Chapter 3: Battle of Roka

1

“Now that’s what I call a hunt. What a haul.”

Naotsugu swung the hatchet he’d been using to harvest items, wiped off the blood, and returned it to its sheath.

As Shiroe nodded in agreement, he lowered his staff, canceling the waiting spells.

…I’d better watch it. I managed to depress myself remembering all that.

He shrugged, sighing. He felt troubled. That said, there’d been so many troubling things since they came to this world that even he wasn’t quite clear on what was troubling him now.

Man, I hope that doesn’t turn into something I say all the time.

“What’s wrong, my liege?”

Akatsuki had come up beside Shiroe while his mind was elsewhere; she seemed to have finished getting her pack in order. She gazed up into his face with eyes as lustrous as polished obsidian. It was unnerving. Shiroe gave an evasive smile, then suggested that they start heading back.

At only a kilometer per side, Smallstone Herb Garden, the field zone they were in, wasn’t very big. It was already dusk. The wind that blew across the forest and ruined buildings was chilly, and the only sound in the area was faint, scattered birdsong. This particular zone was close to both Akiba and the town of Shibuya, which made it convenient for day-trip hunting excursions. Although it was close to a player town, it held relatively high-level monsters.

“Okay, then, let’s head home.”

“Understood.”

Black-clad Akatsuki answered Shiroe in her usual unemotional, too-serious tone and picked up the pack she’d set down, slinging it back over her shoulder.

The area was littered with the carcasses of the Triffids and Brier Weasels they’d been fighting. After a short while, the corpses dissolved into sparks of light and vanished.

Triffids were walking plants with buds that looked exactly like rugby balls at their tips. These monsters were horror movie material: If a human came near, the rugby ball split open into three sections, revealing a maw bristling with rows of sharp fangs like shards of broken glass. Brier Weasels were mottled purple-and-green monsters that lived parasitically on briers. They were fast, launching briers at players and moving with even more agility than cats.

The monsters’ levels were 48 and 52. These were fairly high levels for Elder Tales monsters, but they were still forty levels below Shiroe’s group. They wouldn’t get any experience points from defeating them.

During their training over the past few days, Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki had learned that the Elder Tales specs were reproduced fairly faithfully in this world. They still weren’t sure, but they suspected that a monster would have to be five levels below them—in other words, level 85—for them to earn any experience points by defeating it. However, if the three of them together were able to defeat a level 85 monster at all at this point, it would be a very close fight. Besides, although one level-85 monster would be tough enough, monsters tended to attack in groups.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I chugged a potion. The Great Naotsugu’s Defense is an iron fortress, like that one mecha. Steel city.”

Naotsugu grinned and struck the armor he was wearing. Since his fist was sheathed in a dull gray gauntlet as well, it made a heavy, hollow sound.

According to Naotsugu, the pain from enemy attacks was far less than what it would be in the real world. He said that even when his HP fell below 50 percent, instead of feeling half-dead, he felt as though he was covered in hot, swollen, stinging bruises. As Naotsugu put it, the very worst pain was about as bad as whacking your little toe on the corner of your dresser.

I think I’d be in tears by the third time that happened, though.

Shiroe had frowned slightly at Naotsugu’s words, but Naotsugu himself had laughed, loud and long.

Still, just because it’s that way now doesn’t necessarily mean it will stay that way, Shiroe thought as he stood guard. We’re still fighting low-level enemies at this point, and we don’t take a lot of damage all at once. We have the time to make careful decisions during battle, and we can fight without paying too much attention to securing a path of retreat. If we keep fighting higher-level enemies, though, we’ll probably start taking more damage… If that happens, no matter how good Naotsugu is at what he does, he may not have as much leeway as he does now. I’d better come up with some other possibilities now, while there’s time…

The Guardian class was noted for being the cornerstone of the front line and for having the highest HP and Defense of all twelve classes. If there was any damage that Naotsugu couldn’t withstand, it was a sure bet that none of the other classes would be able to.

Which means… It really would be good to have a healer around. Still, I’d rather not pull someone else in just for efficiency’s sake. If we asked someone to join up with a motive like that, we might not be able to work together well. And anyway, even if something wipes us out, we’ll just get sent back to the town. But…

This world held the miracle of resurrection from death. Shiroe and the others knew that if they died they’d be resurrected in Akiba’s great temple. Even so, it didn’t make them feel like being reckless. Even if it came with a guarantee of recovery in this world, death was still abhorrent and impossible to accept.

The idea of coming back to life after dying is seriously creepy.

“My liege…?”

“Hey, Shiro. Let’s hurry up and get home.”

Several days had passed since the three of them had started traveling together, and the group dynamics were turning out to be far better than Shiroe had expected. Maybe each of them had only convinced themselves that they worked best on their own. Maybe they’d actually been suited to living like this.

That said, that very aptitude made their various personalities stand out in sharper relief. In this particular group, Shiroe naturally became the one who worried.

Of course, since I’ve been in charge of strategy ever since the Debauchery Tea Party, I guess that hasn’t changed…

Shiroe tended to involuntarily retreat into his own thoughts. Even he was aware that it might not be a good habit, but he didn’t feel as if it was something he really had to change.

I don’t mind being the guy who worries, he thought. I just don’t want to be the gloom-and-doom guy.

“All right. Let’s move out… Does anybody need more light?”

Shiroe was preparing his Magic Light spell as he spoke.

“No, my liege Shiro.”

“I don’t supposed you’d stop the ‘my liege’ business, would you? Just call me Shiroe. We’re friends, you know.”

“In that case, you call me Akatsuki, too. No Miss.”

Letting his request go nearly unacknowledged, Akatsuki stared at Shiroe.

That gaze of hers is just too much… Agh.

Personally, Shiroe thought Akatsuki was cute. Most people would probably call Akatsuki a lovely girl, even if they didn’t know her at all. Still, he couldn’t take that way she had of watching him fixedly with those dead-serious eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, not at all. It was just that she made him very uncomfortable.

Shiroe was a genuine indoors-type online gamer. He wasn’t one for socializing, and of course, he didn’t have an abundance of experience with the opposite sex.

I guess that’s just an excuse, though. When it comes down to it… Well, stuff like that makes me embarrassed and I’m bad at it, that’s all… I mean, how could I not be? Yeah. I know. Even I know, but still.

“My liege.”

As if to compound Shiroe’s confusion, Akatsuki stepped in front of him and called to him. The height difference was huge, and there was something terribly embarrassing about having her look up at him.

“Umm, er, what? —Hey, Naotsugu, quit smirking!”

Taking a verbal jab at Naotsugu, who was watching him and laughing, Shiroe motioned for Akatsuki to go on.

“I’ll act as a scout on the way home.”

“Why?”

“Practice. One of the special Assassin techniques is Night Vision, and I also have Sneak and Silent Move. I want to see how it feels to use them here. The forest will be the perfect place.”

As Akatsuki spoke, she glanced into the woods, where the dusk was already beginning to thicken, and refastened the black belt that held her sheathed short sword, getting ready.

Solo movement?

After giving it a little thought, Shiroe granted permission. This zone didn’t appear to have any monsters stronger than the two types they’d fought earlier. Akatsuki could fight them one-on-one and not lose, and even if they attacked in a group, she’d probably be able to run away. Besides, he understood her impulse to test the skills she had. She wanted to be able to enter future situations fully prepared. Having a solid grasp of their abilities was a prerequisite for survival.

“Just don’t get careless. Meet up with us again near the south gate. We’ll be using Magic Light, so come find us instead of the other way around.”

“Understood. If we’re in the same zone, I’ll know where you are.”

Individuals who’d joined a party and were in the same zone as other members could use angle and distance information to tell where those members were. They probably wouldn’t have any trouble meeting up again.

“See ya, short stuff.”

“Shut up, stupid Naotsugu.”

In the next instant, leaving that comeback behind her, Akatsuki melted into the trees.

“Not bad, short stuff.”

Naotsugu looked as if he might whistle in appreciation.

“I didn’t even hear leaves rustling.”

Shiroe shrugged, chanting the Magic Light spell. A magical glow about as bright as a regular lamp flickered to life at the tip of his staff. The sun wasn’t quite down yet, but the magic lamp cast a soft light in the forest’s dense undergrowth and deep orange dusk.

“We should head out, too.”

“Roger that, Counselor. Forward march, let’s book.”

Shiroe and Naotsugu started through the forest in a bubble of warm light, heading for the eastern gate. Crunching frost-damp ribbons of green grass underfoot, they followed a deer track littered with mossy rocks through the forest of the Imperial Gardens.

It feels as if we’re deep in the forests of Yakushima or the Amazon, like the ones I saw on WebTV. People say this could be another world, but I dunno… It’s pretty hard to believe.

He could hear the faint, pleasant sound of insect chirps and clicks. The two of them parted the undergrowth as they advanced through the dark woods, Naotsugu sometimes using his longsword to cut through a particularly stubborn patch.

“So Akatsuki’s a Tracker, huh?”

At Naotsugu’s words, Shiroe remembered what Akatsuki had said. The special techniques she’d mentioned, Sneak and Silent Move, were Tracker abilities. Tracker was one of Elder Tales’s myriad subclasses, and it gave anyone who acquired it special abilities tailored to pursuit or tracking.

In Elder Tales, subclasses gave players convenient ability sets that weren’t directly related to combat. They were completely independent of the main twelve combat-related classes, and as long as they fulfilled the conditions, any Adventurer could acquire a wide range of subclasses, no matter what their main class was.

In general terms, subclasses could be divided into two basic types. One type included Chef, Tailor, Blacksmith, and Woodworker and other production-related subclasses. Players with these subclasses could create a wide variety of items by using facilities and the appropriate materials. Production-related subclasses were easy to acquire: All you had to do was purchase manuals from artisan non-player characters in the urban zones and then accumulate experience points in that line of work. This sort of experience was completely separate from combat experience, and although it took an extremely long time to advance to a high level, players didn’t have to complete any particular quest or acquire any special item to do so. If they were patient, anyone could improve to the top of their subclass, and it didn’t really require help from friends.

Shiroe’s subclass was Scribe. Scribe was a production-related subclass that let players copy maps, documents, and books of spells. Its tools were paper and pen, and it was basically desk work.

The other type was role-play related: Subclass examples included Aristocrat, Merchant, and Rose Garden Princess. Unlike the production subclasses, role-play subclasses didn’t allow players to create items, but they did grant several special abilities and unusual techniques, and they occasionally gave players special equipment. Akatsuki’s Tracker was one such subclass. It granted the abilities to move silently, follow enemies or other players, and make one’s presence impossible to detect.

Shiroe didn’t know all that much about Trackers. The twelve main classes that were directly related to combat had been designed down to the details by the huge American corporation that had developed Elder Tales, and their abilities were adjusted frequently. In contrast, several subclasses were added with each expansion pack, and some had been independently added by subcontractors such as Fushimi Online Entertainment, the company that administered the Japanese server.

Although there were only twelve main classes, Shiroe could think of more than fifty subclasses, and that was just off the top of his head. Taking into account the fact that other subclasses existed on different servers, there was really no telling how many there actually were.

Of course, the powerful, convenient subclasses tended to get talked about and people swarmed to acquire them, so they were easy to remember. That meant it was possible to have a decent grasp of the abilities those subclasses granted, but even veteran players like Shiroe didn’t know the abilities of all the minor subclasses.

In that jumble of good and bad, Tracker was a subclass that enjoyed modest recognition. It granted fairly convenient special abilities, but they weren’t the sort that players would use regularly or even frequently. This exquisite balance placed it solidly in the middle, on the line between the major and minor subclasses. Players who weren’t hard-core gamers like Shiroe might not know about it, but it was more famous than, say, Sailor or Janitor.

“She certainly knows how to specialize.”

Naotsugu guffawed and told Shiroe he had that right.

I mean, she’s an Assassin and a Tracker. She’s way too into this. With a combination like that, I’m not surprised she called herself a ninja.

He and Naotsugu had a good laugh over Akatsuki’s single-mindedness. The term “role-play” tended to be associated with ham acting, but when combined with her serious character, Akatsuki’s version suited her far too well.

“How does she look to you, Shiro? …Little Miss Short Stuff, I mean.”

“She’s very agile on the front lines. She has great concentration.”

It took a little while for Shiroe to find the words to answer the question Naotsugu hadn’t quite asked.

He was asking for Shiroe’s opinion of Akatsuki.

Shiroe’s personal opinion of Akatsuki was as high as ever. He’d sounded brusque simply because it embarrassed him to praise her.

“Forget about me. What about you, Naotsugu? Are things harder, easier…?”

“—Easier. Our kill-off speed is in a whole different league from what it was when it was just you and me,” Naotsugu said as he walked ahead of Shiroe. “Sometimes I’ll turn around to take on another monster and it’s dead already. She may be a midget, but she’s a tough midget.”

Naotsugu was a fundamentally frank, cheerful, sociable guy who could make friends with anybody in very little time. He did have a tendency to make off-color remarks, but Shiroe had a hunch that he did it at least partly on purpose to lighten the mood. Still, when it came to combat, he never gave praise he didn’t mean. Naotsugu would choose words that wouldn’t hurt the other person, but he wouldn’t lie. Compared to all the evaluations Shiroe could remember him giving in the past, the one he’d just given Akatsuki was very nearly perfect.

“Akatsuki says that changing her form shortened her reach and that she isn’t able to put much force behind her attacks. What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t know about the reach. I’ve never gone midget myself. With speed and agility like that, though, reach can’t be much of a handicap. Try taking one of those flying knee kicks. I swear she teleports. Even if you brace for it, she moves so fast you can’t track it.”

“I’ll pass on that, thanks.”

Naotsugu massaged his nose, as if the conversation had reminded him.

“If she says her attacks don’t have as much force behind them, I’d guess she’d know. The game system says gender doesn’t affect damage, but this is some other world, and maybe weight does add power to attacks… Or maybe it doesn’t. Either way, it’s a feeling, and only the person with the feeling knows what it feels like… Even then, though, you could make up for that lost power with a support spell, right? I mean, this is you we’re talking about.”

Naotsugu pushed some big, fernlike leaves up and out of the way as he spoke.

I guess he’s right about that… Maybe.

Of the twelve main classes in Elder Tales, three were Warrior types, three were Weapon Attack types, three were Recovery types, and three were Magic Attack types. Shiroe’s class, Enchanter, was one of the magic-user classes. Of the three, it was the one most specialized for support and tricky maneuvering, and it had all sorts of spells for reinforcing allies’ abilities. Keen Edge increased weapon attack power. Sewn-Bind Hostage was an attack spell that throttled the enemy with cursed brambles every time an ally’s weapon attack hit home. Mind Shock stunned the enemy’s astral body, paralyzing them for a set amount of time. Enchanters were unconventional magic users who contributed to victories by supporting their allies and controlling the situation.

“…Well… There’s that,” Shiroe answered awkwardly.

Enchanter was the least popular class in Elder Tales. It couldn’t have been valued less. Of course, Shiroe had chosen this class because he liked it, and he didn’t feel the need to apologize for it to anybody. No matter what anyone said, he thought Enchanters were useful and that they held great potential. Still, even Shiroe understood that Enchanters couldn’t perform at their best when they worked alone.

Needing friends meant that Enchanters’ potential changed drastically depending on how well they got along with their companions. This wasn’t a class performance issue. When working with other people to achieve a goal, game system values weren’t a good measure of strength. Since Shiroe was fully aware of this, having someone tell him, “You’re fine the way you are,” and “It’s okay for you to be here,” made him feel terribly self-conscious. Being recognized for one’s skills as an Enchanter was the same as having someone acknowledge a person’s actual personality and relationships.

“…Listen. Shiro.”

“Hm?”

“Nothin’ specific, but…I don’t think you really need to hold back as much as you do.”

“Huh?”

Naotsugu had been walking in the lead, parting the underbrush, when he let those words fall. They were so far removed from what they’d been talking about earlier that Shiroe had no idea what he meant.

“…Like panties?”

“And you phrased that as a question because…?”

“Shiro, cute girls’ enigmatic triangles are always posing questions to the universe. Learn to listen, you moody closet perfect-pervert-storm!”

“Just how girl crazy do you think I am anyway?!”

Shiroe didn’t understand Naotsugu’s friendly advice, at least not then. All he could do was follow his receding back.

At that point, Shiroe was still only an Enchanter.

2

After Shiroe and Naotsugu met back up with Akatsuki, they crossed into the next zone. Naotsugu was tired from the day’s constant battling, but he was in a good mood. He turned and yelled back to the other two.

“Step it up, okay? The inn’s calling my name.”

The name of the zone was the Kanda Irrigation Canal. It was a ruin based on the Marunouchi train line in the real world and was currently inhabited by goblins, orcs, and other demihumans. That said, the levels of the goblins and orcs in this zone were in the low thirties, and they posed no threat to Shiroe’s group. With this much of a level difference, the monsters wouldn’t attack unless they had no other option.

The sun had set completely, and Naotsugu, Shiroe, and Akatsuki were beginning to regret having stayed so long in the Imperial Gardens forest. Since the monsters wouldn’t attack recklessly, they could have found a suitable ruin or a likely looking grove and camped there for the night, but instead they walked down the highway, which was littered with abandoned cars and dump trucks, under the glow of the Magic Light. Akatsuki had insisted that, if they were going to sleep anyway, they’d sleep better in a place with real beds. Either way, their packs were stuffed with monster hides, fangs, and other loot. They had magic items they’d taken from the monsters as well, and they’d have to go back to town to cash them in.

Naotsugu was in the lead, and every so often, he’d turn around to check on Shiroe and Akatsuki.

It doesn’t look like they’re having any trouble walking. No matter what they say, they have stamina to spare. It must be the level-90 thing again.

That was a relief.

Unlike the other two, Naotsugu was a genuine vanguard warrior, and Warriors had excellent stamina, muscle, and agility scores. Having reached level 90, Naotsugu had enough energy to fight for more than an hour wearing heavy armor that had to weigh forty or fifty kilograms, something that surprised even Naotsugu. Even if he’d completely exhausted himself, his strength would start to return after just a few minutes’ rest, and he was confident that he could lift close to three hundred kilograms, provided he didn’t have to hold it for long. His strength seemed to be nearly inexhaustible.

Shiroe and Akatsuki were different, though. Shiroe’s specialty was intellectual work, and although Akatsuki was astonishingly swift, she was a lightweight fighter who lived by her agility. Both of them said that, since they were level 90, they had quite a lot of stamina, but Naotsugu always felt that it would be better for him to match their pace than expect them to match his… Still, it looked as though he didn’t need to worry about that tonight, at least not yet.

They were lucky: The moon was bright, and they had the light from the magic lamp, too. Unlike in the forest, although there was rubble scattered here and there and cracks ran across their path, the once-paved asphalt road sloped gently and was easy to walk on.

“The gobs aren’t attacking…”

“And they’re not gonna. Not with three level-90 players here.”

“I like the ones that wear dinosaur bones on their heads. The way they strut around like they’re impressive is funny. Cute, too.”

There goes short stuff, talking crazy with that deadpan face of hers…

Akatsuki probably meant the goblin shamans. They were members of the goblin leader class who could attack with flame and ice spells, and they showed up with retinues of low-ranking goblins. It was definitely funny to watch them act like big shots and hand down orders, but Naotsugu could say with utter conviction that they weren’t cute.

“You like critters like that, short stuff?” he asked, just to check.

Akatsuki said simply, “They’re cute. They die fast, too.”

That last bit made sense—they were enemies, after all—but it still didn’t explain why she thought they were cute.

“Most magic-user enemies act like they’re big and important, but their armor’s tissue paper and their HP’s practically nonexistent.”

Akatsuki answered in a matter-of-fact tone. There was no telling how she’d interpreted Naotsugu’s question.

“They really should stay away from the action, but they just swagger right up to the front, so it’s easy to take them out. I creep up close using Hide Shadow and spike ’em in the neck with my short sword, and they go all limp and drop like marionettes with cut strings. I love that.”

……Whoa. Way to leave Shiro without a leg to stand on, kid.

Naotsugu shot Shiroe a sidelong glance. He’d obviously taken damage from that comment. Everybody knew that all magic users had low Defense, so Naotsugu didn’t think it was anything for him to get depressed over. Akatsuki hadn’t meant any harm by it.

Even so, Shiroe looked glum, and Akatsuki looked oblivious. Watching the two of them made Naotsugu tired.

Shiro’s a smart guy, but he reads too much into things and thinks about stuff too hard… He’s a worrywart, that’s what he is. I wonder what’s got the Counselor so nervous…

To Naotsugu, Shiroe seemed to be holding back. Naotsugu had no idea why he was doing it, but it did feel as if he was. He’d felt that hesitation when they belonged to the Debauchery Tea Party, too. Shiroe was the type who tried to do everything by himself. Lately, that particular trait had started to seem like a rare virtue. Even so, a Guardian’s job was to protect the players around him. Not being relied on made him feel as if his job had been taken from him. It was irritating. He wished Shiroe would count on him, even if only for the things he was really good at.

“Well, we magic users can be pretty gutsy when we have to be.”

“Hm? You have tissue paper armor, too, my liege… Don’t worry about it. I’m your ninja. I’ll protect you.”

Apparently not noticing that Shiroe was very close to folding, Akatsuki kept sending lethal comments his way. It’s like listening to a couple of kids, Naotsugu thought, fully aware that Shiroe entertained similar thoughts about him most of the time.

Except for the absurd dialogue, overall it was a quiet night. They did see the long shadows of skulking goblins, but whenever Naotsugu and the others turned their way, the goblins panicked and ran.

“It’s because this is the zone right next to Akiba,” Shiroe said. “High-level monsters don’t show up here. If they did, new players would die all over the place.”

It had been more than ten days since they got pulled into this world, and in that time, not a single new player had appeared. What was happening to their real-world versions? Had their entire group vanished off the face of the earth? Were they comatose vegetables? They didn’t know.

…This is one of those ideas, but what if “we’re” all actually still there, right where we’re supposed to be, living like we usually do?…Whoa. If that’s true, we’ll have no place to go back to. A blowout sale on absolutely-nobody-needs-us going on right now. Or what if it’s like one of those books, and as far as the real world’s concerned, we never existed at all? Like we were never born or something. That would bum me out, too.

Not that you’d know it to look at him, but as his thoughts showed, Naotsugu read fantasy novels. However, at this point in time, there was no way for them to check any of those theories.

It might have been “just ten days,” and it might have been “ten days already.” No doubt opinions on that score varied wildly from person to person, but gradually, whether they liked it or not, Naotsugu, Shiroe, and Akatsuki were getting used to this world.

Even though it was contorted by two sets of restrictions—the Elder Tales specs and the physical laws of some other world—this world did have its own rules. This was true even of unrealistic phenomena, such as the fact that all food, without exception, tasted like soggy rice crackers. Yes, lots of things were unreasonable, and they frequently felt irritated by the unreasonableness. Even so, there was nothing for it but to understand those rules and live within their limits. That was what it meant to belong to a world, whether that world was a game world or the real one.

Since we don’t have any idea how to get back home, I guess the world we’re standing in is the only one there is, and it doesn’t matter whether it used to be a game or not… Still, it’s actually not bad. Swinging a sword around, adventuring… Once you get used to ’em, they’re not bad… I bluffed and told Miss Mari that things weren’t half as bad as they could be, but maybe I said that because I’m the one who really wanted to hear it.

A big part of Naotsugu was already starting to adapt to this life, and that was all for the best. He hadn’t had any complaints about the real world, not at all, but if asked whether he’d sell off a chunk of his soul to get back, he’d have to confess that he didn’t really know.

It’s not like I had a girlfriend who’d show me her panties, and I haven’t seen my folks in almost two years… I’d gotten used to my job, but did it really feel like a job worth doing? …Well, no.

While he was absently thinking about this and that, they’d crossed from Ichigaya into Kudanshita, and now they were just two gates away from Akiba. This time, they were planning to head into Akiba from the top of the Ochanomizu hill, without cutting through the Forest of Library Towers zone. The slope that led to the Roka Charity Hospital was a gentle incline that stirred faint feelings of nostalgia. From the Japanese garden on the right of the road, broadleaf trees stretched branches shaggy with leaves out over the road like open overcoats.

The moon was visible through the fragmented gaps in the overcoats, between the leaves, and it went into shadow several times.

Abruptly, Naotsugu and the others scattered in all directions, putting distance between themselves and the shifting flecks of moonlight on the road.

!!

Naotsugu was in the middle of a step forward, and without slowing, he struck at the darkness in front of him with the shield he still wore on his left arm. A cry of pain rose from the shadows. Naotsugu sensed Shiroe a dozen meters behind him, backing away. He concentrated on the presences he could sense in front of him, careful to pay attention to his surroundings as he did so.

That’s one, two… Three? Four of them?

This wasn’t a situation they hadn’t anticipated, but now that it was actually happening, his mouth had gone dry. The tension he felt when battling monsters was nothing compared to this.

All of a sudden, there was a low, steady sound, as if someone was dragging a bundle of metal.

Gkh! I’m not gonna make it!!

Without stopping to check behind him, Naotsugu tried to jump back, but a chain reared up like a snake and coiled around his ankles. It wasn’t a completely physical metal chain. It was a magic-generated semisolid binding spell.

Naotsugu had been thrown off-balance in midair, and the spell rendered him completely unable to move. A colorless, soundless ripple of magic surged up from behind him. Dispel Magic. One of Shiroe’s spells. The magic dissolution spell destroyed the magical chain that had slithered up from beneath his feet.

Excellent reaction support, as usual. Okay, Counselor! What now?!

Exhilaration and the urge to fight were welling up inside him. The confidence that he’d be able to protect Shiroe, and that Shiroe would have his back, filled him with energy.

“Naotsugu, series formation! They’re PKs; four visually confirmed. I’ll pin down their locations. —There!!”

Shiroe yelled on the moonlit road in the dead of night. As he did so, a magic arrow flew from his staff in a burst of pale light. Mind Bolt was one of the Enchanters’ basic attack spells, one that targeted a single enemy and inflicted a set amount of damage. The damage was far less than what a Summoner or Sorcerer of the same level could inflict, but the spell saw frequent use as a basic Enchanter self-defense spell. Shiroe always lamented his spells’ lack of power, but Naotsugu had never once seen it as a problem. A well-timed small spell was much more effective than a huge spell that missed its target.

“Enemy sighted!”

Shiroe’s spell had given Naotsugu exactly what he wanted this time, too. Although it was only for a fraction of a second, the pale fox fire glow illuminated the PKs lurking in the shadows as it streaked through the darkness. Obeying Shiroe’s instructions, Naotsugu quickly put some distance between him and the darkness in front of him, ending up about halfway between the darkness and Shiroe. He was right in the center of the two-lane road.

Naotsugu could have charged the enemies he’d spotted in the darkness. However, for now, he backed up and regrouped. In a series formation, the distance between him and the end of the line was important. Too much distance, and the end’s shaky defense would leave it wide open.

“There’s guts for you. PKs… Huhn.” Naotsugu spat out the feelings seething inside him. “Gone straight to acting like animals ’cos you miss your mama? A surprise attack isn’t enough to warrant a victory party, guys.”

The opponents he was facing weren’t monsters. They were players who liked doing the sort of thing Naotsugu hated most.

PK stood for “player kill” or “player killer.” It could mean either the act of attacking and killing other players instead of monsters or a player who did such things.

The town of Akiba was a designated noncombat zone, but the fact that combat was expressly banned in some zones meant it was perfectly okay in others. The administrators of Elder Tales allowed fights between players. However, due to a number of in-game factors—for example, the low success rate of PKs, the high risk, and cultural issues on the Japanese server (even online, Japanese people were orderly and disliked violence between players)—had meant that player killing wasn’t a very popular act.

One of the reasons for the low PK success rate in Elder Tales had been the existence of a mini-map that displayed on the screen and showed all the beings in the immediate area, including players, monsters, and non-player characters.

Another was that high-level characters would automatically avoid attacks launched at them using any method that matched their skill set, whether or not the player did anything. In other words, surprise attacks weren’t very effective. On top of that, although player killing wasn’t banned in Elder Tales, harassment was. PK wasn’t harassment in and of itself, but there were cases in which killing the same person over and over or verbally abusing an opponent had been considered harassment, and harassment carried a high probability of getting slapped with a warning or penalty by the game corporation.

In addition, the standards for whether or not something constituted harassment were pretty vague and subjective. Although player killing was technically legal, in a few cases where the victim had been female, it had been judged harassment and the problem user’s account had been abruptly suspended.

Due to all those reasons, player killing was considered very risky.

Now that they’d been pulled into this other world, though, things were different. During battles here, that mini-map didn’t exist, not even on the mental menu. No matter how high an Adventurer’s level was, if they didn’t see the attack coming, the auto-evade function wouldn’t activate. Unless the actual player was a martial arts expert, they probably wouldn’t be able to stay constantly on the alert.

On top of that, decisions regarding harassment had been made by a supervisor at the game corporation who went through the play logs and dealt with incidents after the fact. When Elder Tales was a game, order had been maintained by this corporate “hand of God.” However, in this world, that convenient salvation didn’t exist.

Surprise attacks were far more likely to succeed. The risk of an incident being reported as harassment was low. On top of that, player killing was a very tempting proposition. Since PKs could take all the money a defeated player had been carrying and several of their items, the rewards were much greater than anything they could win in a battle with monsters. Some items would always belong to their bearer and couldn’t be reassigned, but about half of the normal, tradable items in players’ packs would be scattered around the immediate area the instant the player died.

The advantages and disadvantages had been flipped, and in the current Elder Tales, player killing was on the rise.

3

Well, we lasted through the surprise attack anyway…, Shiroe thought, holding the staff he’d infused with fox fire. The other side has a terrain advantage and the advantage of numbers, and they’ve gone over their game plan beforehand. They’re ready for this. Our advantages, on the other hand…

He ran through the spell icons he could use. He’d registered all the spells he used regularly in shortcut slots so that he wouldn’t have to locate them on the mental menu screen with the cursor. They were right there, ready to use. However, before Shiroe had time to level his staff and prepare to chant, several players appeared from the darkness of the ruin ahead of them.

The bone-dry asphalt crumbled, sending a weirdly loud sound through the quiet night.

Four shadows had appeared. One Warrior type. Two brigand types. One healer. Four was a lot, and from the confident way they walked, he guessed their levels weren’t low.

“Drop your packs and leave quietly, and we’ll let you live.”

The Warrior delivered the usual line in a condescending voice.

The words drew a wry smile from Shiroe.

Sounds like somebody’s been reading too much manga.

Although they’d grown fairly used to monster battles, battling players would be completely different. Unlike monsters, which were guided by their animal instincts, there was no telling what a human enemy would do. That was scary enough, but on top of that, the malice behind the attacks was impossible to tune out. Monsters sometimes projected intent to kill, but PKs hit you with an intent to plunder. Their malice was the type that wanted to make an easy profit from other players’ work.

Shiroe’s palms had grown slick with clammy sweat. He was actually grateful to the guy in front of him for perpetrating that clichéd line and easing the tension.

“A Guardian and a magic user, huh? Resistance is futile, but feel free to try. As you can see, it’s two against four.”

The bandit who’d spoken seemed to be in charge of the group. The two longswords that hung at his hips marked him as a Swashbuckler. Of the twelve classes, only Swashbucklers and Samurai were able to fight with two swords without using any special equipment or work-arounds.

“What do you want to do, Naotsugu?”

“Kill ’em. I’ll fillet ’em, then grind ’em into hamburger. These guys murder people for fun, so you know they’ve been prepared to get offed by some other guy since they were in diapers.”

Naotsugu’s voice was steady, and Shiroe felt the strength start to return to his knees.

Breathing normal, sense of balance okay… I’m calm. I can do this. I thought something like this might happen someday. We’d have had to do this eventually, he told himself.

He was ready to fight. Still, if possible, he wanted to drag the conversation out a little longer.

“Naotsugu hates PKs, you see… As far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t mind paying you, as long as it’s just this once.”

At Shiroe’s words, the men smirked. Still smirking, they took half a step forward, making the ugly threat glaringly obvious. Even though he knew what was going on, the pressure was so great that Shiroe wanted to look away.

…In other words, they’re underestimating me. They think I’ll pay up if they threaten me.

He felt himself splitting into two Shiroes: one whose legs were about to give out on him and one whose mind was oddly clear. At the same time, he felt a hot pulse begin near his ears. It was a sensation he’d felt many times during his Debauchery Tea Party days.

Shiroe wasn’t good with Akatsuki, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like her.

Shiroe didn’t like fighting, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it.

“…Unfortunately, though, I don’t want to pay you jerks.”

“Attaboy, Shiro.”

Maybe they hadn’t expected Shiroe and Naotsugu’s interchange, or maybe it had irritated them. Either way, the bandits’ faces flushed red. Spitting curses, they all drew their weapons at once.

The “Battle” icon had been blinking ever since the surprise attack, and its border was so red it seemed to stain his eyelids. Shiroe took half a step back with his left foot and, praying that his voice would come out as calmly as possible, began issuing orders.

“The first target is the left-front Warrior! Hold them back, too.”

“We’ll handle the armor-plated Warrior! You go put down the magic user!!”

The bandit leader’s yell came at almost the same time as Shiroe’s tactical instructions.

Naotsugu took one sharp step in and swung his phosphorescent shield at the Warrior in front of him. The man held a katana, which meant he was probably a Samurai. The long-haired thief that the bandit leader’s orders had singled out slipped past Naotsugu and lunged for Shiroe, but it was just one of the moves Shiroe had anticipated, and in the next instant, the man had been hit by one of Shiroe’s spells.

Astral Bind was a movement restriction spell, like the one that had trapped Naotsugu earlier. Magic users had problematic Defense, so when they adventured alone, one of their basic combat tactics was to use this sort of spell to slow down monsters, then finish them off from a distance with attack spells. Although the details differed, the three magic-user classes used spells with the same fundamental properties. It was a basic spell that simply restricted movement.

That said, restricting movement was all it did.

The long-haired bandit did an about-face. Then, seeming resigned to the situation, he joined the attack on Naotsugu, brandishing a knife so big it was practically a small sword. The movement restriction spell only prevented long-distance movement; it didn’t paralyze the target. It was a little like tying a dog to a telephone pole with a chain several meters long, and it didn’t restrict movement within that range. It wouldn’t even last very long.

“Switch! You do it!”

“I’m on it!”

Lit by sparks from the clashing swords, the bandit leader feinted nimbly and tried to get past Naotsugu. His first strategy had apparently been to join the bandit warrior in attacking Naotsugu and to have his underling kill Shiroe. As soon as he’d seen his underling was hobbled, he’d switched roles and was planning to take Shiroe out himself. He’d abandoned his previous formation and immediately reworked it to suit present conditions. The speed of the decision was admirable. The feint attack and the speed with which he turned also passed muster.

—He can’t beat Naotsugu’s experience, though.

“Anchor Howl!!”

Naotsugu dropped into a crouch and gave a piercing yell. The roar, which seemed to shake the air, was a Guardian technique. The bandit leader who’d been about to slip past Naotsugu cringed back reflexively as if he’d touched a superheated prominence, then froze up with his twin swords still pointed at Naotsugu. His knees had gone watery; he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from Naotsugu, and he was dripping with a nasty sort of greasy sweat.

The same thing was happening to the Samurai and the long-haired bandit: Their eyes were wide, and all three seemed to be choking back terror. If any of them took his eyes off Naotsugu now, he’d be killed in a single attack. That was the terror the three men who surrounded Naotsugu were struggling against.

As a Guardian, Naotsugu’s job was to protect his companions. Guardians were commonly known as “tanks,” because they acted as shields to block enemy attacks. Still, just being durable with high HP wasn’t enough to make a good tank. Some monsters, such as goblins and orcs, were as intelligent as humans. In the world of Elder Tales, Adventurers could find themselves fighting ancient magical weapons, dark elves, or the adherents of heretical religions. It was common for enemies to avoid the tank, which was designed to take attacks, and go after the healer or magic user at the rear of the party instead.

Since Guardians were specialized to protect their companions from countless enemies that could use all sorts of strategies, they’d never conclude that just being tough and having good HP was enough to get the job done. Anchor Howl was a special technique that made use of the Guardian’s piercing shout. Any enemy who heard this yell was rendered unable to ignore Naotsugu. The instant they tried, Naotsugu would hit them with a ferocious counterattack right when they were at their most defenseless. It was a Guardian special technique that launched an attack if an enemy let their guard down even slightly. This technique, which drew all enemy attacks to itself, was the reason Guardians were known as the toughest of the Warrior classes.

“Tch! Ignore it! There’s three of us and one of him. He may be tough, but he ain’t that tough. We’ll get rid of this guy first!”

Still unsettled by his terror, the bandit leader spurred on his underlings. Forced to change tactics once again, the Swashbuckler had decided to target Naotsugu. His twin blades wove like snakes, searching for a chink in Naotsugu’s Defense. He’d decided to overcome Naotsugu with the bandit Samurai, his own twin blades, and the long-haired brigand.

It wasn’t a bad approach.

“Dammit! You don’t scare me! Defense is the only move you’ve got!”

The man screamed hysterically, launching a rapid series of attacks.

“Your sword moves are never gonna break my guard!”

Naotsugu sounded almost cheerful, and it made the bandits even more ferocious.

As he listened to the metallic echoes of steel on steel from the rear, Shiroe quickly checked Naotsugu’s status. These player killers did have guts and good teamwork. Their continuous attacks were whittling down Naotsugu’s HP. In thirty seconds, even Naotsugu would fall.

If they manage to keep it up for thirty seconds, that is, Shiroe thought.

The corners of his lips curved slightly. We’re not naive enough to give them that time.

It took 1.5 seconds flat to draw six runes with the tip of his staff. Shiroe launched the resulting crackling ball of electricity at the enemy Samurai. The sphere was a continuous attack spell known as Electrical Fuzz. It didn’t do much damage, but it would zap the enemy with sporadic electric shocks for ten to twenty seconds.

“Hah! What’re you, an Enchanter? What’s with this wussy spell?! You couldn’t kill a dog with that damage!!”

The Samurai who’d taken Shiroe’s attack did look a bit annoyed, but he snorted, laughing off the spell. The tennis ball–sized lightning sphere that was following him around did make quite a racket, but for the most part it only gave off beautiful, crackling light, and it caused no pain to speak of.

Overall, Enchanter attack spells tended not to cause much damage, and continuous spells like this one spread that slight damage out over the length of the spell. In terms of total damage, it did outperform Mind Bolt, but the damage per second was far lower. The fact that the sensation was more itchy than painful showed how low the damage really was. As far as the Samurai was concerned, it was no more than a nuisance.

“Weak” is right… But even so.

Shiroe had heard taunts like that many times before. He was well aware of the properties of his spells. Instead of responding to the taunt, he launched two more Electrical Fuzz spells, hitting the leader and the long-haired bandit. The two Weapon Attack classes had slightly lower HP than the Warrior Samurai, but as before, the spell and its paltry damage didn’t faze either of them.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! What are you trying to pull back there? Or what, are you some newbie that’s been trailing this big guy around?!”

The three PKs redoubled their attacks on Naotsugu, and the orbiting spells shone like power lines that showered pale sparks or like grotesque fireworks that lit up the night.

…All right. Let’s take one down.

The bandits’ anger. Their carelessness. Their scorn. Shiroe took all these things in as information, condensing them in one breath. Then, with flawless timing, he took two steps forward. He swung his staff sharply, chanting a spell aloud, and called up a shortcut. The two-second chant generated a Sewn-Bind Hostage spell. Shining sapphire rings flew at the Samurai, wrapping around him like five brambles.

“What the heck?! Gkh!”

Naotsugu swung his sword as if to destroy the brambles, and a light like a burst flashbulb lit up the darkness. At the shock wave, the Samurai screamed and reflexively cringed back.

Sewn-Bind Hostage was an attack spell that Shiroe used regularly. Unlike single-shot attack spells and range-scorching spells, the activation conditions were complex, and the spell had to be “set” on the targeted opponent beforehand. Once the shining bramble restraints had been set, when the magic user’s companion hit the target with a physical attack, the attack gained an additional one thousand damage points. The number of brambles and the amount of damage varied by spell rank, but Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage was a secret-class spell. Even if the player was a Warrior, if all five brambles burst, that alone would be enough to wipe out half their HP.

“Calm down! It’s a damn set spell. Get rid of it, healer!! Concentrate your recovery on the Samurai! We’ve got double their numbers! We can’t lose!!”

Unlike the Samurai, who’d actually taken damage and was panicking, the leader’s voice was still fairly calm.

Healers in Elder Tales were fairly powerful entities. A single healer with decent skills was able to use recovery spells that could nearly cancel out the damage from an enemy on the same level as the player or from several players. Even if Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage was powerful, as long as the recovery spell continued uninterrupted, the Samurai had nothing to worry about. The leader of this PK group had strategies that could handle even a Sorcerer’s powerful attack spells, let alone an Enchanter’s puny ones. His confidence wasn’t empty bravado.

Naotsugu’s sword flashed. Each strike triggered the bramble trap and sent a shock wave of damage through the Samurai. The Samurai was trying to pull himself together, but each time he got a better grip on his katana, the slashes and shock waves from both sides made a mockery of his efforts.

“Hah! So what?! Your flank’s wide open!”

The long-haired bandit jammed his huge knife—a type of woodsman’s knife—into Naotsugu’s right side. Naotsugu had just hit the end of a sword swing; he wasn’t able to completely dodge the blow and was wounded through a chink in his armor.

“Looks like havin’ a healer is gonna win us the battle! That’s what you get for underestimating us, dweebs! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Go have a good cry over it at the temple!”

Reinforced with Shiroe’s weapon-strengthening spell, Naotsugu’s attacks had been more than sharp enough for the Warrior, and Shiroe’s secret-level spell had caused great damage for an Enchanter. Even so, though, recovery performed by a healer on their level was a formidable defense, and they stood very little chance of breaking through it. The leader’s roar of laughter was backed by this confidence.

“You have a good grasp of the situation, yes.”

“Yeah. If your healer’s doing his job!!”

Like lightning, Naotsugu dropped into a crouch so deep it was as if he’d lost half his height, then slashed right through the Samurai’s knees. The attack was like one clean sweep of a giant praying mantis’s arm, and still upright, the Samurai dropped like a stone. It was an oddly quiet end: no soaring, limp body, no gouts of blood. At the sudden change in the Samurai, who’d been ferociously attacking with his katana just a moment ago, the leader abruptly stopped laughing.

“—Wh-what?! What did you do?!”

The leader was ranting.

“Is it paralysis? Hey, healer!! What are you doing?! Hurry up and heal him!!”

Naotsugu took a one-handed swing at the leader, putting all his strength behind it.

“Shut up, dude. It’s a beautiful night. Quit polluting it with bad two-bit punk lines!”

“Wha—?! Wha—?!”

That took less time than I thought it would—full marks for professionalism.

Shiroe shot a glance into the trees in the garden on his right. From the road, flooded as it was with blue-white light from multiple spells, the darkness of the thickly wooded garden was completely impenetrable.

However, Shiroe knew he had a companion somewhere in that darkness.

“Dammit! Enough already! Hey, Sorceror! Summoner! It’s time for a full-on war! Incinerate this guy!”

The bandit leader seemed to have finally decided to play the trump card he’d been hiding and call in his reserves.

So he had two magic users. He’s right: With two more members, they could still kill us by inches, even now. They’ve taken damage, but it was just one Samurai. There are two of us and five of them. They’ve got more than twice our power. “We can’t possibly lose,” hm?

Shiroe could guess what the leader was thinking. However, even the fact that he’d had reserve troops waiting wasn’t a surprise to Shiroe.

They hit Naotsugu with a binding movement prevention spell, but the only members who showed themselves were a Warrior, two brigands, and a healer. No magic users. He tipped his hand right there.

To Shiroe, it had been obvious from the beginning that the PK group had at least one magic user, and he’d incorporated the fact that they’d be waiting in ambush in the thickly wooded garden on his right into his plan.

They left magic users, with low HP and thin armor, on their own, unguarded. That means…

“C’mon, hurry up! Get this guy!!”

The bandit leader screamed, but he was backing away as he did so. Although he pointed at Naotsugu with the sword he held in his right hand, the point of the sword was more than a meter away from Naotsugu. Shiroe and Naotsugu’s fighting methods and the sheer uncanniness of the situation seemed to have drained his morale.

“It looks like we win.”

“Correct, my liege.”

A small shadow welled up from between the trees. Akatsuki, wearing her usual too-serious expression, flung the two magic users she’d been dragging onto the road. The sight of a beautiful, slight, black-haired girl who couldn’t have been 150 centimeters tall tossing his companions around like sacks of garbage completely boggled the bandit leader.

“Wha— Wha—?! What are you two doing?! Wh-why didn’t you report in?! Huh— Healer!! I told you a million times to keep track of our HP! You little—Did you sell us out…?”

“This is exactly what makes you so lame.”

The bandit’s words seemed to have been the last straw for Naotsugu: He swung at him with the shield on his left arm. The Swashbuckler staggered at the sudden attack and sat down with a thump in the middle of the road.

“You should trust your companions, at least. Your healer is just sleeping. He’s been asleep since the beginning of the battle.”

Shiroe’s merciless declaration echoed over the road.

Astral Hypno was the Enchanter’s ultimate binding spell, one that supported him and simultaneously strengthened his allies. The very existence of anything targeted with this suspension spell was plunged into deep slumber. Its effect didn’t last long. Even extended, it lasted a mere dozen seconds. Not only that, but if the target was attacked, the spell would be broken instantly. In a sense, it was a fool’s spell, useful only for buying time.

Fundamentally, battles were contests in which each party tried to steal the other’s ability to fight. To put it bluntly, the goal was to kill each other. Just putting the enemy to sleep could never be enough to win a battle. It was a spell that didn’t directly contribute to ending the fight.

Enchanters were considered to be a cut below for that very reason.

“Don’t make fun of my liege’s spells.”

“—!”

While they’d been distracted, silence had returned to the road. The balls of electricity had been sparking up until a few seconds ago, but the effect time had run out for all of them and they’d vanished. In the road were the two brigands, whose legs had given out; one healer, fast asleep; and Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki, looking down at them.

“I hear you made fun of the electrical fireworks because they didn’t do any damage. If your field of vision was full of bright, sparking things, you’d never be able to see into the darkness of the forest. You didn’t even notice that the healer who was supposed to be supporting you from the background was asleep. Your teamwork is full of holes. You were so absorbed in fighting that you forgot to keep track of your HP or check your companions’ statuses. It made it easy to assassinate your reserves.”

Naotsugu raised his longsword, as if he couldn’t wait for Akatsuki to finish speaking. One swing and the long-haired bandit, who’d lost all will to fight, died with a piercing shriek.

“E-even if you kill us, we’ll come right back. We didn’t lose to you!”

The bandit leader blustered, but with Akatsuki’s short sword pressed to his neck, he couldn’t even move.

Akatsuki glanced at Shiroe, a question in her eyes.

She was asking for permission to kill.

Shiroe heaved a deep sigh. If they’d wanted to, it wouldn’t have been out of the question for them to tie the man up, torture him, and take everything he had, but Shiroe really wasn’t a fan of torture. He doubted he’d be able to actually go through with it.

We could just let him walk, of course. But even if we did…

The guy probably wouldn’t thank them for it. He was even more unlikely to give up and never PK again. He’d feel as if he’d been insulted and resent them for it. In any case, in this world where death was a mere shell of itself, it was doubtful whether crime or punishment worked the same way as they had in their old world. Even Shiroe knew that.

Still, did that mean “anything goes”? Shiroe was pretty sure it didn’t.

I guess there’s no help for it.

Shiroe gave Akatsuki a nod. With no hesitation, she plunged her sharp short sword into the PK leader’s neck. Blood spurted out, red even in the dark, but turbid and cloudy. As Akatsuki nimbly sidestepped the blood, the fallen leader’s items and money scattered across the area.

With that, the PK attack was truly over.

4

“People said things had gotten rougher. I guess it’s true.”

Naotsugu mused as he picked up items. Shiroe shrugged. In front of the bandits, he’d pretended that they’d had everything under control, but as a matter of fact, it hadn’t been an easy win. There had been six enemies, and most of them had certainly been fairly high level, if not actually level 90. Naotsugu had been using special Defense techniques, and even he’d lost nearly half his HP. What if Akatsuki hadn’t quickly dispatched the members waiting in the shadows? Or even earlier: What if she hadn’t promptly taken cover or understood what Shiroe really meant when he said “four visually confirmed” and gone to work as a commando unit of one? The battle could easily have gone the other way.

Of course, both Naotsugu and Shiroe kept a card or two up their sleeves. Probably Akatsuki did as well. Still, although such cards were a way to turn the tables in a fight, using them required a cool head. A panicked player would have serious trouble turning the tide, even with a brilliant trump card. In order to play a card like that, you needed to have a chance at winning—in other words, a cool head and a plan. They’d won this time because the bandits had put too much faith in the strength of their numbers and because Shiroe’s group had better teamwork.

“I wonder if there are any more PKs lurking around here.”

Akatsuki cocked her head slightly to one side, looking up at the cluster of abandoned buildings.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Shiroe answered.

In player kills, surprise attacks were everything, and they needed to be launched from suitable locations. Any closer to Akiba, and victims might escape into the city. That would be too much of a handicap for the PKs.

…Although we’d better not let our guard down. Things really are getting dangerous.

There was one more reason they’d been able to beat back the PKs, Shiroe thought: the information that public order was deteriorating. They’d heard rumors that player kills were occurring more frequently. The PKs would launch surprise attacks in the field zones around Akiba, waiting until it was dark and visibility was bad. The group they’d just fought hadn’t seemed new at this. Their skills had obviously been seasoned to the point where they could easily be overconfident.

Shiroe and the others had proceeded with caution in large part because they’d heard that rumor, and their caution was the reason they’d noticed the shadows watching them from the treetops.

“Dread Pack, huh…? I dunno, guys. That’s a pretty generic name,” Naotsugu muttered, spitting out the words and making no attempt to hide his disgust. He’d found the guild name in their personal information. Dread Pack.

“There’s no help for that. You can’t expect good taste from a guild that PKs.”

Akatsuki sympathized with Naotsugu.

Well, I’m mad, too.

Shiroe sighed.

Naotsugu hated PKs. So did Shiroe, for that matter.

There were several reasons. However, Shiroe suspected that all those reasons were afterthoughts, and that, deep down, it was very simple. The heart of the matter was that most PKs were seriously uncool.

To Shiroe’s mind, the mere idea of swiping items and coins that other players had worked hard to get was uncool all by itself. Even less cool was that coins and items gained that way would never get one to the top.

Taking treasure that other people had worked for meant that the thieves never set foot in the difficult zones where that treasure could be won. That meant they couldn’t stumble onto undiscovered places or solve mysteries and they’d never find items that no one had ever seen before. As a play method, player killing would never let you stand on the front line of an adventure.

PKs were incompetents who couldn’t do anything but steal other people’s achievements, and they’d never be anything more than parasites.

That was what Shiroe thought of them anyway.

Talking about “cool” and “uncool” may mean nothing to the players who’ve been trapped here, though… Maybe there’s no help for that. We’re all living pretty close to the edge mentally.

Unfortunately, that state of living close to the edge was fast becoming the accepted norm.

“I’ve heard that rumor, too,” Akatsuki murmured.

“From what I hear, Tidal Clan, Blue Impact, and Canossa are killing players, too,” Shiroe told her.

“I dunno. It’s just… Between this and that, I know everyone’s pretty close to snapping. I know. But. How do I put this… Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Like…?”

“Wax philosophical about panties and stuff.”

Akatsuki took an obvious step away from Naotsugu. Then she peered around the area and took another step back.

“She took two steps back on me… Two!”

Naotsugu sounded glum. Shiroe thumped him lightly on the shoulder to cheer him up. With a desperate expression on his face, Naotsugu attempted to launch into a speech about how marvelous panty fetishes were, but at Akatsuki’s “Quiet, sex fiend,” he fell silent.

Their party’s power dynamics were rapidly becoming established.

Something better to do…

The fact that there was nothing was a problem in their present situation. If all one needed to do was keep themselves alive, there was cheap food available. True, it tasted like soggy rice crackers with absolutely no salt, but it would keep a person alive, so they couldn’t complain too loudly. Their situation was nowhere near as bad as it had been in some areas of their old world, in Southeast Asia or in war zones, where whole countries were gasping for food and children’s hunger showed in their glittering eyes as they starved to death. It was also likely that it would never be that bad in the future.

In the world of Elder Tales, food items were made by combining several ingredient items, and ingredient items could be gathered in the field zones. Meat could be taken from monsters killed in battle, mushrooms and edible wild plants could be gathered, marine products could be caught, grain could be grown, and fruit could be picked from fruit trees. It was still too soon to tell whether the concept of seasons existed in this world, but at the very least, it had in Elder Tales. From the feel of the air, it was currently early summer. The fields were overflowing with ingredients. In that case, even newbie players who hadn’t hit level 10 yet would be able to find ingredient items in the comparatively safe fields near Akiba.

A bigger issue was whether the players with Chef subclasses—and there weren’t many—would turn those ingredient items into food. From what Shiroe had heard, though, lots of players had changed their subclasses to Chef over the past ten days. Since absorbing nutrients was one of the basic requirements for life, it was a pretty good strategy.

The same went for clothes. Hides could be taken from animals, and hemp and silk could be used to make cloth. If one wasn’t picky about the statistical performance of their equipment, a production-class artisan could make a set of clothes in ten seconds or so. Shoes and almost all daily necessities could be obtained from Tailors, Blacksmiths, and Woodworkers. Carpenters handled larger items, while Artificers created delicate jewelry and mechanisms.

It was easy to find housing: As long as a person didn’t care too much about safety or comfort, one could spend the night in any abandoned building. It cost about five gold coins to rent cheap lodging, an amount even a level-10 player could get by defeating a few goblins. If a player wanted more, of course, they could rent comfortable lodging by the month or find a place at a guildhall with a group or even own a house, but if they were content with just having a place to sleep, there were any number of simple ways to get it.

…All of which meant that, in this other world, there was no need to risk one’s life or work long hours if surviving was the only item on their agenda. As far as “survival” was concerned, conditions would never be that miserable.

Although, if you asked me whether that was “living,” I’d say it was more like just not being dead…

To Shiroe, this lack of having to struggle to survive was linked to having lost all purpose in life. People were left with “nothing better to do.”

Of course, in this world, they were free.

They almost seemed to be a bit too free. Naotsugu would probably say, “A purpose in life? Something better to do? Just figure that out for yourself and get to work. You could talk about cute girls or protect cute girls or…” He’d be right, and Shiroe had no intention of arguing with him.

However, there were people who could say that and people who couldn’t. In addition, the sort of people who were drawn to gloomy thoughts because they hadn’t managed to find something they could devote themselves to could be found anywhere. The sort of people who convinced themselves they were big and powerful by tormenting other people, for example.

It’s the same with PKs. There are lots of far easier, safer ways to survive here. Anyway, you don’t need a lot of money just to live. There’s no need to kill players just to get money.

Even if there had been, player killing would never work as a survival strategy. It was completely different from the sort of thing that happened in extremely impoverished countries, where people were forced to turn to robbery just to survive.

To these guys, player killing was their “something better to do.” A way to feel fulfilled, something separate from just surviving. It struck Shiroe as incredibly uncool somehow.

“Hey, what the—?!” Naotsugu yelled.

“What’s the matter?”

“These guys only had sixty-two gold coins. Total. How sorry is that?!”

Akatsuki and Naotsugu had finished checking through the items they’d picked up, and it sounded as though the financial haul had been disappointing.

“They had some decent items, though.”

“Well, sure. They were PKs. They knew it was risky,” Shiroe pointed out. “Unless they’re complete idiots, they probably left everything except the bare necessities in a safe-deposit box. The items they had were probably stolen from some other player.”

The other two sighed heavily, grumbling about wasted effort.

5

It was the middle of the night by the time they got back to Akiba.

Lately, the streets seemed to be seething with menace. Rows of stalls still stood in the center of town—in the plaza in front of the station, for example, or the great intersection or at Akiba Bridge—and they still drew a fair number of customers, but on the shadow-filled outskirts of town or in tangled alleyways crowded with abandoned buildings, wary players kept their distance from strangers and went about their business without speaking to anyone.

Order really is beginning to break down…

For the past several days, this one included, Shiroe and the others had been out in the field zones, battling. In the few days following the disaster, sharing information in town had been very meaningful, because there had been all sorts of things that they’d needed to confirm: information on food and places to sleep and basic information about the world’s structure and specs. Once they had that basic information, though, Shiroe’s group had elected to gather information on the field zones and discover what had changed about battles. It was a decision they’d made together after talking things over, but the hunt for information was taking longer than they’d expected. There was a huge gap between using spells and techniques and using them well. Naotsugu and Shiroe had always thought so, and somewhere along the way, Akatsuki had begun to agree with them.

However, naturally, the bigger the gap between “using” and “mastering,” the more training it took to close. They reviewed the properties of every single technique, researched how to use them, and experimented. Even as a game, Elder Tales had been complicated, and the amount of information had been enough to make beginners weep, but battles in this other world were twice as hard… Correction: dozens of times harder.

Take Cross Slash, for example. It was a double-slash attack in the shape of a cross and a starting point for Guardian attacks. As a basic foundation technique, it was quick to learn, but it was also used a lot. According to Naotsugu, in this other world, there were more than five ways to start this technique. “You can start with a diagonal slash down from one shoulder, then immediately slash up again from below. That’s the basic version. But you can also start from the left shoulder and cut back up the other way. That version’s probably for lefties. Then there’s a version where you sort of charge in, start with a horizontal slash, then segue into a downward slash.”

Sword techniques—or rather, the basic motions of combat—seemed to be stamped into their bodies. According to Naotsugu and Akatsuki, the two combat class players, if they wanted to fight and they spotted an enemy, their bodies would do the rest. However, controlling those fine motions apparently required quite a lot of practice. Whether it was the sort of practice martial arts had required in their old world was anyone’s guess, but the cycle they repeated—think, experiment, think again, correct—was the same for Shiroe as it was for Naotsugu and Akatsuki.

One private discovery Shiroe had made was that launched spells were more likely to hit home if he used his staff to specify the target, rather than simply chanting from the shortcut key. These small but important discoveries about single techniques weren’t very useful in solo play. Using them, not only in practice, but also against enemies in actual combat, didn’t go well if they were fighting alone, either. The teamwork between the three of them was important, too.

They’d tried dividing their roles into “tank,” “offense,” and “commander or support,” but establishing teamwork wasn’t that easy. Naotsugu had to think about how to draw the enemy in to make it as easy as possible for Akatsuki and Shiroe to defeat or incapacitate them. Akatsuki had to notice which of Naotsugu’s attacks would create gaps in the enemy’s Defense. They had to intentionally accumulate this sort of knowledge and experience.

That burden weighed heaviest on Shiroe. Since he was issuing orders, he had to know what both his friends could and couldn’t do, their habits, and their timing. If he didn’t, their formations would remain rough. There were countless things to remember and questions to sort out, and lately, their daily routine had consisted of refining their understanding of these things with agonizing slowness.

Marielle and her Crescent Moon League also helped Shiroe’s group tremendously. As a guild established to provide mutual support, the Crescent Moon League didn’t have many high-level Adventurers, but as a proper guild, it did have plenty of members. That meant the guild could battle in the field zones to earn materials while simultaneously gathering information in town. In specific terms, the guild had established three teams and set up a daily rotation where one would gather materials on the outskirts of the city, another would collect information in town and take time to unwind, and the third would create items. Since the teams rotated between tasks, it was a pretty efficient system.

As they’d promised earlier, Shiroe and the others traded the information they’d gathered on field zones over level 60 for the information Marielle’s group had collected in town. They also took food items from the guild and repaid them by selling guild members high-level goods at wholesale prices. It was a division of labor—each group specializing in the field they knew best.

Mari said there were some very stressed-out players. I bet the PKs have something to do with that, too.

Shiroe had sighed a little while ago, half guessing. The sigh was due to the fact that this wasn’t information he’d collected himself; he’d heard it indirectly from Marielle. That said, now that he’d actually experienced it firsthand, he had to admit it was probably fact.

Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki cut through the station interior—a prime spot for market stalls because of its roof—and headed for the plaza in front of the station. In the real world, the plaza had held a pedestrian sky bridge, but in this world, it was a wide-open space embellished with moss-covered rubble and grass. The buildings in all directions had fallen into ruin, but the first floor of every one held shops. Most of the commercial facilities in Akiba were concentrated here around the plaza.

There were Blacksmith and Tailor instructors, non-player characters who facilitated commerce between players and helped artisan players who were just starting out. In addition to teaching techniques, these characters would lend players sewing tables or iron-melting furnaces free of charge. Most of the items in circulation in this world had either been won from monsters or dungeon treasure chests or been handmade by the artisan classes, but non-player characters did sell basic weapons and protective gear to help out low-level Adventurers. The commercial facilities around the plaza housed non-player characters like these, too.

After they’d been pulled into this other world, one of the things that each player had been startled by, then promptly gotten used to, was that there were far more non-player characters here than there had been in the game. Although no accurate count existed, it felt as though there were between six and ten times more non-player characters now. As a rule, possibly because it had been that way in the original game, basic services in the urban zones were provided twenty-four hours a day, year-round. However, the non-player characters in this world also needed to sleep, eat, and rest. The increase in characters might have been due to the need for extra workers to pick up the slack. In any case, there certainly were more of them.

The non-player characters kept to their own schedules, living in rooms above or at the back of their stores. That said, they didn’t buy items players had made or magic items they’d won, so it was hard to say whether they were full participants in the economy. Unlike in the game, they spoke and reacted just like humans, and sometimes it was impossible to tell them apart from players without looking at the status screen.

“Want to buy something somewhere? Maybe grab something to eat?”

Naotsugu put the question to Akatsuki, sounding a bit dejected.

“…Um. What do you think, my liege?”

Akatsuki passed the question straight on to Shiroe in a tone as apathetic as Naotsugu’s. Food in this world was nothing to get excited over, and they looked depressed at every meal.

“Mm… Wait a bit,” Shiroe answered. “If Mari’s still up, let’s stop by the guild.”

At Marielle’s Crescent Moon League, the food would still taste the same, but the meal itself would be slightly better. The effect atmosphere had on a dining table was not to be underestimated. Besides, they were on their way back in from a hunt, and they also had the items they’d taken off the PKs. They could sell them to the Crescent Moon League at low prices or have them worked into created items and sold off through the market. It seemed like the least they could do.

Shiroe opened the menu and sent Marielle a telechat request. He hadn’t thought she was likely to be asleep yet, but even then, the speed with which she answered startled him.

“If it isn’t Shiro! Where are ya, kiddo?”

Marielle’s greeting was the same as always, but Shiroe thought she sounded slightly flustered.

“We just got back into town.”

“Come by the guildhall.”

“Are you sure? You’re all still awake?”

“I was just thinkin’ about callin’ you. It’s fine, c’mon over.”

“I’m with Naotsugu and Akatsuki right now. They’re invited, too, right?”

Akatsuki had been introduced to Marielle in the course of their dealings with the Crescent Moon League. They’d visited the guildhall many times, and Naotsugu and Akatsuki had gone hunting with the younger guild members, so by now, both were considered familiar faces.

“Well, sure. Even better, actually. I’ll be waitin’.”

The telechat cut out. In the background, behind Marielle’s voice, Shiroe’s ears had caught the sounds of flurried activity. Apparently, even at this hour, the Crescent Moon League guildhall was fully open for business.

“What’s up, Shiro?”

Naotsugu’s tone was light, but he seemed to have picked up on Shiroe’s change in mood. That was part of what made him so good with people, Shiroe thought. He turned to the other two.

“Let’s go to the Crescent Moon League. It sounds like something’s up.”

6

The Crescent Moon League hummed with bustling confusion. Shiroe’s group was shown in by a young healer with a puppyish air about him, and once the boy had ushered them to the guild master’s room, he turned on his heel and scampered off, too.

The room was even messier than it had been on their first visit, but Marielle herself had somehow managed to clear the reception set and was putting out tea things. Off to the side, Henrietta was frantically cleaning Marielle’s office. It was already the middle of the night, but the guild showed no signs of going to bed. One boy carried items. A guild member was checking a pile of weapons. The whole place buzzed with an atmosphere of restless haste, as if they were packing for something.

“I’m sorry about all this, Master Shiroe… Oh! Oh, my! If it isn’t my darling Akatsuki!”

On spotting Akatsuki, Henrietta flung her broom away, ran up, and pulled the girl into a tight hug. This had been happening ever since they’d first introduced Akatsuki to Henrietta. Henrietta harbored a fanatical passion for cute girls, and apparently, Akatsuki had scored a critical hit. Henrietta’s height was about average for a woman, but Akatsuki was easily more than half a head shorter, with the result that the hug looked for all the world like a black cat who was reluctantly putting up with a playful human.

“Welcome back, you three. I’m afraid it’s a lil bit messy in here. Do me a favor and pretend you don’t see it, ’kay?”

Watching Henrietta and Akatsuki out of the corner of her eye, Marielle set her hands together in a light “Please?” gesture and gave a smooth, playful wink. Shiroe sighed.

“What happened, Mari?”

“Oh, now, hold your horses. No need to rush. Go on, sit down. I’ll pour some water for you. Colored water! It’ll be almost like tea! Eh-heh-heh-heh!”

At Marielle’s urging, the three sat down. Shiroe and Naotsugu took the sofa. Akatsuki hadn’t managed to disentangle herself from Henrietta, so with no other options, she sank down onto a large beanbag chair.

“…Well. Right.”

Although she’d had them sit down, Marielle couldn’t seem to get started. Apparently it wasn’t an easy subject to broach.

Shiroe watched her steadily for a while, then finally gave up and started the conversation himself.

“Are you going on an expedition?”

“Yep. Yes, we are.”

“Where to?”

“Well… To Ezzo. Or rather…Susukino.”

The town of Susukino was one of the five major cities on the Elder Tales Japanese server.

In the Half-Gaia Project, the area administered by the Japanese server was roughly where Japan would be on the actual globe, and its shape was very close to that of the real Japan. The only difference was that distances were halved and area was only about a quarter of the real area. This fictional Japan—or Yamato, as it was called in the game—was roughly divided into five countries. The area that would have been Hokkaido in the real world was the Ezzo Empire, Shikoku was the Duchy of Fourland, and Kyushu was the Nine-Tails Dominion. The main island, Honshu, was divided into two areas: Eastal, the League of Free Cities in the east, and the Holy Empire of Westlande in the west.

The Yamato archipelago, the game analogue for Japan, was home to tens of thousands of players and many non-player characters known as People of the Earth. Naturally, it also held many towns and countless small villages, but among these settlements, the five major cities were special entities. Susukino, Shibuya, Akiba, Minami, and Nakasu were the five cities that players could choose as their starting points for the game. Naturally, these cities had a full range of convenient commercial facilities, the difficulty level of neighboring zones was adjusted to suit beginning players, and support-type quests were plentiful. Each of the five cities had its own temple, and when players died, they were resurrected in the nearest one. As all these factors showed, the cities had been designed to be used as home bases.

In addition, the five major cities were linked to each other by huge, unique gates known as “transport gates,” which guaranteed free travel to and from any city.

…Or at least they had up until the disaster.

Players had begun referring to the incident as the Catastrophe, and the name was rapidly becoming established. In some quarters, it had been known as “the other world transition” or “the summoning” or “the exile,” but since no one had any idea what had caused it or even what exactly had happened, the Catastrophe had settled into common usage as the safest term. Shiroe thought the Catastrophe probably felt preferable to—and a little more reassuring than—“the other world transition.” Words like transition and summoning felt final, as if they were admitting they could never go back. Shiroe felt that same unease, and it was likely that that nagging feeling had made them choose the Catastrophe over the other alternatives.

“I hadn’t heard anything about the transporters being up and running again.”

“That’d be because they’re not. We don’t even know if they’re actually broken or if it’s somethin’ else.”

Marielle began to explain the situation to Shiroe and the others; she seemed to feel a bit more optimistic now that the conversation was actually under way, although she kept her eyes lowered as she spoke.

“I know I’ve said this before, but the Crescent Moon League isn’t a big guild. We’ve picked up a few more members, so now there are twenty-four of us. We’re almost all in Akiba, in this guildhall, but there’s one girl up in Susukino. Her name’s Serara, and she’s a real sweetheart. A Druid. She’s one of the newest players we have; she’s only level nineteen… Well, I guess that’s not important. She’s a little timid and kinda shy. A bit of an oddball, too. She said she started playin’ Elder Tales because she wanted to be a merchant.”

Henrietta picked up the explanation. “On the day of the Catastrophe, Serara was in Susukino. They were recruiting players for a level-20 dungeon strategy game there. Everyone at the guild was busy at the time, but Serara wanted to go hunting and polish her skills, so she went up on her own… It was just a temporary party. It sounds as if she met and played with the other members who’d been recruited in Susukino, but then the Catastrophe struck. The transport gates went down, and Serara was stranded,” she said, sighing deeply.

“You’re going to go get her, then?” Shiroe asked.

Marielle and Henrietta nodded.

“Not that we know much about it, but has anyone gone to Susukino since the accident?”

Akatsuki asked for all three of them.

That thought had crossed Shiroe’s mind as well. If the transport gates were unusable, there were two ways to travel. One was to make several short hops through the Fairy Ring transport devices that were scattered across the zones, heading for the destination that way. The other was to make the long trek across several dozen zones on foot, heading north.

Fairy Rings were natural magic circles made of monoliths or mushrooms that were mostly located in field zones. They formed a teleportation network for the Elder Tales world: Anyone who entered a Fairy Ring was transported to a different Fairy Ring. The connections between Fairy Rings were determined by complex calculations that were influenced by lunar cycles. A player who used them skillfully could make a journey in the shortest possible time, but if they timed their jumps wrong, there was no telling where they’d be sent.

“Not a soul, as far as we know. Everybody’s got their hands full just tryin’ to get through the day. Nobody’s got the time or the energy to worry about the other cities—not to mention that usin’ the Fairy Rings without bein’ able to check solution sites is right next door to suicide. That said, if you head for Susukino on foot and on horseback, you know it’s gonna take over two weeks to get there. There are several tough spots on the way, too. You couldn’t just wander over out of curiosity.”

She was completely right.

Before the accident, players had traveled all over the Japanese server, going anywhere they wanted. Travel was so easy that some tough guys had even mounted expeditions to areas on the Korean and Chinese servers. The transport gates in the five major cities had made travel faster, and the Fairy Rings had been an incredibly convenient mode of transportation: As long as one checked the timetables on a solutions site in advance, they could use them to go anywhere in the blink of an eye.

In addition, when Elder Tales was a game, the concept of camping hadn’t existed. No matter how remote the area, all one had to do was find a relatively safe spot and log out. Then, of course, players had been able to return to their cities using Call of Home.

“Hold it. What about Call of Home? …Oh. Wait.”

“Exactly. Call of Home is automatically overwritten the instant you enter a city with a temple. If Serara used it now, she’d just be sent back to Susukino. It won’t bring her back here.”

Call of Home was a teleportation spell that instantly took players back to the last player city they’d visited. Although all Elder Tales players could use it, chanting it took several minutes, and since it could only be used once in any twenty-four-hour period, it wasn’t a good way to escape from a battle. In the game, players had used it when they were done playing for the day and wanted to return to a city before logging out.

However, even if she used this spell, the stranded girl would only return to Susukino, the city she was currently in. On top of that, the transport gates weren’t working, and without checking the timetables on a solutions site, the Fairy Rings were useless, a ticket to an unknown destination.

“Why are you going to rescue her now?”

Akatsuki cut in. Shiroe also suspected that was the core of the issue.

“Because…”

Henrietta hesitated. Her hands, still holding Akatsuki, tensed.

“Mm. Well. So, um… We’d been plannin’ to rescue her for a good long time, for starters. You know she’s gotta be lonely, all that way up north, all by herself.”

Even Marielle, who was trying to continue, seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

“…Mari.”

“Don’t go lookin’ at me with those eyes, kiddo. They’re pretty sharp. You’ll scare off all the cute girls.”

“Mari.”

Marielle seemed to be backtracking, avoiding the topic, so Shiroe pressed the issue.

“Well… Okay. This is hearsay, mind. It sounds like Susukino’s worse than Akiba, as far as public order goes… Agh. Enough, I can’t. I’ll just say it. No ‘sounds,’ no ‘hearsay’: Susukino is worse than Akiba… Serara got attacked by some hooligans.”

There, in Marielle’s frilly room, filled with shades of pastel pink, the words sounded terribly ominous.

It was true that urban areas were noncombat zones. Using weapons or spells to inflict damage was forbidden. It was also illegal to make it impossible for a player to move, either by blocking their way or by restraining them.

However, that didn’t mean all criminal acts were forbidden, and even the ones that were forbidden weren’t necessarily impossible. Player killing was nowhere near the worst thing that could be done, particularly if the player in question was low level and female. There were no countermeasures for some things simply because those things hadn’t existed in the game world. In this world, they were perfectly possible…and the countermeasures still didn’t exist.

“……”

Akatsuki’s silence had acquired a dangerous edge. She understood exactly what Marielle had meant by “attacked.”

“Ah. No. Nothin’ that bad happened. I didn’t say that. Still, there aren’t that many people up in Susukino to begin with. From what I hear, the population’s only about two thousand, give or take. In a city like that, it won’t be easy to run and hide for long. We have to get her out. She’s family, one of us. What else would we do? …So, here’s what I wanted to ask you about. And, uh, I do apologize. Lots of our members are still wet behind the ears, y’know? They’re all good kids, but we can’t trust ’em with too much just yet. If we don’t take our best members on the expedition with us, we probably won’t make it to Ezzo at all. While we’re gone, do you think you could, you know… Look after the kids we’re leaving behind?”

“You shouldn’t need to stay here all the time. We’ve got a Sorcerer named Aizel. Do you remember him? The tall, skinny boy with blue hair. He’ll be in charge of the people staying here. Mari, Koryu from the combat team, and I plan to give this expedition everything we’ve got. We know it’s a very selfish request, and we’re hesitant to even ask it of you, but please, Master Shiroe, Master Naotsugu… Precious Akatsuki. Would you look after the guild for us?”

Both Marielle and Henrietta bowed in unison.

Shiroe looked at the two bowed heads in front of him.

He stopped breathing.

His head grew quiet.

Not quiet enough.

He wished he could stop the blood in his veins, too.

His thoughts accelerated.

His concentration conjured up lightning in the darkness.

In the real world, it was about 850 kilometers from Tokyo to Sapporo. In this world, the world of the Half-Gaia Project, the distance was 425 kilometers. Marielle and her group would be traveling on foot and on horseback. Some parts of the way would have been highway at one point or would have remnants of asphalt from the last century, but there would be far more unpaved wilderness and mountainous terrain.

Even on a day with excellent travel conditions, they’d be lucky to cover fifty kilometers; on average, they’d be doing well if they managed half that… And even half wasn’t likely, if they took battles with monsters into account. If they covered twenty kilometers per day, they’d reach Susukino in twenty-one days. The whole trip would take about a month and a half. Marielle’s estimate was too optimistic.

He felt his temperature drop about three degrees.

It was the instinct that kept Shiroe afloat.

It was a tangible feeling, a sort of presence.

He knew Marielle’s journey would fail.

They’d be as prepared as possible when they set out, of course. Marielle had said that she’d head into this expedition with the best of the Crescent Moon League, even though it might bring their levels down a bit. Elder Tales only allowed a maximum of six members per party, so naturally there would be six of them, and they’d probably take an excellent healer along.

Even so, to Shiroe, this was something completely separate from levels or the sort of strength that could be quantified into a score.

People said Shiroe was an introvert and that he overthought things. It meant his fantasies and delusions tended to ramble in all directions, but Shiroe had one unique weapon in the struggle to integrate them: his internal scale. Shiroe’s scale weighed their true strengths with ruthless realism.

He thought of advice he could give to Marielle’s group.

There were twelve types.

He examined each type.

About half of them would be useful. They could raise the probability of success and shorten travel time.

He thought of alternatives to the proposals he’d discarded and came up with four types.

He examined the feasibility of each proposal.

He rejected half of them, added several elements to the remaining half, and recalculated. The tracks of his thoughts were like lightning. At their tips was the realm of the unconscious; Shiroe knew the shape of his thoughts only by the paths the lightning traced.

But—

Advice? Alternate proposals?

So what?

Did Marielle even want advice? Did he have the right to give it in the first place? Forget the right to give it; did he even have the right to want to? It wasn’t as though he could take responsibility for any of it.

Calculations—utility—right—want.

Yes, want.

What did he want? What had he thought he wanted to do?

Just as he got that much put into words, Shiroe’s mind returned to his body. When he looked up, drawn by some impulse, Naotsugu and Akatsuki were both nodding as if they’d expected this.

“Speak, Shiro.”

“It’s your turn, my liege.”

If he’d thought for five seconds longer, Shiroe would have managed to paralyze himself. He would have been trapped by his own thoughts, his sense of responsibility, and the feeling that it was presumptuous to interfere with the affairs of someone else’s guild. However, in that one moment, like a ship whose sails had filled with the wind Naotsugu and Akatsuki had sent his way, the words leapt from his mouth.

“We’ll go.”

“You’ll what?”

“We’re the best people for the job.”

“Oh no, kiddo, we—We weren’t askin’ you to do all that.”

Ignoring Marielle’s objections, Shiroe turned to his friends.

“Abso-friggin’-lutely.”

“Just leave everything to us.”

They’d timed their answers perfectly. Naotsugu stood, as if the conversation was already over, and Akatsuki followed.

“We’ll go on the expedition. Let your group stay here instead, Miss Mari. We’d make lousy babysitters anyway.”

“A ninja’s clandestine orders never include the word failure.”

Marielle looked up at them from where she sat on the couch, openmouthed, truly flabbergasted this time. Shiroe couldn’t bear to look her in the face.

He was embarrassed. We’re the best people for the job. The arrogance of that statement mortified him now. There had to have been a better way to put it. He was sure he’d managed to appall Marielle. The idea made his cheeks burn.

I know she’s thinking, What just came out of that kid’s mouth? I put my foot in it this time, for sure!! I’ve turned into one of those people who say complete garbage!!

At this point, he felt nothing but shame for his attempt at looking cool. Desperately hiding the fact that he was very close to seeing flickering black-and-white spots, Shiroe wrapped things up in an even firmer tone than usual.

“We’ll set out first thing tomorrow morning. Just leave it all to us, Mari, Miss Henrietta.”