1

“…Please help us. We need your strength, Shiroe.”

At that voice, which was forcing down pain to the point that it was heart-wrenchingly transparent, Shiroe’s intuition told him there’d been a disaster.

Minori wasn’t the sort of girl who would use a voice like that as a joke. She was serious and kind, stubborn and strong willed. She strove to emulate him.

Precisely because Minori tried to remember everything Shiroe did on the battlefield, right down to his casual habits and the way he walked, Shiroe wanted to teach her everything he knew.

And Minori always returned everything he taught her with effort that was worth more than full marks.

Shiroe didn’t know what sort of life Minori had lived back on Earth. He’d never asked. He had no way to measure the feelings of a middle schooler who’d been dropped into a strange land with no one but her little brother.

However, even in this strange land, Minori’s straightforwardness didn’t seem to have decreased in the slightest.

That was a virtue Shiroe didn’t possess. He’d been running away—running from making himself a place to belong.

An earnest girl who wasn’t afraid of dealing with strangers…

Minori seemed to idolize him, but Shiroe thought he was the one who was constantly saved by her certainty.

He couldn’t remember Minori ever actively asking him for a favor. She’d relied on him, she probably trusted him, and she tried to learn from him; but he didn’t think she’d ever openly asked him for help.

It was probably her way of showing pride. Even that was included in Shiroe’s respect for Minori.

The fact that she had contacted him by telechat in a voice that seemed to be desperately holding back tears that threatened to spill over at any moment, and the fact that she was relying on him over anyone else, shook Shiroe badly.

The view he saw through the tent flap was that of evening, already shading into purple.

“We’ve had a casualty. It’s Rundelhaus. He’s…”

In the telechat, behind Minori’s voice, he could hear ragged breathing and shouting.

The telechat function was a bit like a low-quality cell phone. When you were on the receiving end, the audio was replayed near your eardrums and there was no worry that the sound would leak to those around you, but when you were sending, you had to talk aloud, and the surrounding sounds were picked up as well.

Apparently Minori was either still on the battlefield or close to it. Her surroundings seemed turbulent, and he could hear women’s voices.

“He’s—”

“Rudy is…a Person of the Earth.”

Abruptly, another voice cut in.

Shiroe guessed that the voice belonged to Isuzu, the young female Bard Minori had told him about. In order for her to get her voice across this clearly on someone else’s telechat, she had to be speaking with her lips practically touching Minori’s.

At those few words, Shiroe understood everything.

He stood with enough force to kick the desk away, shouldered one of the magic bags that had been sitting nearby, and dashed out of the tent. He blew the pipe twice, then headed for the open space in the center of the Equestrian Garden without bothering to wait for the griffin’s arrival.

“Give me a situation report, Minori.”

Three big strides were enough to take him into the open area; he caught a telechat operator who was nearby and shouted for him to call Calasin.

“A fierce battle broke out during the defense of Choushi village. We won, but in the process, Rundelhaus was mortally wounded. Resurrection spells failed, but his body is still warm, and he has a pulse… Only he isn’t waking up.”

—The resurrection spells had failed.

Enormous wings came sailing across the sky, and Shiroe jumped on, moving more than half unconsciously. Akatsuki had followed him as closely as a shadow, but he barely noticed when she slipped into his arms. The magical beast’s girth had been tightened, and he gave it a small sign.

On the strength of that slight sign alone, the huge, well-trained mount leapt into the sky, which was beginning to darken into night.

“His pulse is getting weaker…we think.”

“Chant another resurrection spell.”

“We’ve done it twice. He won’t wake up…”

Resurrection spells were used to revive fallen comrades. They sounded miraculous, but the difficulty of the spells wasn’t that high. In terms of level, all Recovery classes over level 20 knew them. In fact, resurrection spells also had ranks. With low-level spells, although the resurrection would succeed, experience points would be lost.

This was probably why Minori had contacted Shiroe after trying it twice.

No, even more than that…

People of the Earth weren’t Adventurers. If they died, their deaths were absolute, and they would not resurrect in the temple. On the other end of the telechat, he could hear stifled sobs and voices talking in the background.

“Tell me your location and who’s there.”

“Me, Touya. Isuzu. Serara. And Rundelhaus, who isn’t reviving. We’re near the center of Choushi, at the big intersection.”

“Are you safe?”

“There’s no sign of the enemy in this area. However, the battle along the embankment is probably still going on. Goblins might attack here at any moment, too…”

—It was over.

A Person of the Earth had sustained damage in battle and was about to lose his life as a result. As far as the situation was concerned, one could very well say it was over. True, according to what Li Gan had said, during the short time before the yin and yang energy separated, resurrection spells could work on People of the Earth as well. However, if the resurrection spells weren’t working, things had already reached the degradation phase.

“Shiroe, please save ’im! Save Rudy!”

Suddenly, he heard a strong voice right in his ear.

“Listen, Rudy’s—he’s dumb, and a moron, but he’s strong and cool. Rudy was trying to save us!”

“I’m the one who brought him along. No, I mean, it wasn’t exactly me, but Rudy wanted to come, and I didn’t stop him. Shiro…e. If there’s anything you can do, then—”

A tear-filled voice sounded on the other end of the telechat.

“We need you.”

Minori’s words echoed in his ears.

Those words were rapidly cooling Shiroe’s mind.

He visualized a winter’s night, and asphalt that looked ready to develop frost. He lay on that asphalt, his body heat leeching away. It was ominous, but it couldn’t have been more serene. It was the image of Shiroe’s release.

With all restrictions removed, his thoughts began to run wild. The visualization, which had split up in order to search all courses, examined a matrix of possibilities.

If Minori’s counting on me, I have to help.

That wasn’t his will. It was already a given.

In order to fulfill that prerequisite, Shiroe kept thinking at high speed.

“Tell Serara to chant a resurrection spell.”

“Yes, sir!”

Minori’s answer came back instantly.

She didn’t challenge him with Why? or But that didn’t work. Minori had placed complete trust in Shiroe. She’d contacted him because she believed that Shiroe would do something.

That was just a wishful assumption, of course.

There were some things even Shiroe couldn’t do. Rather, there was an overwhelming number of things he couldn’t do. In this incomprehensible, unreasonable other world, it was probably fair to say he couldn’t do anything.

However, that was neither here nor there. If he couldn’t do something, he couldn’t do it. He could think about that after he’d tried and failed. What was important just now was that Minori had believed “Shiroe can do it,” and in that case, there was only one answer Shiroe could give.

He had to try to believe he could succeed.

The feeling of believing rebuilt the matrix inside Shiroe. He shone light on the static—possibilities he’d discarded as impossible—from a new angle.

“I think his pulse got stronger… But he hasn’t woken up.”

“Wait 150 seconds. Have Touya guard the area. Tell Isuzu to set an MP recovery song. In 150 seconds, you cast a resurrection spell, Minori.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shiroe remembered what Li Gan had said.

Rundelhaus had died.

Person of the Earth or Adventurer, death was death.

Death in this other world began when all physical activity ceased. First, the body stopped moving, and body and spirit were separated.

The spirit would then be trapped in darkness.

This phenomenon occurred because the communication between yin and yang energy was severed.

Before long, the yin energy began to disperse.

Yin energy was the basic energy of the body, its life-force, and this process was known as degradation. The sturdier the body and the higher its level, the greater this energy was. In other words, degradation took longer.

Rundelhaus was a physically fragile Magic Attack class, and on top of that, he apparently hadn’t reached the middle levels yet. Degradation would probably move quickly for him.

It was likely… Not definite, but likely, that the resurrection spell had come too late.

The resurrection magic used by the Recovery classes replenished the yin energy of a body in the process of degradation and rejoined it to the yang energy.

The spell caster gathered the yin energy that had dispersed into the surrounding atmosphere, supplemented any missing life-force with their own life-force, and returned it to the body.

The fact that his body was still warm and had a pulse probably meant that the physical reconstruction had worked to a certain extent. His mind wasn’t returning, because the reunification with the yang energy wasn’t going well.

If that was the situation, then it was likely…

It was likely that the dispersal of yang energy—soul rot—had begun. Yang energy was mental energy, and the carrier for the spirit. Yang energy that had lost its body began to disperse. A spirit that had lost its yang energy vanished, unable to maintain its identity.

There was no doubt that while Rundelhaus, a low-level player, was still in the process of degradation, soul rot had set in as well.

An Adventurer would have been sent to the temple, their body automatically repaired, and their yang energy linked to their body. Because the body was reconstructed, soul rot didn’t occur. In other words, even though physical death occurred, spiritual death did not. They were resurrected in new bodies—aka, immortal.

“It’s been a hundred and fifty seconds. I’m casting the resurrection spell now.”

“In another hundred and fifty seconds, have Serara cast another resurrection spell. I’m on my way to you now. Keep chanting by turns that way and hold on for eight minutes.”

He could hear Minori’s report. The resurrection spells used by Minori and other players around level 20 were primitive. Since chanting them took time and left the caster defenseless, they were practically impossible to use in combat, and the recast times were a full three hundred seconds.

However, although they were just starting out, there were two Recovery magic users with Rundelhaus: Serara and Minori.

By having them cast their resurrection spells by turns, that three-hundred-second recast time was cut to 150 seconds. Resurrection spells devoured MP, and at the moment, Shiroe didn’t know how long they could be used back-to-back, but there was nothing for it but to let them handle it on site.

The direct trigger of soul rot was the advance of physical degradation. The lack of a body to return to caused the spiritual energy to disperse; howso far it was possible to stop soul rot that had already begun depended on Minori’s party’s resurrection spells.

After that—

“Akatsuki, don’t let me slip.”

At Shiroe’s words, Akatsuki, who’d been settled in his arms, twisted around, turning to face him. His fellow passenger, who hadn’t said a single word for the past few minutes, carefully turned on the griffin’s back—a terror-inducing environment—and, in the midst of a night wind that seemed to flay their skin, hugged Shiroe tightly.

Shiroe closed his eyes gently, imagined the items in his bag, and put his hand into it. He didn’t know what item he’d need. He didn’t even know if it would work.

However, even so, he found an item that was suited to the magic he was about to perform:

An ink Shiroe had painstakingly compounded.

It was the only bottle of its kind in the world: A fragment of soul.

2

In the midst of the sunset, Raynesia arrived on the battlefield, attended by the female knight.

This area of the steep-walled valley was under the control of Krusty’s strike unit, and they’d been notified that it was secure.

“Ugh…”

“Are you all right?”

The female knight, who was holding a sheaf of documents, didn’t look all that sympathetic, but she asked anyway.

In this world, very few people had ever experienced the atmosphere of a battlefield. Death came quickly to demihumans and People of the Earth, and if left alone, their bodies disappeared in less than half a day. No matter what sort of a battle it had been, once the corpses vanished, it was just a wilderness littered with weapons.

However, this particular battlefield had just been created.

The stench of blood was intense, and it affected Raynesia powerfully. Fortunately, the summer wind blew toward them through the greenery and kept it from being quite as bad as she’d anticipated, but even so, she wasn’t able to look at the ground.

The female knight walked on.

They were on their way to meet up with Krusty, who was up ahead, to report in and to confirm the details of the operation, or so Raynesia had heard.

The female knight, who had introduced herself as Misa Takayama, had told Raynesia that they were the field monitor squad.

During combat, particularly during raids and battles in places where visibility was bad, it was extremely difficult to grasp the overall situation while fighting in the vanguard.

For that reason, in addition to the raid force that did the actual fighting, D.D.D. set up a field monitor team that ranged in size from a squad to a company. The field monitor team’s main duty was to use optical instruments and magic to watch the entire battlefield from a distance and sequentially report battle information to the commander on the frontline.

Raynesia thought Misa Takayama must be a high-ranking officer in D.D.D., because of the way the people around them acted toward her.

Because they’d scouted a route beforehand that wouldn’t force them to push through groves of trees, it took less time than she’d expected to descend to the valley floor. Attended by guardian knights, Raynesia reached a broad, stony, mostly dry riverbed that had a swift mountain stream running down its center.

This place seemed to be upstream from the battlefield she’d seen from the heights, and there were no Goblin corpses or traces of battle. The clear, light sound of the stream seemed to chase away the summer heat.

Around them, the Adventurers were taking a break, each of them relaxing any way they pleased. There were all kinds: Some had stripped to the waist and were bathing, while others were tending to their weapons.

They were right in the middle of the battlefield, but at the moment, no enemy units had been deployed nearby, so everyone except for the scout unit was resting in shifts.

Naturally, as a princess, Raynesia had inspected chivalric orders before.

However, in most cases, this had been performed from a balcony, or she had said a few words of greeting from a stage that had been set up for the purpose. Sometimes she’d gone to the parade grounds and spoken to the knights as she walked, but at those times, the knights of Maihama had been standing in rows with their spears neatly lined up.

That meant she’d never walked among knights that were this unreserved, and—in terms of the sensibilities of aristocratic society—impolite.

Of course, Raynesia was a Person of the Earth and a daughter of Maihama. Even if the town of Akiba had joined the League of Free Cities, the Adventurers weren’t in a direct master-servant relationship with Raynesia, and so they weren’t obligated to pay their respects to her. Raynesia had no intention of feeling put out by that, and she was also becoming more and more accustomed to the idea that they were Adventurers, and that their culture was different.

Raynesia had expected their lack of manners, and she hadn’t planned to let it startle her or to take them to task for it.

What did surprise Raynesia was the fact that they didn’t ignore her.

As her group passed by, the Adventurers called to her, loudly.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. We’ll get this war mopped up for you ASAP.”

“That’s a bona-fide Scandinavian angel right there.”

“Our advance unit could take care of that pack of wussy goblins all by its lonesome.”

“Dude. I just saw, like, the actual princess. I need a photo, anybody got a phone?!”

“Hey, Princess, you sure you should be out here? …Oh, Miz Takayama’s with you, huh? Scary, scary.”

“Ha-ha-ha! Princess, the Chief’s up thattaway.”

“Whoaaa! Whoaaa!”

“You be real careful you don’t get hit by any stray arrows, a’right?”

Their words were rough enough to make her think, This is what the mercenaries I’ve heard stories about must be like, but strangely, they didn’t make her feel out of sorts. It was probably because she understood that the Adventurers weren’t making light of her or having fun with her. This was the way they normally talked, and when they spoke to her, they meant to be friendly.

Raynesia, however, was a recluse.

As a rule, she wasn’t good at communicating or conversing with others.

Until now, she’d handled this sort of event by using her “Perfect Young Lady” mask, the one she’d acquired during her strict training. However, she was already learning that it didn’t seem to work well on Adventurers.

Adventurers weren’t familiar with aristocratic culture, and they wouldn’t jump to the wrong conclusions and do things for her if she only fell silent and looked troubled, or nodded gently, or let her brow cloud over with sorrow.

For that reason, after giving it unusually serious—for her—thought, in order to strictly avoid bringing shame on the House of Cowen and yet match the Adventurers’ simple etiquette to the greatest extent possible, Raynesia had come up with her own unique way of doing things.

Specifically, she smiled, raised her right hand to approximately the level of her chest, and gave a little wave.

When Adventurers spoke to her or gave her advice about something, she’d listen attentively to what they said, and then say, simply, “Thank you very much.” After all, every last Adventurer was part of the same tribe as the mind-reading menace known as Krusty. Even if she tried to keep up appearances and gloss things over, they’d see through it. Besides, even if she showed them a face that was slightly unladylike, they weren’t nobles, and they probably wouldn’t care. …This was the conclusion Raynesia had come to.

By the standards of the fashionable circles in which Raynesia had been rigorously trained, her current attitude and greetings were rude, very nearly those of a common town girl. Still, as she silently excused herself to her grandfather, she was dealing with Adventurers, and this was a battlefield.

However, although Raynesia completely failed to notice because she was trembling at the way she was overstepping her own common sense, her sweet gestures and open smile were incredibly well received by the Adventurers of the strike unit.

Because this mixed strike unit was under Krusty’s command, it had been organized around the D.D.D. unit so that his orders would travel all the way through it. However, that alone would have made D.D.D. and Krusty too influential with the Round Table Council. For that reason, and because it was thought that the organization should display the unity of the Round Table Council, it was a mixed army, and about half its troops were veteran players who didn’t belong to D.D.D.

Because its members included players affiliated with the Knights of the Black Sword and Honesty, their mantles and insignia were all different. As a result, it looked like a very strange chivalric order indeed to Raynesia, who, with aristocratic sensibilities, had assumed that guild meant something like “clan.”

In noble society, clans and the relations between them were quite complex. Because kinship and profit intermingled, it couldn’t be summed up in a word, but in general terms, the relationships between powerful clans were filled with enmity. This was one of the reasons behind the fact that the League of Free Cities still hadn’t been unified.

However, on this battlefield, she didn’t see any of that kind of friction.

Of course, from what she could tell from mantle color and insignia, they seemed to have broken into smaller clan groups to relax, but some were taking a light meal with the mixed unit, and some had handed their weapons to others and were having them check the condition. Was the group that was walking around briskly a transport corps?

Raynesia suddenly became aware of another reason for the strangeness she felt:

Even with this many knights in one place, she didn’t see any servants or squires. Misa Takayama had explained to her that the unit was composed of the extreme elite, and in a unit like that, she thought the weak might only get in the way. Still, what could it mean to have so very many knights and not a single servant?

The Adventurers do seem to be free of the class system as well, but…

She understood that they were free, but when it showed up as reality, in their actions, Raynesia was taken aback by how unexpected it was, every single time.

“Right. Understood. Keep that up.”

Beyond the rocky riverbed, in an open space where the stream meandered and formed a deep pool, Krusty was bathing. He’d stripped off all armor above his waist and was toweling his sweat away.

Even as he did this, he kept muttering; he was probably using the Adventurers’ unique long-range communications spell to talk to someone. However, when he saw Misa Takayama and Raynesia’s group, he turned back slightly.

Without rushing at all, Krusty wiped down his hard body with a tightly wrung-out cloth. Misa Takayama—who must have been used to Krusty’s relaxed composure, or, perhaps it was best to simply call it “calm”—went up to him, report in hand, and began to deliver it orally, speaking rapidly.

Krusty listened, keeping his back turned to her.

He has quite an impressive build, doesn’t he…

When he’d been at the Ancient Court, dressed in elegant clothes, she hadn’t noticed it all that much. However, when she looked at his naked back like this, his body exuded an aura of overwhelming physical strength. There was a certain wild, animalistic beauty about his heavily muscled back, and in spite of herself, Raynesia stared.

What in the world am I looking at?

Raynesia shook her head, feeling daunted.

Being with Krusty always, always, threw her off.

She missed her peaceful room in Maihama. Raynesia really was a hermit, and the life she preferred was an idle, vegetative existence of eating and sleeping. Her greatest interest was basking in the sun, to the point that she was looking forward to getting old, and quickly, so that she could enjoy the life of a retiree to the fullest.

Raynesia thought that if her recent actions earned her criticism for treachery or corruption of her principles and position, there would really be no arguing with it.

“Understood. In that case, starting with the next location, we’ll increase our peripheral monitoring system…”

By the time Misa Takayama’s report ended, Krusty had also finished changing. His armor was the same as ever, but he seemed to have changed what he wore under it. His perfectly composed expression was no different from the one he’d shown at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, to the point that it actually annoyed her.

“What do you think of the battlefield?” Krusty asked, when he’d come up to her.

The difference in their heights meant that Raynesia was compelled to look up at him from below, and it made her feel disagreeable and dissatisfied. The way he was now, she couldn’t find a trace of either the innocent, delighted expression he’d worn in the heat of battle, or its shadow side, that fading fragility.

All that stood before her was a mind-reading menace who was so polite and unconcerned that it made her wonder whether the other things had been an illusion.

“Were you frightened?”

Raynesia, lost in thought, had been late in answering, and Krusty had spoken in a tone of teasing jest.

“Not in the least. I was sure you would protect me, Master Krusty.”

If Krusty was going to wear his palace mask, she was prepared to do the same. In any case, when it came to aristocratic turns of phrase, Raynesia’s career was far, far longer than his.

“—You seem to have grown quite popular,” Krusty added.

When Raynesia turned back, the group of Adventurers who were watching the two of them from a distance froze. The situation was incredibly awkward for Raynesia as well, so she gave them a smile and a little wave, and most of the Adventurers broke into smiles and went back to their duties.

“I don’t believe that signifies in the slightest, Master Krusty.”

Raynesia turned back to Krusty, loading her words with irritation at the fact that he’d changed the subject. Besides, since he always took this attitude, Raynesia was never sure whether she should use palace manners or Adventurer manners.

“And in any case—”

Just as Raynesia was about to take a step forward and hit him with a few more choice phrases, a howl echoed across the valley. The sound rang out from the eastern ridge, and although she could tell it was clearly far away, a cold wind blew into Raynesia’s heart.

“What was that…?”

“A Dire Wolf. Must be quite a large one. From the sound of its voice, I’d say it’s the Huge variety.”

“…Is it…the Goblin King?”

“The Goblin King isn’t on this battlefield. He isn’t likely to leave Seventh Fall. This is the Goblin General’s personal guard unit.”

“His personal guard…”

Involuntarily, Raynesia clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest. She’d seen how bravely Krusty and the others had fought the night before, and she believed in their strength. However, Raynesia herself knew nothing about combat, and that made it scary. …Not to mention the fragility she sensed in Krusty, as if he might melt away, into the battle.

She wasn’t sure whether she should ask him to be careful or urge him on.

As Raynesia hesitated, wondering what she should say to him, the Dire Wolf’s ferocious howl drifted down to them again. On hearing that voice, Krusty’s lips twisted. Completely unaware of Raynesia’s feelings, he broke into a cruel smile and murmured:

“I do believe we will leave cleaning out their nest for later. Shall we not begin by offering these Zantleaf trash as a blood sacrifice?”

3

Choushi’s long central avenue made a perfect landing strip for the griffin. Using lift, the magical beast coasted in without moving its wings at all. On its back, Shiroe lightly touched Akatsuki’s head and whispered: “Keep people clear of the area. You mustn’t let anyone near, players or monsters.”

Akatsuki nodded without saying a word.

Paying no heed to the fact that their ground speed was faster than a horse at full gallop, the two of them leapt down from the griffin, then parted ways. With movements that barely betrayed the influence of gravity, Akatsuki sprinted forward, darting like a swallow, and disappeared beyond the roofs of the stone edifices.

After confirming this, Shiroe ran toward Touya, who was waving at him.

Minori’s group of four was gathered there, desperation clear in their expressions. According to a telechat he’d received earlier, although the Ocypete had arrived, resistance from the sahuagins was preventing them from going ashore. Naotsugu’s group had relieved Minori’s party and was fielding the goblins.

Well, that’s more convenient for us, anyway.

He didn’t know whether the “magic” he was about to attempt would succeed or not. It was based in theory, and Shiroe had carried out previous repeated experiments, but it was still a gamble. …Even if it succeeded, considering what would follow, the fewer witnesses there were, the better.

The place might have been a shop, or maybe a tavern.

A young man lay in the shadows, under the wide eaves that opened onto the central avenue. The tear-stained girl who made no move to leave his side, a girl with charming freckles, was probably Isuzu.

They were surrounded by faces Shiroe knew well: Touya, who looked as if he was gritting his teeth against pain; Serara, her face worried; Minori, who seemed to be holding a sense of purpose locked away inside her.

Shiroe calmed his mind.

The temperature of the surrounding air was still high, but the inside of his head was as quiet as the sky on a winter’s night.

“Minori, invite me to your party.”

“Yes, sir.”

Minori nodded, wasting no time on questions. Neither she nor Akatsuki did at times like this, and he was grateful for it. He examined the young man who was assumedly Rundelhaus. He certainly did have an air of refined nobility about him. His body was warm and he had a pulse, but as expected, he was unconscious. On the party menu, his “Dead” status blinked.

“Miss Isuzu, wasn’t it? Keep singing Nocturne of Meditation, just like that. I’m about to cast a new spell. Don’t speak of it to anyone.”

Shiroe spoke to the new players in a tone that was almost harsh.

“If you can’t agree to that, then either give up or leave this place.”

None of the assembled players flinched at Shiroe’s words. They all nodded.

“All right. Then I’ll begin.”

Shiroe selected a special magic skill from the icon. He was going to use Mana Channeling. It was a spell unique to Enchanters, and no one really seemed to know what to use it on.

It absorbed the MP of all members of a party, averaged it, and sent it back.

Right… Yang energy is the vehicle of the spirit, whose vehicle in turn is magic. In that case…

As the chant rang out, the MP was drawn out of every member of the party, collecting in Shiroe. Shiroe’s level was far and away the highest in the group.

To Minori and the others, who hadn’t yet reached level 30, the pull of the spell he was chanting must have felt like tremendous pressure.

Minori and Touya, and even Serara, grew paler and paler. Their MP was being siphoned away. Minori and the others seemed to be struggling to endure a sense of loss, like sudden dizziness. Only Isuzu continued to hold Rundelhaus’s hand tightly, softly singing a mournful old folk ballad, although her face was pallid as well.

With his eyes half closed, Shiroe experienced the effect of the magic.

Right now, he was holding nearly all the MP that had been collected from the other members of his party. Although it was no more than a faint aura, Shiroe could feel the lingering fragrance of the others’ spirits inside him. Touya’s single-mindedness; the aura of Minori’s earnest, serious magic… These were being deployed on the field of magic Shiroe controlled.

No doubt he held MP from Serara, from Isuzu, and from Rundelhaus himself as well.

The various MP, with their subtly different flavors, were blended into primordial “spirit energy.” In accordance with Shiroe’s guidance, magical circuits took shape and formed connections with his companions.

Shiroe divided the MP equally, then redistributed it.

Ghk.

The sudden outrush of MP filled Shiroe with a feeling like anemia.

His MP was greater than that of anyone else in the party. Enchanters were magic users to begin with, and they boasted one of the highest MP volumes in all the classes. On top of that, Shiroe was level 90. Joining a party of Adventurers with levels in the low 30s and redistributing MP was the same as using Shiroe to recover the others’ MP at a stroke.

“Minori, use resurrection. Serara, cast back-to-back healing spells.”

Everything until now had been the prelude. Shiroe kept issuing orders. They didn’t have much time. They would probably have only one chance, just one word.

Rundelhaus was a Person of the Earth.

Because he wasn’t an Adventurer, he wouldn’t come back from the dead.

And Rundelhaus had died.

That meant he would not resurrect.

This was an absolute. There was no way to overrule it.

However, due to the Enchanter’s mana redistribution spell, all members’ MP had been recovered… In other words, their spirits and yang energy had been energized.

The mind’s failure to return was a phenomenon that occurred because the circuits between yang and yin energy were broken. Technically, Rundelhaus was a vegetable. In that case, all they had to do was force those connections open again.

Shiroe took the second measure out of his bag.

“From this point on, we’re racing against time.”

While the echo of his words still hung in the air, he cast Revenant Incense.

It was a medicine that granted temporary life to fallen companions or creatures, bringing them back as special monsters: zombies to be used in battle. Its power was restoration, not resurrection. The effect was short, and after three minutes, certain death would follow. For Adventurers, it meant a mandatory trip back to the temple.

However, for Rundelhaus, whose only option under the circumstances was to let his yin energy disperse, the item held another possibility.

Either way, his body would be destroyed, along with the spirit and yang energy that clung to it.

Revenant Incense was a way to forcibly connect Rundelhaus’s recharged yang energy to his body. In exchange for unavoidable death in three minutes’ time, for three minutes only…Rundelhaus would be pulled back to this world.

A false restoration…with a time limit. She must have known that.

As fat tears rolled down Isuzu’s face, her hand tightened on the NPC’s.

“Oh…”

Rundelhaus’s eyes opened, very slightly, as if he were having a dream.

Isuzu cried, holding his hand. There was no telling whether Rundelhaus was conscious or not. He’d opened his eyes, but it might have been no more than a physical, conditioned reflex.

“Rudy…?”

“Mademoiselle Isuzu… Oh. My friends. I see… I suppose…I must have died.”

Even after death, the connection that linked yin and yang energy was merely severed, and the mind remained. For Adventurers, the game screen went monochrome, and they watched their companions fighting. They didn’t know what happened for People of the Earth, but Rundelhaus seemed to understand the current situation.

He gave a tiny laugh, then spoke to them in a voice that still held no strength:

“No, no, stop… Don’t look like that. What could be more natural than to lay down one’s life in battle?”

“—Natu…ral…”

At Touya’s words, Shiroe felt a sharp pang in his chest.

A death this tremendously heavy, something that wouldn’t even be a plausible joke in the game—this was “only natural” for People of the Earth.

“Even so, I wanted to become an Adventurer. I do hope you won’t blame Mademoiselle Isuzu. It was I who begged her to allow it.”

“No, I knew, too! I’d noticed, but I didn’t do anything!”

A cry that was nearly a shriek escaped Minori. At her words, everyone abruptly understood: Even Minori, who had been conducting herself calmly until now, had privately been badly rattled.

“Ha-ha-ha! Yes, Mademoiselle Minori. Thank you. …It’s nothing to worry about.”

“No, I’m worried about it,” Shiroe broke in.

There was no time.

Shiroe thought about the magnitude of the terror of the thing he was about to attempt. It might be an enormous mistake. It was an act that could threaten the order of the world.

Even if it succeeded, there was no telling what effect the aftermath of this incident would have on the world.

In addition, he had no way to predict how the world would take this proposal.

Still, the young man in front of him who’d said his good-byes so philosophically had called himself an Adventurer.

That was no player’s nickname. It was the name of Shiroe’s companions, those who traveled this world and discovered sunrises no one had ever seen before.

If he called himself by that name, then he was a descendent of the tribe She had entrusted to him.

“No, I’m worried about it, Rundelhaus Code. I can’t have someone who gives up over a thing like this calling himself an Adventurer. It’s nowhere near enough. …What did you learn in order to end in a backwater alley like this? What did you find in that dungeon? Not strategy or tactics. Wasn’t it the determination to survive, and an unyielding spirit that would use any means available to do it?”

“Mister Shiroe…”

“Your determination is nowhere near enough, Rundelhaus.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?! Tell me that!!”

Rundelhaus’s eyes were brimming with frustration and chagrin. Even as he said there was no help for it, his heart wasn’t entirely able to accept that, and was growing misty, was beginning to run.

And, for that very reason, Shiroe made up his mind to use the spell.

“Listen to me.”

Shiroe took out a messily written document, something he’d drawn up on the back of the griffin, and thrust it out at Rundelhaus.

“That’s…”

“It’s…a contract?”

The paper Shiroe had taken from his bag was unmistakably a contract. It was written on Fairy King Paper, which was created from the best materials Shiroe could use, and penned with Aurora’s Gaze Ink: a handmade item, the only one of its kind in the world.

“Contract— Shiroe, representative of Log Horizon, concludes the following contract with Rundelhaus Code. One: At the date and time on which Rundelhaus Code signs this document, Shiroe will accept him into the guild Log Horizon. Two: As a member of the guild Log Horizon, Rundelhaus Code will attend to his duties in a manner that befits his status and those duties. Three: Log Horizon will, based on mutual consultation and to the greatest extent possible, provide Rundelhaus with the support necessary to the successful completion of his duties. —This includes the identity of ‘Adventurer.’ Four: This contract is concluded through the agreement of both parties in a spirit of mutual respect, and, even in the event that the contract is rendered invalid, anything acquired by either party during the period of the contract will remain theirs. In conclusion, as proof of the establishment of this contract, two copies will be drawn up and signed by both parties, with one copy to be kept by each.”

He heard a gasp.

“An Adventurer—?”

“But Shiroe, that’s… That’s…!”

The development of spells that had not existed in the Elder Tales game.

Shiroe had registered this possibility quite some time ago.

“In other words, if Chefs cook in the mewsual way, without mewsing the menu, the flavors of the ingredients will shine through in the resulting dish.”

Nyanta had said this to Shiroe on their journey home from Susukino.

Then it had been demonstrated to be true.

However, the phenomenon wasn’t limited to Chefs. Shiroe had persuaded the people around him of this fact at the Round Table Council.

If someone with an appropriate creative skill used appropriate personal abilities to make something—without relying on the item creation menu—it was possible to produce things that didn’t exist in this other world.

That had been the true meaning of Nyanta’s discovery.

It had been two months since then. Shiroe had researched the things he envisioned, continuing to experiment. This had been an idea he’d come up with to use as an ace up his sleeve during the Round Table Council establishment uproar, but he’d accumulated further information through his subsequent research, and it had evolved.

He had taken inspiration from the Spirit Theory Li Gan had spoken of, and now his research was about to bear fruit.

Rundelhaus was a Person of the Earth.

Not only that, but in three minutes’ time, without fail, he would die.

People of the Earth couldn’t resurrect.

That meant Rundelhaus would vanish.

—In that case.

The answer was obvious: “During those three minutes, make Rundelhaus an Adventurer.”

Through experiments, he’d established that Scribes could create simple contracts and various types of documents. With a sufficient Scribe level and magical materials, they could even create applications for quests, promissory notes, and other items that had magical or binding effects.

However, even in terms of special contracts like those, this one was of the highest rank.

A contract that admitted a Person of the Earth to a guild and gave them the identity of “Adventurer” sounded like fraud, even to Shiroe. However, precisely because that was the case, in order to fulfill those requirements, he’d used the skills of a level-90 Scribe and an ink created through unstinting use of ultraprime magical materials he’d collected during his Elder Tales days.

Shiroe held the contract right in front of Rundelhaus’s nose.

“I’ve already signed it. Your signature is all that’s needed.”

“—ven…tu…rer…”

“If that’s what you want.”

The young, mud-spattered Sorcerer gave a hoarse, nearly involuntary murmur. Shiroe spoke to him:

“This contract carries risk. It will probably transform you somehow, turning you into a being completely unlike what you have been up till now. Adventurers are still newcomers to this world, and we don’t know what sort of trouble we may be pulled into in the future. We probably don’t possess as much glory as you think we do.”

“What I want to become…”

The “dead” flag was still blinking on his status, and his HP was draining away before their very eyes, but Rundelhaus didn’t even glance at it as he responded.

“…is an Adventurer. If I can save people in need, I won’t trouble myself over trivialities. …What I want isn’t glory. It’s to be…an Adventurer.”

With shaking hands, Rundelhaus grasped the pen that had been held out to him, but he fumbled and dropped it. The effect of Revenant Incense was nearly spent. The link between Rundelhaus’s yin and yang energy was fading.

“Rudy… It’s okay.”

Isuzu steadied his hand.

“I’ll sign it with you.”

Isuzu supported Rundelhaus as if she were hugging him from behind. Touya helped her. Minori and Serara continued to chant recovery spells. Everyone watched as Rundelhaus signed.

As his friends’ encouragement warmed his trembling fingers, the magic ink took the shape of Rundelhaus’s name. The signature flared up, blazing into golden light. Shiroe’s trick was accepted by this other world, and became a new rule.

“Die once, Rundelhaus… You’ll revive in the temple.”

As Shiroe spoke, somewhere, he felt large gears begin to turn. The dispersing yin energy drifted up as particles, being sent to Akiba. In the midst of that fantastic scene, all the players except Shiroe stared with expressions of blank amazement.

This was the magic creation that would earn Shiroe a new byname: “Scrivener of the East.”

4

Once again, a battle was being fought in the darkness.

In the heart of Zantleaf’s central hills.

As before, the battle was taking place in a steep-walled valley. The only things that were not like the previous occasion were the width of the valley that served as the stage and the scale of the clash. When she asked Misa Takayama why valleys were chosen as battlefields, the answer was “Battalions need a fairly large, open space to assemble, and although units could be organized in the tree-covered mountains, it wouldn’t be possible to set up headquarters.”

When she thought about it that way, it made sense to Raynesia.

Even if they were demihumans, goblins had the bare minimum of intelligence. It stood to reason that when conducting military operations, they would naturally obey certain established tactics.

In addition, if the battle was staged in a mountain valley, there would naturally be several ridges that offered views down into that valley. This time, Misa Takayama and the rest of the observation squad had chosen one of these ridges. Unlike last time, only the bare minimum of furniture, such as the observation table, had been set out. This was partly due to the fact that they weren’t sure whether or not they would have to move, and partly because Raynesia had firmly refused. Misa Takayama seemed subtly relieved, and from her attitude, Raynesia guessed that it really had been done out of consideration for her the previous time.

However, all these things were mere trifles.

Raynesia’s interest was focused on the battle that was already in progress on the valley floor. The same was probably true of Misa Takayama and the others as well.

The unit was accompanied by countless Dire Wolves. According to Misa Takayama’s explanation, they were goblin Tamers. The savage goblin tribes didn’t have complex societies the way humans did, but they did have classes and primitive division of roles.

Most goblins were light infantry or soldiers with javelins, but she’d been told that some goblins had special roles. The best-known classes were Tamer and Shaman. Goblin Tamers sometimes bred and raised owlbears, hippogriffs, Dire Wolves, and the like.

Even from her vantage point, the unit deployed in the valley below seemed to have several hundred Dire Wolves with it. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, as though the dark earth was writhing with a will of its own.

“Those seem to be a specially bred mutant strain,” Misa Takayama continued, calmly.

“I fought them myself on a previous raid. They’re Dire Wolves that are regularly exposed to undead miasma as they grow, and they have poisonous fangs. If this many of them are being used as a concentrated force, one of the tribes that followed the Goblin King must have included Tamers. …How very interesting. I had no idea Elder Tales had such detailed background information.”

“W-will they be all right…?”

“It’s ridiculous even to worry.”

Misa Takayama sounded completely disinterested, but Raynesia couldn’t be so optimistic. The unit deployed in the valley really did seem to be several hundred strong, and the Goblin General was somewhere at its center, probably near the foreign tents and the mobile fortress on enormous wheels.

Even Raynesia wasn’t worried about that monster of a knight, but his subordinates were knights as well. If they died in this battle… Well, no, they wouldn’t die, but if they were grievously injured or in terrible pain, she would feel awful.

However, quite apart from Raynesia’s concern, the hostilities commenced.

“That square… How lovely.”

“It’s called a quadrilateral formation. It’s a military formation.”

Misa Takayama must have been free just then; she came up beside Raynesia.

She continued, pointing at the nearly square ranks Krusty’s strike unit had formed.

“It’s a comparatively popular formation for raids. Since raid units are organized in multiples of four, quadrilateral formations are easy to put together from a command perspective as well. …Because of the square’s four sides, you see. In general terms, quadrilaterals are defensive formations. The front side is made up of personnel that can mount close-range attacks, with a focus on the Warrior classes; while the long-range attack classes behind them conduct mainly magic attacks. Since it’s a closer formation, it’s a poor choice when the enemy has members that can use powerful range attacks, but against enemies that are like packs of wild beasts, it has the defensive strength of an iron wall.”

“Then…”

Raynesia’s guess was correct.

The powerful front line easily repelled the Dire Wolves’ attacks, while a barrage of arrows and spells flew from the rear ranks. Thanks to the night-vision balm, Raynesia could see even in the dark, but the pillars of flame that began to go up all over the battlefield were bright enough to render it unnecessary.

“They’re about to make their move.”

Misa Takayama pointed directly at the battlefield.

As if led by her fingertip, the entire square began to move. Even as its shape warped slightly, turning it into a trapezoid, the square territory advanced, steadily paring away the enemy’s forces.

Misa had called it a defensive formation, but that assessment was completely misleading. It was the first large-scale battle Raynesia had ever seen, and since she’d never directly watched the castle knights fight a defensive battle, she had nothing to compare it to, but the scene in front of her was thoroughly unsuited to the word defense.

It was, in a manner of speaking, a square hole.

Krusty’s raid army looked like a jet-black hole in the huge goblin army, and anything that touched it, goblin or Dire Wolf, was promptly dealt with. With a fastidiousness that bordered on lunacy, it was making the enemy forces as if they had never been.

“Now, watch carefully.”

Just then, from the center of the square formation, four birds of flame soared up like an enormous bonfire. The gigantic birds, which scattered orange and deep crimson fire, were clearly summoned creatures. However, Raynesia had never heard of summoned creatures like these before. From what she knew of them, summoned creatures ranged from the size of a fist to the size of a puppy, and she’d never seen any creature with such ferocious grace.

“They’re phoenixes. Players at or above level eighty-six can make contracts with them. They’re high-level spirits with flame attributes, sacred and elegant beasts that qualified Summoners who have cleared a significantly difficult quest are able to contract with. …What is it?”

What was it? What else could it be?

Those creatures were on fire.

Wh-wha… What sort of beings do these Adventurers think they’re summoning?! How can that possibly not be against the rules?!

Finally, and very nearly too late, Raynesia understood.

Krusty’s attitude was most certainly not a bluff. He was simply being himself.

No wonder Misa Takayama had said, It’s ridiculous even to worry.

True, there was no telling what would happen on a battlefield. However, there were men in this world who would stand on these unpredictable battlefields for fun. Men of that breed ruled the battlefield with an astronomical amount of experience that others had no hope of matching.

The people under his command were Adventurers who’d put in the same overwhelming training. Common sense regarding knights should never have been brought into it.

Raynesia felt it from the bottom of her heart:

The Adventurers were completely beyond her.

With an explosive roar, the Goblin General’s huge, armed vehicle broke apart. A heavily armored bodyguard detail and a gigantic, stern goblin leapt from the shattered tank, but Krusty’s army only pressed forward.

Raynesia’s ears caught a voice they shouldn’t have been able to hear:

Now, then. Let’s rip them to pieces.

The voice was a whisper, calm, yet accompanied by a joy like honey on the lips, and it definitely belonged to Krusty.

Raynesia didn’t have the ability to telechat, and there was no way she could have heard what Krusty said at this distance. Even so, she had certainly heard it.

Krusty’s huge, double-bladed ax came down, pointing out the enemy, and an attack unit sprang out of the quadrilateral formation like a jet-black spear. A group of warriors with twin swords began to slash through the hoard of Goblins as easily as if they’d been thin fabric.

The Goblin General brandished an overdecorated spear and howled with rage, but Krusty stood as if to blot out the moon, and his display lasted only until Krusty’s shadow swallowed him up.

“That ends the main course. …Let’s leave the rest for the General Staff Office’s nets.”

Misa Takayama shut her report with a light thump. Her voice was calm, as if she was delivering perfectly obvious information.

5

The rendezvous happened before dawn.

The sahuagins’ resistance had been stronger than anticipated, and it had taken time to get ashore from the Ocypete. As an experimental ship, the Ocypete had been given all sorts of different functions, but fundamentally, after all, it was a transport ship.

It wasn’t a military assault and landing vessel.

It was also true that they’d been unsure of their ability to bring monsters that moved effortlessly in the water under their control, and this had made it difficult for them to conduct any bold maneuvers.

However, by the middle of the night, Naotsugu and Nyanta had summoned their griffins and ferried over a small number of Adventurers through the air, and these had begun to replenish the fighting power on the Choushi side. With Summoners on both banks, it was only a matter of time before they drove the sahuagins from a certain area.

“Well, kiddo! I wasn’t expectin’ you to turn up here.”

Marielle grinned broadly.

There was no telling when he’d arrived, but as the sun set, Shiroe came walking out of the town, reassigned the limited number of personnel, and then began building a line of defense in the fields to the north of the village as well.

Shiroe was the leader of Log Horizon.

In other words, he was one of the eleven guild masters on the Round Table Council. That said, in comparison with that title, his name recognition was very low.

Of course, the particulars and internal circumstances of the establishment of the Round Table Council weren’t at all secret. As a result, among well-informed Adventurers, Shiroe’s name carried weight. However, compared to Krusty and Isaac, who were leaders of major guilds, or to Marielle, who had a vast circle of acquaintances, his face wasn’t well-known.

True, once you talked to him, you found he was an agreeable, compassionate young man, but at first he was just a biiiiit tough to approach… Or so Marielle thought, at any rate.

He’s a good kid, sure, but…! That face! Those eyes! They’re scary!

Coming to this conclusion on her own, Marielle nodded vigorously, but Henrietta would probably have told her, “After you get to them, Marielle, most Adventurers are good kids.”

For those reasons, Shiroe’s appearance wasn’t widely known (and he got called “a good kid” by Marielle!), but the impact of his arrival certainly wasn’t a small one.

His reputation for courage might have been inferior, but Shiroe was the expeditionary army’s counselor. Reinforcements directly from headquarters boosted morale naturally.

Shiroe had appeared in town quite suddenly, and the Ocypete unit had appeared at nearly the same time. This gave the bone-tired defense unit the impression that he’d come leading the Ocypete troops.

Marielle used that effect to the max.

She cheered on the defense unit at the top of her lungs, for one. The defense unit had been exhausted by the sahuagins’ mass tactics, but the news of the arrival of reinforcements and Marielle’s cheers restored their fighting spirit at a stroke. As spirits and summoned animals conjured from the Ocypete performed super-long-range support, every player, newbies included, worked hard enough for several people each and expelled the sahuagins.

The corpses of sahuagins that had fallen at the water’s edge were taken by the waves with the tide, or else vanished after a set time had elapsed. In the midst of it all, the fierce battle continued far into the night.

Late at night, after the Adventurers had somehow managed to end the battle with a victory:

Completely worn out, the Adventurers who’d participated in the summer camp collapsed any way they pleased around the port between the Great Zantleaf River and the coastal beach.

The newly arrived unit, which still had strength to spare, had taken over the defense of the town for them and guard duty as well. The only ones gathered in this open area were the members of the summer camp, who’d fought full-time through defensive battles with both the goblins and the sahuagins.

Even as she thought that she should probably adopt an attitude that would set a better example, Marielle had also spread out her mantle and thrown herself onto it, facedown.

Haaaaaah… Somehow or other, we did it…

The Crescent Moon League had never participated in any large-scale conflicts or battles. Marielle had never taken command of such complicated battle lines in her life.

They were total amateurs. If this defensive battle had succeeded, Marielle thought, it was all due to the height of the new Adventurers’ motivation and the support they’d received from Naotsugu and the other veteran players.

“You okay, Miss Mari?”

A voice spoke from above her, much closer than she’d expected.

It belonged to Naotsugu, the guy she’d just been thinking about.

“Dy’eek?!”

As Marielle sprang up, Naotsugu sat down beside her. He’d changed clothes at some point, and he was currently wearing a cool summer tunic shirt and loose trousers.

“What the heck kind of voice was that, Miss Mari?”

“Wow, hon, that’s no fair. Why’d you change?!”

At Marielle’s question, Naotsugu looked away uncomfortably.

“Well… Armor’s heavy, yeah? Somebody else is on duty tonight, so why not?”

When she looked around the area, her bone-weary friends were also sitting up—although they moved sluggishly, like zombies—and seemed to be thinking about at least attempting to change clothes.

“Uuuu. Me, too?”

“You okay?”

“Erg. Not real okay…”

Marielle pressed her hands to her temples. The inside of her head felt numb and heavy from repeated spell use.

Clerics were recovery spell experts. In addition to their unique recovery spells, they could use spells in a wide range of configurations, and in terms of defensive ability and recovery performance alone, they boasted variation that was head and shoulders above the other Recovery classes.

During this group battle, Marielle hadn’t joined a party. Instead, she’d dashed around the combat area as a lone leader. She’d gone around casting recovery spells from the outside, adopting a strategy known as street-corner healing.

She didn’t think that strategy had necessarily been wrong, but the work had been a lot harder than she’d expected. Marielle had never completely drained her MP more than ten times in one day before, and the result had been a crushing headache.

“Maybe you should rest up a bit more, huh?”

“Uuuuuu…”

To be honest, Marielle didn’t really want to move.

“The baths are probably full up, anyway.”

“They’ve got baths?”

Baths were cutting-edge facilities, something that had only recently appeared in Akiba. The idea that there were state-of-the-art facilities in Choushi startled Marielle.

“Well, yeah. The only reason we didn’t have baths in Akiba was because tubs weren’t one of the pieces of furniture Adventurers could make. Or actually, technically, we had tubs, but they were just modeled shapes. They wouldn’t fill up or heat water. Still, that was all, remember? Back when this was Elder Tales, we didn’t need to take baths. The People of the Earth have always wanted baths, and they’ve got the facilities for it.”

“Th-they do, huh?!”

Marielle held her head and let herself fall on her face.

In that case, even in Akiba, if they’d gone to the houses of the handful of People of the Earth who lived there, would they have found baths?

Marielle remembered the time she’d stealthily heated water in the guild kitchen in the middle of the night. She’d been rinsing off in a small washtub when she’d been discovered by Henrietta, and it had almost turned into a huge uproar. Henrietta had been real scary that time. Just remembering it made her expression turn gloomy.

“Anyway, it sounds like they’re full up. We’re crashing the baths at the inn and the village chief’s house. And, by the way, the bath at the inn is guys only, and the village chief’s house is for the ladies.”

“Uh-huh. Gotcha. …I’m gonna cool down here a bit more.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Naotsugu sat cross-legged, settling in.

Marielle slumped on her mantle, which was spread out on the grass.

Pale moonlight shone down on them both.

When a cool breeze caressed her cheek, Marielle glanced over at Naotsugu, moving only her eyes.

As he gazed up at that white moon, Naotsugu was using a big, tropical-looking leaf to fan Marielle.

Oh…

Marielle felt as though her blood, which still glowed and buzzed with the residual heat of the battle, had finally regained a little of its calm. Thanks to this young clown who simply stayed beside her without saying a word, her rattled feelings were growing tranquil.

“Say, hon?”

“What?”

Naotsugu’s laid-back voice brought home to Marielle the fact that the battle was truly over. They’d fought. They’d survived. And they’d managed to successfully defend this town. During the battle, enemy attacks had sent some Adventurers back to the temple in Akiba, but only a few of them.

“We did good, right?”

“Sure we did. We kept the town safe, right to the end.”

Marielle was aware that, right now, she was smiling an even bigger, less controlled smile than normal. It was probably a smile so sickly sweet it didn’t bear looking at. …But she didn’t care about that, either.

Just for now, she wanted to bask in Naotsugu’s consideration as it stroked her cheek under the moonlight.

6

Somewhere, he heard the sound of a distant bell.

The area was filled with a refreshing fragrance and gleaming specks of light.

On top of an elaborately carved marble bier, Rundelhaus sat up.

This is…

Through the window, he could see a starry sky. Apparently it was night.

However, the ornamental plants placed here and there around this stone room gave off a substance like butterfly scales that emitted a strange light and brightly illuminated the space.

I see. This must be…the temple…

Rundelhaus understood. He’d heard rumors about it, but of course he’d never been inside it before. In any case, unlike Adventurers, People of the Earth didn’t worship at the temple. …Even if they did pray at the church.

The temple was one of the special facilities associated with the Adventurers, and it was more of a magical ruin than a religious building. Like the other People of the Earth, Rundelhaus had never used a facility like this one before.

For now… Good, I think I can move.

Still sitting on the bier, he tried carefully moving his body.

Right hand, left hand, both legs, shoulders—nothing seemed to be wrong anywhere. He felt a lingering fatigue in the marrow of his bones, but that was probably an aftereffect of being sent back here and revived.

He’d heard that being resurrected by the temple reduced your experience points. Rundelhaus opened his status screen, and he was startled by how much information it held.

The detail of the status screen for Adventurers was beyond anything he’d imagined: It showed everything from adjusted values for various abilities to subtle equipment bonuses, and detailed bars for MP and HP displayed their values in increments of one-tenth of a percent.

Even as the information dazzled him, he looked at the experience points column. As expected, it had gone down considerably. There was no help for that. Not only had he been sent back and revived, they’d used multiple resurrection spells on him earlier. This drop in experience points was a natural price.

But he hadn’t died.

That alone filled Rundelhaus’s heart to the brim.

He hadn’t particularly longed for the identity or position of an Adventurer. What he’d admired was the way they lived. To Rundelhaus, who’d been born as the third son of a corrupt noble family, the Adventurers’ freedom and their justice that saved people had been dazzling enough to pierce his heart.

Abruptly, something caught his eye. Rundelhaus flipped between tabs on the status screen. What he found there was the word “Adventurer.”

NAME: RUNDELHAUS CODE

MAIN CLASS: SORCERER

SUBCLASS: ADVENTURER

For a little while, Rundelhaus gazed at the letters in blank amazement.

I see. I didn’t have a subclass, did I… That contract put me into a new subclass. If that’s Adventurer, then…

Hastily, Rundelhaus checked the subclass abilities. The ones he saw were unfamiliar, but he’d heard about them in rumors: They were the Adventurers’ abilities. “The ability to return to the temple and resurrect,” “Telechat ability,” “Acquisition and adjustment of experience points,” “Bank safe deposit box,” “Detailed status.” In addition, all sorts of other bonuses were listed as abilities, although Rundelhaus didn’t even know what they did.

There’s so much here… With this much power, I could…

His lost time wouldn’t return. Rundelhaus’s past wouldn’t change. But, from now on, he might not spend any more endless nights ruing his lack of power.

And, best of all, he’d be able to live in Akiba without hiding who he really was, alongside the companions with whom he’d bonded so deeply at the summer camp, who now seemed closer to him than anyone. He might be able to build a home once again. A place where he could be himself.

Rundelhaus remembered.

He remembered an Adventurer who had traveled through, conquering all the dissolute aristocrats.

He had wished he could have been like that person, and at the same time, he had cursed them, thinking he never wanted to be like that. But if he were granted another chance, he would become an Adventurer. Then, Rundelhaus had vowed, he could measure the value of the miracle he had wished for.

This small burial chamber was the spot from which he’d make his second start. The young man with glasses and that serious face had also been an Adventurer. He was someone Rundelhaus’s friends Minori and Touya respected: Their guild master.

I wonder if that Shiroe fellow knows of vistas I do not…

As Rundelhaus basked in the deep emotion of his resurrection, from a distance, loud footsteps approached.

“Rudy!”

The stone door to the room with the altar was flung open with nearly enough force to pulverize it, and Isuzu appeared. From the doorway, she glared at Rundelhaus with a complicated expression on her face, as if she was angry and troubled at the same time.

“Hello, Mademoiselle Isuzu. …Erm, what’s the matter?”

“‘Wh-what’s…the matter’…? No…”

Isuzu strode over to him, then drew herself up to her full height.

Since Rundelhaus was sitting on the low bier, her head was higher than his, and when she stood like that, even if he looked up, it was hard to make out her expression. He heard something that sounded like a damp sniffle, but Isuzu’s voice was definitely angry.

“What were you thinking, pushing yourself like that? What if you’d died? Stupid Rudy!”

“That ‘stupid’ was uncalled for. Some justice is worth carrying through to the end, Mademoiselle Isuzu, even if it means risking your life. Just as it is impossible to set a yoke on Adventurers’ free souls, no one can halt my fight!”

“When I say ‘Wait,’ you wait!!”

“That’s ridiculous—”

“You wait!!”

Isuzu’s voice was dictatorial, and even Rundelhaus got annoyed.

That said, when he thought about why Isuzu was there, he realized something.

Isuzu was the only one of his companions who’d realized that Rundelhaus was a Person of the Earth. In hindsight, Minori seemed to have known as well, but Isuzu was the only one who’d asked Rundelhaus himself, had pressed him with questions, and had cooperated with his wish to become an Adventurer.

Besides, the fact that she was here right now meant she’d used Call of Home to follow him all the way back to Akiba when he’d resurrected.

“I’m, um, sorry… I feel I may have worried you.”

The instant Rundelhaus, who was still seated, spoke those words, a blow hard enough to bring tears to his eyes landed on his head.

Rundelhaus didn’t know why he’d been hit, but he’d lived to be the age he was with the blood of nobles in his veins. He knew very well that when a lady was in this state, there was nothing to do but to fall all over yourself apologizing.

“My apologies. I shouldn’t have done that, Mademoiselle Isuzu.” “I-I’m sorry. I won’t do anything like it again, so…” “Would you at least tell me why you’re—”

Every word he spoke brought two or three more blows down on him. Rudy’s head had been struck so often it was hot, and his mind was growing hazy.

“All right. I’ll do as you say, Mademoiselle Isuzu.”

“Really?”

“Really. I swear on the gods.”

“You’re going to tell me about when you were little, too.”

“Why would you want… —?! A-all right. I’ll tell you.”

“If you do crazy things like that, no matter how many lives you’ve got, it’ll never be enough.”

“I have seen the error of my ways.”

“Okay, then. Shake.”

Huh…?

At those words, Rundelhaus looked up at Isuzu.

Isuzu’s sweet, freckled face was sullen and angry; only her eyes were bashful as she softly put out her hand.

How am I supposed to resist if she looks at me like that?

In response, Rundelhaus gently placed his hand in hers.

Naturally, it was a gesture from another world, one that didn’t exist here. To Rundelhaus, it looked for all the world like the gesture a knight used to escort a lady, only with the roles reversed, and it made him feel terribly embarrassed.

Later on, Isuzu told him it was a gesture dogs used to show their devotion to their masters, and he was furious, but circumstance had him by the scruff of the neck just then, and he was in no position to vent his anger.

Apparently, Rundelhaus was fated to be unable to oppose this freckled girl.

7

Akiba’s first expedition force, which returned home in triumph, would later be called the Conquering Army of the East. This was linked to the fact that the Suzaku Gate Demon Festival incident in Western Yamato, which had been conducted at the same time, was called the Conquering Army of the West.

To be completely accurate, the expeditionary force hadn’t defeated the Goblin King. It had only sealed his plunder army into the Zantleaf Peninsula and annihilated it. Roughly a week after Krusty and his infiltration strike battalion defeated the Goblin General, the entire operation was over.

During that time, Shiroe and Krusty’s group stayed on their guard, half-expecting reinforcements from Seventh Fall, the goblins’ main stronghold, but these never materialized.

They had Seventh Fall under surveillance, just to be on the safe side, and it was thought that an army of several thousand was probably hiding there. That number was about a fifth the size of the goblin plunder army, and if they only paid attention to the numbers, it wasn’t a big threat.

However, speaking only in terms of the troop numbers was a mind-set for considering battle potential back in the old world. In this other world, where the wide vertical distribution in individual fighting abilities ranged from the level of a single foot soldier to the equivalent of a tank, the number of individuals or troops could never be an absolute assessment of war potential. You could say that the recent Akiba expeditionary force had successfully proven this.

The Goblin King was still alive and well in Seventh Fall, and they predicted there were still many large magical beasts as well. The goblin Shamans, who hadn’t participated in the plunder army, were probably also lying in wait.

They had to assume that Seventh Fall still held a threat even greater than troop numbers.

However, they hadn’t left Seventh Fall alone because it seemed difficult to capture. Even if there were a few formidable enemies left, with the Adventurers’ strength, the Round Table Council assumed that subjugation was only a matter of time.

One of the reasons the subjugation of the Goblin King had been postponed was the decision that they ought to conclude treaties with Eastal beforehand.

A few members of the Round Table Council had something else in mind as well.

The Round Table Council had set bounties and issued numerous quests that involved patrolling the hamlets and villages in northeastern Yamato and putting down rogue goblins.

While it was one thing when they were in groups the size of the recent army, when they were in squads, the monsters known as goblins weren’t much of a threat. Although they had put together a strategy in advance, the fact that Minori’s group of players, whose levels were in the low 30s, had been able to fight them on equal terms was good proof.

To that end, these subjugation quests were aimed more at beginning or midlevel players than at high-level Adventurers, and the players were so extraordinarily glad to have them that scores of Adventurers rushed out of Akiba. They ran through the forests, fields, and mountains of northeastern Yamato, impressing upon the People of the Earth the fact that the Adventurers were back.

As they whittled away at the minor forces outside the stronghold, Seventh Fall would tighten its defenses even further. If they defeated the Goblin King in advance, by himself, it was likely that the goblin tribes would lose all discipline.

Having lost their sovereign, the goblins might disperse and cause problems they couldn’t predict. In the abstract, this was how Shiroe had persuaded the Round Table Council. In other words, by sealing them away, they were laying the groundwork for their impending assault on Seventh Falls.

Shiroe had used the circumstances only because things had happened to turn out that way, but the people around him kept calling him “black, black,” and it made him feel rather glum. As if there’s any black or white in military strategy… This was what Shiroe had to say, but that self-assessment managed to overlook several points.

Shiroe didn’t know it, but the average Adventurer in Akiba thought that Shiroe had been the mastermind behind the Princess Raynesia campaign. In other words, they considered him a man who’d schemed to win over a sheltered, beautiful, naïve princess with clever words, then send her to the battlefield. As Raynesia’s pure beauty won her increasing goodwill mixed with sympathy, the general estimation of Shiroe’s character was on its way down.

Unaware of this, Shiroe was vaguely concerned that he seemed to be getting more flak than usual, and Henrietta cheered him on: “This is nowhere near the extent of your true blackness, Master Shiroe!” Shiroe had very mixed feelings about this.

During the grace period they’d won from their military campaign, three contracts were concluded between the Round Table Council and Eastal, the League of Free Cities: a basic relations treaty, a treaty of mutual traffic and commerce, and a peace treaty.

One month after the encirclement battle at Zantleaf…

A festival in honor of the conclusion of the treaties was in progress in Maihama.

Many nobles from all across northeastern Yamato had gathered in Maihama’s beautiful, dazzling streets. The Lords’ Council had been temporarily adjourned, and the lords who’d returned to their territories turned right around again and gathered in Maihama. Of course, unlike the Lords’ Council, participation wasn’t mandatory, which meant that a few faces were absent, but most of the noble lords and merchants were in attendance.

The town of Akiba was currently in a period of unprecedented economic development.

The great banquet held in honor of the treaties’ signing was a rare opportunity to make acquaintances among the Adventurers. To the lords, it was a huge chance to push their territories’ specialties and to conclude preferential contracts; their determination not to lose out to other lords combined with the heat of the festival to whip up a cutthroat negotiations war.

Meanwhile, however, it was the same for Akiba’s various guilds: Production and commercial outfits and—if you considered guard duty and transportation—even the combat guilds alike, had looked forward to this banquet as a chance to win all sorts of business opportunities.

In any event, Yamato was presently short on practically every commodity there was, to the point where its collective head was almost spinning.

All the inns in Maihama’s castle town were full, and many private houses had temporarily transformed themselves into guesthouses. The majority of guilds that held business talks here were small or midsized commercial guilds, as well as small guilds that had undertaken guard duty. Add in the peddlers who had come running from Akiba—bringing all the foodstuffs, swords, armor, and anything else they could sell off with the intent of making a windfall profit—and Maihama’s population seemed to have doubled.

The royal palace had thrown itself open and was receiving guests, not only in its rooms for honored visitors and in its guest rooms, but even in the knights’ palace. There, the lords were struggling desperately to conclude exclusive contracts with the major guilds.

Of course, in Earth terms, most of the Elder Tales players were far too young to be truly crafty, and the nobles had the advantage in the negotiations. Even so, the nobles were People of the Earth and weren’t well acquainted with the Adventurers’ demands and inner workings, and this caused frequent confusion.

Since both parties knew they were negotiating with someone they weren’t used to, they tended to think, That’s probably good enough for now, and compromised early. As a result, most of the negotiations ended on a pleasant note.

It was the sort of enormous festival that only happened once in a century.

The People of the Earth ate at all sorts of dining halls; street vendors and restaurants served the ballooning population until they were red in the face. Adventurers were so busy making items—or diligently selling them—that they had no time to sleep. Because everyone was able to make at least a little extra money at the celebration, and because the day’s earnings were spent on drinking or meals that were fancier than usual or clothes that were finer than normal, both consumption and demand were skyrocketing.

The servants at the Court, some of whom were temporary workers, were flying around busily, following the steward’s orders as he attempted to make all preparations to perfection. That said, as was only natural during an uproar like this, it was impossible to provide perfect hospitality, and the ever-serious man in charge of it all seemed ready to faint.

However, it was true that, in that sense, the Adventurers were quite an easy breed to deal with. Most Adventurers were the type who lived by the creed of taking care of themselves, and many were such self-effacing characters that even the simple act of being served at mealtimes made them uncomfortable.

If all the Adventurers had said, like the nobles, that they needed a minimum of three servants or maids just to take meals, change clothes, or bathe, even the Court of Maihama, the largest in the League of Free Cities, would have had to give up.

However, to the aristocrats, the Adventurers were almost shockingly simple, and splendid lifestyles seemed quite foreign to them. As they saw this, the more intelligent the noble, the further they tried to simplify their own lifestyles, at least during the negotiations. As a result, for the duration of the festival, even the self-indulgent, luxury-loving nobles became comparatively reasonable, and the attendants and ladies-in-waiting of the palace of Maihama breathed sighs of relief.

And now the festival to celebrate the conclusion of the treaties, which had pulled in everyone from the royal family to the townspeople—including seasonal workers, artisans, and farmers—had reached its climax.

Riding on a majestic melody played by an orchestra, a grand ball was about to begin in the great hall of Castle Cinderella, at the heart of Maihama.

This great hall was even larger than the one at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, and it was illuminated with the glimmer of countless candles and conjured lights. Invitations to the ball had been sent to nobles, the city’s prominent merchants, and the Adventurers, and more than two hundred participants had gathered.

When their host, Duke Sergiad Cowen, announced the commencement of the ball to the guests, who were trembling in anticipation, the music swelled and grew clearer, welcoming the dancers.

But the ball was made abnormal by the presence of the Adventurers, and so the young knights and princesses alike shrank back. In the end, the first pair to step from their ranks was Krusty and Raynesia.

Krusty was the young hero from Akiba who’d saved the League of Free Cities from the threat of the goblins, and the mere combination of his name with that of the granddaughter of Maihama’s House of Cowen—which headed the League of Free Cities—was enough to provoke curiosity. On top of that, this expedition was graced by a story that sounded like a heroic saga: Princess Raynesia had gone alone to the town of Akiba to plead with them, and the Adventurers, touched by her sincerity, had lent her their strength in the spirit of chivalry.

Krusty was a knight of such prowess that he was rumored to have fought the general of the goblin tribes one-on-one and defeated him, but the young man’s quiet, intellectual looks belied that reputation. Behind his glasses, his profile was calm and completely unruffled. His height alone was suited to his profession: He was very tall, but the stolid image that accompanied the words “enormous knight” was nowhere to be seen. Krusty, who wore formal wear with sophistication, was the very picture of a young nobleman.

Meanwhile, Raynesia was said to be the most beautiful young princess in Eastal, the League of Free Cities. Today, she was wearing a comparatively reserved dress. Its satin fabric shaded from pale blue into violet and was delicately embroidered with silver thread. The puffed silhouette that completely covered her shoulders was conservative, but the neckline and the cut of the back were quite enough to capture the eyes of the gentlemen, and they highlighted the grace of her slender, swanlike neck.

The pair had advanced to the center of the floor, and a murmur that could have been praise or a sigh slipped from the people around them. They really did make an extraordinarily attractive sight, as if they’d stepped out of a picture.

“Aren’t you going, my liege?”

Shiroe was in a dark, second-story space that overlooked the great hall, moistening his throat with Black Rose Tea. He glanced to the side.

There was Akatsuki, wearing the lovely dress he’d seen at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice. (Henrietta had probably put her into it.)

While the pearl-colored dress was the same as it had been before, she was wearing a translucent, royal purple wrap with it today. Against the pale, layered colors of the dress, Akatsuki’s silky black hair looked stunning.

“I’ll pass this time. The leading role belongs to Krusty today. Even if I went, I wouldn’t be much use. …And anyway, it would tire me out.”

As Shiroe spoke, Akatsuki came closer and sat down beside him, wordlessly.

The balcony held a small table and several chairs, and it felt rather deserted. Ordinarily, it would have served as a place for high-ranking nobles to rest, but the presence of Adventurer guests made the day’s ball a boisterous one, and the court servants probably wouldn’t make it all the way up here.

From their high vantage point, they had a good view of what was happening in the great hall below:

The orchestra, in matching uniforms, focused on performing. Business magnates and old aristocrats taken up in various corners, determined to thoroughly enjoy themselves. Adventurers who seemed a bit nervous. Brave, composed People of the Earth who were talking with knights and merchants.

As a wide variety of human-relation patterns played out, Krusty and Raynesia, having arrived at the center of the great hall, began to dance, their steps as captivating as a riot of blossoms.

“…”

Akatsuki, who had been watching intently, turned back to Shiroe, and their eyes met. Akatsuki opened her mouth. She seemed to be about to ask something, but then, as if she’d given up, she closed it tightly again. She looked completely at a loss, and it made Shiroe feel very gentle.

“Why are you laughing, my liege?”

“I’m not laughing.”

“No, you laughed.”

As Shiroe continued to say that he hadn’t, Akatsuki bore down obstinately. However, abruptly, her tone softened and she apologized.

“I wasn’t much use. Except for during battles, I only held you back, I think.”

“That’s not true, Akatsuki.”

Akatsuki’s words startled Shiroe. The incident had lasted a month from the time they were summoned to the Lords’ Council, and Akatsuki had stayed by Shiroe’s side for the duration, in public and behind the scenes, gathering intel and acting as his bodyguard. Hadn’t they gone to Li Gan’s study together, just the two of them, and come into contact with a corner of the mysteries of this world?

He told her as much, but Akatsuki’s expression was still dejected.

I guess the fact that I’m grateful isn’t really getting through to her…

Shiroe had only been trying to make a place for himself, and then to protect it, and yet this quiet girl had supported his wish the entire time. As Shiroe belatedly realized this, he stood up from his seat, almost without thinking.

“Shall we dance?”

“Huh?”

Shiroe stood, holding out a hand to the startled girl who was staring up at him from her chair. Just at that moment, from the great hall on the floor below, they began to hear rousing applause and the beginning of the second piece.

Light from the brilliantly illuminated hall shone into their dim, second-story balcony from below.

“My liege. I, um… Dancing isn’t really…”

“You were practicing, weren’t you?”

Shiroe took Akatsuki’s hand and drew her to her feet.

He remembered Akatsuki rehearsing footwork in the courtyard that night, at the Ancient Court. That complicated footwork, unlike anything in martial arts, had been the exact set of dance steps Henrietta had taught Shiroe.

His taciturn companion, who seemed like a little girl even though they were the same age, had been secretly practicing dancing, out in the cool air that night. Over and over again: The motions she’d repeated often enough to make them a part of her had been exactly like Akatsuki’s uncompromising character.

Even in this world, the only one who knew about it was Shiroe.

“My liege… Don’t laugh.”

“I’m an amateur at this myself. I won’t laugh.”

On the dark, narrow, second-story balcony, the two Log Horizon members took their first uncertain steps into the waltz that drifted up to reach them.

It was a faltering dance, in which each was hesitant toward the other.

8

The two who danced that same waltz in the midst of great brilliance were Krusty and Raynesia.

To Raynesia, Krusty looked like a huge tiger.

Krusty, who loomed right in front of her like a gigantic wall, was escorting her with steps so magnificent and orderly that they betrayed the image of his title as the general who’d commanded Akiba’s expeditionary army.

His reputation at the court seemed to have settled into that of a handsome, gentle young man (Raynesia had learned as much from the rumors her maids brought her). Raynesia, who knew what he’d looked like on that battlefield, wanted to tell them, “Your eyes are X-marks drawn on with ink.”

He’s a tiger. This person is a monstrous tiger-human!

Some had also commented, For a knight, he’s quite slim, isn’t he… However, this was only because, from a distance, his height made him look comparatively slender. Seen right up close like this, with his arm around her waist, everything from the thickness of his arm to the depth of his chest made her feel very keenly that he was a completely different human—or rather, a completely different creature—from herself.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

“Nothing at all, Master Krusty.”

Pasting on an expression that would look like a smile to the nobles and Adventurers around them, Raynesia whispered back crossly.

Krusty had lowered his voice as well, and in this great hall, filled as it was with orchestral music and the hum of voices, their whispers would fail to reach those around them.

Some might realize from the movement of their lips that they were whispering about something to each other as they danced, but their expressions and the situation would probably lead them to decide that the conversation was a friendly one.

Raynesia knew the romance-starved court ladies would turn their conversation into whispered sweet nothings in no time. She was actually hearing that sort of thing at that very moment.

“—It’s maddening.”

“What is?”

The most maddening part of it was the attitude Krusty was taking toward the rumors. He didn’t deny them at all. Of course, if he had denied them, his laid-back attitude might have irritated her anyway, but she couldn’t handle having that composure waved in front of her, either.

“It’s nothing.”

“Something seems to have offended you.”

At his words, Raynesia mentally muttered, Yes, you, but the moment she did so, he answered with, “Well, surely it was me,” and left her speechless.

Honestly! Imagine having your own private thoughts responded to! In any case, he doesn’t even sound apologetic.

Thinking of the future, Raynesia sighed.

Her grandfather had shown a marked coolness regarding this whole affair. Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and the Round Table Council had concluded the treaties on the understanding that their relationship was an equal one. In this matter, neither owed a debt to the other.

On the other hand, when the goblins were on the point of devastating eastern Yamato, it was Raynesia, acting as an individual, who had asked for the Adventurers’ help in their time of need. While the League felt the utmost gratitude and respect for their actions, they did not consider themselves to be in the Adventurers’ debt.

Raynesia’s grandfather had told her so, quite plainly.

Put simply, I am to pay back the debt to the Adventurers all by myself…

During this celebration and the festival that would follow, the Adventurers were being treated as guests of honor, but there was apparently no intent to repay them for their war expenditures. That alone was enough to make Raynesia turn pale.

Apart from what she’d said during her speech in Akiba, she’d thought the League of Free Cities would provide at least a little funding or a reward. If this was how things were, she couldn’t pay a single condolence visit to the Adventurers who’d been injured during the expedition.

Even though she was remembering gloomy circumstances like these, possibly as a result of long years of training, Raynesia’s body continued to execute elegant steps half automatically.

One step right. Two more steps right.

Quarter-turn. Step left. She raised her hand, gently touching Krusty’s fingertips.

A flute like a flowing stream. Raynesia and Krusty danced on the sweet, melancholy tones of violins and melting ecstasy.

“Do you hate the idea so much?”

“It isn’t that…”

The compromise her grandfather and the House of Cowen had proposed was to install Raynesia as an ambassador. Fundamentally, in the lords’ aristocratic culture, ladies were symbolic figures. Although their beauty might be used in politics, it was unthinkable to expect political talents or business abilities from the ladies themselves.

However, according to her grandfather, “Raynesia has climbed out of that protective enclosure of her own accord,” and so, in the future, such consideration would be unnecessary. She had then been ordered to take up the position of responsibility for the embassy that was being established in Akiba. Apparently, from now on, Raynesia would live shuttling back and forth between a villa that had been built in Akiba and Castle Cinderella in Maihama.

You are the one who created this debt, so it’s only good form for you to stay nearby, humbling yourself before the Adventurers from time to time, don’t you think?

Although her grandfather, Duke Sergiad, had spoken those words with a stern face, his eyes had been smiling. It was an unusual expression for him, but he was probably thinking this served Raynesia right.

That thought made her feel more than a little daunted.

“It comes with three meals and naps.”

“Pardon?”

“Three meals and naps are included,” Krusty muttered, in a weary, resigned tone. “The ambassador to Akiba, I mean. Of course Akiba is expected to continue to develop, and the lords will want facilities to handle their business trips, and bases for negotiations. We’re aware that Maihama has gotten in first by putting a villa in Akiba. It will probably have some sort of effect… Still, we are Adventurers, you know. We don’t care as much as aristocrats do about the aristocratic routines of aristocrats. I doubt there will be many tea parties or soirées. Since that’s the sort of town you’ll be coming to, Princess, I imagine you’ll be able to revel in the life of a hermit, with three meals a day and naps.”

At Krusty’s abrupt statement, hope filled Raynesia’s heart.

Was it possible that this was a state of affairs to be welcomed?

Now that she thought about it, leaving her parents’ home meant escaping their watchful eyes as well. If things were like this, she could probably implement the plan she’d dreamed of for years: Lazing around for three whole days without even taking a bath.

“Well, three days or so is probably within the permissible range.”

As Krusty spoke, having read her mind yet again, Raynesia’s cheeks instantly flushed bright red. This nasty human menace was truly impossible to deal with. In a fit of anger, she squeezed his hand hard, but it probably did less damage to Krusty than if a songbird had alighted on it.

To the eyes of those around them, the people who knew nothing, it might have looked as though a young knight who boasted legendary military fame was escorting a beautiful princess, and that the pastel love between the two of them was causing the princess, who was filled with melancholy, to blush.

However, the rumors of bystanders often fail to match reality. Even if they do happen to match, it’s simply hindsight being twenty-twenty, and no one but the people involved know the finer details.

“Now I’ll finally be able to return to a life of untidiness. Won’t I, Master Krusty?”

“Hmm, I wonder about that. You seem rather prone to shooting yourself in the foot, Princess.”

As the rumored pair fought a whispered feud with one another, as they laid plans, like sworn enemies, or possibly like accomplices… For now, they simply rode the music of this ball held in celebration of peace, continuing to dance with elegant steps.

<Log Horizon, Volume 4: Game’s End, Part 2—The End>