Chapter 5: Escape

1

Serara was hiding in one of the many simple insulated houses in Susukino. About the size of a normal two-bedroom apartment, it had been built inside an abandoned building. The enormous structures that were scattered across this world were remnants of the culture of the old era, which had been lost when the world collapsed. Of course, as a player, Serara knew the world design had been based on contemporary Japan. Susukino’s model was the Sapporo neighborhood of the same name, and the player town held traces of the real city.

In the real world, Susukino was a red-light district, and the city held lots of mixed-use buildings. In Elder Tales, the city’s design had been modified to consist mostly of fortresslike buildings reinforced with rough blue steel. The design motif for Hokkaido—or, in Elder Tales terms, the Ezzo Empire—had a boxy, retro machine empire feel to it. Its buildings, their steel frames reinforced with screws and enormous nuts and bolts, stood up well to the wind and snow, but they did nothing to keep out the bitter cold of winter. To cope, the people of Susukino had taken to building new houses of insulated materials inside the fortresslike mixed-use buildings. These smaller houses were created with an emphasis on warmth and livability. In terms of area per resident, it was terribly inefficient, and it wouldn’t have been practical in the real-world Japan, but it was perfectly possible in the Elder Tales game world.

Serara had been using one of these insulated houses as a hideaway (her roommate, the person who had rescued her, had rented it for the two of them), and all day long, she cleaned the house’s two connecting common rooms.

It wasn’t that she particularly liked cleaning, and the house certainly wasn’t that cluttered or dirty. There just wasn’t anything else to do. TV and the Internet didn’t exist in this world, which meant that killing time was no easy task. Besides, Serara was a Housekeeper. That particular subclass granted players special skills for cleaning zones, taking care of small articles, and maintaining all sorts of supplies and furnishings.

…Why on earth did I choose such a minor, useless subclass?

Serara sighed—she’d sighed so often that by now she’d completely lost track of how often—and even then, she kept right on cleaning.

In Elder Tales, main classes were selected when players created their characters, and they couldn’t be changed later. However, if a player could stand to see their subclass experience points reset to zero, they could change subclasses with relative ease.

Serara’s main class was Druid, one of the recovery classes. Serara had started playing this game, which other people said was deep and complex, because she’d thought it would be fun to play merchant.

There were lots of players who played this way. There was a unique pleasure in interacting with other players and saving up money, and it was just one of the many play styles in Elder Tales.

Of course, players who were playing as merchants generally chose the Merchant or Accountant subclasses, since these subclasses granted bonuses with regard to business deals and let players get slight discounts when trading with non-player characters. A production-related subclass would have been another sound option. Playing as a merchant while making a variety of items was one of the major ways to play Elder Tales. However, Serara had checked an introductory site when she started playing the game, and it had told her that in order to become a Merchant or an Accountant, one’s ability score needed to be above a certain level and a quest had to be completed. It also said that it was hard to advance in the production subclasses if a player didn’t have at least a little capital to use to buy materials.

In that case, the best plan was for her to save up some money while she leveled up in her main class, Druid, then switch to another subclass once she’d gained a bit of leeway. Whether she ended up buying in wares or just making purchases somewhere, she’d have assets and her main class level, and it wasn’t as though they’d get in the way… And so she’d picked the easiest-looking subclass, just to fill in the category, and that subclass had been Housekeeper.

In other words, Serara had become a Housekeeper nearly by chance, simply because it was the only option that hadn’t been eliminated.

Arrrrgh… If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have picked a production subclass even if I couldn’t level up for a while. Artificer would have been nice, or Tailor…

As her thoughts ran in circles, Serara wiped down the table with a dry cloth.

The interior of the simple house looked rustic. More accurately, it was rustic: It was built of wood, beautiful wood grain patterns were visible in the floorboards, there was a wooden inset ceiling, and the walls looked like they belonged to a log cabin. The Ezzo Empire was a treasure trove of natural resources, and it was known as one of the most prominent mining and forestry areas on the Japanese server. Both the floorboards and the deep amber table were practically Ezzo Empire specialty products, and a careful polishing was all it took to give them a lustrous shine.

Serara, a plain girl in a loose flannel shirt and jeans with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, worked her way carefully around the log house. She wore no makeup, and although she wasn’t a rare beauty, she had a fresh, neat air about her. She could easily have been mistaken for a young wife.

I’m so bored that I keep accidentally leveling up, too…

Serara sighed and opened her menu. She’d gotten more Housekeeper experience points today. Subclass levels and experience points were completely independent from the main class, and the system was very simple: Every time you accumulated ten experience points, you leveled up. The level maximum was probably 90 or 100. She’d been leveling up at an astounding pace lately, gaining three levels nearly every day. Yesterday, her Housekeeper level had been 42, and today it was already 44. If she kept this up, she’d complete the Housekeeper subclass while she was lying low in Susukino.

Please don’t let me max out my skills while I’m living like a hermit… That would just be sad.

Anybody who cleaned and did laundry and chores all day, every day, was bound to level up. Even Serara thought this was really more like being a housewife than a housekeeper. To a girl of her age, the word had quite a pleasant ring to it, but the embarrassment was stronger.

Look at you, you lucky thing! A young lady tidying the house for her new cat husband… Kidding! I’m kidding!

Having managed to embarrass herself, Serara began busily polishing dishes. As far as ways to kill time went, it wasn’t the sort of thing that would disturb other people, and a casual observer would have called the scene peaceful.

“Serara, are mew there? I’m home.”

The door opened—the house was an independent zone, which they were renting by the month, so only registered players could enter—and a very odd man came in. He was a Felinoid. Felinoids were demihumans with catlike characteristics, and one of the eight playable races in Elder Tales. His slender build and green corduroy jacket made him look like a medieval musketeer from a children’s picture book. His long, thin arms and legs made him seem incredibly slim. His round head topped by two triangular ears could easily have been the head of a mischievous cat from a fairy tale, and the whiskers that stuck out on either side were simultaneously gallant and cute.

His name was Nyanta.

“Welcome back, Nyanta.”

Serara ducked her head in a little bow.

“How was the town?”

Nyanta tilted his head a bit to one side and gave an ambiguous smile. His eyes were always slightly narrowed, as if he were smiling; it gave him a reassuring air, but it made it hard for Serara to read the nuances of his expression.

“The same as mewsual. Not too good, not too bad.”

At his words, Serara’s face clouded. Nyanta might have said “not too bad,” but if things hadn’t gotten better, it meant they were still pretty bad.

Public order in Susukino was steadily deteriorating. Since the population was small, its self-purification function wasn’t functioning. Right now, the only law in Susukino was the law of the jungle. A large part of the problem was one guild known as the Briganteers. The guild was made up of notorious players who’d been run out of Akiba and Minami, and even when Elder Tales was a game, it hadn’t had a good reputation. The Briganteers had always put profit above everything else and run roughshod over other players, and when the Catastrophe hit, they’d become something next door to a real gang of bandits practically overnight. Player kills were an everyday thing for them. Sometimes they weren’t satisfied with the items they got from player killing—only half of whatever the player had been carrying—and used intimidation or persistent harassment to extort money and goods from other players. Their abuse even extended to non-player characters.

As a general rule, there was no reason for non-player characters to be targeted for ill treatment. For example, the guards who protected noncombat zones had high levels and strong combat abilities, so they could easily beat back any attack from a normal player. The non-player characters in field zones—such as traveling merchants, farm folk, and town residents who gave hints about quests—had very low combat abilities and were unable to defend themselves, but they didn’t have the sort of property a player would have. On top of that, since some non-player characters did provide hints about quests, most players would never consider attacking them.

However, the Briganteers didn’t care. Not only that, but they’d begun to do something that rendered even the non-player characters’ lack of property meaningless: They’d turned the non-player characters themselves into property. In other words, they’d become slave traders.

In Elder Tales, as in other games, it was possible for players to employ non-player characters. There were all sorts of reasons for doing this, but the most common one was to hire someone to take care of your house. In Elder Tales, where players could buy houses, there was steady demand for people to clean and manage personal residences. Whether you were buying or renting, if you didn’t regularly clean the zone where you lived, the maintenance fees went up. Non-player characters with certain types of special abilities could be very useful in guild activities, although they couldn’t be taken into battle. It wasn’t at all unusual to employ non-player characters this way.

One of the reasons Serara’s Housekeeper subclass was such a minor one was that non-player characters could do the job just as well. If you employed a Maid non-player character, for example, for about eight hundred gold coins a month, any dwelling up to the size of a small manor would be kept neat and tidy at all times. No wonder fewer players were seeking to level up their Housekeeper skills.

Of course, even if it was exquisitely designed, Elder Tales was only an online RPG. Maids, Harvesters, Assistants, and a few other exceptional non-player characters would use their special abilities to help players, but they were the minority. Ordinary non-player characters couldn’t be hired. Although their models were the same as the ones used for player characters, their communication abilities were limited to elementary AI, and they couldn’t do anything except give preset keyword information or fill in their side of a multiple-choice-directed conversation. In other words, they shouldn’t have been worth attacking.

However, the Catastrophe had destroyed several things that had once been common knowledge. The game had turned real, and daily routine had become a nightmare. Since the Catastrophe, it would have been just as easy to count the stars as it would have been to count the major changes that had occurred, but the changes in the non-player characters had been particularly mind-boggling. In this world, they were real, flesh-and-blood beings, and they could move and converse almost as well as regular players. Of course, unless their settings specified otherwise, their combat abilities and specialized skills were far inferior to players’ skills, but these days it was often hard to tell whether you were talking to a player or a non-player character without checking the menu screen.

Another important point was that the non-player character population had exploded.

The non-player characters were incredibly close to human, and there were a lot more of them. When these two facts had been dangled in front of the crafty Briganteers like ripe fruit, the result had been the invention of “slave trading for fun.”

Of course, since Susukino’s population was just two thousand, there wasn’t a huge market. It was an ugly caricature of economic activity, not something done for profit.

Appallingly, even hunting non-player characters had become a way to kill time. And, as with all stupidity, it had escalated, and the abuse and extortion that had been focused on non-player characters had been turned on Serara, a real female player.

As she remembered, Serara felt the blood drain from her face. A dark veil seemed to fall across her vision, and she could feel her temperature dropping. If Nyanta hadn’t saved her, she knew something terrible would have happened.

“Come now, Serara, it’s all right. Don’t brood like that. If you think too hard, mew’ll be old before mew know it.”

Nyanta waved a hand in front of Serara’s eyes.

“At times like this, it’s better to eat some fruit and not think very hard at all… Here.”

As Serara nodded very slightly, he handed her an apple. It was bright red, and its sweet, carrying fragrance was somehow reassuring.

“The house is mewtiful again today. Mew’ll make some lucky fellow a fine wife someday, Serara.”

Nyanta spoke in a leisurely voice, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table and sitting down.

At his words, Serara felt her chilled body grow warm again.

“Oh no, that’s not true. Not at all.”

Nyanta referred to himself as an old man. From his voice, he was certainly much older than Serara. She was a high school junior, and she thought he could easily be more than twice her age. No matter what he said, though, he didn’t seem at all elderly. When she’d told him so once, he’d said, “That’s just the game graphics,” but Serara didn’t think so at all.

Nyanta must be a…a dashing middle-aged man. I’m sure of it. He’s stylish and handsome and mature and eloquent…

Yes, it was a game, and yes, the graphics were designed to be beautiful, but as far as Serara was concerned, once you started playing alongside someone, appearance didn’t matter at all. In the post-Catastrophe world, that went double. Since she’d been living with Nyanta (even though it was only because it was an emergency), she’d gotten to know him very well.

Nyanta seemed like a reliable, mature man. Although there was nothing rough about him at all, being around him was oddly reassuring, as if she knew she’d be protected. His bushy, marvelous silver ears could have belonged to a purebred cat, and his slim build was quite smart.

The only trouble is, since Nyanta’s so stylish, I look chunky when we’re together… I am a bit pudgy, I guess…

Most people would have said that Serara simply had a womanly figure, but Nyanta seemed to give her a bit of a complex. On the other hand, although Nyanta did have a considerable amount of muscle on him, at first glance he seemed to have been put together from pencils.

“Any mews from the rescue party?”

Nyanta asked this as he unpacked his shopping bag at the table. Both Serara and Nyanta knew that the Crescent Moon League, Serara’s guild, was sending a rescue squad of three players from Akiba to Susukino, and it had been a common topic of discussion lately. The squad was traveling so rapidly that even Nyanta was impressed. Although Serara couldn’t contact them directly, Marielle, the Crescent Moon League guild master, called her several times a day with updates, so Serara knew roughly where they were.

“Yes, they’re almost here. She said they should arrive sometime before noon tomorrow,” Serara reported.

Once the rescue party arrived, she’d go back to Akiba with them. She couldn’t stay in a place like Susukino forever.

…But what would Nyanta do? Serara still wasn’t able to ask him. Nyanta had saved her because he was a good man, not because he wanted anything, and Serara didn’t know how much she could hope for from him. She felt as if she’d already received far more than she could repay, but every time she brought it up, he just smiled and dodged the question, saying, “It is the duty—and the pleasure—of the elderly to help young people.”

It’s very nice of him to say so, but… It does mean he’s treating me like a kid…

“Just a little more patience, then. I’m sure it’s been rough on mew, being cooped up in this tiny house, but it won’t be much longer now. Don’t worry. They’ll get mew out and home safely.”

At Nyanta’s smile, Serara lost yet another chance to ask him.

2

Another afternoon and night had passed. As scheduled, Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki had set up camp for reconnaissance about fifteen minutes from the outskirts of Susukino. The town of Susukino, the imperial capital of Ezzo, was an urban zone located in the Ezzo Empire field zone, roughly where Sapporo had been in the old world. The area was a fortified city that included a farming region where many non-player characters lived.

When Shiroe, cautious as usual, found a tumbledown house on the outskirts of the city where they wouldn’t be spotted, they settled there for a while and checked the gates to the Susukino zone.

“I see nothing that currently warrants caution, my liege.”

“The place sure feels dicey, though. It’s practically dead.”

Shiroe nodded agreement with both these statements. He was drawing a simple map of Susukino on a piece of paper he’d taken from an inner pocket.

“Susukino is built around a main street… Like so. The downtown area cuts across the east side. The central plaza is here in the east. We”—he drew in an arrow—“are going to enter from the west.”

“Couldn’t we just rendezvous with them outside the city?”

“Bad plan, short stuff.”

“Is it, Naotsugu the Lech?”

Shutting down his companions, who’d started their usual short-stuff-and-lech banter, Shiroe explained.

“Akiba was the last city we visited. That means if we get wiped out, our corpses will get taken back to Akiba after a little while and revived there… But we’re here to rescue Serara, and she’s different. If she dies, she’ll revive in Susukino. In other words, even if the rendezvous goes without a hitch, if something happens and we all die, we’ll end up in Akiba, Serara will end up in Susukino, and we’ll have to start all over again. I want to avoid that.”

“I see. You’re right.”

Akatsuki conceded gracefully. Naotsugu wore a satisfied expression that seemed to say, “What did I tell you?”

“Next, I want to confirm our formation. Akatsuki… I want you using Sneak and Silent Move right from the beginning. Follow us, but make sure no one can tell you’re there, plea—”

“Quit being polite.”

“Agh… Right. Okay. Naotsugu, you and I will walk in through the gate normally. You come in with us, Akatsuki, but make sure you’re not detected. We’ll head for the abandoned building we’re using as a rendezvous point. Akatsuki, you find a place to hide somewhere in the area and keep an eye on the whole building. If there’s any trouble, alert me by telechat.”

The black-haired girl nodded, her face sober.

“Naotsugu, you take up a position near the building’s entrance. If possible, find a place where you can see both the street and the inside of the building. Wait there and be ready to respond to trouble, inside or out. I’ll go on into the building and meet up with Serara, and the two of us will come back to where you are as quickly as possible.”

“Roger that. So, uh, what about the third party that’s been helping her out?”

“I’m not sure yet. Personally, I’d like to get them out of Susukino when we go, whether or not they want to travel all the way back to Akiba with us.”

Shiroe was thinking hard as he spoke.

“There’s a very real possibility that the guild we’re assuming is behind most of the trouble in Susukino has Serara registered as a friend.”

Unlike the mutual consent the function’s name implied, as long as a player was in front of a person, one could register them as a friend without their permission. Once they were on a friend list, a person would be able to tell whether the other player was online or not and even whether the two of them were in the same zone.

“If they have, there’s a good chance they’ll know she’s in Susukino the second she leaves the room where she’s been hiding. They may send people after her. It would be better to get away from Susukino before that happens. If we put two or three zones between us and the city, they won’t follow us… At least, I don’t think they will.”

Serara was currently in a safe house somewhere in Susukino, and they’d been told that the house was an independent zone inside an abandoned building. In other words, as long as she was hiding in that smaller zone, even if Serara had been friended by the troublemakers, they wouldn’t be able to tell she was still in their zone. That said, once she left that safe house and entered the larger Susukino zone, it was best to assume that the Briganteers would know. On top of that, there was no way for her to return to Akiba without passing through Susukino.

This strategy was one Shiroe had come up with on the journey to Susukino in order to get around the issue, and he was able to explain it smoothly. He’d put together the fairly elaborate formation just to be safe; he thought the possibility of real trouble was quite low. However, it depended on how tenacious and unscrupulous the Susukino problem guild was. This wouldn’t be like hunting monsters: If their group got wiped out, they wouldn’t just be able to go back to the town and start over.

—Worst-case scenarios happen all the time. I know it’s thoughts like this that make people say I’m too introverted and overthinking things, but still…

If he was worrying over nothing, so be it. He really hoped he was. Naotsugu and Akatsuki nodded in emphatic agreement.

“So we could be kissing Susukino good-bye in an hour or so.”

“I’ll support your strategy, my liege.”

After going over several detailed call signs and deciding how to meet back up in an emergency, the three of them departed for Susukino.

The gate of the city was overwhelming. Reinforced with blue steel, it had been designed to look like a castle gate, and it had angular latches jutting into the frame on all sides. The Ezzo Empire was a young nation founded by the conquering emperor Al Rahdil. Its background information said it was a bellicose country with a strong military. That meant that weapons were carried prominently around town, and banners of all colors lent the country a wartime atmosphere.

It really doesn’t feel like Akiba. I was here when Elder Tales was a game, but the atmosphere now is in a whole different league…

All the things Shiroe had ignored as unimportant background when this was a game—like the town’s decorations, its smell, and all the other details—struck him as fresh and novel now. Naotsugu, wrapped in a thick wool mantle, seemed to feel the same way; he was looking around curiously.

A long main street stretched toward the urban area. It was crowded with non-player characters, but their faces all seemed listless and drained. The players they saw also looked dispirited, and many of them wore very troubled expressions.

“The atmosphere really tanks. I wouldn’t want to live here.”

Naotsugu kept his voice low so he wouldn’t be overheard.

“Agreed,” Shiroe murmured.

Although he did sympathize with the people here, a much larger part of him was supremely irritated. He’d felt the irritation during their journey as well, but on reaching the city, it had abruptly grown too big to control. He was annoyed. He was angry. The unpleasant feelings seemed to be ratcheting his temperature up. Still, although he wanted to do something to improve matters, at this point, he didn’t have either the power or the means.

Shiroe looked back warily several times, but he couldn’t sense Akatsuki there at all, and he had no idea where she was. He thought she was probably following them, but she’d managed to erase her presence so completely that it made him uneasy.

After a short while, an abandoned building with a broken sign that read RAOKE BO clinging to it came into view. That was the landmark they’d been told about in their meeting with Marielle. Shiroe gave a small wave, signaling, and he and Naotsugu entered the building.

The cracked concrete had been reinforced with steel here and there, and it was in better shape than similar buildings in Akiba. It looked as though the concrete was still sturdy, at any rate. As soon as Naotsugu stepped into the building, he turned right, checking the guardroom. Shiroe could hear faint sounds from deeper inside. Letting a small part of his mind keep track of them, he headed farther into the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

When he contacted Marielle via telechat and had her relay the information, the response that came back was “We’ll head over right away.” Up to this point, everything had gone according to plan, and Shiroe let himself relax just a little. It had been six minutes since they’d entered Susukino. So far, so good.

“Um, hello?”

Shiroe, who’d turned calmly enough at the sound of approaching footsteps, was greeted by a girl wearing the softly curving leather armor unique to the recovery classes. Her hair hung down her back in a ponytail, and the eyes that gazed up at him seemed a bit apologetic. When combined with her shy, nervous attitude, it made Shiroe think of a small animal who’d poked its face out of the woods. He gave her a slight smile.

“I’m Serara of the Crescent Moon guild. Thank you so much for doing this.” The girl gave a light bow, but—

“Mrowr.”

“—Captain?! Wha… It’s you!”

Shiroe yelled at the top of his lungs, accidentally—and rudely—ignoring Serara.

“Well, well! If it isn’t Shiroechi. I did think this was an unmewsually fast and daring rescue.”

The tall shadow that stood there, guarding Serara’s back, was the Debauchery Tea Party’s own captain and feline retiree, the cat-eared Swashbuckler Nyanta.

3

Even for a Debauchery Tea Party member, Nyanta had been a player with a unique style. He was mild mannered, and he always had a tranquil, unconcerned air about him that made him seem a little like a sunbathing cat. He’d brought an invaluable element of common sense to the Debauchery Tea Party, which had many members who loved excitement and were prone to get out of control.

Nyanta said he was “an old man,” and coming from him, the words had the genuine ring of mature calm to them. The voice chat function in Elder Tales meant it was perfectly possible to deduce a player’s age from their voice. Although Nyanta claimed to be old, Shiroe didn’t think he’d reached fifty. He was more likely to be in his forties or possibly a sober, dignified individual in his thirties.

Of course, the average age in network games was low. Players in their thirties weren’t rare, but players in their forties were few and far between. This might have been what Nyanta was thinking of when he called himself an old man, but Shiroe and the people around him thought differently. In this case, “mature adult” had nothing to do with actual age. It was Nyanta’s personality and the experience evident in his words and gestures that made others acknowledge him as an adult, and when they said “adult,” they didn’t mean the much-loathed term used by children to designate “those clueless people who spoil all our fun.” They meant something different, an adviser who was always there, looking out for them when they needed him.

Nyanta had never hesitated to lend a listening ear to a conflicted friend or a troubled group member. Although he wasn’t overbearing in his help, his calm voice made players feel as though they could tackle even problems that had seemed insurmountable, and his younger companions had real respect for him. His nicknames “Captain” and “the Retiree” had been friendly gestures from the group as well.

The Debauchery Tea Party had been a simple gathering of players, not a guild. Many of its members had been unaffiliated, but of course there had been several who were members of guilds of all stripes. However, as a rule, large, well-regulated guilds didn’t like their members mixing too freely with outsiders. This wasn’t simply baseless prejudice (although it could occasionally be that): The guilds were worried about losing their internal human resources. For example, if a high-level player who belonged to a guild was going to be out coaching new players who weren’t part of the guild and younger players who belonged to other guilds, of course his guild would want him to coach their own younger players instead. At base, guilds were mutual aid organizations used by players to compensate for their own shortcomings. From that perspective, it was only natural that most Debauchery Tea Party members who had other affiliations belonged to small or midsized guilds.

Nyanta had belonged to the guild Cat Kibble. That said, Shiroe had never seen a Cat Kibble member besides Nyanta. Forget midsized or small, the guild had to have been practically nonexistent. When Shiroe had asked Nyanta about it, he’d laughed and said, “It feels a bit like I’ve found a veranda that suits me, but the house is falling to pieces.”

In that case, had Nyanta been an important adviser to the Debauchery Tea Party or the power behind it? The answer was no. In fact, it seemed to Shiroe that Nyanta had been almost afraid of influencing the group’s direction. He’d suspected that although Nyanta’s attitude and way of enjoying the game were sedate, he’d actually liked the Debauchery Tea Party’s frequent shenanigans and he’d wanted to have fun as part of the group of so-called “kids.”

“Oh… I, uh, I’m sorry, Miss Serara. My name is Shiroe. I’m a friend of the Retiree here.”

“That’s right, Serara. This is Shiroechi, and he’s a very good, clever boy. A mewly promising young fellow. If he’s the one who’s come for mew, this plan is bound to succeed.”

“I see your forced ‘mews’ are alive and well, Captain.”

Shiroe smiled mischievously. He’d had fun picking on Nyanta’s mews since their Tea Party days.

“Why, whatever do mew mean, Shiroechi? This is mewniversal Felinoid speech. And what amewsing speech it is, if a bit rough around the edges.”

“‘Mew,’ ‘ruff’… Pick a species, Captain.”

Nyanta and Shiroe’s cheerful exchange seemed to have thoroughly unsettled Serara. She finally pulled herself together enough to ask, “You two know each other, then?”

“Oh, I’d say we do. I once asked Shiroechi to groom me for fleas.”

“I have no memory of doing any such thing.”

Further unsettled, Serara could only nod silently.

“If you’re here, Shiroechi… Who are the other two?”

“One’s Naotsugu. The other is a girl named Akatsuki, a level-ninety Assassin. During team training, she got one hundred and sixty units in ten days. She’s really good.”

“So Naotsugucchi’s here, too, is he? And a mew companion? …That’s fine mews. It looks like it’s your time at last, Shiroechi.”

Nyanta’s eyes were always slightly narrowed as if he were smiling, but as he looked at Shiroe, his smile deepened slightly.

“Captain Nyanta… What happened to Cat Kibble?”

“The poor old house couldn’t take the wind and snow. It collapsed. I may leave Susukino and make my way down to Akiba with mew.”

Nyanta’s words seemed more transparent than lonely.

“What do you…? Oh. Hang on.”

Just as Shiroe was about to ask what he meant, a soft chime sounded in his ear.

“A group is approaching your building. They look rough. The leader may be a Monk. Three Weapon Attack classes, two healers. They seem to have formed a party. They’re fanning out to block the street as they approach. They could be there in as little as two minutes.”

At Akatsuki’s concise telechat, Shiroe visualized the map he’d been drawing a short while ago, the one of Susukino’s streets.

“There’s a group coming this way. A party of six led by a Monk. Sound familiar?”

“That’s—!”

“That’s probably the Briganteers leader, Demiquas. He’s a level-ninety Monk, and his friends’ levels will be similar. He’s the one behind this affair… The enemy.”

Nyanta said “enemy” very clearly. In the game, he’d never used that word to refer to other players, but now he said it decisively and without hesitation. Hearing that settled Shiroe’s resolve, too.

“Does this building have a back door? We’ll force our way through if we have to.”

4

“This way, mew two.”

“Are you all right, Miss Serara?”

“O-of course.”

Serara desperately followed Nyanta, who was running in the lead. Shiroe, the young man who’d come to rescue her, was right behind her.

So he’s a friend of Nyanta’s… He looks a little hard to please, but he seems really smart, she thought, remembering Shiroe’s sharp eyes.

She snuck a glance behind her. Shiroe was scanning the area and talking in a low voice. Probably a telechat. His training showed through in the fact that he didn’t stumble.

The Briganteers seemed to have been suspicious of the simple housing district for a while, and they were searching it exhaustively. Serara thought their friend lists must have alerted them when she’d moved from the safe house into the Susukino zone. In that case, it was only a matter of time until they found them. The layout of Susukino was a simple grid, and most roads intersected with each other at right angles. Even if they ran through the backstreets, if the enemy had enough members, they’d eventually be caught.

Knowing that, Nyanta and Shiroe had chosen to force their way through instead. They said it was a gamble they’d have to take at some point if they were going to return to Akiba. Naotsugu and Akatsuki hadn’t been spotted yet, and Shiroe had probably contacted them via telechat. They were currently moving toward the broad avenue to the west, hurrying but not panicking.

In the end, their guess proved to be correct: Briganteers guild members were loitering at the gate as well.

“Susukino is a noncombat zone. What mew they think they’re doing…?”

“They’re probably planning to let us walk for now.”

Shiroe had said “for now,” and it really would be only temporary. The guild would mount their real offensive once they were out of the noncombat zone. Serara thought that was the strategy the Briganteers had put together and that Shiroe and Nyanta were fully aware of it.

“Do mew think so?”

Nyanta didn’t question Shiroe’s abbreviated comment, possibly out of consideration for Serara. However, the calm in his voice was completely different from what it usually was. It was a difference Serara couldn’t quite define, but it made her shiver involuntarily.

“What… What should I do?”

Her voice was shaking. Demiquas had grabbed her wrist once. The mere memory of his grotesquely muscle-bound arm and his ugly smile made her heart wilt.

“…Let’s see.”

Shiroe seemed to be gazing into the distance. She saw the expression silently drain from his profile. Abruptly, he looked far more intelligent and much, much colder, and she felt a little afraid of him.

“If they’re going to let us out, let’s take them up on it. If we can get outside the city, so much the better.”

“…What?”

At Shiroe’s words, Serara’s eyes widened.

If they left the city, they’d be outside the noncombat zone. If they were captured, they’d have to fight, and the Briganteers had enough members to guard all the avenues leading out of the city.

Serara was sure that if it came down to combat, she, Nyanta, and Shiroe would all be killed easily. No matter how skilled Nyanta and Shiroe were and no matter how high level Shiroe’s reinforcements were, there were only five of them altogether. Besides, that five included Serara herself, and she wasn’t even level 30. If the Briganteers decided to PK them, she was sure they wouldn’t have a chance. Of course they wouldn’t. They were far too outnumbered.

“Even if we manage to get away without a fight, we’ll need to make them slip up. If they start pursuing us when they’re this close to us, even after we’re away from Susukino, they’ll probably follow us until doomsday. The enemy must know you have people helping you, Miss Serara. You wouldn’t have been able to keep yourself fed otherwise. I assume they also know you don’t have very many allies. Taken together, that means that the Briganteers plan to surround and PK us once we’ve gotten a little distance from the noncombat zone. They’ll try to take out your allies first. Then they’ll break your will and get you under their control. I think they’ll have settled on that course at this point.”

Shiroe’s words sounded completely analytical. To Serara, he seemed detached from the situation.

“But they’ll kill us! How can you just—”

“Serara, Serara, it’s all right. Mew mustn’t let yourself get so flustered. If Shiroechi says that’s how things are, then that’s how they are. And if he’s here, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Nyanta’s words were casual and relaxed, completely divorced from Serara’s anxiety and terror. Shiroe had gotten information on the Briganteers members and fighting strength from Nyanta, but as far as Serara could see, their situation was fairly dire. She didn’t understand how they could be so calm.

“Captain.”

“Yes?”

“If you fought their leader one-on-one…?”

Shiroe asked, and Nyanta nodded.

“Now that is a stupid question.”

His response startled Serara. She’d heard that Nyanta was a veteran player, but fighting PKs was nothing like fighting monsters. That had been true even when Elder Tales was an online game. Unlike monsters, which had a limited range of attack techniques and were driven by instinct, there was no telling what players would do. The tension during combat was dozens of times greater, and even the most skillful fighter would make mistakes—or at least that was what Henrietta had told Serara. Serara had never seen a player so skilled that they could consent to a PK battle this readily.

“We’ll go with that strategy, then. First, the three of us will leave the zone together. Once we’ve come far enough that we won’t be able to run back into the town, the Briganteers will launch their PK battle. Once we take out the enemy boss, we’ll use the opportunity to make our escape.”

But that’s ridiculous!

Serara felt herself go pale.

That wasn’t a strategy. It was practically leaving everything to chance. It seemed almost like suicide. She tried to speak up, to take him to task over it, but she couldn’t even find the words.

“Perfect. Mew haven’t changed a bit, Shiroechi.”

On top of that, incredibly, Nyanta seemed to be in total agreement with Shiroe. When Serara turned, startled, Nyanta widened his narrow right eye at her.

“I haven’t ripped someone to pieces in a very long time. Make sure and watch closely, Serara. It’s all right. I won’t let them lay a finger on mew.”

At that, Serara swore to herself that she’d brave any terror, if only Nyanta would fight to protect her.

5

…And now the situation had played out just as Shiroe and the others had anticipated. They’d passed through the gate under the crude stares of the Briganteers. As Serara and the others went through, about ten of the ruffians followed them, keeping their distance. They were probably planning to attack as soon as they were away from the town. Even Serara, who had never directly encountered bloodlust, seemed to sense that surge of emotion, something between malice and spite. Her shoulders were trembling.

I can’t reasonably ask her to trust me.

Shiroe was fully aware of Serara’s anxiety. To some extent, her fears were correct. The Briganteers were a force to be reckoned with. It was no wonder she doubted their chances of victory.

The tension in the air grew thicker with each step they took. The gate that led to Susukino receded behind them. Slowly but surely, the circle of Briganteers was closing in.

“This is far enough,” Shiroe murmured.

Then he raised his voice.

“Excuse me! Which of you gentlemen is Demiquas of the Briganteers?”

His words caused a stir in the players that surrounded them. They hadn’t expected such a clear challenge.

“No, no. Shiroechi, my boy. It’s rude to bellow questions at people like that. I know who he is. He’s that big fellow over there. Oooooy, Demiquas!”

The burly man who stepped from the crowd, as if drawn by Nyanta’s voice, was the Briganteers leader, Demiquas. His powerfully muscled torso was sheathed in tight-fitting light armor that resembled a singlet, and he wore weapons that looked like tiger claws on both hands. Although he’d been modeled on the same polygon data as everyone else and should have been quite handsome, his coarse expression mirrored the man inside.

“So you’re the punks who’ve been buzzing around Serara?”

“Ah, that was just me. And ‘alley cat’ is more apt than ‘punk’ really.”

Nyanta corrected him, taking things at his own speed as usual. In contrast to what he was saying, his mellow voice was calm, dignified, and mature, and it dampened his opponents’ urge to fight. However, his next words were cutting.

“…Young people are always reckless and wild. It’s the way of the world, and maybe permitting that young enthusiasm is a virtue in adults, but there are limits.”

“What are you drooling about, furry?!”

“I’m about to tell mew. Listen very closely… Demiquas. Mew’ve gone too far. I know you plan to attempt a player kill here, so I’ll save mew the trouble. Cutting down uppity young bucks is another adult responsibility. I’ll give mew the opportunity to train against an expert. Have at me.”

Those are pretty strong words for the Captain, but what these guys have done is actually criminal. I guess I can’t blame him.

Even as Shiroe thought that, he was using his mental menu to check the power of the enemies around them.

“Hah! What’re you running on about? Who says we have to play by your rules? I’ve got ten guys with me here!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt. It’s all right, Demiquas. It doesn’t have to be you. And actually… You, sir. The player in the gray robe. That’s a secret-level item from the Salamander’s Cavern, isn’t it? You look stronger than this fellow. I think we’d all be more satisfied with the outcome if you fought instead of the Monk. Captain Nyanta, go ahead and fight the magic user instead.”

“Are you aware that I’m ‘Gray Steel’ Rondarg?”

“Mew have a point… Let’s make sure they know what’s what.”

As Serara watched in shock—this was nothing like the plan they’d discussed earlier—Shiroe switched the target from Demiquas to the magic user at his side. When even Nyanta expressed agreement with the change, a ripple of bewilderment spread through the Briganteers group. Some looked at the magic user Rondarg while others watched Demiquas, and even Shiroe’s group picked up on the slight change in temperature.

So they aren’t a united front. I knew it. A guild cobbled together as quickly as theirs couldn’t be. That Rondarg guy is second-in-command and Demiquas’s adviser. I guess we’ll see how much control you have over your guild members, Demiquas. Shiroe felt his feelings go quiet, flickering like flame far below the surface.

True, Shiroe was bad at dealing with people. It was safe to say that he hated having noisy idiots hanging around… That didn’t mean he couldn’t handle it.

He was a pacifist, and he didn’t want to fight other players.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Under the circumstances, even Shiroe could feel it. He was fully aware of the emotion, black as the ocean at night, that was filling his heart. It was rooted in his irritation, and it was an impulse toward destruction.

Rip someone to pieces, Nyanta had said.

His usual peaceful, sunlit smile had crumbled, and his grin had revealed feline fangs. Even Shiroe had similar fangs, deep inside. Shiroe’s unconscious was convinced that those who lived by the sword should be prepared to die by the sword. No mercy would be shown here.

“‘Gray Steel’ Rondarg, wasn’t it? A byname, that’s impressive. Yes, you’ll suit us much better than Demiquas over there… This is Captain Nyanta, your opponent. He’s a Swashbuckler. Let’s begin the duel. We don’t intend to run.”

“Let’s hurry and get started. From your equipment, mew seem to be a first-class professional. This is your way, isn’t it? Mewsing combat to settle scores once and for all. Demiquas insists on a group attack because he fears my rapiers, poor soul. We’ll just ignore him.”

Nyanta’s insult proved to be the last straw. Enraged, Demiquas stalked up to stand in front of Nyanta, his expression a mixture of anger and tension and scorn.

“Fine, joker. I’ll take you on. I’ll give you a one-way ticket to hell…with my fist!”

Under the pretense of accepting a one-on-one battle, Demiquas threw a punch at Nyanta, putting all his strength behind the surprise attack. Watching the punch as it headed straight for his nose, Nyanta evaded, leaping back several meters. He drew the two rapiers he wore at his hips, holding them at the ready, and gave a mocking laugh.

“Mrowr~! That’s quite a punch!”

“He has to actually hit you to do damage, though. Say, are you sure you’re okay without backup, Demi-what’s-your-name?”

Shiroe heckled, as Demiquas launched a few more fierce punches.

Demiquas’s anger seemed to blaze even hotter. “Once I put down this old furry, I’ll tear you apart!” he roared.

“Yes, yes. Until then, though, you’re fighting me… There is a lady present, and I’d rather not force her to witness anything gruesome. If mew’d like me to hold back, speak up quickly.”

“Shove it!!”

As Nyanta leapt nimbly out of the way, Demiquas’s attacks seemed to completely ignore the distance between them. He launched two or three destructive left hooks from a stance like a shot-putter’s. Nyanta deflected some of the attacks with his rapiers, but several hit home with heavy thuds.

In the first place, Demiquas had nearly half again as much HP as Nyanta. On top of that, even if Nyanta evaded more than half of them, the few jabs and kicks that got through were heavy enough to drain his HP.

“C’mon, c’mon!”

Demiquas closed in, his face radiant with fierce joy.

Demiquas was a Monk. Monk was one of the three Warrior classes, along with Guardian and Samurai. All the Warrior classes specialized in drawing enemy attacks on the front line and were designed with an emphasis on Defense. That meant that Monks, who were lightly equipped and couldn’t wear anything sturdier than leather armor, were unusual for the category.

In Elder Tales, spells and sword techniques were known as “special skills.” In addition to proper names and effects, each special skill came with set values for required MP, cast time, and recast time. Cast time was the amount of time between the point when a player selected a special skill and the point when the skill activated—the equivalent of “charge” time. Recast time was the amount of time that had to pass after a special skill was used before it could be used again. During recast time, it was possible to do other things, but one couldn’t use the special skill they’d just used. Most powerful skills couldn’t be used again right away.

For example, most of the special skills used by the Samurai class had long recast times. This meant that Samurai fought by taking careful aim with special skills that had powerful effects.

In contrast, the recast time for Monks’ convenient major special skills was short. Specific examples included the Lightning Straight and Wyvern Kick skills. Monks were excellent at paying out unbroken wave attacks by using many moves with a focus on attacks with high basic performance.

Although their armor was the thinnest of the Warrior classes, Monks were light on their feet, and they had the best evasive abilities of the three. In addition, just as Guardians had special shield-based Defense skills, Monks had several evasive Defense skills, such as Phantom Step, which let the player evade an opponent’s attack by leaving a body double in their place, and Dragon Scale Stance, which protected the player from flame and ice attacks. Monks’ Defense was supported by the player’s physical abilities and special skills, not by their equipment. Monks could acquire first-rate fighting abilities even without rare, high-level gear, and they had a solid reputation for being the handiest of the Warrior classes.

“Whassamatter? Huh? Attack already! Is Defense all you got?!”

Nyanta took two steps back, managing to parry Demiquas’s attack. However, Demiquas closed the several meters between them in one move, with a flying kick wrapped in a dark green aura. Nyanta evaded that kick as well, but Demiquas segued into a one-two punch without even blinking.

Demiquas’s kick technique was a Wyvern Kick. The skill had forward-thrusting collision detection, and Demiquas activated it in order to close distances. Since he was using it as a move technique to check Nyanta and close the gap between them, he always got in close to Nyanta and paid out a rapid serial left-and-right attack, which meant that Nyanta couldn’t keep his distance.

He’s pretty good. He isn’t giving Nyanta any room to run.

Shiroe was secretly impressed. Relief was spreading among the Briganteers, whose unstable atmosphere had betrayed the guild’s internal conflicts up until a few moments ago. It was the reaction of men who were confident that their leader’s complete victory was assured.

However, as Nyanta parried a wide hook, he lightly jabbed a knee into Demiquas’s vulnerable side from point-blank range, then used that graceful attack as a foothold from which to change his stance in midair.

“Mrowr. Meowr!”

With a rapier attack that seemed to split the air, Nyanta slashed through the guard on Demiquas’s thigh, leaving a wound as if the Monk had been jabbed with an ice pick. Shifting his grip and taking a new defensive stance, Nyanta watched Demiquas with steely eyes, letting the tips of his rapiers skim through the air like swallows.

Nyanta was a Swashbuckler. It was one of the close-range attack classes, and one of the few that fought with two swords. It was characterized by lightning-fast serial attacks that made the best of the weapons in both hands and by wide-range attacks that made use of rotation. Taken singly, Swashbuckler attacks had less force than an Assassin’s, but they were speed fighters that accumulated overall damage through multiple attacks.

As a class, Swashbucklers were capable of a wide range of variations, depending on the Swashbuckler’s choice of weapons and the special skills they decided to focus on. Nyanta’s fighting style featured twin rapiers. The attack speed of this style was second only to the twin daggers style—where the player held a knife in each hand—and it made its user one of the fastest fighters around.

Another feature that distinguished the Swashbuckler class was their various sword attacks with bonus effects. The Swashbucklers’ exquisitely accurate attacks used Attack Speed Reduction, Evasion Performance Reduction, Defense Reduction, and other effects to steal the targets’ strengths and expose their shortcomings as even more fatal weaknesses.

“Your hairy thighs are on display. Just look at all that fuzz. Mew could practically braid it.”

Nyanta teased. Demiquas’s face went purple. However, Nyanta didn’t let the opening escape him. His rapiers accurately punctured holes in all four of Demiquas’s limbs with a light noise—almost like the click of typewriter keys—that didn’t seem as if it could be coming from a weapon.

The four wounds left in the Monk’s arms were known as Viper Slash. By wounding the tendons in the player’s arm, the attack lowered the hit rate of their attacks for several dozen seconds. The three wounds in his thigh were Bloody Piercing. By cutting the legs, the attack reduced the player’s agility and lowered their evasive capabilities. Nyanta was working to strip away his opponent’s fighting power with a surgeon’s eye and the will to decisively execute his plan. The calm adviser who’d been dubbed “the Retiree” was nowhere to be seen.

“Gwah! Quit jumping around, freak! Fight fair and square!”

“Coming from mew, ‘fair and square’ sounds polluted.”

In terms of HP, Demiquas had the advantage. Nyanta’s HP had already been drained to 30 percent. As expected of a Warrior class, Demiquas still had more than twice Nyanta’s HP left. Right now, though, anyone on the battlefield could see that the lone, lanky Swashbuckler held the initiative. Thrust and stab, flick and dazzle—slim steel lines even thinner than a fingertip drew a lacy filigree of silver and sparks in the air, forming an ironclad defense that thwarted Demiquas. The speed and attack powers Demiquas had at the beginning of the battle were long gone. Most importantly, his HP and MP were draining away along with the blood he was losing, moment by moment, from his pierced limbs.

The Briganteers, who had been reassured by Demiquas’s activity just moments before, suddenly began to mutter among themselves. The mutter held the fear and unease that their leader might actually lose, coupled with irrepressible curiosity and a furtive joy. In all likelihood, Demiquas was a tyrant within his guild as well. The Briganteers seemed to feel an ill-natured, detached glee at the idea that he might lose in public.

Shiroe picked up on that emotion. He signaled to Serara.

Serara, who’d been watching Nyanta’s gallant fight so desperately that she didn’t even notice her fingernails biting into her palms, came back to herself with a jolt when Shiroe touched her shoulder. The voice in her ear, so faint she could barely hear it, said, “At my signal, cast a Pulse Recovery spell on all parties.”

Serara’s eyes widened. Of course, as a healer—even a very minor one—she fully intended to recover Nyanta once he won, but why “at my signal”? …And why not just Nyanta, but everybody? She was about to ask Shiroe when she heard an unbelievable yell.

“Dammit! You cocky little— Enough of your lousy duel!! Healer! Recover these wounds in my arms and legs! Assassin squad! Skin this cat bastard!!”

Demiquas, finally unable to take the brilliance of the swordsman’s techniques, ordered the Briganteers to attack en masse.

6

That angry roar caused a momentary split on the battlefield.

The Briganteers had traded non-player characters as slaves. They’d threatened and killed players and done even worse, and precisely because they had, for an instant, that order made them hesitate.

The Briganteers were a band of outlaws. However, in a true state of lawlessness, outlaws could never form a group. Complete anarchy made it impossible for communities to exist for any length of time. Outlaws had their own particular brand of order, and in extreme terms, that order was power. Violence.

The Briganteers, a band of outlaws, were ruled by power. Their leader Demiquas had had his vaunted attack power sealed, was losing his ability to evade, and was being carved up by rapiers—a weapon he normally scorned as being “for women and children”—in a one-on-one duel. In response to the reality that he was, in fact, being carved up, he had ordered them to surround and destroy the enemy with a roar that was—no matter how you looked at it—an SOS.

“Is it really okay to follow orders from a leader like this? If we obey him, will we turn into losers someday, too?” That idea made even the outlaw Briganteers hesitate.

Let them hesitate, get nervous, jump at shadows, and freeze up. If they do, we luck out.

…But the hesitation lasted only an instant.

True, their leader was a sorry sight, but even a violent band of outlaws had a reputation to uphold. As a matter of fact, being a band of outlaws made their reputation more important to them, not less. A big part of the reason the Briganteers had been able to do whatever they wanted in Susukino even as they exploited other players was that the guild had a reputation as an invincible gang of thugs. Unless they maintained their reign of terror by any means necessary, they’d become the hunted. This terror, peculiar to habitual hunters, decided the group’s course of action in just three seconds. Their goal was less to save their leader than to silence the three players who’d witnessed this debacle. Once that decision was made, the outlaws descended like an avalanche, war cries in every throat, hell-bent on engulfing Nyanta.

However, not one member of Shiroe’s group had wasted those three seconds. The approaching wave of eight bellowing Briganteers was blocked by Naotsugu, who’d appeared like a gust of wind. Rather than slam on the brakes at this sudden appearance from outside their field of vision, the Briganteers bore down with even greater malice.

“Anchor Howl!!”

Naotsugu yelled. It was a special skill for Guardians, the fortresses of the front line, which drew all enemies within range to them. The eight Briganteers stopped in front of Naotsugu as if they’d been nailed in place.

“Nyanta!! They’re going to—!!”

“Begin recovery!”

“Y-yes, sir! Pulse Recovery!!”

At Shiroe’s command, Serara began to chant the most powerful recovery spell she had.

Pulse Recovery was a special recovery skill unique to Druids. It was roughly equivalent to the Kannagis’ Damage Block and the Clerics’ Response Activated Recovery. In simple terms, Pulse Recovery was a spell for continuous HP recovery. It was settable, and for between ten and thirty seconds, each companion targeted by the spell would recover a certain amount of HP per second. Although it didn’t recover as much per second as a normal recovery spell, the total was far superior, and the spell’s MP efficiency was also excellent.

In addition, Pulse Recovery had one advantage even greater than its high efficiency: Once set, the caster was free to do other things. The player could use that free time to attack, defend, or do anything else necessary.

However—

“It won’t work! I can’t keep it up! My level isn’t high enough!”

Serara cried miserably.

In Elder Tales, healers’ abilities were key. Working in combination, a trained healer and vanguard warrior could cancel out the damage inflicted by four enemies on their level.

That said, Serara was currently level 19. At level 90, Naotsugu’s Defense was off the charts, but he’d never be able to withstand physical attacks from the eight Briganteers, whose levels were also high.

“Ignore Naotsugu for now. Concentrate on recovering Nyanta. Calm down and watch our allies’ HP. Don’t worry about doing the impossible. Just stay focused on what you can do.”

Shiroe spoke to Serara, his voice calm. She was very near to panicking.

His words were stronger than she’d expected, and Serara felt her strength return as though she’d been smacked on the back. What the healing classes could do was heal, Shiroe told her.

Meanwhile, on the other front line, away from Naotsugu, Nyanta and Demiquas’s battle was nearing its climax. Demiquas seemed to have received a recovery spell from the rear: The wounds in his arms had healed, and his attack power was back. Although the wounds in his legs were still there, he’d probably decided to forget evading and fight. Demiquas’s face was much calmer.

To begin with, Demiquas was a Monk, one of the Warrior classes. Even though Swashbucklers were a direct attack class, they were one of the Weapon Attack classes, and their fundamental Health was different. If Demiquas was able to get help from his rear guard, he was sure he could bully his way through on Health, even if the battle degenerated into a messy brawl. The Druid chit seemed to be healing the swordsman he was facing, but there was no way the total amount could surpass the damage he inflicted. Full of confidence, Demiquas raged.

“C’mon! C’mon, c’mon! What are those swords of yours, toys?! You think a flimsy punk like you can protect anybody?!”

“I beg your pardon. Rapiers are a gentleman’s weapon.”

“I’m gonna shut that smart mouth of yours! Look, your Warrior buddy’s going down!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Nyanta and Demiquas’s battle grew even fiercer as they traded swords and fists, silver light and dull blows.

Enveloped in a thick cloud of dust, Naotsugu really had been driven into a corner. The continuous wave of attacks from his eight opponents had cut his HP down to 2,400. He’d lost a full 80 percent. However, even under the circumstances, Naotsugu kept his cool, maintaining his narrow stance, fielding the Briganteers’ attacks, and controlling their formation.

Staying calm, even in a situation where panic was likely, was an essential ability for a first-class vanguard. However, to Serara, who was short on experience, Naotsugu’s almost eerily smooth movements seemed filled with awe-inspiring energy.

“Prepare to cast.”

Shiroe’s voice was a whisper. With the sound of her own heart galloping loudly in her ears, Serara answered, “O-okay!” Her voice had gone shrill and nervous.

“I’m going for it, Shiroe! Castle of Stone!!”

As Naotsugu yelled, he pulled his shield in and took a solid stance. His shield, his armor, and even his sword took on the ageless sheen of marble, scattering magical power and energy.

“Wha… What the heck?!”

“Ignore it, he’s almost down. Finish him!!”

“Take that! Assassinate!!”

Apparently one of the eight Briganteers was an Assassin. He launched a lethal attack meant to inflict massive damage. With an air-scorching, grating sound, his sword sank through Naotsugu’s armor, delivering a fatal blow.

…Or that’s what should have happened. Instead, the Assassin’s attack bounced off Naotsugu’s shield with a clang.

Castle of Stone was one of the Guardians’ powerful defensive techniques. It was an emergency move, and it only lasted for ten seconds, but during that time, no attack could damage the player. Naotsugu, now a marble fortress, held the front line with an unbreakable shield.

“What did I tell mew? Naotsugucchi isn’t that easy.”

“Now, Serara! Cast a layered recovery on Naotsugu!!”

Serara took a hasty step forward, stretching her hands up toward the sky. She chanted a Pulse Recovery spell meant for individuals, layering it over the Pulse Recovery spell that was already in effect for all players, and she didn’t stop there. On top of the two layered set spells, she began to chant an instant recovery spell. Using every last drop of her limited level-19 power, she continued sending all the recovery spells she knew to the front line.

As a healer, there was just one thing she could do: Use her recovery spells to protect the players who were protecting her. The familiar voice of her guild master, a Cleric, echoed in her ears.

The true benefit of Pulse Recovery lay in the fact that once it was set the caster could use the remaining time to chant additional recovery spells. The potential of a Druid who concentrated everything they had on recovery was unimaginably high. The class’s instantaneous recovery power easily surpassed that of the other two healing classes. Even if the caster was level 19, this wasn’t a force to be taken lightly. Under Serara’s rapid succession of spells, Naotsugu’s HP, which had already fallen below 20 percent, recovered before their very eyes.

“Stalling for time isn’t gonna save you!” Meanwhile, as he closed in on Nyanta, Demiquas’s rage was growing. Castle of Stone certainly was a powerful defensive technique. As a Monk, another Warrior class, the technique was tough enough to make him jealous. However, even the most powerful techniques had weaknesses. In Castle of Stone’s case, it was the length of its recast time. The unbreakable technique could only be used once every ten minutes.

In ten minutes, he could kill the players in front of him twenty times over. In any case, the fact that the Warrior had used Castle of Stone at all obviously meant he wasn’t able to stand up to the Briganteers’ collective attack. The technique could only shut out ten seconds’ worth of physical damage in ten minutes. Ten seconds out of six hundred. Put that way, Castle of Stone wasn’t an invincible secret technique. It was clearly a last resort.

When Castle of Stone’s effect wore off, these guys would be history. To Demiquas, that future was already a fact. His keen attacks were rapidly driving Nyanta into a corner. As Serara kept an eye on her allies’ statuses, she couldn’t help lamenting her weakness.

The Guardian who was fielding eight Briganteers on the front line, and Nyanta, who’d chivalrously shielded her all this time, were getting hurt. Even if she poured all her strength into recovery, she couldn’t save the two of them, and the MP she needed for the spells were draining away rapidly as she pushed the limits of her power.

“I’d like to go soon, Shiroechi.”

“Anytime you’re ready, Captain Nyanta.”

However, quite apart from Serara’s anguish, Shiroe and Nyanta’s exchange was as cheerful as a clear blue sky.

In a movement as smooth as a willow in the wind, Nyanta stepped right into Demiquas’s chest. Although he was momentarily startled, Demiquas raised his knee in a kick intended to send the thin swordsman flying. However, in the next instant, Nyanta had launched himself into the air, using Demiquas’s raised knee as a foothold.

Silver light flashed.

The rapiers Nyanta held in both hands sliced the wind, dancing with the speed of indigo lightning. Three, four, five— That was as far as Serara managed to follow. Nyanta’s swords, which seemed to have generated countless copies of themselves, slashed with pinpoint accuracy through the bright blue brambles that had abruptly appeared all over Demiquas’s body.

Swashbuckler attacks were the fastest of all twelve classes. Nyanta’s multistage two-bladed attack was further sharpened by Shiroe’s attack ability reinforcement, and on top of that, he kept triggering the Sewn-Bind Hostage trap that Shiroe had set.

Nyanta’s swords.

Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage.

In less than two seconds, the double-layered attack was executed ten times. With each slash from Nyanta, the activated spell burst like a flashbulb, sending a shock wave across the area. Just as the explosion that occurs in the tight chamber of a gun magazine is made more destructive by its compression. Demiquas, who had frozen in his tracks, staggered as if he were being shoved from all sides by invisible enemies and expired before he had time to utter a word.

“Wha—?!”

“The guild master just—”

Confusion spread rapidly.

A level-90 Warrior with a healer supporting him had dropped like a stone in the blink of an eye. The more experience the players had with Elder Tales, the greater the superstition and despair the sight instilled.

“Nyanta…”

The emotion was echoed in Serara’s dazed murmur. She couldn’t understand the lightning-fast battle she’d just seen unfold.

“Drop your swords, people!”

Naotsugu yelled. The Briganteers looked at each other, then went pale as a scream rang out behind them.

At its source, they saw their fallen healer and the guild’s second-in-command, the gray-robed Rondarg, cowering, one of his arms severed. The black-haired girl—the player who’d made the most efficient use of that empty three seconds—had sheathed her delicate form in the merciless aura of a lethal weapon, and her short sword was pressed to Rondarg’s neck.

7

Akatsuki, who had seen exactly what Serara saw, did have a fairly good idea of what had happened. Adventurer bodies were high performance, and apparently that performance wasn’t limited to agility and physical strength: Their kinetic vision was also better than it had been in their old world.

Akatsuki had studied kendo since she was small, but she was absolutely sure she wouldn’t have been able to follow the speed of those swords in the real world. Even here, she’d only been able to follow half of the maneuver at best. It would be more accurate to say that she’d “seen” it by mentally piecing together the multiple fragments of visual information she’d managed to pick up and revising them through deduction.

Akatsuki was an Assassin, the Weapon Attack class with the highest attack power, and even her ultimate attack wouldn’t have been able to take out a level-90 Monk. Of course, Akatsuki had neutralized the healer who’d been supporting Demiquas, and his HP probably hadn’t been fully charged. Even so, it should have been impossible to defeat a Warrior that quickly.

Battles in Elder Tales tended to be battles of attrition. In this world, “certain-kill moves” were only a figure of speech and were almost never literally lethal. In a fight between players of the same level, even the strongest player would have to pay out several dozen attacks in order to win. If healers were standing by, battles could go on indefinitely, and it was rare for there to be a victory at all. The more experience a player had in Elder Tales, the better they understood that fact. Where the game was concerned, it was just common sense.

The secret behind the freakish damage Nyanta had inflicted was probably the shining blue brambles. Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage was a settable trap spell used by Enchanters. The spell set five briers on a target’s body, and each brier worked with an ally’s attack to inflict about one thousand in damage. However, even if all the briers were triggered, it would only inflict five thousand in damage. That would have been a bit more than a third of Demiquas’s HP. Even with the damage from Nyanta’s attacks added in, it wouldn’t have been enough to defeat him.

In all the group training they’d done together, Akatsuki had become very well acquainted with the spells Shiroe used most. Sewn-Bind Hostage was one of Shiroe’s best spells, and Akatsuki recognized it just by seeing those bramble-like effects. The spell’s recast time was fifteen seconds.

In all likelihood, after Shiroe set the trap on Demiquas, Nyanta had waited fourteen seconds.

He’d parried Demiquas’s attacks, holding out for those fourteen seconds. During that time, he’d gotten in close and secured a positional advantage, waiting until the time was right. Then, at the appointed instant, he’d leapt into the air and paid out a series of five attacks with his left rapier. The attacks had pierced the brambles as if drawn directly to them, triggering the additional damage. In that instant, the recast time had ended, and Shiroe had hit Demiquas with another Sewn-Bind Hostage. Nyanta, still airborne, had executed a half-turn and paid out another five attacks with his right rapier.

A series of ten attacks from both sides. Two linked Sewn-Bind Hostage spells cast with a pitch-perfect grasp of the recast time. Each of the ten attacks had acted as a trigger, detonating all ten briers.

That was the truth of what Akatsuki had “seen.”

However, she’d only managed to see it because she was familiar with the characteristics of that spell from working with Shiroe. There had been no interruption in the airborne Swashbuckler’s attacks. Executing ten thrusts in a mere two seconds had to be a special technique peculiar to Swashbucklers.

Ten attacks in two seconds. In simple terms, each attack had taken a fifth of a second. Setting a new Sewn-Bind Hostage in the practically nonexistent pause between the fifth and sixth attacks seemed humanly impossible. The move had been brilliant.

True, with an attack like that one, it would be possible to completely drain a Warrior’s HP in an instant, but would it be easy to execute? The answer was an emphatic “no.” Akatsuki came very near to biting her lip; she hastily composed her expression. The battle wasn’t over yet.

She could feel what she’d seen colliding with what she knew to be common sense.

She’d trained with Shiroe for more than ten days, and she didn’t think even she’d be able to copy that maneuver. Those two had pulled off that intricate team play even though they hadn’t spoken in ages and didn’t seem to have planned it in detail.

From the Briganteers’ faces, the shock Akatsuki felt had hit them with a dozen times more force.

Who were these men?

Where had they gotten enough attack power to bury Demiquas?

Could they possibly have leveled up past level 90?

Were they actually a cleanup squad from another district?

That attack, which even Akatsuki hadn’t been able to understand without the help of several deductions, would have been impossible to evade by sight. Not only could they not evade it, they couldn’t even understand it.

“When did they… That can’t be…”

Demiquas had held his guild together with fighting ability that verged on brutality, and although the two hadn’t gotten along, Rondarg had supported the Briganteers with his resourcefulness. With both their leaders gone, even though the bandits still had most of their strength left, their will to fight had been completely broken.

“We came through the Depths of Palm,”

Shiroe stepped toward Rondarg, approaching Akatsuki and the captive magic user.

“The distance between Susukino and Akiba isn’t so great it can’t be crossed. We have the method and the map, and we’ve called in the information. This party is over.”

The facts weren’t really so optimistic.

Akatsuki and the others had come this far with the aid of their griffins. Not all players would be able to travel so quickly. The journey up to the Ezzo Empire was still a very long and massive undertaking.

However, Shiroe had probably phrased it categorically on purpose to fan a sense of defeat in the Briganteers. Akatsuki let the short sword she held against Rondarg’s neck slip a little, using the cold blade to drive home Shiroe’s point.

“We win this battle. We’ll be taking your other leader’s head with us.”

Shiroe quickly took a dagger from his inner pocket and used it to sever Demiquas’s head. Akatsuki saw Shiroe’s expression cloud slightly at the wet sound of splitting flesh that the dagger made as he brought it down.

…Well, of course. Even if it wouldn’t actually kill the player, beheading someone wasn’t something any of them wanted to do. However, Shiroe managed to keep his tone callous. There was no telling how much meaning there was in taking someone’s head in a world where death didn’t exist, but Akatsuki thought it was a price the men should pay. They’d bet themselves in this fight, and they’d lost.

Faced with Shiroe’s cold attitude and piercing stare, the Briganteers edged back.

The frozen silence was broken by a griffin’s sharp cry. Three griffins appeared from the western sky, flying in a V-shaped formation, and landed rather roughly in front of Shiroe’s group.

“Serara, over here!”

Nyanta had sheathed his rapiers, and holding out a hand to Serara, he pulled her in, picked her up bodily, and leapt onto the nearest griffin. Naotsugu, who’d mounted his griffin even more quickly, took a step forward as if to shield Akatsuki. Akatsuki swung her short sword, shaking off the blood. Shiroe stood just beyond her, watching her with the usual look in his eyes: a bit sullen, yet somehow worried.

“Akatsuki, let’s go!”

Akatsuki nodded as she’d done many times before. The gesture was filled with the gratitude and respect she couldn’t express aloud.

“Let’s move! Heading out! Escape city!”

Naotsugu yelled, as if he were declaring a cavalry charge, and his griffin leapt for the sky. Nyanta’s sand-colored griffin launched itself after it.

Akatsuki leapt up behind Shiroe, barely touching the fingers of the hand he held out for her. With her reinforced Adventurer’s abilities, she could have mounted the griffin without Shiroe’s help. However, it was his griffin. Jumping up without a word would have seemed rude, but asking for permission would have felt awkward and artificially distant, so Akatsuki always let Shiroe’s hand guide her to her seat.

Shiroe had kept his gaze on the Briganteers right up until the end, but he finally sighed, as if giving up, and spoke to Akatsuki.

“Let’s go.”

Akatsuki gave a small nod. At the pressure from Shiroe’s bootheels, the griffin soared up the slope of the wind, over the dazed, upturned faces of the Briganteers and the heads of the Adventurers who’d come out from Susukino. The three enormous creatures flew away, leaving the echoes of savage, magnificent wingbeats behind them.

Up here, racing through the wind on the back of a griffin, she felt the faint ache from Shiroe and Nyanta’s teamwork and the irritation she’d experienced in Susukino scatter into the clear blue sky.

They’d successfully rescued Serara of the Crescent Moon League. They had another week of travel ahead of them before they reached Akiba, but their mission was complete. They’d done it.

The cold wind buffeted Akatsuki, but it couldn’t shake her sense of peace. She held tight to Shiroe’s back, feeling a quiet satisfaction at having accomplished their mission.

“My liege.”

“What, Akatsuki?”

“…Never mind.”

“Mm… Let’s go home. Back to Akiba.”

“Mm-hm.”

The wind snatched the words away the moment she spoke them, and the blue air streamed around her and away.

Like larks released from their cages, the three griffins flew, bound for southern skies.

<Log Horizon, Volume 1: The Beginning of Another World—The End>