1

The operation had begun, and Minori’s group was right in the thick of the fighting.

The younger group was acting as attackers. This was due more to their levels not being high enough to let them act as tanks and healers than because they were particularly good at that sort of thing. Since their levels were low, no matter what they did, the damage from their attacks tended to be low as well. However, at least with that, there was a possibility that the issue could be resolved through serial attacks that made use of high-level support and MP supplementation.

Of course, they weren’t able to take on monsters whose levels were in the nineties.

The midlevel group’s role was to pick out the Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits with levels from 60 to 70 and contribute through range attacks.

“We’re nowhere near done yet, Rudy!”

“Understood! Orb of Lava!!

Following Isuzu’s lead, Rundelhaus cast a fireball spell. Its level had gone up, and the number of small fireballs had increased. Following the blond’s instructions, they punched through Eternal Moths one after another. Even if he couldn’t take them down completely with one attack, if he burned their wings, he could thin out their scales and ground them.

The interior of Fortress of the Call was cramped compared with ordinary dungeons like Forest Ragranda, and it was a maze of intricate corridors—a series of intersections and straight lines in drab, inhospitable colors. This oppressive space was where Minori and the other members of the mixed unit were fighting.

“Touyacchi, let’s go clean up.”

“Roger that!”

Nyanta, Touya, and the wolf Serara had summoned broke into a run. They were going to finish off an enemy group that had lost its HP to a spell bombardment.

“Defense of Doctrine Barrier!!”

“Thanks!”

With Minori’s ample damage interception spell protecting him, Touya swung his katana. Gazing at his back, Minori nodded once. So far, their role-sharing was going well.

There were ten or so semitransparent windows in front of her eyes. In addition to the usual status displays for all her party’s members, she had displays for each leader and the main tank, for a total of about a dozen people. Even though this was only double the amount of information she normally dealt with, Minori felt as if she might drown in its constant fluctuation.

Spells to recover HP naturally consumed MP. The same was true for spells that inflicted damage and for close-combat special skills. If they went out on the front line, there was a possibility they’d get hit with a negative status effect, so they needed special skills that prevented or removed those.

As such, status figures and displays depended on each other. Should someone step out in front or fall back? As the number of people increased, the choices multiplied explosively. Simply doubling the number of display windows had increased the flexibility she had to take into account by a factor of ten. In the midst of what was practically her first raid, Minori continued to struggle desperately with that burden and kaleidoscopic motion.

She held her breath, almost as if she were diving to the bottom of the ocean, and glared at the numbers. The basic rules were the same as they were for a six-member party. HP and MP exchange. The balance between the pace of extermination and defensive abilities. The trade-off between elimination pace and replenishing abilities. However, those basic exchange rates had split into multiple tracks, tangled with each other, and turned into big waves that tossed Minori around.

In a hall that branched off the other side of the main corridor, she saw a figure with light-yellow hair streaming behind it. Focusing as if she were desperately praying, Minori checked on the situation. That hair belonged to Riezé. She was the linchpin of the current operation. Her MP was at 78 percent, and she warned Rundelhaus to be careful to match it.

“We’re starting!”

A familiar voice echoed in the corridor. It was Shiroe.

Rainbow light overflowed, and she saw a fierce fluctuation in MP.

Minori had been thinking, all this time.

She’d thought for a long, long time about what the true nature of the mysterious determination inside her might be and what sort of place it meant to take her to.

Of course she loved Shiroe. He was her favorite person.

That was why, for a time, she’d mistaken the truly stubborn mass inside her for love. However, she’d realized that was a misunderstanding. After all, it showed its face even in matters that had nothing to do with Shiroe, and it gave Minori brief reviews of her own actions: That was bad, this was good, etc. Touya said it had been that way since long before they met Shiroe. He’d informed his sister that she’d been like that for ages.

According to Touya, Minori was a big sister who didn’t listen and tended to run wild. She really didn’t think that described her at all, so she’d been reluctant to accept the evaluation.

However, since coming to Theldesia, she did suspect that, if people said things like that about her, it might be true after all.

There was something resolute inside her that even she couldn’t do anything about, and sometimes it pushed her into action. Shiroe had probably been nourished by it, and it seemed to be growing with every day she spent in Log Horizon. That made Minori happy. She was sure it wasn’t a bad thing.

One night, she had been lying in bed, thoughts wandering.

It wasn’t as if she was the only one with stubbornness inside of her.

Touya had the same thing, and so did Serara. Isuzu had it, and of course Rundelhaus did as well. Ordinarily, it was hidden and couldn’t be seen, but when push came to shove, it emerged and began to sparkle and shine. It was unimaginable wisdom, or kindness, or startlingly intense, desperate courage. Minori had seen it many times in Ragranda and on the journey to Saphir.

It seemed to her as if people had an internal core, like hidden treasure that wasn’t usually visible, and it surfaced at unexpected moments and connected with its surroundings.

Back when she’d lost hope in Hamelin, at the bottom of that constricting night to which morning never came, what she’d felt in the voice on the other end of that quiet telechat had been the treasure inside Shiroe. Even Minori and Touya hadn’t dreamed that the grad student who’d played alongside them a few times would brave danger to come and rescue them when they were imprisoned.

Why had he saved them? Minori had always wondered about that. It was probably true that he’d felt kindly disposed toward them. However, the real reason had been that special quality inside of him. Shiroe didn’t usually talk much, and he was so busy that he didn’t have much time to spend on Minori and the others. Back then, though, his spirit had abruptly begun to shine, and it had saved them.

When Minori thought back, she realized she’d felt the same thing in her father and mother. Her parents had been her parents even when they were exhausted and irritated, but that wasn’t the only side of them there was. The parents who celebrated with her and Touya on their birthday probably weren’t the real ones, either. They were hidden much deeper, like the time when she and Touya had been doing their homework together in the eat-in kitchen, and their mother had bragged to them about her student days while she heated water for apple tea… Minori didn’t understand it all that well, but she thought that feeling, which she’d brushed with her fingertips, had probably been an important treasure.

She’d been told that, after Touya’s accident, she’d become a “good kid.” However, she hadn’t been acting the part of a good kid because she’d been unhappy or because she’d felt sorry for Touya or anything like that.

Minori had wanted to be on a team with her parents. She’d been on Touya’s side since they were small, and she’d simply thought she’d like to have more relationships like that.

She’d wanted people to count on her.

Practically speaking, she had been just a child, and there had been far too little she could do in Japan; she’d only been able to go to school and come home again. She hadn’t been able to earn money, and if she’d put herself in harm’s way, she thought she probably would have worried her parents terribly. For that reason, back when she’d understood even less than she did now, she hadn’t been able to persuade them, and in the end, they hadn’t managed to become a team. She thought they’d been a happy family, but after all, Minori and Touya were their parents’ children.

Minori could see the brightness in Touya and Serara, in Isuzu and Rundelhaus. That was proof they were partners. She was able to see it in Naotsugu, Akatsuki, Nyanta, and Shiroe, too. However, they were still of an age when others implicitly worried about them, so they weren’t a true team just yet.

She might be overreaching herself, but she thought that that was what Touya had been talking about and what she herself wanted. They were still okay. As long as Shiroe and the others were nearby, her group of younger Adventurers could work a whole lot harder. For that reason, she didn’t want him and the others to treat her as a burden. After all, they lived in the same house, Log Horizon. She didn’t want to be left out.

“Minori, Wolfie’s gone up ahead, and he’s spotted a swarm of moths in the main corridor.”

“We’ll detour as planned. Touya, go up the next stairway on the right!”

Minori’s exhale was harsh; she didn’t bother suppressing her ragged breathing before turning around to check and adjust their ranks. Currently, Rundelhaus was the party member with the least health to spare. If they managed to shake him off, the party formation would collapse. That was why Isuzu, next to him, was raising his move strength with Fawn’s March and encouraging him. Isuzu and Rundelhaus made a good pair, and Minori smiled a little. If this was how things were, they’d be fine for quite a while yet.

Minori had an accurate grasp of the mission she was currently carrying out, but the level wasn’t as deep as those around her. Right now, on this raid capture team, the members who had a complete grasp of the operation Shiroe had proposed were Shiroe himself, Riezé, Nyanta, Nazuna, Kushiyatama, and Naotsugu, followed by Kurinon and Tetora. The tactics they were executing were so unprecedented that even the members of D.D.D., who were used to raids, didn’t know what the results would be.

What was the current problem in the Fortress of the Call capture?

The unlimited reinforcements.

The cause of their defeat had lain not in the enemy’s strength itself, but in the fact that their mental stamina and MP had been worn down by the frequency and sporadic timing of the enemy reinforcements.

These might be enemies they could beat, but when they ended up in combat, a certain process was necessary: The main tank accumulated aggro, the tank’s defender cast recovery spells on the tank and secured their safety, and then they attacked within the range of the aggro and wiped out the monsters. If ten enemies appeared at once, they needed to go through the process only one time, but if single enemies appeared ten times, they had to run through the whole process ten times as well. If things were like that, no matter how much MP they had, they’d run out.

The maneuver Shiroe had come up with resolved this issue.

Ordinarily, whether they were being used on single targets or a range, the Warriors’ aggro-increasing special skills only worked on enemies that were within eyeshot. That had been common knowledge in Elder Tales. However, just this once, there was another way to do it. Both Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits loved MP. The monsters had actually attacked Akiba and the other towns in order to steal it. They’d left Fortress of the Call and gone to attack other areas because the MP had lured them there. “We’ll use their natures and detection abilities and scatter bait,” Shiroe had said.

He was using a combination of Mana Channeling and Mana Siphon to scatter high-density MP around the area. Shiroe had turned himself into live bait and was attracting monsters. The key to the first stage of the maneuver was “kiting,” using Shiroe as a tank.

But it’s a dangerous plan that makes Shiroe a target…

Minori’s breathing had gone rough from the tension, and she gritted her teeth, calming it down.

“Got ’em!”

“This way, my liege!”

She heard Naotsugu’s and Akatsuki’s voices.

The operation was underway, and Shiroe and the other members of the first party ran, trailing rainbow light. A herd of monsters chased after them, several dozen meters behind. Ordinary aggro-increasing special skills worked only on monsters that were within eyeshot, but with this method, they’d probably affect all the monsters in the facility, or across an even wider range.

In fact, a swarm of Eternal Moths was flying right past the corridor where Minori and the others were holding their breaths, as if their group was transparent.

It was a fairly nightmarish scene: a flying swarm of giant, nearly human-sized moths. Preschool kids often drew airborne butterflies with crayons in their picture-diaries, but they only drew them there because they felt as if they should, and it was possible they’d never seen a real butterfly or moth. At the very least, it was hard to imagine they liked them enough to constantly draw them in their journals.

Seen from a distance, the patterns on their bright wings might look like fashion accessories, but up close, not to mention enlarged to an enormous size, they were spine-crawling, and they made a person feel like screaming.

“We’re making for the standby point, Mademoiselle Minori.”

“Right!”

“Rudy, I’m casting Nocturne of Meditation, okay?”

Weapons at the ready, Minori’s group moved rapidly down the corridor. Their feelings were optimistic, but some of that was empty bravado. They were speaking loudly to raise their morale.

Using their summoned animals, the raid team had mapped this complicated floor to some extent.

They were headed for the very longest main corridor. It was Minori’s group’s job to set a trap in that corridor.

Having reached their position, Minori’s third party joined up with the fourth, which Riezé was leading. Party Three had been rebuilt to keep Minori and the rest of the younger group together, and except for Nyanta, all its members were around level 60. Frankly speaking, it was the team’s weak point. Despite that, they made it to their position.

Minori’s eyes met Riezé’s, and she smiled softly. As if complimenting her, she pointed into the depths of the corridor. Shiroe and the rest of the first party, who had sprinted through a complicated route, were coming their way, trailing a veritable horde of monsters.

“Are you ready?”

At Riezé’s dignified question, the group nodded firmly.

The swarm of approaching monsters was frightening.

Possibly because they were on edge, they were able to see everything very clearly, even the dense fur that covered their torsos and the scales that shone faintly as they scattered. Even if that hadn’t been the case, the way they jostled one another in the small space provoked a visceral disgust. A suicidal tactic, in which an Enchanter acted as the tank. The payoff was that all the dungeon’s monsters had collected in this long corridor. The straight hallway was packed with hundreds of Eternal Moths, Moon Rabbits, and Ogres, all trying to steal MP.

There was an attack that was possible precisely because this was the case.

Against monsters that were concentrated this densely and couldn’t run, range attacks were several times more effective.

“Concentrate your fire! Go ahead!”

She heard a shouted order. It had come from Shiroe, who had run past Minori and the others, then turned back. Akatsuki and Naotsugu leapt forward again, to shield him.

Blinding light filled the main corridor, and energy from flame, ice, and electrical spells threw steam and the smell of ions around the area.

The annihilation maneuver had begun.

Riezé’s Freezing Liner, the operation’s focal point, became a raging torrent that swept through the corridor. It was overlaid by Rundelhaus’s Lightning Nebula, which had been expanded to its maximum range. Big spells that ordinarily couldn’t be used several times in a row received chant speed acceleration support and were unleashed two or three times.

Minori fired Mystic Spell Shawl. It was an expulsion spell with a pursuit effect that acted on evil insects and spirits, and it was perfect for holding back the Eternal Moths. That attack, which seemed to be venting her disgust, went on until the dungeon grew hushed again.

2

Meanwhile, the second party was sprinting through a completely different route, heading upstairs.

“Uh-huh, yeah… Understood. Don’t you push yourself, Old Man Whiskers.”

Nazuna, who was running beside Soujirou, took her hand away from her ear. Telechats were hard to manage during combat, but there was no sign of monsters near the party. All the enemies were probably stampeding into the trap, drawn by the rainbow-colored MP Shiroe was releasing.

Soujirou understood that it was a reckless strategy, although he didn’t know exactly how reckless it was. A spellcaster, with his characteristically low defense and HP, was attracting enemies for an entire raid. If something went wrong, the battle lines would crumble in a heartbeat, and the maneuver would end in failure.

Soujirou wasn’t all that worried, though.

“We just got a follow-up report, Souji.”

“How does it look?”

“Exactly like we want it to. He’s using the rooftop broadcasting tower to summon Taliktan, the Genius of Summoning. A Raid-rank level eighty-six.”

“Is that right.”

Soujirou laughed. It looked as if they’d be able to fulfill their role.

“Cannonball” Woodstock, the guild master of Grandale, was a skilled flying dragon rider. He was conducting aerial reconnaissance from above Fortress of the Call and had relayed the results to Nazuna. Apparently, the enemy leader’s name was Taliktan. They’d confirmed its shape in a reconnaissance run at daybreak, and it had been good news.

There was a reason Soujirou and the rest of Party Two had left Shiroe and the other three groups and were acting separately.

Shiroe’s tactics—to leak MP in a mock taunt and round up all the monsters in the zone—had one flaw. If the raid monster that was the enemy leader happened to be within that range, it would turn into a complete melee. The tactic of annihilating the monsters’ reinforcements in a narrow corridor would fall apart the moment the boss monster got pulled in. For this tactic to work, they couldn’t let the boss monster go to Shiroe. The key to the strategy was dividing and ultimately conquering them.

“You look kinda happy, Souji.”

“I am!” he told Nazuna.

His body was light. It felt as if his legs had grown wings. This sharper-than-normal body was probably a reflection of his lack of hesitation. It reminded him of his Debauchery Tea Party days. Back then, Soujirou had been a newbie.

He’d played Elder Tales with his buddy, picked up the basics, stuck his nose into a variety of typical MMO events, gotten separated, made friends, and then found the Tea Party. The Tea Party had been the first community he’d ever encountered in online gaming, and it was a place he’d wanted to protect.

At the time, the Tea Party had been brand-new. Players who wanted to try their hand at raids had begun to gather around Kanami, but those members weren’t fixed, and more than half of them were recruited on the spot whenever they executed a capture. After Soujirou had participated a few times, they sounded him out about participating in earnest, and he’d agreed readily. He’d wanted to attempt high-level high-end content more seriously, too, but what he’d really wanted was companions. There were lots of ladies who were kind to him, but he couldn’t call them comrades-in-arms. Soujirou had wanted hard-hitting combat.

Back then, the senior members—Kanami, Shiroe, KR, Indicus, Naotsugu, Nyanta, Suikazura, Stallbourne, Nurukan, and Nazuna—had already joined up. Touri, Saki, Kurama, Yomi, and others joined around the same time as Soujirou, and the Tea Party continued to take shape. Soujirou’s memories were nostalgic and bright.

“Because this is Mr. Shiro’s maneuver.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was a smile somewhere in Nazuna’s voice, and she sounded happy. That accelerated Soujirou forward, farther and faster.

“Gaaaah. Souji, I swear, you like Shiroe too much!! Are you gay?! You’re gay, aren’t you?!”

Smiling even at Kurinon’s nastiness, Soujirou raced up the narrow staircase, taking the steps three at a time. As he used his high-level Adventurer physical abilities to speed up, he looked like a rocket blasting off its launch pad.

The key to this operation was dividing the enemy.

In particular, the most important task was isolating the boss.

That was the mission entrusted to Party Two, the one he led. Having finished re-forming, the party ran, kicking up a wind. They didn’t have to worry about reinforcements. When Soujirou played his part, it wasn’t even possible Shiroe would fail at his own post. After all, he was one of the three players Soujirou idolized.

“Now that Mr. Shiro’s made up his mind, there’s just one role for me.”

Soujirou slashed with Sacred Blade Kogarasumaru, slicing open the high-steel door that led to the roof. Dashing out into the wash of sunset light, he immediately leapt.

“Lone Dash!”

It was a clear, open space. In the world of Theldesia, the People of the Earth didn’t often make tall structures. As demonstrated by Maihama’s Castle Cinderella, it wasn’t that they didn’t have the technology, but the costs were probably overwhelming. Fortress of the Call was a ruin from the Age of Myth, and as a result, there were no nearby buildings that compared to it in height. In Theldesia, a structure with ten aboveground floors was the equivalent of a skyscraper.

In the middle of the rooftop square, which seemed to have been flung out carelessly, an enormous iron tower jutted even higher into the air above those ten stories. This was probably the magical device that made it possible to communicate with the moon: the broadcasting tower.

At its base was a wrinkled, elderly individual with swarthy skin.

The level-86 Raid-rank monster, Taliktan, the Genius of Summoning.

“One enemy visually confirmed! Now, there’s a feast. Go get ’im, Souji!”

Nazuna raised an arm over her head, and countless small footholds materialized beyond her fingertips.

Mystery: Celestial Passage. This was an ability Nazuna had acquired that surpassed the parameters of Elder Tales. It was based on the damage interception spell Purification Barrier, but instead of being cast on companions, it was split up and distributed across empty space to create footholds. Its ability to intercept damage nearly disappeared, but the shining, translucent platforms that appeared in space made it possible to travel through the air.

In Buddhism, “Celestial Passage” was said to be one of the six supernatural powers gained upon attaining enlightenment. It was one of the so-called divine powers. Of course, what Nazuna was using was her own unique ability, acquired by refining skills she’d had in the game, and it had nothing to do with Buddhism. However, the abilities conferred by Celestial Passage—namely, “being able to leap over castle walls and mountains” and “the ability to run freely through the air, keeping pace with the birds”—had seemed to make it the perfect name for this Mystery. The name of Souji’s Mystery, Clairvoyance, had come from the same system.

Using Nazuna’s Mystery as footholds, Soujirou leapt into the air.

Up on the half-eroded concrete platform, Taliktan looked like a heretical priest. Swarthy skin; white hair worn tied back; a loose white-and-purple robe; and a long, twisted staff. When Souji saw Taliktan, the name “the Genius of Summoning” made sense to him. Taliktan had been using that supernatural ability to summon limitless monsters. The rainbow-colored pillar that linked the broadcasting tower to the sky was made of bubbles of MP. The thought that this enemy had put People of the Earth and Adventurers into comas lit a fighting spirit in him, burning blue.

“Floating Boat: Helm Splitter!”

He shifted directly from a martial-arts style of movement that made use of the footholds to an attack from above. It was a head-on cleaving attack that would ordinarily have worked best with a two-handed sword. Since Soujirou was one of the few Samurai twin sword–style builds, which emphasized counterattacking, he’d equipped a katana to each hand. As a result, instead of the usual slashing attack, he had to spin to launch the technique.

The attack bit into the cap of Taliktan’s shoulder.

He felt a good, solid response.

Of course, his opponent was a raid monster: a tough enemy in high-end content that had anywhere from several thousand to several tens of thousands of times the HP of solo monsters. Soujirou’s single attack hadn’t decreased its HP enough for the loss to show on the display. However, the attack hadn’t been deflected by a barrier, and it had gone through without being blocked by armor. In any case, his opponent’s level was 86. There was no way they couldn’t beat that… Assuming that this world was the same as Elder Tales, and there were a full twenty-four members in Soujirou’s group.

“Nazuna, Isami. Cover me.”

“Leave it to me, Boss!”

“Yeah, yeah. On it.”

When dealing with a spellcaster-type monster, using Rania’s Capture was a standard move, but it failed. However, no sooner had it done so than Isami linked it directly to Whirlwind Cutter, and he didn’t see any of the fear she’d felt right after the Catastrophe. Using Nazuna’s cover, Secret Rite of Celestial Tread, she closed the distance between them at high speed, continuing to create vulnerabilities for Soujirou to exploit.

In response, Soujirou shifted from Helm Splitter straight into Fire-Wheel Sword. The sound of the blade splitting the atmosphere seemed to point his heart toward its destination.

Once, Soujirou had spent a long time being afraid.

…About the fact that he’d created the West Wind Brigade.

No one had ever done so, but someday, somebody might ask him, Didn’t you put that guild together as a replacement for the Tea Party?

On the day Shiroe had turned down his invitation to join the West Wind Brigade, that fear had taken root in his heart. He’d felt a hidden uncertainty. Was he forcing crowds of people to live in ways they didn’t want to live, without being aware of it?

His time with the Tea Party had been a whole lot of fun; was it possible he was just trying to reclaim those days? If someone asked him about it, what could he tell them? Soujirou wasn’t good at thinking about things, so he hadn’t managed to come up with anything like a conclusion. However, the questions truthfully triggered a dull pain inside him.

Both when he’d just started playing Elder Tales and had been all excited, and when the Tea Party had disbanded, Soujirou had humbly asked his friends to stay with him, but they’d gone their own ways. He’d thought he hadn’t had any luck with friends.

And so Soujirou had been happy.

The great sword he was swinging came down, carrying delight and satisfaction with it.

Once Shiroe’s command had recovered, it had been just the way it had been during their Tea Party days. Or rather, it was clearer than it had been in the past, and it permeated each member of the raid team. As he bounded through the air and twisted his body, as he ran his gaze over the icons and switched stances, he felt his companions’ breathing. He couldn’t actually see them, but they seemed indescribably close to him. He knew what they were thinking, what they were trying to do, and their self-restraint as if those things were his own.

People would probably say that liking combat for reasons like that meant he was a little crazy, but he could tell his lips had curved into a smile. It wasn’t that he wanted to kill enemies. In the midst of the sensation that he was diffusing, then forming connections, he began to understand things he normally didn’t know. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel those things during ordinary battles, but with Shiroe in command, they came home to him with incomparable intensity.

In short, Soujirou had been worried for nothing.

Isami, Nazuna, Olive, and Kurinon.

They all genuinely considered Soujirou their friend. Of course, all sorts of things were probably mixed into that emotion, and they didn’t all feel quite the same way, but the bonds he’d forged between himself and his companions weren’t a one-way thing.

Soujirou laughed at himself, thinking that, if it took a raid to make him understand something that simple, he really was dumb.

He also felt an odd sort of destiny in the fact that Shiroe—someone he thought had left him—had helped him to see it.

“And so, Taliktan.”

Sword guard clinking, Soujirou turned Sacred Blade Kogarasumaru on the raid boss in front of him. A translucent divine messenger in a fox mask stood behind him, spreading its arms like something from a Noh play. The fantasy-class blade exuded a pressure that made the air shiver, its spiritual power building.

“Dance with me for a while. I can’t let you go down there.”

3

“Mr. Shiro, we started without you.”

“We’ve got it all warmed up, Shiroe!”

A ruined midair garden spread out before them, jutting into space several dozen meters above the ground. The concrete was cracked, and thin, spindly weeds poked through the gaps. A single ruin seemed to float, isolated, in the darkening crimson sky.

The strong wind that buffeted his cheeks felt as if it was blowing from all four directions. In Theldesia, which had almost no tall buildings, the view from Fortress of the Call was overwhelming. They were able to see so far that, in the old world, it seemed as though the view might have encompassed all of Tokyo.

The building’s square roof had no fence, raised edges, or other safety measures, so its edges were sheer. The sense of vastness was so overpowering that someone who was afraid of heights would probably have been unable to move.

By the time Shiroe and the others tumbled out onto it, Soujirou and the rest of the second party were in the middle of a protracted battle with Taliktan, as everyone had expected.

“Thank you! Reinforcements clear. Report!”

As he shouted, Shiroe signaled to the reinforcements with one hand.

In response to that hand sign, the remaining eighteen members of the raid team headed for Taliktan in a long, serpentine line and started forming ranks, with Naotsugu in the lead.

The second party had been designed for mobile defense. Compared with the first—which was built to completely engage with the enemy leader, keep it locked down for long periods of time, and fight with the goal of annihilating it—the second had better all-around performance, but its defense, recovery, and long-term combat abilities were lower. Whether defending or attacking, the Samurai class had excellent instantaneous abilities. Soujirou had kept the battle going this long through his player skills. That was just like him, but even so, they should probably avoid putting any more of a strain on him.

Naotsugu, the main tank, dashed forward, and Marielle sent support at him. It was Reactive Heal. Its level was low, but in combination with Minori’s Purification Barrier, it would probably last through the first attack.

“His level’s not that high. His ordinary attacks are within the expected range. His attribute is physical: that staff. There are two trouble spots. He has these group attacks that make no sense.”

“What’s the range configuration?”

As Nazuna answered Shiroe, she cast a Purification Barrier on Soujirou. She’d practiced it so often that she could add it without paying attention. But because the wind was strong, no matter what they did, they found themselves yelling as they talked.

“We don’t know. Purple electrical attacks that looked guided rampaged around. I’m the only one who didn’t get hit, but I was standing in practically the same place as Souji!”

So distance isn’t relevant? It’s a random attack?

Using Force Step to adjust the ranks, Shiroe kept thinking.

“The damage is huge. Souji played his trump card, and even then he almost went down.”

This was bad news.

The basic performance of the Samurai class was lower than the Guardian class. They weren’t able to equip shields, and their attribute defense tended to be lower as well. However, in exchange, their instantaneous coping abilities were far greater. Instant Desertion was a powerful special technique that let the user completely avoid all attacks for a short period of time, and Sword of Gathering Clouds was able to cancel the attack itself and halve the damage. Shiroe knew how Soujirou fought from their time in the Tea Party, and just hearing that he’d almost gone down while Parry was active told him how fierce the enemy’s attacks were.

If they took the same attack, there was a good possibility the front line would collapse.

No wonder the rearguard fighters’ HP is so far down.

Tetora, who’d opted not to compete with Marielle and was on standby in the rear instead, had begun to heal players, focusing on the ones who were the most severely injured. Reactive Heal was high performance, but as the name suggested, it was a spell system that automatically reacted to enemy attacks and recovered HP (although, naturally, not completely). The rearguard players had already taken damage and lost a lot of HP, and the only way to deal with it was to provide care using regular recovery spells. Tetora was recovering the injured members by combining spells such as Heal and Healing Light.

That was probably the correct decision.

“Sleep, all of you.”

“Why are you doing this?! What is this ‘sleep’ anyway?!”

The voice sounded like a growl.

Even so, Shiroe answered the words that fell from the monster’s lips with the response he’d planned on, loading it with his wish. This had been one of his covert goals. It was the reason he’d needed to come here.

Shiroe hadn’t been able to believe everything in Roe2’s letter. But even before that, it was hard to say he’d understood the content sufficiently.

Roe2 had warned them about the Geniuses, but despite that, Shiroe had been hesitant to cut them off without attempting a discussion. Now that things had come to this, it would probably be difficult to avoid fighting, but in that case, he at least wanted information.

“Sleep, all of you.”

“Isn’t there room to talk this out?!”

Every time Taliktan brandished his twisted staff, shock waves rampaged, and the flooring material—which should have been concrete—crumbled with absurd ease.

Shiroe looked into the eyes of the Genius of Summoning.

He had small pupils that shone like stars against a jet-black background.

Physically, he appeared to be an aged Summoner, but his expression was something entirely different. It seemed mechanical rather than alive, and the only responses Shiroe could sense were flat, inhuman ones.

“This guy’s just like Camaysar. A little better, ’cos he’s not a pervert.”

“Mr. Shiro, you can’t get through to him by talking.”

Even as a storm of bullet-like shock waves cut his cheeks, Shiroe gazed straight at the Genius. There had to be some kind of clue here. As he fought, he tried desperately to uncover it.

Taliktan wanted Empathiom, too.

The result had been this sleep.

And from what Shiroe could guess, while Empathiom might be a resource, it wasn’t energy in the strictest sense of the word. That they couldn’t get through to the Geniuses by talking was proof of this, in a way. With that one move, he’d come a little closer to the meaning of that letter.

“Shiroe, that lightning they reported—! It’s preliminary motions—”

Riezé’s scream was brilliant.

She’d picked up on the preliminary motions of a monster attack she was seeing for the first time.

However, there wasn’t enough time to urge the team to take evasive action. At the edge of his field of vision, he saw Naotsugu raise his large shield, but the lightning seemed to have bypassed the Guardian. Increasing all at once, it raced among the members of the vanguard, and Soujirou, Nyanta, Nazuna, and Akatsuki were run through.

“Shiroe, about a hundred and eighty seconds…!”

Even as Nazuna was thrown to the ground by the force of the electrical attack, she finished giving her report.

If an attack as powerful as this one was unleashed several times in a row, they’d never manage to fight an actual battle. With 180 seconds, they could have used a brute force approach as they recovered, but apparently, that strategy wasn’t going to be possible, either.

“Mr. Shiro, don’t let your guard down. He calls in reinforcements. Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits… He twists that rainbow-colored light—!”

Unlike the healer, Soujirou had a little leeway, and as he cautioned Shiroe, he attempted a bold charge. He’d anticipated that special ability, both when he’d seen the name “Genius of Summoning” and when swarms of Eternal Moths had appeared in Akiba. He’d predicted that the mastermind would be a being that called in reinforcements of some kind. As a matter of fact, most of the monsters that Shiroe and the others had fought their way through in this dungeon, the Party-rank monsters, had probably been summoned by Taliktan.

He’d thought up a way to deal with that.

Now that he’d come this far and had seen the battlefield, he was sure.

The problem was that he didn’t really have the time to explain it.

“Third party, bring your aggro down! Naotsugu, Souji, prepare for a pincer attack. We’re moving.”

“Moving? What are you planning to do, Shiroe?! There’s nowhere else to go!”

Shouryuu’s words sounded like a scream, and they made him feel guilty.

True, this midair concrete garden wasn’t the sort of place they could run from. Considered normally, that was true.

“First party, close ranks.”

However, there was no time to explain the details to Shouryuu and the rest.

If the recast time for that purple lightning was 180 seconds, they should probably assume the same was true for summoning reinforcements. At the very least, he didn’t have the leeway to explain slowly.

“We’re moving the battlefield. We have a shot at victory. Please believe in your own strength, the strength of Adventurers!”

His eyes met Akatsuki’s, and he saw her nod emphatically.

For no reason at all, he abruptly felt as if this was going to work.

This, after all that worrying I did earlier. I guess I’m pretty mercenary. Shiroe laughed at himself. Apparently, as long as he knew what he needed do, he didn’t hesitate. Either way, if that tower was a magic device, they had to tear the enemy away from it.

*   *   *

“Aggro Exchange! Anchor Howl!”

A torrent of light streamed from the sword Naotsugu held high, draining something from Soujirou. Aggro Exchange was a special skill that swapped the user’s aggro with the aggro of a targeted companion. Soujirou, the main force of the second party, had mounted a preemptive strike and supported the front line until just a moment ago, and now Naotsugu had taken over the vast amount of aggro he’d accumulated.

Taliktan’s eyes were like red stars floating in a black, bottomless swamp. They rolled in a grotesque motion that seemed as if it should be audible, shifting to glare at Naotsugu.

“’Scuse me a sec, Miss Mari.”

Naotsugu, who was now the sole target of Taliktan’s aggro, turned around, winked cheerfully, then scooped Marielle up. Getting picked up sideways startled the woman, but the next second, her cheeks flushed as if they’d been boiled. Marielle attempted to protest but didn’t have time.

“Let’s roll, Shiro.”

“Hurry, my liege.”

Leaving those words behind them, the two of them leapt into the sunset sky, pursued by Taliktan.

Falling.

Shiroe and the others had jumped from a height of several dozen meters.

They plunged toward the ground like stones, falling through air that seemed to have turned solid and howled in their ears as they passed. Even though turning Fly into a range spell had weakened its braking effect, Shiroe glared up at the shape bearing down on them, silhouetted against the moon.

Come and get us.

He hit Taliktan with that thought, without speaking it aloud. This might have been a more important move than confronting the Genius. Taliktan pursued them, and the rainbow bubbles clung to him, following him. Just as Shiroe had thought, even the Genius of Summoning needed that iron tower—in other words, a channel to the moon—in order to summon Eternal Moths.

To separate Taliktan from that tower, Shiroe’s group had executed a maneuver that was like diving. The Genius already begun to summon. Unless they stopped Taliktan here, the damage would be even greater. In addition, they’d probably lose their means of contacting the moon and of closing in on the heart of the mystery.

However, as Shiroe murmured to Taliktan, he wore a fearless smile.

“If this is a raid, it’s my battlefield. Watch what eight years of constant fighting on countless battlefields and accumulated knowledge can do.”

Before anyone heard them, the words were shredded by the wind and vanished.

4

“Uhhh, yes, yes. Put them all out. No, never mind that, forget about profit. Use ammunition and potions right and left, open all storehouses up to tier six, and clear out all the stock, thanks in advance, ’bye.”

Right after ending his telechat with the dwarf girl who acted as his inventory manager, Calasin leaned in from the corridor and spoke to the People of the Earth maids and cooks: “I brought you some meat.” Many impromptu kettles and tents had been set up in the courtyard, and the place was as noisy as a battlefield. Or rather, it actually was a battlefield.

Castle Cinderella, the heart of the Maihama duchy, was currently serving as a frontline base. Since the Eternal Moths attacked from the sky, castle walls and city streets meant nothing to them. In the dusk, this castle was caught up in a battle with attacking monsters.

The monsters seemed to prioritize targeting beings with high combat abilities or mana. In this world, that description was synonymous with Adventurer. In the urban areas of Maihama, the doors of all the houses had been shut tight, and martial law had been declared. The People of the Earth just held their breath and stared up at the sky. The city and castle were being defended by a force that had been built around the Knights of the Black Sword.

The idea of holding the Eternal Moths back in forests and highways away from the town had been suggested, but the monsters attacked Adventurers only “as a rule.” They weren’t intelligent enough to let People of the Earth they happened to encounter get away. In that case, Isaac, who led the Knights of the Black Sword, had decided to keep them where he could see them and guard them that way.

Calasin’s motives were different, but that didn’t change the conclusion.

As a result of these things, the defense operation was underway.

“Mr. Calasin.”

“Oh, would you look at that! Thanks very much for the present.”

Bright female voices sent up cheers.

In this castle, Calasin was even more popular than Isaac. The goods Shopping District 8 brought were useful to People of the Earth of every class, and the demand was particularly large among the kitchen personnel. Items like sauces, soy sauce, and high-purity sugar were still difficult for the People of the Earth to make on their own.

“You’re real popular, GM!”

Glancing at Taro, who’d complimented him with wide, startled eyes, Calasin grumbled: “Well, sure: I’m the Young Gent.” About 20 percent of those cheers had come from hungry soldiers, and 70 percent had been from the middle-aged maids and chefs who were preparing the food. Even Taro, who looked startled every time and wore expressions that said, That’s amazing. Wow, I’m jealous, knew this and was acting that way on purpose. Calasin couldn’t deal with the guy.

After he dexterously removed groceries and potions from his fantasy-class Holy Precincts of Ku Lal Bag and lined them up under the tent, his job here was done. Beside him, Taro had taken bandages out of his own shoulder bag. Having finished his work as well, he nodded firmly.

“From the southwest and the west, you think?”

As they traveled along the top of Castle Cinderella’s retaining wall at a jog, Taro spoke.

Sounds that were sharp but somehow light, as if paper bags full of air were being popped, rang out one after another. It was the noise of attack spells, bursting in midair. Since they were far away, they sounded flimsy.

“That’s where the Black Sword’s main forces are. The People of the Earth knight brigade should be there as well.”

“Is that gonna be okay?”

Calasin answered Taro’s drawled question with a nod: “No worries.”

It should be all right. In fact, as far as the current uproar was concerned, he predicted they’d do extremely useful work. After being trained by Isaac and company, the Glass Greaves’ levels were in the high twenties. Among the People of the Earth, these abilities were considered elite, and they had combat power that civilian People of the Earth couldn’t hope to match. Since their basic abilities like strength and endurance had grown as well, they’d be able to fight for a long time.

On top of that, since they were still far from the level-90 Knights of the Black Sword, the Eternal Moths wouldn’t be as quick to target them. While the Knights of the Black Sword held the enemy in check from the front, they could act as guerilla fighters and attack from the flanks or direct evacuations all they wanted. In fact, Calasin had been getting reports to this effect.

“Before sunset, though, huh? I wish they’d stick to the schedule.”

“There’s no help for that. Trouble always crops up.”

Calasin shrugged.

It wasn’t clear what had happened, but the Eternal Moths had attacked without waiting for moonrise. However, Calasin was taking that as a positive sign.

“Shiroe and the others must have done something.”

“‘Something’?”

“Yes, something.”

He had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t anything he needed to think about.

At any rate, Shiroe had taken action out on location to corner the enemy, and the schedule had shifted. Calasin had assumed that, since Shiroe had gone, he’d get it done, so there didn’t seem to be any point in thinking about the details of the situation at the site. This wasn’t because he trusted Shiroe or anything. It was more that he thought that, since the world was like a violent torrent loaded with unexpected happenings and hurtling downstream, there was no point in worrying about things he couldn’t completely control on his own. Though, thought might not have been the word: Calasin had his hands full with his own territory, so he didn’t have time to meddle with anything extra.

Although taking care of little Minori and other girls is another thing entirely…

Worrying about Shiroe was ridiculous. It was what was known as a wasted investment.

That said, as far as the battle in front of him was concerned, he was involved, and he’d probably have to get through it.

“Taro.”

“Yessir, GM.”

His contemporary straightened up and saluted, and Calasin issued several requests. Taro, who’d pulled a memo book with a paw pad mark on it out of his back pocket and was taking down notes, said “Really?” and “Really for real?” several times, making sure, then made tracks for the front line. The defensive wall around the town itself was several kilometers away, but if an Adventurer put their strong legs to work, they could get there in a bit under ten minutes.

The stock discharge wasn’t a problem at all. The Adventurers of Akiba almost never used items compatible with level 30 and under anymore. You could have called the stuff backlogged inferior stock that had been sitting around since the days of the game. If they let it go here, it might not look so good on the books, but it wouldn’t do them much damage. On the contrary, Calasin thought that if they had the opportunity to create some obligations, they should go ahead and do that.

Calasin entered the great hall, passed through it, then went down a colorfully carpeted corridor to the main tower. Slowly, he climbed the broad spiral staircase. There were small windows whose purpose was to let in light, and the color that filtered in through them was madder red. The tower was filled with the chilly air of an early spring evening.

He hadn’t climbed up to it many times, but the top floor of this main tower probably had a view across the whole city. From what he’d just heard, Duke Sergiad was up there as well.

Partway up the spiral, Calasin and some knights on guard duty passed one another. They weren’t just People of the Earth; Adventurers were in the group, too. Lezarik was in charge of security, and apparently, he was posting sufficient forces.

Although the streets he saw from a small window halfway up the tower were brimming with tension, he didn’t see any fighting. It was probably just a bad angle; the fighting was over by the hills and the defensive wall.

Calasin sighed and continued on.

The situation was pretty tiresome. However, he thought tiresome might have a saturation point. Just as it wasn’t possible to dissolve more than three hundred grams or so of salt in a liter of water, there was a limit to the number of exhausting things that would melt into human lives. Where did the fatigue go when it reached its limit and overflowed? It spilled over into the surrounding area. It was just like a room in chaos. There were limits to the amount that people could clean up.

Since mystery monsters had appeared with such excellent timing, further inquiries into the Iselus assassination affair had been shelved. That had been convenient for Calasin, too, so he hadn’t made a fuss, but assassinations weren’t the sort of thing that could be neglected, either.

Yes, there were limits to the amount that people could clean up.

Still, people were said to be creatures who could work together, and so in order to fulfill the duty in front of him and his own curiosity, Calasin climbed the tower.

“Hello.”

“Oho. To think you’d come here, Sir Calasin.”

Sergiad, who’d given a laid-back response to a laid-back greeting, was gazing at the battlefield from the tower balcony. His profile had been stern, but when he turned to Calasin, it was mild again. The knights who were attending him didn’t look stressed, either, probably because the battle they could see from the balcony was going their way.

“How does the monster attack look?”

“Incredibly abnormal. There are no records of an attack that would require Adventurers to line the town walls in the history of Maihama.”

“You look very calm, for all that.”

“Well, I’m leaving everything to Sir Isaac. Panicking would be an insult to his bravery.”

Duke Sergiad laughed lightly, and Calasin smiled along with him.

Inwardly, he frowned. He was like his boss in the old world. Not only that, but he wasn’t a direct boss; he was something like a managing director, a member of the executive class, somebody whose station was far above the rest. He had the sort of monstrous aura that left you unable to taste what you were eating when he invited you to lunch on an apparent whim.

Come to think of it, Michitaka and Isaac seem to hit it off with him. Do sportsman types correct for things like that?

I really, really can’t, Calasin thought, getting in an internal verbal jab.

With someone like this, being tactful in a halfhearted way could be nothing but a weak point. They’d predict your actions and words and end up striking them all down. He’d have to distance himself from the mind-set of competing during negotiations.

Well, it should be fine.

Calasin gave up on thinking. If there were problems left over, somebody somewhere would just have to mop them up afterward. After all, the range that one person could clean was limited.

I say “somebody somewhere,” but it’ll probably be Shiroe.

Internally, he clapped his hands together in apology.

“And so what will you do about diplomacy with Westlande?”

“Is the Round Table Council finally venturing into Yamato’s politics?”

“Perish the thought. I’m just a petty merchant gathering information in order to protect myself.”

Calasin shrugged and looked self-effacing, but he wasn’t speaking in earnest. He also didn’t think Duke Sergiad would accept the idea that he was only a merchant making small talk. He was speaking with the head of a political body that divided Yamato into two parts.

Calasin had thought that, if he held back, he’d only fall behind, and nothing good would come of it, so he asked question after question, wearing an intentionally audacious expression. Even if he was dripping with cold sweat internally, throwing himself on the man’s mercy seemed like a patently terrible move.

“Do you think there’ll be a war?”

“—I’d like to avoid that.”

As he let those words fall, Duke Sergiad was gazing into the distance.

“Unfortunately, things never go as you’d like. You may ask that, Sir Calasin, but to the Holy Empire of Westlande, our Eastal is a disobedient enemy of the emperor. It isn’t a question of whether to go to war or not. To them, long before that, we are rebels who must be destroyed. The only reason the Holy Empire of Westlande hasn’t invaded us during the past three hundred years is that they didn’t have the military force to do so.”

“And when the Adventurers appeared, that broke down?”

“Westlande isn’t a monolith, either. In the near future, it will probably crack.”

Duke Sergiad’s words were half blown away by the wind, but they reached Calasin’s ears clearly.

That was a definite possibility.

Conditions in Minami were complicated. In a way, that relationship was more complex than the one between Akiba and Eastal.

Most of Akiba’s Adventurers believed Plant Hwyaden was an organization of self-government that was headquartered in the Kansai area and had been created by the Adventurers: In other words, it was Western Yamato’s Round Table Council. …But this wasn’t the case.

As proof, Plant Hwyaden’s Ten-Seat Council had People of the Earth members, as well as Adventurers. There weren’t many people in Akiba who gave serious thought to what that signified.

“Is that, erm…? Would that be the Adventurers’ fault?”

“The ambition belongs to the senate, mind you. Still, where there’s oil, fire burns more fiercely.”

Plant Hwyaden was not an Adventurer organization of self-government.

It was the new governing organization of Western Yamato. The subjects it governed were the People of the Earth, and the Adventurers who were part of Plant Hwyaden were a new ruling class, an aristocracy. The Ten-Seat Council said no such thing, of course, and it was likely that most of the Adventurers who lived in Minami weren’t conscious of the fact. However, in practice, this was already the case. A system in which that was the inevitable result was already in operation.

To make matters worse, that didn’t mean Plant Hwyaden was the only governing organization in West Yamato.

West Yamato already had a governing organization known as the Holy Empire of Westlande. Internally, it had a bureaucracy known as the senate and nobles in the form of the House of Saiguu. It could be said that the rivalry and cooperation between the senate and the House of Saiguu was the history of the Holy Empire of Westlande itself. The senate, which ruled the people, and the House of Saiguu, the people’s hope. Plant Hwyaden had been added on top of this double-layered control.

By rights, the confusion generated by the churning inconsistencies could easily have collapsed it. However, those inconsistencies were being hidden by the safety and the new technologies—in other words, the benefits—provided by the Adventurers.

What Duke Sergiad had said seemed to support Calasin’s misgivings.

“We don’t know what sort of confidential talks have been carried out or who’s collaborating with whom. However, someone in Westlande, probably the senate’s faction, must have thought that they wouldn’t mind a war. That their chances of victory were great enough.”

“I wonder about that.”

Calasin shrugged.

He doubted whether Zeldus had that much fighting spirit.

“The odds of victory don’t really show up as numbers to that extent.”

“A strange statement, coming from a merchant.”

Calasin thought as he responded to Sergiad.

“No, it’s because I am a merchant. Projects—new businesses—are uncertain things. Once you start them, you can’t stop, and the results are mostly ambiguous. Ninety percent of the time, the outcome isn’t a definite win or a loss. For example, maybe the capital you had lined up went down the drain, but you got by without losing your personnel. Or maybe your sales were bigger than you’d planned on, but it triggered a labor dispute at your new factory.”

“You mean it’s never a perfect win or a perfect loss, then?”

The ultimate goal of the Round Table Council, and of Shopping District 8, was survival. In this warped world, Adventurers didn’t die. However, the simple fact that they didn’t die didn’t necessarily mean they were living. Calasin was running a commercial guild precisely because he didn’t think those things were equal.

Since there was no end, the question of how to spend that infinity became a problem.

Ultimately, they had no choice but to spend it here, quarreling and making up again. As far as Calasin was concerned, being able to talk things over was the absolute minimum. The mere thought of all-out war with an unkillable opponent made his skin crawl.

“That’s right. Long story short, we’re alive, so even if we’re beaten hollow, there’s nothing for it but to search for the next thing and look for a bright spot or two as we go. If we win big, in the future, that big win might make people arrogant and lead to another war. That’s what business is: No matter how things go, it doesn’t end that easily.”

“You’re a tough one.”

“Well, in private-sector businesses, common sense is all about customers and safety management, and the budget doesn’t smile on departments that don’t generate profit. Unfortunately, though, we’re not salaried workers. And so, Duke Sergiad: Would you sell the Round Table your inventory?”

Sergiad’s eyebrows shot up, and he murmured, “What is it you need?”

Calasin responded with the straightest face he could manage. “To begin with, the slacker princess, perhaps.”

With the pillar of rainbow light that climbed to the moon behind them, the two figures stood frozen like statues, and for a long time, neither of them moved.

5

Taliktan, the Genius of Summoning, had broken a huge hole in the wall and leapt through. Golden hair swinging, Riezé intercepted him: Frost Spear, a spear of ice that gushed cold air.

Of the three elements that Sorcerers controlled, cold air was less popular than the others. This was because the attack classes were meant to kill enemies, and the direct damage dealt by ice spells was relatively low. For instance, the electric spell Lightning Chamber and the fire spell Burned Stake did far more damage, but Riezé still placed her focus on ice spells. In her opinion, the balance between firepower and MP consumption was good, as were the length of the cast times and the force per strike.

In general, long cast times were considered a drawback, but if you were able to predict the enemy’s movements, they turned into an advantage. That was true this time, too. A spell that used up the time the enemy spent moving on a long chant held destructive power commensurate to its cast time. When the white-haired Genius appeared in the hall, she sent it right at his nose. Another advantage was that, of the spells Sorcerers used, this one was excellent at hampering the enemy’s movements.

As Taliktan tottered, Koen and Yuzuko launched full-power attacks.

“Still…,” Riezé murmured.

That had been very rough.

When she’d heard about the maneuver, she’d doubted Shiroe’s sanity, and even now, she thought it was preposterous. She didn’t know the actual number of stories, but that broadcasting tower couldn’t have been less than thirty meters off the ground. Shiroe’s plan had involved not only leaping from the open rooftop, but linking that act to kiting.

The outcome had been successful, but it still struck Riezé as far too absurd. Although, truthfully, it was possible she was merely bound by fixed ideas. The maneuver actually had succeeded, and they’d managed to drag Taliktan into the melee in this music hall.

“This isn’t like Master Shiroe…I don’t think…”

“Nah, that’s not true.”

Nazuna leapt lightly backward in a move as if she had eyes in her back, coming to stand beside Riezé, and answered her.

“Shiro did the same thing, this counselor stuff, on the Tea Party. I dunno what the world thought about us, but we were a rough, random bunch. Today, he’s just like he was back then, that’s all. This is normal.”

Nazuna, who’d leveled her katana alertly and was glaring at the enemy, smiled faintly as she boasted.

She was probably telling the truth.

Riezé had misread Shiroe. He was the driving force behind the Round Table Council. Someone who had contributed to the alliance with Eastal, the League of Free Cities. A hardworking man of the world who undertook the task of arranging things among the guilds and organizing information. An able official, a competent administrator, a worker with political abilities, a strategist—those were the concepts through which she’d seen him. Yet, they were only a part of him.

Her staff moved automatically, rapidly spinning one spell after another.

A Sorcerer’s role was to concentrate firepower. Each spell had a cast time, a bind time, and a recast time. This meant it wasn’t possible to use the same spell several times in a row, so they ended up using the recast time as the chant time for another spell. Sorcerers fought by combining anywhere from five to ten types of spells to create a cycle, and then repeating that cycle.

It was easy to say, but it was actually pretty difficult. Even if a spell was standardized, its performance differed slightly from Sorcerer to Sorcerer. Furthermore, the special skills, style, and equipment a player had changed recast times, so the spells that could be linked together in a play cycle changed as well.

For instance, there were some enemy monsters that had resistance to fire damage. When dealing with those monsters, the flame spells in a cycle got in the way, but naturally, when taking those spells out, the whole cycle broke down. In other words, did the Sorcerer have several types of cycles custom-made? Could they maintain the spells at the unconscious level and choose them to suit the circumstances? These were the abilities that were required from Sorcerers on raids.

As a member of D.D.D., Riezé had sufficiently mastered eight cycles. Four of those were the type that could be connected to different cycles by adding internal branch points, to cope with abrupt accidents. There weren’t many Sorcerers that well trained. Among Elder Tales magic classes, it was one of the pinnacles of sophistication.

However, even to Riezé, Shiroe’s spell cycles seemed unique.

For most spells, chant times were between two and ten seconds. That meant it took anywhere from a minute and a half to two minutes for one cycle to complete. With a simple observation, anyone could tell which spells were being used and how they were linked together. Nonetheless, she wasn’t able to read the scale of Shiroe’s cycles.

Even so, he wasn’t simply chanting spells as he thought of them. That would have resulted in weak connections and lost time, which would have reduced the final damage output.

No such loss was visible in Shiroe’s spell chants. She could see the traces of some sort of diligent study. Yet even still, she didn’t understand how the cycles were structured. Had he learned such an abundance of cycles that it wasn’t possible to read them entirely in a day or so of fighting together, or was this some other, different technique?

His MP isn’t going down. It’s falling, but the recovery is balancing it. He’s maintaining the combat skills, even as he circulates the ranks and controls them. That’s what the frequent instructions to break through the front line are for.

Shiroe was giving shape to an idea that would have been laughed down as a joke, even if someone had managed to come up with it. There were errors, of course. They were there, but the sort of precautionary measures that would cover for them had already been taken.

He hadn’t instructed Nazuna to fall back a moment ago just to keep her MP in reserve. It had been in order to recover the recast time from the big technique Great Purification Prayer—

Actually, no, that wasn’t it: It was intended to block Taliktan’s gaze and line of fire, which he’d turned on Isuzu and Rundelhaus. Or rather, Shiroe had made it look that way, when it was really so that she could act as an observer and give Soujirou advice from the rear, as someone who was very skilled at executing team plays with him.

The true intent behind Shiroe’s instructions stayed vague while only the group’s effects accumulated, light racing along countless paths toward victory. Riezé was also a raid commander, and she had a Tactician subclass. It was her job to see an encounter with the enemy as a story and read it carefully. However, even for Riezé, the story Shiroe was reading now was too wild, and her comprehension couldn’t keep up.

Shiroe probably hadn’t chosen a protagonist for his story.

Anyone could corner Taliktan, using any method.

That was no doubt what he was thinking.

Under Shiroe’s command, there was no clear casting even for the attackers and the supporters. Even Kushiyatama—the close-combat Kannagi and “rampaging miko”—was brandishing her blade as if it felt good.

“Count ten seconds. Requesting Barriers on Naotsugu, Nyanta, Koen, Akatsuki, and Soujirou!”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

Nazuna responded to Shiroe’s directions in a teasing voice, then chanted Purification Barrier. In an instant, translucent walls that shone madder red appeared and were applied to her allies. It was a preemptive defense spell, cast when an attack was anticipated. At that command, Riezé instinctively knew that a large attack from Taliktan was on its way.

“Hurry… Four, three, two… Now!”

As Riezé glared at him, Taliktan raised his twisted staff high, unleashing purple lightning. The bolts burst at close range, and Riezé averted her face from the light, but her Mystery, Chiron Tablet, kept tracking the battle log.

The barriers had definitely obstructed the lightning attack, but even then, Naotsugu and its other targets had taken enough damage to lose more than half their HP. It had been Taliktan’s most powerful attack. If the barriers hadn’t made it in time, and if they hadn’t defended with pinpoint accuracy, there was no question that the front line would have collapsed.

As she registered that fact, Riezé turned pale, but through her fear, she searched desperately for an answer. Taliktan’s lightning had avoided Riezé and headed for Nyanta. Riezé had been right in its path. She hadn’t had a barrier, and if it had gone straight ahead, it would have turned her to charcoal. Why had it avoided her? Why had Nyanta been targeted? More than anything, why had it been predicted so perfectly…?

“Why, huh? How did Shiro know who was gonna get hit?”

As she asked that question, Marielle was turning white. The answer was…

“An upper-rank aggro list–penetrating attack.”

Shiroe and Riezé’s voices overlapped.

An “aggro list” was a theoretical index of the aggro Taliktan felt. Assuming the threats the monster sensed were converted into numerical values, this attack targeted the top five names on that list.

It wasn’t as if that realization had been a very big one.

In addition, except for this being very nearly the first time they’d seen it, it was a deduction that was only natural for a raid commander, nothing to be proud of. But that wasn’t the problem. The issue was that Shiroe had read off the top names on that aggro list by himself, as if it were only natural.

Aggro wasn’t a numerical status. Those who had inflicted great damage, those with powerful recovery spells, those who were nearby. It was something inside monsters that took all sorts of conditions into account and changed kaleidoscopically. As the main tank, Naotsugu boosted this aggro to its maximum in order to pull monsters to him, so now, when Taliktan was fighting him head-on, it was clear he was at the top of the aggro list. However, second place and below had to be deduced from the progression of the battle up to this point.

Not only that, but in the world after the Catastrophe, it wasn’t possible to check the battle log in a window. She didn’t think Shiroe had acquired the Chiron Tablet Mystery, so how had he known? The answer sent a strange chill through Riezé’s spine, along with a sort of spooked awe.

With Chiron Tablet, it was possible to visually confirm the battle log. Everything that happened in combat—including damage inflicted, damage received, its attribute and range, frequency, recovery, and even applied effects—was converted into readable text. That was the Mystery Riezé had.

However, through observation and insight, Shiroe had simply surpassed her Mystery.

Riezé had just experienced Shiroe’s Full Control Encounter.

“What’s the matter?!”

At the sight of Kushiyatama, who’d rapped out the question and was racing toward the front line, her heart trembled.

Akatsuki leapt as if there was a translucent staircase in midair. Her valiant figure was splendid.

Nazuna seemed to be unleashing relentless attacks, and she was perfectly positioned to shield the rearguard from the line of fire. Riezé was able to understand her consideration.

“This is fun, isn’t it, Miss Kushi?”

“Exactly!”

Riezé broke into a run as well. The gloom in her heart had cleared completely.

She’d thought that what Krusty’s command had and hers lacked was charisma, but she’d been shown that that wasn’t all. What Calasin had said had been true: Shiroe was the same type as Riezé. The true meaning of those words had been nothing less than that Riezé still had a long way to go. Thinking that being the same type of person meant she could do similar things was conceited and an insult to Shiroe. It was because she was similar that she understood this.

True, like Riezé, Shiroe was a rearguard-type commander. That meant he didn’t have the sort of charisma Krusty did. Still, even so, he was far ahead of Riezé.

Precisely because they fought with calculations and insight and preliminary investigations, the difference in experience and the number of battles fought was brutally clear.

“U-fu-fu-fu-fu. Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

Riezé struck down rubble that had come flying toward her with Pride of Queen, then kicked the ground with her long legs.

Fun. Shiroe’s command was fun.

There were still many things she couldn’t see.

There was a lot of territory her hands couldn’t yet reach.

Instead of humiliation and inferiority, this made Riezé feel ambitious and as if she were soaring.

“I’m afraid I was conceited. This is the legend of the Tea Party. People flattered me, as the captain of the training unit, as a member of Drei Klauen, and I grew arrogant, thinking that I had to protect things in Milord’s absence, but I’m still very green. Even as a raid member— Miss Kushi, I have a request.”

“Accepted!”

“No questions asked?!”

She spoke to Kushiyatama, who was paying out a storm of countless slashing attacks right next to her, and received an instant response. It was magnificent. Worries and hesitation and those gloomy days were all disappearing, like shadows dissolving in the sunlight.

“—Because you’ve started being open with people, Ri-Ri.”

Riezé smiled at her mischievous old D.D.D. guide.

The requests she’d never been able to make properly were possible for her now.

If she couldn’t do something on her own, she’d just have to ask other people. Now that Krusty was gone, D.D.D. needed all the reliable people it could get. There was no doubt that Kushiyatama had understood the request Riezé hadn’t put into words. That was why she’d come along on a raid like this one with her.

“Listen to you. I’m all fired up now. I’m blazing! —Configure Lamination Syntax! Set target— Pierce it! Frost Spear!!”

The spear of ice split, warping the space in the multilayered magic circle.

Pouring all the mana she had into it, Riezé unleashed an attack spell.

6

“Defense of Doctrine Barrier!!”

Minori fired an emergency Kannagi defense spell. The barrier’s level was in the fifties, and to Shiroe and the other players whose levels were over 90, it seemed fragile. However, Shiroe had been just about to order her to do that, and she’d stolen a march on him.

He smiled a little.

Minori’s response had been unexpected… In a good way, naturally. As a result, the attack team had gained a very slight advantage, a few seconds’ worth. The current members weren’t the type to let that chance slip by them.

Their skills had already been sufficiently polished by the combat up to this point.

In the first place, all the members except for the younger group from Log Horizon already had raid experience. But even that younger group was watching how D.D.D.—who had the basics down solidly—was doing things and absorbing their methods wholesale.

Their advanced capacity for teamwork was the result of high morale and the ability to focus.

They’d meshed tightly with the personality of their enemy Taliktan as well. Taliktan, who was waving his arms around, was no more than a typical close-combat boss now. The short-range attacks he unleashed with his staff and arms were powerful; he also had that aggro list–based lightning attack that wiped out a whole range and thunder that inflicted negative statuses across a wide area— But in a manner of speaking, that was it. He was the perfect opponent for a raid drill.

When Taliktan turned back with a great flourish of his hand, several magic circles appeared, and goblins and giants manifested. Tension raced over the field, but Shiroe canceled it out.

“That summoning didn’t use the iron tower, only his innate abilities. There aren’t many of them, and there’s a limit. Stay calm and deal with them.”

He wasn’t actually certain about that.

Still, it was important to be decisive here. As if playing off his words, Naotsugu yelled, “What, anything goes?!” in a joking voice and charged. Akatsuki followed him, hiding in his shadow; she flickered as she went, then vanished from sight.

A tremendous number of attacks were striking Taliktan. Dread Weapon clung to Hien’s Assassinate. The teamwork between the Magic Attack and the Weapon Attack classes was growing more accurate as well. The powerful attack pierced a group of goblins, who sacrificed themselves to protect their master, and bore down on Taliktan.

Lightning that streaked toward Kushiyatama was repelled by Tetora’s Reactive Heal.

Their opponent’s defense had been pried open, and grabbing their chance, Nyanta and Koen rushed in. Soujirou’s Echo Rebound kept Taliktan from striking back.

Isuzu’s spell-song reinforced Rundelhaus’s flame spell, and in exactly the same way, Henrietta chanted Maestro Echo, turning Riezé’s ice spell into a round. The two powerful Magic Attack teams were protected by Yuzuko’s golem and Isami’s katana, which had Kurinon’s support.

Shouryuu launched himself into a run.

He leapt across the red seats of the music hall, attacking Taliktan like a small storm of twin blades, and cut him soundly. Marielle gave a worried shriek, but he yelled, “Stay back, please,” and his desperate attack dealt Taliktan significant damage. However, as a result, he was flung away and ended up getting rescued by Hien.

The battle was changing.

Naotsugu, whose back had taken many recovery spells, pressed forward in fits and starts, stirring up the Genius’s aggro. The Guardians’ Aggro Charge showed its true worth when it was used to protect companions.

The sound of ringing steel and the light of magic intersected in the great hall. In the midst of it, as Shiroe maintained his spell chanting cycle, he kept an eye on his surroundings. Taliktan’s HP bar was down to about 30 percent. As Shiroe lasted through Taliktan’s fierce attacks, issued instructions to his companions, or had them drop back to refuel, he was remembering the hesitation he’d felt up until now.

For a long time, Shiroe had searched for answers, and he’d gotten nowhere.

Even now, he wasn’t sure.

However, it was likely that the time had come to make a decision. Touya’s and Minori’s words had urged him forward. So had Rundelhaus and Isuzu, Captain Nyanta and Serara. Actually, come to think of it, Shiroe had been surrounded by people who supported him.

What he’d hesitated over had always been the question, “Is it all right to choose that?” The world was vast and deep, and both the people around him and the people he didn’t even know were living their lives with a variety of thoughts he couldn’t begin to fathom. Was it okay for him to shape the world? Was it all right to touch it? That had been the worry he’d harbored. He’d been afraid of doing anything. If he acted a certain way, it might change things. Something terribly beautiful and splendid might break. That was why he’d been afraid to touch the world with his clumsy hands.

That had been cowardice.

True, if Shiroe did something, the end results might change, but that would happen even if he did nothing. For everything in the world, there was a season, a time limit, and postponing making a choice would mean he’d chosen to avoid acting at all.

When Taliktan, the Genius of Summoning, had appeared, Shiroe had been forced to understand that, whether he wanted to or not. In this world, there were things that could be broken by hesitation, and it was probable that Shiroe wouldn’t be able to run from failure and regret.

Going in the direction she, Kanami, had indicated, had been fun, and it had made for wonderful memories, but he had to do more than that now. Shiroe had guild members who would support him and walk with him, and Marielle and William had shown him what guild masters should be.

“Rest in peace and wait.”

He couldn’t.

“If you go to sleep, your safety will be guaranteed.”

He couldn’t.

“A return home can be achieved in exchange for six hundred and forty million units. Contractors who agree, accept access, choose to sleep, and wait on standby.”

He couldn’t.

Accepting Taliktan’s words might be the right thing to do. At this point, though, to Shiroe, that would be the same as “postponing a choice.” Just gaining one option wasn’t good enough.

People had an obligation to live.

They probably had an obligation to be greedy as well.

Shiroe had thought of himself as a person who could get by with being mildly satisfied, but he’d been wrong. It was easy to not get involved with other people, to avoid wanting anything. However, the more fun times you spent with your friends, the keener the prayer that began to grow inside you. You couldn’t help wishing that kindness, warmth, smiles, and peace would stay just as they were for a long, long time. Because the most important things were fleeting and easily lost, Shiroe had been afraid of actively wishing for them. He’d been afraid people would think he was greedy.

However, there were things you couldn’t get without wishing for them, and right now, that was Shiroe’s role.

It was probably what his parents had wanted, long ago, and what the guild masters who had gathered on the Round Table Council had wished for.

None of them—not Ains or Isaac or anyone else—had wanted things for themselves. They had all tried to be faithful to the people they wanted to protect, and as a result, they hadn’t been able to reach a consensus.

Like a big sister.

Shiroe remembered a phrase from Roe2’s letter.

The Travelers also prayed for light for others’ futures.

When he realized that, something hot constricted his chest. His hands clenched so tightly around his staff that they ached. It wasn’t unpleasant; it churned inside him.

As if severing something, Shiroe struck at the monster.

“Taliktan. I can’t do that.”

“—A return from this transient world is possible.”

Taliktan’s words were the trigger.

He really couldn’t accept conditions like those.

And apparently, Shiroe’s companions shared his feelings.

“Forget about it.”

“After all, we can’t trust you.”

“Mew’re much too late.”

Other words of refusal were spat out, along with attacks. Right now, whether or not it was true wasn’t the issue.

Touya had said it: They’d go home after they’d settled everything.

In the end, we are greedy. Ordinarily, the thought would have embarrassed Shiroe, but now he was able to look at it honestly. We want to walk this world, to travel through it on our own two feet. We don’t know whether that’s right or a mistake. However, because we don’t know, we want to question ourselves in the midst of unexplored landscapes.

Whether this world was transient was something for Shiroe and the others to decide. We won’t let even the gods get in our way, William had yelled. He thought it was a blush-worthy declaration. However, Shiroe felt the same way.

The truth did exist. He’d met Naotsugu and Akatsuki, had journeyed, flown through the sky, gotten in touch with Captain Nyanta, and started his guild. He’d brought in the twins, and his number of companions had increased. He’d spoken with People of the Earth. He’d become good friends with people of very different ages. He’d stayed up late, being noisy and fooling around, and he’d tucked blankets up over sleeping faces. There was no way those things hadn’t been true. Maybe they’d begun as something transient, but nothing said they had to stay that way.

That was why he couldn’t respond to Taliktan’s inorganic temptation.

“Sleep, all of you. Sleep, all of you.”

Taliktan kept groaning in a broken-sounding way, over and over, as if he’d forgotten to keep up appearances. His body began to swell up like a misshapen water balloon. The figure, which had formerly been a brown-skinned old man, grew enormous, wrapped its white hair around Naotsugu like melted vinyl, and sent him flying.

“Fifteen percent HP remaining. It’s the last phase!”

Behind him, he heard Riezé’s shout. This was a characteristic called “insanity,” and it was often seen in raid bosses. When their HP fell below a certain percentage, their forms and attack patterns changed. In most cases, they also grew much stronger. However, the attack team didn’t shrink back. On the contrary, they launched even fiercer attacks.

A freezing wind blew from behind him. Someone had used the effect of a fantasy-class item. Nazuna and Minori were dancing Kagura Dance, and the shining madder-red effect came from the barrier spells they were casting on the frontline warriors, one after another.

Even though they hadn’t discussed it beforehand, everyone understood: It wouldn’t be possible to sustain a long fight with Taliktan now that his attack power had grown. They’d just have to force him down.

Shiroe shouted as if to expel the tightness in his chest, then wove together spells and released them in rapid succession. He fired Electric Fuzz as a decoy, then killed its firing range with Brain Vise. He layered Mind Bolt over Nightmare Sphere and slammed them into him.

He had become a guild master, and now he was leading this capture unit. He couldn’t not choose something. Choosing was the only way he could repay them.

It was his duty to wish for a lot. For the sake of the companions who walked alongside him and for the future companions he’d meet someday.

Akatsuki had flipped high into the air, and their eyes met.

Shiroe nodded, then belatedly realized why he’d done it. The calm part of himself whispered that it had been an illusion created by the high-density combat teamwork. However, just now, he was sure he’d touched Akatsuki’s soul. It had been like anger, but clearer, a fierce determination without a target, and the emotion had matched Shiroe’s to a startling degree.

“I don’t want that to have been temporary!” “That shore we walked along together.”

Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage struck Taliktan’s white, expanding body, and purple briars manifested. Akatsuki leapt, again and again, over the howling blizzard, the lightning, and the raid team’s front line as they pushed back. She flickered and blinked, and then many overlapping Akatsukis swung the short swords they held with backhanded grips.

Akatsuki’s Mystery divided her shape, and her slashing attacks burst the secret-level Sewn-Bind Hostage like a rain shower. Smoothly, Shiroe released the spell he’d had ready. He slipped another Sewn-Bind Hostage in, landing it in the less than half a second that Akatsuki spent out of sight.

“We’re extravagant, so…” “This place isn’t like that!”

Akatsuki didn’t stop.

She wasn’t expecting to fail.

This was true for Shiroe as well, so he moved on to the next stage of the cycle without waiting to see the results.

Sewn-Bind Hostage had bound their opponent with almost no time lag. Then came Akatsuki’s series of five attacks. A total of ten briars, and slashes from ten copies. The black-haired girl had pulled off that team play as if it were only natural, and she blurred, running up through empty space.

“Assassinate!!”

With the roar of an especially loud lightning strike and the sound of something scorching, Taliktan turned into dark bubbles as if he was being absorbed into himself, then immediately disappeared.

That was how the Shibuya Eternal Moth Fortress Raid that had rocked Yamato came to an end.