower on the roof of this zone, summoning monsters with rainbow-colored light. There are thirty-four minutes remaining until moonrise. We have no time. If we are switching to a subjugation with a hundred members, this is a point at which no further changes can be made.”

The D.D.D. tactical officer, with her golden curls, delivered a meticulous summary of the present circumstances. Even the antagonistic way she spoke was no more than hidden worry.

“No… Summonin’? There were a ton of enemies already, and now there’s gonna be more?”

“It’s probably going be a hard fight. What do you think, Chilly Specs?”

“Unless the command style changes, we won’t be able to break through what’s beyond this point.”

“I expect that’s up to Master Shiroe.”

Henrietta crossed her arms and turned away sulkily. Behind her frigid glasses, her eyes were wavering. It looked like anger, but it probably wasn’t. It was more likely to be expectations and trust. Even though she risked making those around them dislike her, Henrietta had tried to wake Shiroe up. He was sure it was her way of being kind, one he’d overlooked until now.

There were lots of things Shiroe couldn’t see.

Even now, there were people who were trying to fulfill the selfish requests he’d been too afraid to make, and while of course the world wouldn’t fulfill that request entirely, Shiroe wasn’t in this alone, either. Once he understood that, it seemed only natural, but that invisible something was—in an entirely natural way—a genuine miracle as well.

“All right. Just choosing one or the other wasn’t going to work, was it? The question itself was wrong. We can’t aim for an answer that there’s no value in aiming for. At any rate, I can’t. We can capture the goal we wanted, though.”

Speaking decisively, Shiroe retrieved his glasses and put them on.

Before him was the full raid that had gathered to make the groups’ request come true, and there was still enough time left before moonrise to make it happen.

After all, there was always time enough to make wishes come true.

Always, just as long as they didn’t give up. Hadn’t Shiroe gone through that again and again with the Debauchery Tea Party?

“Thirty minutes remaining. Let’s go. This is the main run of the capture operation.”

If he wanted it, he always had a shot at victory. In order to clear the dungeon within the time they had left before moonrise, Shiroe began his final briefing.