1

Raids were cooperative battles, fought by a number of Adventurers that exceeded the normal party limit of six. They were end content that players had energetically participated in since the days when Elder Tales had been a game, and of the many quests in the game, a majority of the greatest ones were raids.

Although they were lumped together under the single term raid, there were several different kinds. They were primarily classified by the number of people they required, with the largest—composed of ninety-six members—known as a legion raid. Though, even when you totaled all the level brackets in all areas of the Yamato server, there weren’t many quests that required legion raids.

The most common, and the type said to condense the real pleasure of raids, were full raids, which combined four six-member parties. This type of raid, which required a total of twenty-four participants, was the main way to gain fame and glory on the server. Back when Elder Tales had still been a game, they had been a hot in-game news item every weekend, in combination with predictions and announcements regarding which major guilds would produce what sort of results.

The Debauchery Tea Party, to which Shiroe had belonged in the past, had been a group that actively sought out full raids. Even if they had no hope of matching the major guilds in legion raids—which required more than a hundred participants if you included reserve personnel—full raids were definitely gala occasions where they could win attention and popularity on the server.

Although this was generally misunderstood, what was necessary on raids wasn’t powerful equipment.

If it had been necessary to have equipment and special-skill ranks of the sort one could only acquire on raids to participate in a raid for the first time, no players could ever have played end content. No matter how hard the quest, it had been designed to be an accessible game. If there were no users who could play it, no one would know why the operating company had bothered to provide that content.

Because they were something players aspired to, they had to be difficult, but they couldn’t be impossible to clear. Designing raid content required a sort of fine-tuned sense and experience to find that balance.

What made for good raid content?

Back when Elder Tales had been a game, a message from the game creators known as the Designers’ Letter had included the following words:

Content that lets you and your friends grow together.

Shiroe thought it meant exactly that.

Raids were difficult content that a group with certain equipment and strength at a certain time could conquer by training repeatedly. In this case, training could mean analyzing the mechanism of the raid content, or investigating the enemies’ special characteristics, or even proposing appropriate strategies, and then, in the end, mastering the teamwork needed to implement that strategy.

Of course, game character performance was important. If you had that, you could force your way through raid content. However, if you did, sooner or later, raid content that required high performance would trip you up. At times like that, what you needed was connections between humans that went beyond equipment and special skill ranks: you needed members who were on the same page.

In other words, if you were going to make a serious attempt at high-difficulty raid content, you needed companions you could call true allies. Mastering teamwork took time. If you plunged into a tough battle with a motley collection of Adventurers, everything from human relations to the level of difficulty required could deteriorate. When that happened, communities like guilds could collapse in the blink of an eye.

That made this all the more painful for Shiroe.

During the operation to recapture Zantleaf, he’d picked up all sorts of acquaintances. The Catastrophe and the Round Table Council had brought even a veteran Elder Tales player like Shiroe a wider range of acquaintances than ever before. However, he couldn’t use his telechat contact network now. Recruiting D.D.D., the Knights of the Black Sword, or the West Wind Brigade—major guilds that specialized in breaking through raid content—would probably have given him the best shot at success, but it was best to assume that all of Akiba’s major forces were under surveillance by Plant Hwyaden and one other group… Or rather, Shiroe had confirmed that they were. It wouldn’t be possible to mobilize those forces.

Of course, there were individual Adventurers who were skilled as well. However, since raids were content designed for groups, it was vital to become skilled as a group. An organization cobbled together on the spot would magnify the risk. If this had been the sort of situation where they could gradually solidify their relationships, that would have been all right, but he wanted to finish up this mission quickly. When he thought about it that way, he was hesitant to set up a new organization.

If the Debauchery Tea Party had been around, Shiroe thought, he wouldn’t have had a problem. That group of daredevils would have eagerly signed on for any raid at all. He could practically see Nurukan or Tuli whooping and breaking into a run. This would have been the perfect mission for Kanami’s friends, who saw every sort of hardship as nothing more than a chance to stand out… And yet.

“Understood. Sure.”

For that reason, at that unexpectedly easy response, Shiroe heaved a sigh of relief.

The silver-haired man in front of him had accepted his request immediately.

This was Susukino, one of just five player towns in Yamato. The town was located where Sapporo, Hokkaido, would have been in the real world. A large tavern in the heart of Susukino was currently serving as the Silver Sword guild hall.

The high-ceilinged building felt open and airy, and the damp air one expected on hearing the word tavern wasn’t there. On a long, wooden seat that was more of a bench than a sofa, “Mithril Eyes” William Massachusetts, an elf who wore his hair tied back, turned sharp eyes on Shiroe.

“Thank you very much. —Are you sure you don’t need to hear the details, though?”

“You’ll tell me even if I don’t ask.”

Facing the guild master of Silver Sword, Shiroe mentally organized the things he needed to say. At any rate, for the moment, he had accepted. Now he had to give him a detailed explanation and ensure that cooperation.

When he remembered the gathering held in order to organize the Round Table Council, it was clear that William was very short-tempered. Explaining the situation at length was probably not a good idea. In order to divide the work, he’d split up with Naotsugu and come to the Silver Sword headquarters. He wanted to bring back good results.

“The target is a new raid zone connected to the deepest part of the Depths of Palm. We’ve gone in and investigated. It’s restricted to a full raid. Enemy levels start at 89. We’re the ones who discovered it. We’ve released the seal through a quest. We believe the difficulty will be extremely high.”

“Hmm.”

After the conversation with Kinjo, Shiroe’s group had gone down to the deepest part of the Depths of Palm again and explored beyond the seal. The seal itself was still in effect, but they’d overwritten it so that any people with permission from Li Gan could go beyond the great door, then they had investigated. As a result, and as expected, they’d confirmed that a raid zone lay inside.

The interior was a high-ceilinged ancient ruin. In other words, the image of the Depths of Palm continued in this area, farther underground. The subterranean space, lit by luminescent crystals, was a mysterious facility composed of vertical shafts, arches, and countless temples, all linked together.

The enemies they’d spotted at a distance had been jellylike monsters the color of yellow ocher. This sort of amorphous monster was found in underground facilities that had been sealed. Their level was 89. In terms of level alone, Shiroe’s group would have been more than capable of defeating them, but the monsters’ rank was full raid; in other words, it had been assumed that twenty-four level-89 Adventurers would fight them together. Shiroe and the others had retreated without fighting a single battle.

In addition, as Shiroe had predicted, the zone seemed to have entry restrictions. Only groups of up to twenty-four Adventurers would be able to enter. This meant it wouldn’t be possible to conquer it through numbers and sheer force alone.

William seemed to be considering Shiroe’s brief report; the corners of his lips were warped. He was probably pulling lots of information from Shiroe’s nearly minimal words. Any veteran Adventurer who was used to raids would do that much.

“What types of enemies are there? Estimates are fine.”

“The ones we saw were slime-type monsters. They were five meters or more in diameter. From this point on, I’m inferring, but from the shape of the facility and from tradition, I think there might be giants and mystical beasts. Large monsters.”

“Giants, huh?”

A huge variety of monsters made appearances in Elder Tales. It was probably safe to say that there was every kind the production company could imagine. However, these monsters fell into several categories. Some examples were the sahuagins and goblins Shiroe and the others had fought on the Zantleaf Peninsula. Other famous ones were the Skeletons and, the ultimate mystical beasts, dragons. One of these categories was “Giant.” As you’d expect from the name, these were enormous, humanoid monsters. They were relatively popular on the Arc-Shaped Archipelago Yamato, and they lived mainly to the north of the Kanto region. There were various kinds, such as Cyclops and Frost Giants, but they all boasted high HP and attack power, while their agility was low. Contrary to the common concept of giants, high-level Giants used powerful magic attacks. Compared to Dire Beasts and Treants, they could be considered tough enemies.

“Handy. We’re based in Susukino, so we’re used to those,” William said.

Shiroe nodded in agreement. This was actually one of the reasons he’d decided to scout Silver Sword. The Ezzo Empire—Hokkaido in the real world—was on the front line of the People of the Earth’s war with the Giants. After leaving Akiba, Silver Sword had relocated its headquarters to Susukino, which had abundant Giant subjugation raid content. Shiroe had come to call on Silver Sword because he’d known they were one of the few organizations that would be able to carry out this mission.

“That doesn’t mean there’s no problem, though.”

William went on, wearing the same obstinate expression.

“Silver Sword is currently open, but we’re not doing business. We’re short on people.”

“Huh?”

“I mean that we have members who couldn’t keep up with the raids. There are guys who don’t want to fight in raids anymore, although they’re still with the guild, and there are others who’ve settled down in Susukino.”

William’s answer was a harsh one.

“In other words, they’re retired. They could probably handle a lukewarm raid, but they can’t manage the hottest raids anymore. This one is going to be the toughest there is. We boosted our levels to 95, but I doubt that’ll make it an easy win. I’ll be lucky if I manage to bring twenty people.”

“Is it…because of the memories?”

At Shiroe’s question, about the terror of losing memories, William shook his head.

“The stuff about losing memories is all just hot air. We don’t believe stories like that. And they’re not scared. Not of the monsters, anyway.”

“Then why?”

Shiroe didn’t get it.

He could understand being afraid. Resurrection from death might be a fact, but the idea of your own death brought a visceral terror with it. The pain itself was diluted. When you’d lost most of your HP, the discomfort was still no worse than sore muscles. Even at the very instant of death, it probably wasn’t anything you couldn’t tolerate. However, seeing an actual steel sword sprouting from your own chest shattered an Adventurer’s self-control. The sight of being torn apart by the claws of magical beasts and having your entrails devoured was no joke. Death had a unique terror all its own.

Even major raid guilds like D.D.D. and the Knights of the Black Sword had stopped attempting the very hardest raids after the Catastrophe. In the first place, the difficulty of battle had risen following the Catastrophe. Many Adventurers pointed out the fact that, even with ordinary parties, the low visibility and the difficulty of monitoring statuses meant that the level of the monsters they could defeat had fallen from what it had been in the days of Elder Tales. It was probably only natural that the difficulty of the raids targeted by the big guilds was set low.

…And so if he’d said he was short on raid members because their fear of death was strong, I’d understand, but…

“Why?”

“Shiroe…uh. Mister Shiroe.”

“Just ‘Shiroe’ is fine.”

“Right. Shiroe, how many times have you died since then?”

Guessing that then probably meant “the Catastrophe,” Shiroe answered, “Not once.”

At that, William’s cross-looking face twisted in bewilderment, and he looked away. William seemed more perplexed than irritated before responding.

“I can’t explain it to guys who don’t understand it.”

“……”

“When you die, you understand stuff. All sorts of stuff. Like how you suck at this, or how you’re stingy or boring. If you die a hundred times, you see it a hundred times. That hurts, and they can’t keep it up.”

As William bit his lip, he looked young.

Shiroe watched the young raid master, who was harboring frustration that he couldn’t vent on anything. There was something Shiroe needed to understand there, but the moment he spent desperately thinking about it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

There was a noise like an explosion, and when he turned, a man he recognized was bearing down on him, his face filled with rage.

2

Meanwhile, Naotsugu and Li Gan were wandering around that same Susukino.

It was December, and the midwinter town was frosted silver under a high blue sky. The two of them walked through the wide streets, headed to restaurants and plazas, on their way to gather raid members from sources other than the one Shiroe had tapped.

In Elder Tales, if you looked at a person steadily, their name, main class, and level would be displayed on your HUD. In addition, there were all sorts of other elements when scouting members, such as which guild they were affiliated with and their equipment, manner, and way of speaking. Shiroe said that conducting a raid by hiring individual Adventurers would be difficult, but the Tea Party had originally been made up of individual Adventurers, too. Naotsugu thought that, ultimately, it would be all right to just follow his instincts, and so he was roaming around town, acting separately from Shiroe.

“Are we recruiting companions?”

“Yep.”

Naotsugu responded to the round-shouldered Lore Master who was walking the streets of Susukino beside him.

“I doubt we’ll get twenty of ’em right off the bat, but I’d like to find some likely-looking ones.”

“Will it go so well? This gathering of warriors for a decisive battle?”

“When it’s gonna go well, it’ll do that.”

Giving an evasive answer, Naotsugu looked around the area restlessly. Compared to what it had been like the last time he’d been here, the town seemed to have grown quite peaceful. It was no longer the ruined Susukino where Adventurers had eyed each other suspiciously.

Silver Sword must have significantly improved the environment. In fact…he’d heard something about that in the news he’d gotten through Shiroe. The guild had left Akiba and come to this northern town in search of a raid environment, and it seemed to have had enormous influence. Susukino’s public order had collapsed, and it had been on the verge of becoming a city of violence, but Silver Sword had saved it. Although the group wasn’t affiliated with Akiba’s Round Table Council, its scale and strength were such that for a time, it had been selected as one of those twelve guilds. Their training was on a whole different level from the hoodlums who’d swaggered around Susukino as if they’d owned the place. Even if both were level 90, Silver Sword was a military group that drilled properly.

Naotsugu had heard from Shiroe that simply having a first-class combat guild in Susukino had vastly improved conditions.

A grandmotherly Person of the Earth wearing a fur coat and cylindrical hat walked by with a child, holding a big paper bag. The bag probably held groceries. Her expression was peaceful, and the child seemed to be having fun, so their situation probably wasn’t a bad one. They walked quickly because of the cold.

A look at this avenue showed that the places where people walked had been cleared, and about fifteen centimeters of snow remained on either side. It was cold, but to Naotsugu, the scene seemed like a gentle one, relatively well harmonized.

Sparkling icicles hung from the eaves, and the town was like a work of art, decorated with crystal.

Once they’d passed through the residential district, where there were lots of People of the Earth, the avenue grew wider; it was apparently an artery that led to the center of Susukino. Just as when he’d come here before, the abandoned buildings looked rough, like fortresses, but to Naotsugu, they seemed to blend much better with the scenery now than they had during the adventure in May. That might have been because, rather than being built to intimidate as their appearance suggested, these snow-country buildings were intended to shut out the cold.

“You ever been to Susukino, mister?”

“I’ve visited a few times.”

“We’ll probably have to stay here for a bit, y’know.”

“Yes, I’m prepared for that. When you explore the depths, I’d only hold you back.”

There was a little regret in Li Gan’s response.

In a zone designed for parties, the monsters that appeared would be the sort meant to be defeated by five or six Adventurers. For Naotsugu and Shiroe, whose levels were far different from Li Gan’s, it was possible to explore while protecting the sage. However, it definitely depended on the difficulty of the situation: they’d guarded him while investigating the Depths of Palm, but in a raid zone meant to be challenged by twenty-four high-level Adventurers, the battles would be severely violent. As they’d discussed beforehand, Li Gan would wait in Susukino for Naotsugu and the others to return.

“You look like that bums you out.”

“Well, a little. It is the secret of the Kunie clan, after all. All the information one could see and hear there is truly worth a fortune.”

“We’ll bring you back as many stories as possible, all right?” Naotsugu told him.

“No, no, don’t trouble yourselves. This, too, is the role of the Sage of Miral Lake. Besides, there are lots of unusual things in this city as well. It’s being developed by the Adventurers even as we speak. While you and the others proceed with your conquest, I think I’ll spend my time learning about Susukino. Just thinking about what sort of new things are being created in this northern country is terribly thrilling.”

As he spoke, Li Gan looked around, smiling.

He really must be bursting with curiosity. Naotsugu was using polite speech with him, just in case, but the guy looked as if he might be about his age; he seemed a bit like a science-minded grad student who spent all his time in the lab. To Naotsugu, who wasn’t shy with strangers, he seemed like an interesting guy, the sort he could have a good, frank conversation with. He also thought he understood why Shiroe hit it off with him.

“Yeah, that’s true. There’s lots of good stuff in Susukino, too.”

“You’re right. I may take this opportunity to investigate your intercity gates—”

“Dbweh!”

Abruptly, a voice interrupted their conversation.

When they reflexively looked toward it, they saw someone’s upper body stuck into a huge bank of snow that had been piled up beside a cottage-style house. From the looks of the indisposed person’s position, if they had fallen to get there, they must have done it with serious flair. They were stuck diagonally into the huge pile of snow, and Naotsugu couldn’t see their face. All that protruded was a slim, well-shaped derriere in hot pants.

“Nice panties!”

Naotsugu grinned and flashed a big thumbs-up.

The line from the small hips to the ivory thighs was fantastic.

“I’m compelled to agree with you there.”

On seeing Li Gan smiling next to him, Naotsugu thought, Oh yeah, I can totally be friends with this guy. He was a scholastic type, like Shiroe, but if he was able to join in without hesitation at times like this, he was probably more of a guy’s guy than Shiroe was.

Li Gan gave Naotsugu an intellectual response:

“That said, although I’m not well versed in the customs of the Adventurers, aren’t those generally referred to as ‘low-rise hot pants’? In other words, isn’t it unsuitable to eulogize them as ‘panties’ in the truest sense of the word?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’d feel bad about leaving ’em out, wouldn’t you? If they’ve got panties in their heart, then they’re panties.”

“Well said.”

“Help me!”

A figure burst violently out of the pile of snow and regained its feet, directing a protest at the two of them. Its head had been stuck very deeply, to the point where it seemed to have fallen off the roof rather than simply fallen over, but the only sign was that the tip of its adorable nose seemed to be a bit red. Adventurer toughness was at work here as well.

“Sorry, sorry city.”

“We saw a very callipygian posterior, so we simply…”

The two didn’t seem at all apologetic, and the small shadow howled as if it meant to bite them.

“If a gorgeous girl like me scars up her face, it’ll damage all the guys who are crazy about her!”

Naotsugu gazed at the self-proclaimed victim, who came up only to his chest.

She was petite and cute. Her overall silhouette was slim, and she wore a blouse and vest, hot pants that made her pure white legs look longer, a necktie, and knee socks that accentuated the dazzling area between their cuffs and the hem of her pants. The way her outfit looked like some sort of uniform on the top but left as little to the imagination as possible on the bottom was terrific.

It was a style that would have made any guy’s heart beat faster, even if he didn’t want it to. As a matter of fact, Naotsugu’s cheeks were growing hot. Just a little, because he felt guilty about it. However, the expression under the coquettish little top hat betrayed it all.

It was the proudest, happiest, smuggest face Naotsugu had ever seen—in other words, an expression of sheer triumph. The expression was splendidly radiant, so cute that it would be devastating for any watching guys, and it looked as though the girl herself really believed in what she’d said.

Cute.

She certainly was cute.

As frustrating as it was, if he’d said she wasn’t cute, he would have been lying.

However, Naotsugu thought that saying it would “damage the guys who were crazy about her” had been a blatant exaggeration. He thought it, but he kept it to himself, thinking that only an ogre would hit a girl with a comeback like that when she was smiling with such lustrous, jellylike lips.

“I’d say that’s a blatant exaggeration, wouldn’t you?”

Li Gan the ogre didn’t keep it to himself.

Li Gan’s stock just went up again.

Naotsugu couldn’t have been more impressed.

“Uuu… You can’t bring me down.”

“Ah, she’s back.”

Li Gan kept teasing the girl, who’d staggered but recovered. He looked entertained. At his easygoing comeback, the girl’s face went red and she got mad.

The fact that she still wore a vaguely cheerful, proud expression, even then, might have meant she was a bit lacking in grace for a beautiful girl. However, that seemed to be part of her unique charm as well.

She had an expressive face, and as the girl herself said, she certainly did seem attractive.

“Hmm… Yeah, you’re cute, but you look so smug about it that I-really-don’t-want-to-say-you’re-cute city… If I’m taking this, that, and the other thing into consideration and making a general call, or actually, obviously, in terms of both volume and panties, Miss Mari wins! In-other-words city!”

“Huh?”

Naotsugu, who’d crossed his arms, had let the words slip out by accident, but fortunately neither the girl nor Li Gan seemed to have caught on. Waving his hands to camouflage where he’d been looking, Naotsugu took a towel out of his belongings and tossed it to the girl.

She was dressed lightly, and she didn’t seem to have a magic bag.

“Hrrn, all right. I’m kind to my fans, you see.”

Without hesitation, she used the towel to brush the snow away. She seemed clumsy, and there was some snow left on the brim of the little top hat. Removing it with his fingertips, Naotsugu looked at the girl’s status display.

“Tetora, huh?”

“Call me Tetora-ra-rah!”

Her expression was resolute, and it left Naotsugu nonplussed. Her level was 94. The same as his. Apparently she was an Adventurer, with lots of real combat experience, who’d fought repeated battles even after the Catastrophe. Her guild was Light Indigo. Her class was Cleric.

“All right, this guy seems easier to win over.”

“Stuff like that has zero effect if you say it yourself.”

Even as Naotsugu retorted, Tetora latched on to his left hand with catlike agility, practically hanging from it.

“Really? No effect? None? Don’t I have a hug effect?”

Her question was delivered with the boastful, self-important expression that seemed to be her default. No effect! It would have been easy to deny her that way, but at that point, his lamentable male nature came into play: Even though he knew he was just being teased, having a beautiful girl clinging to his arm in a companionable way felt pretty good. Tetora even smelled sweet, like oranges.

“Luh, luh, lemme go!”

“Ha-haaa. No can do, Mister Naotsugu.”

She must have read his status at some point. In this world, it was only natural for people to know each others’ names, even when they first met.

“I love nuzzling flustered, panicking guys. Parenthetically, I hate being nuzzled, so keep that in mind!”

“I said! Let! Me! Go!”

Tetora had twisted away, slipping around behind Naotsugu’s back, then climbed up to his shoulders, clinging to his neck. Possibly due to her Adventurer agility, he didn’t even feel her weight all that much.

As Tetora hugged Naotsugu’s head and giggled, she was truly as cute as she’d declared herself to be.

Due to corrections from the system, beautiful men and women weren’t unusual in Elder Tales, but that was true only for appearance, and it couldn’t camouflage the atmosphere the actual person gave off. Tetora was radiating a showy, cheerful atmosphere, and in terms of standing out, she was far and away the best of all the Adventurers Naotsugu had ever seen.

“You look like a tree-climbing pika.”

“This skeleton guy is pretty harsh, isn’t he?!”

“Skeleton…?”

Li Gan seemed entertained by Tetora’s response.

“This is a major incident. You should have saved me, you know? If a lovely girl like me scraped my nose, my fans would cry. And really, the mere fact that I made such a spectacle of myself back there could end my life as an idol.”

“Yeah, the upside-down panties.”

“They’re not panties! They’re hot pants!”

Li Gan was keeping up with her. He seemed to have instantly registered the scandal the girl was concerned about, and was attacking her weak point.

“‘Hot’… Warm pants… Oh… In other words, you wet yourself a bit, due to the shock?”

“A-a-as if I’d ever wet myself!!”

“And the truth is…?”

“Stomachs get cold in the snow country, and everyone knows a cold stomach means diarrh—”

“That’s what I thought it was—”

“Wait! What are you making me say, you rascally skeleton?!”

While Tetora—who clung to him as if she were hugging him—and Li Gan squabbled, Naotsugu was at his wit’s end. He raised both his big hands, caught Tetora’s sides, and lowered her lightly to the ground. He’d felt Li Gan’s eyes on him.

The meaning had gotten through to him right away. In short, he was asking, Why not invite this girl?

With the raid in mind, Naotsugu looked Tetora over.

In raids, Clerics were frontline healers. They were expected to recover the main tank while relying on their heavy armor. To that end, they had the advantage of being able to use the heaviest equipment of the three recovery classes.

Further, of all twelve classes, they were one of the three classes allowed to wear full-body metal armor, along with Guardian (Naotsugu’s class) and Samurai (Soujirou’s class). They were also able to equip shields, and of the twelve classes, in terms of equipment, their defensive abilities were second only to Guardians.

Clerics’ duty was to rely on this equipment while using recovery spells to support the main tank’s HP from the front line. Since the main tank was the first to take monster attacks, it had the roughest position in violent raid battles. Naturally, in addition to sword and ax strikes, those attacks also included wide-range spells like Dragon Breath.

These attacks were aimed at the main tank, but since they were ranged attacks and Clerics were so close, they often got pulled in. Of course, they were that close to begin with because they were able to use more powerful recovery spells that way, but even then, the front line was a terrifying place. Clerics ended up having to bear great responsibility without flinching from the risk, and in Elder Tales, they were sometimes called the staunchest defenders.

When he took another look at Tetora’s equipment, it seemed very light.

Of course, it was possible that Tetora’s current equipment was meant for wearing around town instead of for combat, and he couldn’t really count on that judgment. Shiroe might have been able to tell what sort of magical abilities lurked in the chic vest she had equipped, but that was a stunt Naotsugu couldn’t pull off. His conclusion was, in the end, that he simply didn’t know. Her level was perfect, and when it came to raids, he wanted an excellent healer badly enough to kill for it.

However, because the situation was what it was, he felt hesitant about taking a girl to a battlefield where her life would be in danger.

“Well, when you’re as splendid a girl as I am, you just give off pheromones no matter what’s going on.”

As Tetora spoke, she puffed out her chest and wore an expression that seemed to say, Goodness gracious, what a pain.

Apparently she’d misinterpreted Naotsugu’s scrutiny. This wasn’t at all what Naotsugu wanted to hear, but Tetora had planted her hands on her hips and was rapping away cheerfully: Pheromones, pheromones, no help for that, I saw through that, hm-hm-hmmm. Although there was no telling what she was happy about, she tried to glom on to Naotsugu again, proudly, and he couldn’t let his guard down. For his part, Naotsugu desperately tried to peel her away.

“I don’t think it was pheromones that came out of that projecting posterior of yours. I think it was probably wind.”

Li Gan, who had a finger to his chin and looked pensive, punctured Tetora’s attitude with a single strike.

“Wha?!”

“Wha?”

A look of intense sorrow came onto Tetora’s face, and immediately afterward, her knees nearly buckled. Forcing herself to regain her footing, even so, she stuck to her guns:

“Idols do not break wind!”

“Do they pee?”

“No!”

Naotsugu had made the comeback on reflex, but Tetora picked it up deftly. Her timing was impeccable.

“Okay, you pass.”

“Huh?”

“You pass—Listen, this is sudden, but…”

Just as he’d told Li Gan, in the end, it was about instinct.

Besides, Naotsugu had picked up a nostalgic air about Tetora. It resembled his companions who’d just sprinted ahead, even though they hadn’t been looking for victory.

That was how Naotsugu managed to recruit a new raid member.

3

“So you had the guts to show your face here again, huh, Shiroe of Log Horizon?!”

When Shiroe turned, he saw Demiquas, whose entire body seemed to be radiating anger.

Behind him was a fallen table he’d apparently kicked over; food was splattered across the floor. The members of Silver Sword were looking at Demiquas—in other words, at the table where their leader William and his guest Shiroe were—with dangerous expressions.

This zone was located within the city of Susukino, and naturally, it was a noncombat area.

As a result, no guild members had drawn their weapons. One of them spoke to a frightened Person of the Earth: “We’re fine here. Go in back and take a break.”

At those words, Shiroe smiled slightly. They’re a good guild, he’d thought.

However, the enraged Demiquas didn’t seem to have taken it that way.

“As laid-back as ever, ain’tcha!”

“It’s been a long time, Democracy.”

The big, well-muscled man looked exactly as he had half a year ago. His equipment had been significantly updated, but his thick, bare, log-like arms and bloodshot eyes hadn’t changed. This world really did bear a marked resemblance to Elder Tales: Even though time had passed, there was no change in his appearance. To Shiroe, the discovery felt both natural and disappointing.

This encounter hadn’t been unanticipated. When they’d decided to head for Susukino, the first thing Naotsugu had worried about had been running into Demiquas and his guild, the Briganteers. When Shiroe had rescued Serara of the Crescent Moon League right after the Catastrophe, he’d come into conflict with the Briganteers in Susukino. They’d been ruling the town with violence at the time, and they were the ones he’d rescued Serara from. In this world, where settling matters through combat lacked the deterrent of death, the victory Shiroe’s group had scored against them might not have had any influence on the situation in general. However, even so, they’d succeeded in rescuing Serara, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that since the others had been relying on violence, they’d hurt their self-esteem.

“Step outside, Shiroe!”

Demiquas pounded the massive oak table with a fist like a chunk of iron.

Apparently Naotsugu’s prediction had been correct. It had been a completely natural prediction, and it would have been hard for it to be wrong, but Demiquas hadn’t forgotten the incident from half a year ago, and he probably wasn’t just going to let it go.

“What do you plan to do outside?”

Shiroe knew the answer to this with absolute certainty, but he asked anyway.

He knew what Demiquas wanted, but even so, he couldn’t just skip all the steps in the middle. It was a conventional exchange of taunts. This was a grudge Shiroe had created in the past, so he couldn’t run from it. Now, when he was right in the middle of negotiations to recruit raid members, he had to avoid showing weakness in front of William.

“Which do you like better, Hamburg steak or mincemeat cutlet?”

“I like tofu.”

“That’s great. Nice and soft. I’ll pound you to a pulp, so get outside!”

“Shut up, Demi.”

However, William interrupted bluntly.

“That guy’s my guest.”

“What the hell do I care?! William, he— My—”

“You lost, didn’t you?”

“—!”

“You lost. And quit picking fights.”

“But!”

“I’ll crush you again, Demiquas.”

William issued the warning in a bitterly cold voice.

Shiroe pushed his glasses up with a fingertip, thinking. He’d known about the circumstances in Susukino through reports. That half a year ago, the confusion after Shiroe’s group had left Susukino had continued. That after the Round Table Council had been established, they’d put together several caravans between Akiba and Susukino, and had finished rescuing the people who’d been left behind in the city. After that, Silver Sword had moved their headquarters to this northern country, and while Susukino’s current atmosphere was slightly barbarous, it had settled down into a frontier player town.

Susukino had been a lawless city, crowded with combat guilds, but because Silver Sword—a group that had pulled off some of the top raids on the server—had moved in, public order had returned, even if it was rather unsteady. William’s group was a guild whose power was right on the heels of D.D.D. and the Knights of the Black Sword on the Yamato Server, and although they hadn’t actively dominated the town, they hadn’t tolerated any insolent boasting from amateurs. To William and the others, anyone who got violent as a group, especially with People of the Earth—whose combat power was clearly inferior to that of Adventurers—was a despicable coward. They wouldn’t let anyone like that talk about Elder Tales or combat.

Shiroe had just witnessed a real-life example from that report.

Six ears were sticking up over the kitchen counter. Felinoid People of the Earth had poked their heads up partway so that their eyes hovered just above the counter, and they were watching the situation on the floor. Those eyes did seem to hold the feeling that this was a bit of a problem, but there was no fear in them.

Silver Sword must have won the trust of the People of the Earth here in Susukino. Susukino was on the front line of the struggle with the Giants, and ever since the days of Elder Tales, it had been a frontier town where tough guys gathered. This time around, that might have influenced things in a positive way.

They probably felt safer now, when Silver Sword—who were disciplined, even if they were a surly combat group—were here as the town’s guardians, than they had when the Briganteers and other scoundrels had swaggered around as if they owned the place.

Finding himself the target of William’s cutting words, Demiquas ground his teeth. He glared at Shiroe with a curse in his eyes and enough force to run him through.

“In the first place, friend, you couldn’t win against Shiroe.”

“Hey, I’ve picked up a few raid items since then.”

True, when he looked, he saw that the Wyvern Leg Guards that Demiquas had equipped seemed to have been drastically modified. In addition, various pieces of his equipment looked well used, showing that over the past six months, he’d participated in several raids. Not only that, but they couldn’t have been low-level raids. The King of Beasts’ Armor was a found item in the Master of Tenvictory Plateau, a field raid for level-90 players. If he’d done that after the Catastrophe, it meant he’d succeeded at a challenge difficult enough to deserve praise.

“Thinking you could win with equipment is the reason you couldn’t beat Shiroe.”

“~~~!!”

Demiquas radiated inarticulate murderous intent. In contrast, William’s laid-back attitude didn’t flicker. Shiroe didn’t know what kind of relationship had been built between the two of them, but he could imagine it. No doubt they’d gotten into a contest of strength and had clarified their respective positions in the hierarchy. William had won a victory so overwhelming that Demiquas was left with no choice but to fall silent.

“And then, and then, the Briganteers lost half their members. Well, you can’t blame them, you know. He got completely shredded by a swordfighting cat who wasn’t even in a guild. That obviously made the foundations shaky. On top of that, the craptastic Rondarg got poached by the West.”

“Hey, self-proclaimed idol. It’s okay for you to say ‘crap’?”

“You mustn’t say ‘crap.’ It will destroy your popularity.”

“Hah! I-I didn’t say it. I’d never say ‘crap.’ It would pollute my mouth.”

“Planning to be one of those anything-for-attention idols, are you?”

“I’m an orthodox, beautiful, galactic idol! I’m so outer space I’d make the Voyager jealous!”

“That sounds kinda lonely. Never mind that, what’s Demiquas up to?”

“I’m not lonely!! Demi-Demi is Silver Sword’s junior member henchman, and so are the Briganteers. And now Susukino’s peaceful. I’m not lonely, all right? Well, about half of it’s because Demi-Demi’s bride is an excellent person. And also, I’m not lonely.”

These cheerful, thoughtless voices reached the table where Shiroe, William, and Demiquas stood in the midst of searing tension. The voices grew louder and louder, probably because they were walking this way. However, apparently, they didn’t have the sense to lower their voices.

Demiquas’s face went red, and tensed with something that wasn’t anger.

“Seriously?! A bride?! What-the-heck city!!”

“He’s a married man, is he? Lucky fellow.”

“No, they’re not married, or rather, he refuses to admit it, but according to my information network—the People of the Earth—his guild house is neat as a pin, his sheets are laundered crisp, and three meals get fixed every day, and his guild members are gaga over her. It sounds like he got himself adopted by a People of the Earth noblewoman.”

“Huh…?”

“He kidnapped this Person of the Earth, thinking he’d turn her into a servant, but she took care of him and he went all soft, The End. I swear, it’s like some ero-game development. Oh, but Mister Naotsugu? Don’t you want me to take care of you? Dweh-heh-heh. I’ll help you out. I may not look it, but I am an idol, you know.”

“Whatever, just get down, you counterfeit idol!!”

Shiroe heard a cute voice laughing—“Gweh-heh-heh!”—in a tone that wasn’t cute at all.

Inconveniently, the other two voices were male, and he recognized them.

“So anyway, thanks to that, Demi-Demi’s really mellowed out lately… Oh. There he is, even.”

That instant, without any lead-up at all, Demiquas flew through the air. Wyvern Kick. The flying kick, which included a glide of about five meters, was a prominent Monk special attack skill. He’d probably activated the skill just by twisting his torso, without using the menu, and he’d done it at a speed that was beyond comparison with what it had been six months ago.

The attack had been made without any preparatory motions, but in a move so quick it was almost impossible to see, Naotsugu rammed it with the shield he’d had ready. The light, clear, high sound was probably proof that Demiquas’s attack hadn’t been a serious one. This was a noncombat zone, so if he had been, the Kunie clan guards would have appeared. Naotsugu also hadn’t blocked it in earnest. He’d just held his shield up over his shoulder, blandly.

However, the attack’s direct target, the slim girl who’d been hugging Naotsugu’s neck, seemed to have been overawed. Her trembling mouth hung open, and she clung to Naotsugu desperately, like a bear cub.

The trio that had come in through the door consisted of Naotsugu, Li Gan, and a Cleric. They’d probably gotten information on Demiquas, who was very likely to be hostile to Shiroe, and had come to meet up with him. However, their timing had been rotten, and Demiquas himself had overheard them chatting as they swapped information.

They probably hadn’t meant anything by it, but the content of their conversation had infuriated Demiquas. Shiroe had to admit that that was only natural. If people talked about something like that in public, let alone revealed things like those while he was in the middle of picking a fight, it was only to be expected. He did think that unleashing a kick in retaliation had been going too far, but if the other guy was Naotsugu, there was nothing to worry about. He was used to getting kicked during his bouts with Akatsuki. Even in Akiba, it was safe to call this particular Guardian an expert in taking flying kicks and flying knee kicks. Considering that his defense rate against Akatsuki was about 50 percent, Akatsuki’s kicks might be on par with those of a professional Monk in real life.

“He kicked?!”

“Way to take advantage of the confusion: Where are you putting your hands?! Don’t cling! Quit leaning on me!”

“Dammit, Tetora. What’re you shooting your mouth off for?”

Thanks to their conversation, which completely failed to mesh, the situation got even more chaotic.

Apparently, the Cleric that was hanging on to Naotsugu’s neck for dear life was called Tetora—a cute name. On checking her level and guild, it all became clear to Shiroe: Naotsugu had probably brought her back for the raid. If they recruited another helper or two, plus himself and Naotsugu, they’d manage to pull a full raid together somehow. Just when Shiroe was about to breathe a sigh of relief, William spoke, an entertained smile on his lips:

“Perfect timing. Add that healer and Demi, and we’ll have enough people. You saw how hot-blooded he is. He can settle his score with Shiroe during the raid. Hah!”

At his sardonic laugh, Shiroe felt the mood he’d had up until a moment ago fly to pieces.

The raid to explore the deepest part of the Depths of Palm looked set to bring Shiroe unending worry and trouble.

4

The preparations for their departure went forward without a hitch.

Most Adventurer property was kept in their rooms or guild halls, in the rented safe-deposit boxes at the bank, or in their own luggage. It was common sense for veteran Adventurers in this world to have several weight-reduction bags, also known as Magic Bags. It wasn’t at all unusual to carry around with you consumable items and equipment you’d need on an adventure, just as they were.

On top of that, Silver Sword was a guild that specialized in raids. For its elite members, their daily routine was combat. After William gave the order, they were fully prepared by evening.

In this post-Catastrophe world, the time they experienced seemed to be twelve times as long as it had been when Elder Tales was a game. In addition, now that they couldn’t make free use of the Fairy Rings, traveling long distances took a shocking amount of time. In order to reach the Depths of Palm from Susukino, they would have to cross the Laiport Strait. Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Li Gan had flown across the strait on griffins, but that didn’t seem possible with a group of twenty-four.

As a raid guild that had participated in the struggle for supremacy on the Yamato server, Silver Sword had many members with flying mounts, but not everyone had them. It sounded as if they would have been able to find enough if they’d strained themselves, but William simply decided to travel overland. Shiroe went along with that decision.

Silver Sword was William’s guild, and he was best suited to take command.

Shiroe and Naotsugu understood this logic very well, so they’d placed themselves under his leadership. The ones who grumbled about this and that were Demiquas and Tetora. Possibly because his pride got in the way, Demiquas didn’t seem able to get by without complaining, and for her part, Tetora plagued Naotsugu with remarks like “I want to become a flying idol.”

Good grief. She’s really taken a shine to him, Shiroe thought.

For Naotsugu, all sorts of springtimes were probably on their way.

If they were going overland, there was only one route: They’d go through the tunnel that ran under the Laiport Strait. As was usual in Elder Tales, this underground tunnel, Z539, was a dungeon. However, for a twenty-four-member full-raid unit whose members’ average level was 93, it was no threat at all. In the first place, anyone who was level 40 could get through this particular dungeon as a solo player.

Led by William, the raid unit was currently advancing through this dungeon.

In Elder Tales, the basic unit of group combat was the party, or in other words, six people. This sort of party formed the foundation of twenty-four-member full raids as well. Full raids were composed of four squads of six members each, put together, and at times like this, the parties were referred to by numbers One through Four.

There was infinite variety in raids, and no single correct configuration existed. However, in general, the basic pattern was for the First party to be built to be outstanding at defense, and for the Second to emphasize balance so that it could act as a mobile unit. Since the main duty of the Third and Fourth parties was attacking, their members were chosen with an emphasis on firepower.

You could say that organizing parties was the first tough problem in raids.

The basic idea when putting them together was the members’ classes. For example, the warrior in the First party—in other words, the main tank—would have to draw attacks from the strongest monsters to themselves at all times, throughout the entire raid. To that end, they needed the highest possible defense abilities, high-level HP, and the ability to attract monsters’ aggro with the strongest taunts. The only class to fulfill all these requirements was Guardian. Samurai was another potential candidate, but when you took the presence or absence of shield equipment into consideration, Guardians were more stable.

However, this was just a general theory.

When the participating Samurai had a higher level than the Guardian, or when the quality of their equipment was better, this wasn’t necessarily true. In addition, the personalities of the Adventurer acting as the main tank had an even greater influence than their equipment or level. Since tanks were at the very center of raids and had to take enemy attacks for an extended period, the position carried a heavy burden. Techniques were necessary, of course, but so were strength of will and bonds with the defender’s companions. Even among Guardians, there were Adventurers whose minds tended to focus on attacking, and who didn’t like guiding or protecting their compatriots. Those were better suited to being in command, or to being active in the Third or Fourth attacking parties, than to being tanks.

In short, organizing parties that would participate in a raid was a difficult puzzle in which you couldn’t discover the best combinations unless you carefully considered not only class and level, but the personalities of all the participants. The weak points and actions varied depending on the monster you were fighting, and when you considered countermeasures for those as well, there were innumerable answers. It was a tough problem that had worried commanders for twenty years.

Shiroe guessed that this was the reason William had chosen to travel overland: so that he could grasp the personalities and habits of the new members and refer to that information when forming the actual parties.

I doubt this is going to help him much, though.

Shiroe, who’d thought this, had been put in charge of the Second party.

Its members were:

Shiroe the Enchanter.

Naotsugu the Guardian.

Tetora the Cleric.

Voinen, a Druid.

Federico, a Swashbuckler.

Demiquas the Monk.

Voinen and Federico were Silver Sword veterans, and they’d given Shiroe a much friendlier welcome than he’d expected.

The problem, naturally, was Demiquas. Every time a battle began, he leapt out faster than anyone else in the party, crushing monsters as if venting his anger on them. The monsters’ average levels were between 30 and 40. Demiquas was level 93, and the fact that he could tear through them like rice paper was only to be expected. However, you couldn’t see either personality or teamwork that way.

Shiroe had spoken to him a few times, attempting to reprimand him, but Demiquas only gave short, threatening responses, and it wasn’t possible to have a conversation.

“There’s no point in rushing things.”

As Voinen spoke to him, he wore an amiable expression.

“It would be nice if we managed to finish up before the year’s out.”

In a way, Voinen’s thought was only natural.

In the first place, raids weren’t the sort of problem you could break through in a day once you’d tackled them. Even in his recollections of the Elder Tales days, there had been countless normal (albeit raid-rank) monsters and between five and ten boss monsters to a single raid zone. If they weren’t careful, even normal monsters could wipe them out. With boss monsters, usually a party would feel out their abilities while getting annihilated dozens of times, then finally find a way through to win.

When they got wiped out in raid zones, they wouldn’t be sent back to the Temple in a player town. They’d revive at the entrance to the zone. The zone entrance functioned as the same sort of resurrection area as the Temple.

Even if they got annihilated, they could tackle the zone again from the entrance, but the number of attempts would probably be a large one. Thinking it would take about a month was valid.

As if to support Voinen’s remark, on William’s instructions, Shiroe had laid in more than a month’s worth of provisions and consumables. Not content with this, cautious Shiroe had stuffed his Magic Bag to its limit with a variety of materials and tools, and as a result, they’d probably be able to hole up in the zone they were capturing for about two months.

That would be convenient in terms of giving their watchers the slip as well, he thought. Susukino was remote and sparsely populated, but it was still a player town. It was likely that they’d be noticed. If it was possible for them to lie low in an undiscovered zone, that would probably be safer. Shiroe didn’t know exactly how far they could rely on that, but…

All that said, he didn’t want to take a lot of time.

Even if they were holed up somewhere, the longer it took, the greater the danger of an information leak. In the first place, if Shiroe’s prediction was correct, their watchers weren’t the sort who could be shaken by simply switching zones. Nyanta and Akatsuki were creating an alibi for him back in Akiba, but even then, he didn’t know how well it would work. As a result, he wanted to settle this as quickly as possible.

In the midst of Shiroe’s anxiety, he noticed traces of loneliness within himself.

“That’s odd,” he murmured, scratching his cheek with his index finger.

He’d only spent six months there, but he missed his guild home, nestled in that ancient tree. He wanted to be in the dining room with the fragrant wood flooring Michitaka had made for them, listening to everyone’s cheerful voices. He wanted to drink roasted green tea on the veranda, out in the gentle wind, as he watched the evening sun. For that to happen, he had to make this mission a success. He was a guild master now, Shiroe thought, psyching himself up.

“Wow?!”

When Shiroe glanced in the direction of the weird cry, Tetora was looking at him, her eyes round.

“What, what’s up?”

“Shiroe smiled! He was smiling to himself; I saw him!”

“Well, yeah, he smiles.”

“Really?! I’d never seen it before…”

The perpetrators of this incredibly rude dialogue were Naotsugu and Tetora.

“Shiro’s, y’know… He’s moody, see.”

“Oh. I see… Poor Shiroe. Want to see my panties?”

“You’re an idol. You can’t show him those willingly.”

“I wouldn’t show him. I just asked. I was only curious. If I were going to show them, I’d pretend it was an unavoidable accident. Then I’d report whoever saw them.”

“You really are the worst idol ever.”

“Oh, stop. Naotsugu. Even if you fall for me all over again, I can never belong to just one person, you know.”

Their combination, which left no room for anyone else to get a word in, startled Shiroe. Before his very eyes, Naotsugu barked, “I’m not falling for you” at Tetora, and Tetora clung to Naotsugu, saying, “Only a tsundere would say something that cold. I’m going to climb you.”

They really must have hit it off.

As he watched, even Shiroe forgot his annoyance at the rude words and began to feel oddly entertained. Come to think of it, it was only the second day since they’d met. It was only natural that she hadn’t seen him smile; they knew practically nothing about each other.

Tetora, who’d apparently proceeded to say something that made Naotsugu mad, broke into a run, and the man took off after her. Shiroe didn’t attempt to stop them. Those two would probably be able to take down any monster they ran into in the dungeon with no trouble, and in any case, Demiquas had taken care of all the ones nearby.

Even so, Shiroe did wave at them and call, “Be careful.” From behind him, a voice spoke: “You people are seriously confident, aren’t you.”

William was fully equipped, and he carried an enormous bow on his back. He came up alongside Shiroe, gazing ahead of them with a sharp expression.

“They’re not confident so much as easygoing,” Shiroe answered.

At those words, William seemed to smile wryly.

Over the past few days, he’d come to understand that William’s sharp, wary expression didn’t actually reflect what he felt inside. The expression was his default, and it didn’t mean he was in a particularly bad mood. His small, ironic smile had no deeper meaning, either. It was just William’s usual face.

A good raid commander had to grasp his members’ personalities and the direction they wanted to go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to determine their party formation or disseminate orders properly.

Meanwhile, the members of a raid also gradually got to know the raid commander who led them. If they just obeyed their commander’s orders, there was no point. They had to understand what the orders meant and the intent behind them, and then, for the first time, they’d gain the speed of response that was necessary to teamwork.

Shiroe, who’d been entrusted with the leadership of the Second party, had consciously attempted to grasp William’s character, and as he did so, he’d learned that William thought about his guild members and those around him far more than anyone could have imagined from his habitually cross expression.

In a way, that was only natural. If William didn’t have abilities on that level, he never would have been able to command Silver Sword, a combat guild that showed up on the server rankings.

“He looks the same as always.”

The fact that William’s gaze was turned toward the big man who was destroying a monster made the meaning of those vague words clear. True, in terms of the Second party’s teamwork, Demiquas was the only one out of step.

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Shiroe felt apologetic, and the emotion showed through a little in his words. However, William smiled fearlessly, stroked his thin chin with his left hand as if pinching it, and squinted his sharp eyes as though there was a wry smile in them.

“Still, he came to raid, too. He’ll learn. Even I and the other knuckleheads learned. If you don’t learn, you really can’t go any further.”

Several pieces were missing from William’s words, and Shiroe wasn’t yet able to understand what he meant.

5

Three weeks had passed, and the party was in the middle of their capture.

Their plans to aim for a month had crumbled easily, and the future had grown less and less clear. Even after three weeks, they’d only managed to defeat two bosses. They didn’t even have a grasp of the entire zone.

The party’s atmosphere grew harsher and more fatigued.

“Damn yoooooooou!”

Inwardly cursing at Demiquas, who was doing the howling, Voinen desperately cast Heartbeat Healing. It set Demiquas’s HP to recover incrementally for twenty seconds. The green-and-orange pulse that surrounded the big warrior was the spell’s effect.

Demiquas went from a rush—his specialty—to pounding the ochre-colored slime creature with middle-guard jabs.

Lightning Straight. The full-force attack, which he’d leaned far forward to launch, punched through the mud-like enemy with incredible ease. However, Voinen came very close to screaming, That won’t work!

Demiquas’s attack pierced the Orc Jelly’s body, scattering it with a sticky sound. The substance, which had splattered all over, gave off a foul stench and began to dissolve. White smoke was rising even from Demiquas, the one who’d launched the attack. Orc Jellies had powerfully acidic bodies, and attacking them at close range did great damage to the attacker as well. In spite of this, the enormous slime, which was over five meters, didn’t seem to be bothered all that much.

“What did I tell you?!”

Voinen began running toward his companion. The hot-blooded idiot’s charge had taken him outside the twenty-meter range in which recovery spells were effective. Heartbeat Healing, which he’d cast on Demiquas before, was continuing to recover his health, but it was nowhere near enough. Unless he maintained his HP by combining Instant Recovery and Small Recovery, Demiquas would go down again.

Demiquas always fouled up their teamwork this way, and Voinen was irritated with him.

From the drainage outlets on their right and left, new Orc Jellies appeared with weighty sounds.

It was a melee.

There were twenty-four members in this raid unit, led by William, whom Voinen followed. It was composed of four parties, but only the First and Second had defensive capabilities above a certain level. Because the First party was specialized toward defense and holding the enemy in place, it had to draw lots of Jellies on the frontline.

The Third and Fourth parties were in charge of firepower, and their mission was to exterminate enemies. Their makeup emphasized defeating monsters, but their defensive abilities weren’t all that high. Their role was to swiftly dispatch the monsters the First party had attracted.

That meant the role of the Second party, the one Voinen was part of, was to act as a mobile force.

When more monsters appeared than the First party was able to hold back, their mission was to divide them up and immobilize them. When many enemies had launched a surprise attack on the raid unit, they had to protect the “softer” Third and Fourth parties from them.

As you’d expect, the star of the raid was the First party, which faced off against the biggest, strongest enemies without giving an inch, but the Second held a tactically important position that required resourceful decisions and immediate responses. Unless all members understood the role their own party had to play, coordinated teamwork was difficult.

They were being pursued by monsters that had ambushed them from both sides.

The First party was projecting out onto the front line, which made it hard for them to turn back. Demiquas had gotten impatient with the slow-moving battle, and had charged their way, but encountering enemy reinforcements at that moment in time was highly dangerous. The enemy reinforcements had appeared on either side of the Third and Fourth parties, or in other words, the defenseless rear guard. The spellcasters, who had been performing long-range attacks, were particularly lightly equipped. If attacked, they’d go down easily.

Hey, you’re in no shape to talk about other people!!

As far as Voinen was concerned, he was running after Demiquas, who’d gotten too far ahead.

Conscious of his feet, which seemed to be striking the ground much too slowly, he kept a wary eye on the translucent, dirty, gelatinous walls.

This might be bad. Just as Voinen thought it, a mass of silver charged in from his right.

“Anchor Howl!”

With enough spirit to set his eardrums buzzing, the Guardian drew one of the Orc Jellies. It was Naotsugu, who was also from the Second party. Voinen had heard that the guild he was from was famous but small, and he was impressed for the umpteenth time. From his actions, Naotsugu was far more accustomed to raids than Voinen had expected.

The monster, its repulsive body quivering, seemed to have locked on to the newcomer. Naotsugu held his shield up defensively; he probably understood that if he actively went on the attack, he’d get hit with an acid counterstrike, and the damage would increase. In terms of technique, the way he cleverly used taunting skills and his shield to keep the damage down might have been even better than Dinclon, the fellow Guardian who was Silver Sword’s full-time tank.

The Jelly that had come up on the left, as if to catch Naotsugu in a pincer attack, stretched upward like swelling mochi, then stopped moving.

He didn’t even have to hear Astral Hypno’s sharp chant to recognize the Enchanters’ hypnotic spell. A monster targeted by it would stop moving entirely, although for only about twenty seconds. Naturally, since it was “hypnosis,” inflicting even a little damage would undo the status and let it start attacking again, but even so, being able to cut down on the number of enemies participating in a battle was an enormous help. Since this was a raid zone, the monsters that appeared were all beefed-up, large-scale enemies bent on confrontation, and the time they spent hypnotized was reduced to about four seconds. However, with even four seconds, it was easy to sprint past a stretched-out monster and reach the front line.

“Enemy reinforcements; requesting support! Orc Jellies, direction of travel: eight o’clock!!”

The voice of Shiroe, who’d cast the hypnosis spell, rang out.

Obeying that call, the Third and Fourth attack parties changed their targets. The first to connect was Commander William’s Rapid Shot. Crystal arrows glittered like falling stars, opening fist-sized holes in the gigantic Orc Jelly’s side. Then an unbroken rain of flame, ice, and lightning magic attacks poured down.

Without exception, raid monsters had stupendous HP. Even under concentrated attacks from ten people, it took a long time to finish one off. Naturally, the Orc Jelly that Shiroe had stopped in its tracks became active again, but in that four seconds, it was quite possible for a Guardian to store up aggro.

Voinen saw a lightly equipped Cleric bounding around.

The healer, whose name was Tetora or something like that, also had more combat experience than her appearance suggested. Her guild was Light Indigo, an insubstantial outfit he’d never heard of, but she seemed to have adapted to the raid in a week. Her equipment was light, in contradiction of the generally observed formula for Clerics, who were able to equip full-body armor. However, he sensed an uncommon instinct in the way she understood this and contrived ways to move around that didn’t expose her weak points.

Tetora darted in and out with short, quick movements, again and again, scattering Reactive Heal around. Then, when the Orc Jelly contracted, compressing itself, she took advantage of the motion to hide behind Naotsugu. This was a player technique that used the Guardian’s powerful defense as a fortress to protect the other player from raid monsters’ powerful ranged attacks.

“Naotsugu, are you okay?”

“Just fine. Bring it on, slime city!”

“Woohoo! You’re so cool, Naotsugu!”

“Hey, you just used me as a shield!”

“I’ll recover you, so sacrifice yourself for me again!”

Those two were noisy every time, and Voinen laughed in spite of himself. Shiroe and his two companions hadn’t lost a bit of their toughness. It was really something.

A strange light shone down from the zone’s high ceiling—probably some sort of magic light or luminescent mushroom. Thanks to that, even though this was a dungeon, the faint glow meant it wasn’t hard to see their surroundings. When they were exploring, they had the assistance of their Bug Lights as well.

However, even so, they were several hundred meters underground. Now that they’d entered Abyssal Shaft—the raid zone under the very lowest level of the Depths of Palm—even at the smallest estimate, there were several hundred million tons of dirt, sand, and bedrock over their heads. For Adventurers, who were former ordinary students and average adults, this was significant pressure.

In addition, when they were exploring like this, the complicated structure and the drainage outlets meant they never knew when they’d be ambushed, which added even more stress. The capture situation wasn’t going very well, either.

It wasn’t that they were slacking. This zone was simply more difficult than Voinen had anticipated.

They spent from eight to ten hours a day fighting ten-odd monster battles, give or take a few. That was the best they could do. Every battle was a hard one, and it took time for them to prepare themselves again. The range they’d explored wasn’t expanding much, either.

Even so, the three who’d joined up temporarily didn’t seem the least bit discouraged.

This, even though the members of Silver Sword, top elites led by William, were feeling quite a lot of tension. Compared to ordinary Adventurers, these three add-ons were displaying activity that went far beyond competent. But it seemed to stem from their personalities, rather than their levels, special skills, or equipment.

“Here I go. I’m going. If you fall in love with me, I’m really sorry.”

“Whatever, just do it.”

“Tee-hee. All right, here it comes! In response to everyone’s requests… Please listen! Aurora Heal!!”

Rainbow light danced wildly, and the wounds of their companions over a wide range in the surrounding area began to recover. The Orc Jellies’ ranged attacks pulled in not just the targeted tank but all the attackers who were close enough to launch close-range strikes with swords and axes. His comrade Federico’s HP was down to about half. Of course, it was Voinen and the other healers’ job to heal them if they could, but in terms of their role, they really had to prioritize the Warrior who was taking all the monsters’ attacks directly.

In order to fill the hole Voinen had left when he ran after Demiquas to provide support, Tetora had used a big skill that took a long time to chant.

“Yessss! Aren’t I smart and cute and just totally perfect?!”

“Yeah, yeah. Your attitude blows, but thanks for the heal! Hiyah!”

“Concentrate your attacks! Avoid making close-range attacks!”

Shiroe sent a support spell at Tetora. At the same time, Federico, who’d been freshly healed, returned to the front line.

Despite the fact that the voices behind him still sounded like they were enjoying themselves, Voinen was desperately casting recovery spells one after another.

Apparently, these Orc Jellies were pretty bad opponents for the Weapon Attackers and Warriors. Each time they were hit at close range, spray flew, inflicting damage that was almost like a counterstrike. The abnormal statuses and ranged attacks that resulted from their powerful Acid Smoke were threats as well. Just one of them would have been bad enough, but when four or five of them attacked at once, as they were doing now, it was really hard to cope.

“Demiquas, get back!”

“Over mooks like these?!”

As he shouted, Demiquas retreated with Phantom Step. Pungent white smoke was rising thickly from both his arms. The damage to his weapons had to be enormous as well.

“Dammit, hurry up and heal me!”

“You don’t have to holler. I can hear you just fine.”

Voinen began to chant Heal. Demiquas didn’t have much HP left; if he made another charge like this, he’d be unable to fight in no time flat. He’d probably retreated because he understood that, but Voinen didn’t appreciate his cursing and irritated attitude.

Demiquas probably hadn’t liked his response. Demiquas glared with ferocious eyes and spat, “If you’re hearing me, then get the lead out!”

Voinen sighed. Good grief.

True, Demiquas was a pain in the neck.

As a member of the same party, he wished someone would do something about him.

If Voinen charged around all on his own the way Demiquas did, the healing work would utterly break down. And yet, since he rushed ahead without a thought for the ranges of Voinen’s spells, their formation got dragged around, and it set them up for tough spots like these.

Understandably, the guy had died a lot. Because there were always Recovery classes in the area during raids with lots of people, when someone died in combat, it was possible to resurrect them right away. To Voinen and other raid-guild Adventurers, it was something insignificant, like passing out, but even so, while you were dead, you couldn’t do anything. From the perspective of fighting power, dying meant nothing less than lowering the performance of the entire raid unit.

Lately, as you’d expect, he’d learned, and he’d retreat like this before he died, but in terms of efficiency, Voinen couldn’t approve of this, either. While he was waiting for recovery, the First party was supporting the vanguard. That First party increased their output to make up for the hole left by Demiquas’s retreat.

In other words, the man’s selfish charges were being shored up by the goodwill and support of those around him. If that broke off, these grandstand plays could easily pull down the entire unit and destroy it.

Still… Voinen thought as he ran alongside Demiquas. Voinen had layered on Healing Wind and Heartbeat Healing, and Demiquas was returning to the front line as if he were a beast released from a chain.

Viewed fairly, Demiquas was still extraordinary.

Their exploration had lasted three weeks, and they’d been deep underground the whole time. They’d fought harsh battles one after another, day after day. They’d never actually been annihilated, but the individual participants had probably died more than ten times each.

When ordinary people were put in a situation like this, it was perfectly natural for them to get stressed and take it out on the people around them. It was far stranger for Shiroe and the others from Log Horizon to be able to stay cheerful under these extreme circumstances.

Voinen thought of himself as an elite, particularly when it came to raids.

He followed the William. He was aware that he was a veteran of hell.

It wasn’t just Voinen. All the members of Silver Sword thought this way. They prided themselves on being the toughest on the server.

However, even Silver Sword—a guild that specialized in raids, a guild that had boasted of being the strongest—had been reduced to about forty people, 20 percent of its pre-Catastrophe core members. There were also some who, although still on the register, had withdrawn from the front lines of raids.

At present, particularly when the Adventurers were challenging a zone whose level matched their own, raids were simply that hard.

As proof, D.D.D., who’d bragged about being the top guild on the server, was playing around with the combat level-50 goblin conquest at Seventh Fall.

Voinen and the others thought this was hilarious. The idea of all those level 90s lining up for a level-50 zone… They should call themselves a large-scale-play guild, not a raid guild.

However, precisely because he had that pride, he couldn’t completely write Demiquas off. The big Monk was dumb, and he didn’t understand teamwork. Since he never listened, he caused trouble for everyone around him. His attitude couldn’t have been worse. He had almost none of the stuff it took to conduct the joint operations known as raids.

…But he wasn’t a coward.

In the thick of a level-90 raid, end content that even D.D.D. had backed away from, in the midst of raging death and violence, this insolent Monk never stopped moving. He didn’t hesitate to make contact with monsters. His eyes never flinched away.

Voinen knew this had roots in Demiquas’s envy of Shiroe and Silver Sword. Even so, this wasn’t the sort of terror that could be overcome with that alone. How could you possibly confront clumps of slime that were several times taller than you were, and magical beasts who devoured your own limbs before your very eyes, on the strength of your pride alone?

With no help for it, Voinen cast protective spells on himself and Demiquas.

The situation was bad.

Their exploration was making no progress. This was probably the toughest battleground on the server, one that was gradually wearing away even Silver Sword’s stoicism. However, he couldn’t leave this rowdy man to die. For now, he just ran, in order to fulfill the heart’s desire of every healer: to prevent damage.

6

William, who had the trust of the Silver Sword members, was suffering.

They’d finished fighting for the day. In a camp that was too full-scale to call temporary, he tossed away a sheaf of papers detailing the results of their exploration to date, kicked back so far in his sailcloth chair that he nearly fell over, and stretched.

“This ain’t good.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Shiroe of Log Horizon was there with him. This bespectacled young man drew maps so beautiful that William’s couldn’t begin to compare. William sat with his legs carelessly apart in a wide-open stance, rocking his chair, and sighed. Even he could tell Shiro’s eyebrows were drawn together.

“About how many more do you think we’ve got?”

“Let’s see…”

Shiroe ran a fingertip across a particularly large, illustrated map.

“Three. No, four.”

This was the number of estimated boss enemies for the zone.

There were many different types of raids, and this zone was a typical “explorable” raid dungeon—one that had a set map that wasn’t randomly redrawn every time you entered it. The content in raid dungeons resembled the content of ordinary dungeons, only expanded and reinforced, made over to suit the larger groups associated with raids.

The dungeon zone was larger than the ones designed for small parties; it had many passages and small rooms, and sometimes there were traps and riddles. There were impressive great halls and caverns at strategic points in that dungeon, and, to protect those strategic points, powerful raid bosses.

All raid enemies were targets meant to be subjugated by a raid unit. In terms of this zone, since it had been designed to be attempted with twenty-four people, if they’d tried to challenge it with the manpower of a six-person party, they would simply have gotten kicked to pieces. It was bad enough that, even if they went in as a full raid, there was the possibility that they’d be defeated if they got careless. However, with normal raid monsters, Silver Sword was able to steadily continue their exploration. Even up to this point, they’d kept gradually filling in the zone map.

The problem was the raid bosses. Defeating them would require different tactics from the ones used for normal monsters.

In this zone, they’d managed to subjugate Vandemie of the First Garden and Elreida of the Fifth Garden. In addition to being powerful, both had had special abilities, and they’d been compelled to fight complicated battles.

“That’s rough.”

“Yes, and the battles with the previous two were pretty acrobatic.”

Raid boss battles always were.

If all they did was get powerful players together and challenge them, it was hard to even fight a decent battle, let alone win.

They hadn’t been quite annihilated in either fight, but that only meant there had been no single moment when everyone was dead. They’d retreated more than twenty times, in the sense that of the twenty-four members, several survivors had taken to their heels and resurrected the others in a safe area. Including the resurrections during combat, the members had been rendered unable to fight a considerable number of times.

Of course, they’d been rewarded in a few ways. They’d obtained lots of high-ranking materials of the sort that could only be acquired on raids, such as Primordial Mud, Variable Hide and Star-Iron Sheet Metal, from the Orc Jellies, Mutant Griffs, Venom Hydrangeas and Minotaur Marauders that appeared along the way. These were drop items that could be used as material by Adventurers with artisan-type abilities when they made items. As material, they resulted in extremely high-performance items, and they were so valuable there was no telling what sort of prices they’d bring.

In addition, they’d gotten a total of seven powerful fantasy-class equip items from Vandemie of the First Garden and Elreida of the Fifth Garden.

This sort of equipment had always served as huge motivation for the major raid guilds that competed to be first on the server. In particular, the items they’d acquired this time were all types they’d never seen before. In terms of performance, they were natural extensions of past fantasy-class items, but to Silver Sword, it was more than enough of a military achievement to broadcast.

Shiroe poured steaming coffee from a rough, twenty-centimeter kettle.

As he gazed at it, William calculated the remaining days.

“Ten days…probably isn’t gonna happen.”

“…”

What was worrying William was the issue of supplies.

Each time they fought, the Adventurers’ equipment wore down a little. When they died, it took more damage than usual, and it couldn’t be restored with a resurrection spell. It took constant repairs to keep equipment in proper shape.

Naturally, this was common sense in Elder Tales, and William had included it in his calculations. On explorable raids like this one, it was an issue that people had been worrying about since the Elder Tales era. Their raid unit included Blacksmiths, Armorsmiths, Tailors, Woodworkers, and more. All major guilds knew that you were supposed to conduct repairs in the spaces between battles.

However, in order to do that, you needed materials that could be used to make those repairs. Under the circumstances, without fully equipped workshops, they went through the components used in repairs at a furious rate. On top of that, the materials used to repair the equipment owned by members of a top-class combat guild like Silver Sword—in other words, fantasy-class items—were fantasy-class themselves.

It wasn’t just repairing damaged equipment. The same went for the Crystal Comets William used. These arrows paid out explosive damage, and they were fine articles made by top artisans using fantasy-class materials. Since they were consumables, it was possible to make approximately five hundred of them from the material item, Divine Rainbow Crystal. However, when it came to a series of battles like this one, even five hundred was a trivial amount. Of the nearly ten thousand Crystal Comets he’d prepared, he’d already used more than two thousand. This could be said for all consumable items, including potions, balms, charms, and scrolls.

In short, raids formed their own unique cycle.

In order to maintain the equipment acquired in raids, you needed materials acquired in raids, and through them, you gained the right to challenge more difficult raids. If you succeeded at a more difficult challenge, you got equipment whose performance was even higher. However, in order to maintain it, you had to keep attempting very difficult battles.

In order to balance this cycle, stable, historic raid guilds would regularly conduct raids in which they could procure good materials, even if the difficulty level wasn’t all that high, to replenish their supplies. However, after the Catastrophe, with the Fairy Rings not functioning correctly, it was hard to make the circuit of the raid zones that were scattered across the world. Even if that had been possible, Silver Sword was an active combat guild. The decision to compromise and go to a tepid zone for the sake of replenishing supplies was repellent to them.

William had spent the time since the Catastrophe in a whirlwind of activity.

He didn’t regret it, but even so, it had led to his disgorging the vast amount of material items and supplies that he’d stored up earlier. As long as they had full-raid-class numbers, William prided himself that they were the strongest combat group on the server. However, the state of their coffers was terrible.

“I have some material I pulled together in Akiba as well.”

“About how long do you think it’ll last?”

“Even if we add that, twenty days.”

Shiroe’s response was also hard to take. From what he’d heard, Log Horizon was a weak guild with just eight members. The fact that a place that tiny had enough to supply Silver Sword’s unit of top elites for twenty days was astonishing all by itself, but even so, it wasn’t enough to get them through the situation. It had taken them three weeks and a lot of trouble to defeat two bosses. It would be hard to do twice that much and defeat four bosses in twenty days. From past experience, bosses got stronger the farther they went.

There was one other thing William was worried about.

The cause lay in the young man in front of him.

Shiroe, who was looking down silently as if to hide his expression, was keeping a lot of secrets.

To begin with, this zone was unnatural.

Vandemie of the First Garden.

Elreida of the Fifth Garden.

William hadn’t seen the other bosses, but he could guess their names. They were probably Mezalaclau of the Second Garden, Ibra Habra of the Third Garden, and Tartaulga of the Fourth Garden. The bosses who guarded this zone had the same names and forms as the nightmare superintendents of the Nine Great Gaols of Halos. Of course, they weren’t exactly the same. In the Gaols of Halos—raid content that had been provided with the Sacred Heart expansion pack—they had been called Vandemie of the First Prison and Elreida of the Fifth Prison. They were raid bosses in the shape of a winged serpent and a forgotten white horse. These had reappeared, with their names and shapes slightly changed. Naturally, they were powerful, and their past capture methods had been consigned to oblivion.

In games, reusing character data wasn’t unusual. This zone was just one of many examples. There must be some kind of background there…assuming this world was a game.

He didn’t know whether Shiroe was hiding something, or whether he was unable to say it.

In any case, he was in no position to criticize other people.

That was William’s honest feeling on the matter.

He didn’t think they were wrong. Not about having left Akiba, and not about having gone on all those raids in the North. He didn’t think they were wrong, but Silver Sword had put too much distance between itself and a variety of voices. People couldn’t move forward by correctness alone. William hadn’t wanted to know that. He’d wanted to think that simply screaming “We’re the strongest” would be enough. He’d thought that if his friends got cold feet, all he’d have to do to rid them of their unease was raise his voice.

However, he’d realized that in some cases, it wasn’t enough.

In the end, maybe William had been wrong, and he just didn’t want to admit it.

…Wrong to turn down Shiroe’s invitation and reject the Round Table Council outright that day.

William wanted to talk about this with Shiroe.

However, right now Shiroe seemed to be harboring some big secret—although William had no idea what it might be—and looked like he was suffering. William wasn’t mature enough to go down on his knees and ask for the answer to his own doubt when Shiroe was like this, and he had no desire to become that sort of adult.

He felt like making fun of himself for his childish pride. He also felt like turning defiant about it: What’s wrong with that? It’s fine the way it is!

The conditions of their stores were gradually growing worse, and they were fighting a raid deep underground, where there was nowhere to run. What could he say to his companions from Silver Sword, who were following him through these deteriorating circumstances? He was a game junkie, and the only thing in his entire life that he’d ever put serious effort into was Elder Tales. What could he possibly offer them?

William thought he was nothing. All he had was empty bravado.

A child, swinging around that bravado—his one and only weapon—and putting on a bold front. That was him. However, if he had just one weapon, it was only natural for him to use it. As a gamer, William understood that.

“What do you think, Shiroe?”

“About what?”

At that question, William scratched his head roughly.

He couldn’t answer a question like that.

In other words, William needed a chance, too: Either to challenge, or to surrender.

To prove who he was, and who he wanted to be. Was there any difference between Demiquas, who lost his way and picked fights with everything he saw, and Silver Sword?

And that chance was right in front of him, in the midst of the battle. William had decided this himself.

For that reason, even if it hurt, the only thing to do was keep going.