4 - Noble Son, Be Surpassed

The sun was already high in the sky, and beads of sweat hung on the brows of the people in suits going this way and that on the street. The “Cool Biz” movement was on the rise, but here in the metropolis where the heat island effect was at its worst, it didn’t seem to be doing its job at all. The windows of the skyscrapers reflected the light of the summer sun, turning the asphalt into a hell of blazing heat. August was almost over, but the sweltering temperatures showed no signs of abating.

Ichiro was sitting in a seat on the café terrace, gazing at the tablet in his hand. He looked as cool as ever, enough that one might think he was enjoying an early summer breeze, yet it was still hot outside, even in the shade. Still, not only did he not show any external discomfort, he did not let a bead of sweat escape his pores. Such was Ichiro’s constantly-maintained philosophy of elegance. It was said that human philosophy could sometimes overturn common sense, although in practice, this was only true in the case of Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

“Oh, Tsuwabuki, welcome back.” This was the lawyer, Shunsaku Shaga, the kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to say stinky sweat was part of a man’s true charm.

Ichiro glanced up, and responded with a murmur.

Shaga loosened his tie, undid his shirt buttons down to his chest, and plopped himself down in the seat opposite Ichiro. It seemed he had finished whatever it was he needed to take care of. “Oh, that’s right. I found you a lawyer. A friend of mine.”

“Hmm, thank you.”

Shaga was talking about a defense lawyer to prove Ichiro’s innocence. In the illegal access incident that Ichiro had been arrested for, Thistle was the victim, so Shaga, who was Thistle’s in-house lawyer, could not serve as Ichiro’s attorney. As a result, he’d had to find another excellent lawyer, and of course, his ability to find one spoke well of his connections. “So, how did things go on your end?”

“Mm.” Ichiro, his eyes focused on the tablet, pointed to the documents piled up on the table.

“Oh, thanks. By the way, what have you been looking at?”

“The movement of the stocks. On advisement by the president of Tsunobeni.”

“How very Nihonbashi of you.” As Shaga reached for the documents Ichiro had indicated, his eyes fell on a nearby structure, the Tokyo Stock Exchange building. Any time Shaga saw pictures of the TSE, be it on the news or whatnot, he would always say “Reminds me of the Eltreum” to those around him. No one had ever agreed with his sentiment, though.

The document stack wasn’t that thick, so Shaga skimmed through it all. The documents were all written in English, but he didn’t have a hard time deciphering them.

“An electronics engineer, a neurologist, and a developmental psychologist? I’m impressed you could get in touch with so many people in one day.”

“They’re all personal acquaintances,” Ichiro said. “They can’t amass the reports overnight, of course...”

“Well, as long as they make it in time for the deliberation over Rosemary’s personhood. You should be more worried about yourself, though.”

Ichiro’s attitude was so leisurely, it was hard to believe he was a suspect out on bail. “You’re going to introduce me to a good lawyer, so it shouldn’t be difficult to clear my name. I’m not terribly worried, and I don’t see that I need to be.”

“Things won’t always go the way you want them,” Shaga said. “You don’t know what the Pony people might do if they learn Rosemary is still out there.”

“Oh, that?” Ichiro’s expression darkened slightly, and he produced his cell phone from his breast pocket. He tapped the e-mail icon and traced over his received message history.

Watching him, Shaga quietly nodded. “That e-mail from yesterday. It was from your father, right?”

“It was about Pony’s president. He said, ‘That man is absolutely unscrupulous.’”

In Ichiro’s opinion, his father was not one to talk in that regard, but to argue about that with him would be nonsense. His father and the current president of Pony had apparently had some bad blood in school that had persistently carried on into the modern day, and was something which Ichiro had no interest in whatsoever. He was merely genuinely grateful that his father, Meiro Tsuwabuki, had sent him an e-mail thinking of him.

“For instance, Tsuwabuki...”

“Yes?”

Shaga signaled a waitress, placed his order, and then changed the subject. “If this unscrupulous man learned that Rosemary was alive, and decided to take concrete action against her, what would you do?”

“That’s nonsense,” Ichiro said in a voice tinged with ennui. “I don’t want to think about that, even as a joke. But if it does happen...” As he spoke, he turned his gaze to the stock exchange building beyond the road and the trees. “Well, I’ll be forced to take measures, I suppose.”

“I see.” Shaga could tell Ichiro didn’t enjoy saying those words.

He didn’t say anything else.

The hidden field expedition, led by the Red Sunset Knights, had an air of a picnic outing. It was such a pastoral atmosphere, it was hard to believe a top player guild was involved. The truth was, they couldn’t be tense when they knew there was a field left to clear. Though they had also been hoping that the hidden field might net them some good items, so they were a little downcast when Matsunaga mentioned that if the devs found out, they would right their inventories anyway.

Yuri, Amesho, and the Kirihitters had come along purely out of curiosity. Matsunaga, too, was probably interested in seeing the field, as one of NaroFan’s foremost Explorers. Tomakomai was merely smiling his mysterious smile that made it hard to know what he was thinking, while Taker was sullen as usual, making it was hard to tell what enjoyment he was hoping to get out of this. Sorceress just kept twirling her parasol.

Iris, Kirschwasser, and Yozakura had come along for other reasons.

They knew what the hidden field was, and what had caused it to be connected to Narrow Fantasy Online. But what they didn’t know was why the connection was still in place. It was hard to believe it was a mere mistake on the devs’ part, or due to warm feelings towards Yozakura/Rosemary. Someone must have left it there for some obvious purpose.

They didn’t know, but as long as they were hiding Rosemary’s circumstances, they couldn’t explain, and the thought of just watching while their friends, foremost the Knights, just stepped in there, didn’t sit right with them. That was why they had come along with the expedition.

“Hey, Matsunaga,” Iris asked.

“Yes?”

They were on the road heading to the hole that connected the fields, known for convenience as a warp zone.

“Say we do end up entering that hidden field.”

“Yes?”

“What happens if we’re disconnected from the game while we’re there?” Iris knew that Edward would probably know more about things like this, but he was apparently still busy in real life, and they hadn’t heard much from him. Thus, she was seeking the opinion of Matsunaga, who seemed like the next most knowledgeable person available.

“Well, I don’t actually know the programming that allows us to move throughout the game, so I’m not entirely certain.” Matsunaga thought for a little while longer, then continued. “I think it’s likely we’ll suffer a connection error, and our game will be shut down. Just like in a server crash. Of course, it won’t be that NaroFan itself has crashed... You know how people usually feel about server crashes, so it will probably be something like that.”

Iris didn’t know what usually happened when there was a server crash, or how most people typically responded. But given the nature of these full Drive-type VRMMOs, it stood to reason that the question existed, and that there was an answer to it. Even if she hadn’t been through a server crash, Iris had experienced firsthand the terrible boredom of service interruption.

Matsunaga continued: “The problem is that a player’s location information is stored with their data, so if that happens, there’s a chance we won’t be able to log in with the same avatar again. The developers would need to restore our avatar’s location information to a legal one.”

So as long as they had the developers’ support, they could avoid any fatal data loss. Iris felt a little relieved. Even though Matsunaga described his own viewpoint as “optimistic,” she still felt more relieved than anything.

Before long, the group reached the ruins deep in Martial City Delve.

“There it is. It’s in sight.” Stroganoff, leader of the party, pointed.

Indeed, they saw something like a hole there, a swirling black void in the middle of space. It was like there was a subtle incursion on the graphics, as around the swirl, the polygons had gotten jaggy. The Knights’ members that had been standing guard in front of the vortex exchanged greetings with Stroganoff.

Iris turned back. Kirschwasser was scowling, as expected. Yozakura’s expression was blank, but she was likely feeling the same way inside. They really didn’t know why anyone had left this hole here, or for what purpose.

“Ai, what’s wrong?” Yuri leaned in and asked, seeming to notice that she was acting strangely.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Iris felt a bit bad lying to a friend like this, but she didn’t have a choice.

“Boy, don’tcha love it when you get to see a bug or an error in a game?” Amesho said, grinning broadly.

“It’s even more exciting given how close a VRMMO is to reality,” Kirihito (Leader) agreed.

But just thinking about it wouldn’t advance anything, Iris thought. She cast a glance at Kirschwasser, and he nodded, too.

Ruining their friends’ fun though it might be, she would just have to find a free moment to put in a GM Call. Until then, she could let them enjoy themselves.

This was Iris’s thinking for the time being.

“Rosemary and the others seem to have entered the ‘forbidden territory,’” the secretary said.

The CEO of Pony Entertainment, Inc., who was staring at the jars of seasonings piled on top of his desk intently, replied: “Forbidden territory? That’s an ominous way of putting it.”

“I was under the impression that you enjoyed such phrasings.”

“Well, that’s true. I do.”

There was a line of salad bowls on his desk in addition to the seasonings. He put on a white frilly apron over his luxury suit and began pouring things out of the bottles and into the salad bowls. From his merry humming, one could assume he was enjoying himself.

The secretary’s computer had access to the Thistle Corporation’s NaroFan management server and some of its systems. In this respect, Thistle—or more precisely, Azami Nono—was very stubborn, and wouldn’t share what the secretary needed to enter the system directly, or to freely read chat logs. That meant that the most she could view from her computer were high-urgency requests such as GM Calls.

This particular GM Call included a message that there was a connection point to the hidden field. The sender was Iris, account user of Airi Kakitsubata. Earlier that day, the man and the secretary had personally confirmed her connection to Ichiro Tsuwabuki, which meant that she was likely working with Rosemary.

“And the other user accessing from the Tsuwabuki household?” the man asked.

“Is with them,” the secretary answered.

“Time to get to work, then.” The man dropped a lollipop into the sea of spices, then stood up. “Ms. Hishoyama, that... artificial intelligence dissection plan of yours? Put it into practice. I’ll instruct Thistle personally to sever the connection.”

“Yes, sir.”

“After that... well, we don’t know what Tsuwabuki might try, so I’d better prepare some countermeasures.” With that, the man plunged the candy into his mouth. Then he whispered quietly, “Still not enough stimulation.”

“Are you certain you still have taste buds?” the secretary asked mildly, her eyes focused on her computer screen.

“Did the young heir really make this?” Iris whispered low enough that nobody else would hear.

“Yes.” Kirschwasser nodded in response.

This jungle, which other NaroFan players knew as the “hidden field,” was actually a 3D map that Ichiro Tsuwabuki had designed in his spare time. Rosemary had connected that field to NaroFan, partly as a prank, which had allowed her to come and go as she pleased. To be honest, Iris hadn’t been expecting such detailed graphics.

As a native of Japan and a mere member of the middle class, Airi Kakitsubata had never set foot in a tropical rainforest. She had never left the country; the furthest she’d ever gone was a trip to Okinawa for her elementary school graduation. During the winter of her second year, her trade school would be sending them on a field trip to Europe, and she was looking forward to that, but that was irrelevant at the moment.

Even though Iris had never seen the real thing before, she could immediately identify the accuracy of the jungle in front of her eyes. There were tall trees all around, with a canopy so thick that it blocked off all sunlight. Unknown animals called in the distance, and the heat seemed to cling to the skin.

“It’s all trees and not much grass, I see,” she commented.

“I like how it’s easy to walk around in, though,” Kirihito (Leader) said.

“Tall trees in the jungle block out the light, which makes it hard for small flora to grow.” Amesho showed surprising knowledge.

“It is impressive graphic design, but it feels different from the map modeling of NaroFan’s fields.” This astute observation came from Matsunaga.

“Do you think that once Pony bought them out, they added a new designer? It’s certainly distinctive,” Stroganoff added.

Naturally enough, there were no signs of any monsters or items here. But the Knights, who didn’t realize that this was the young heir’s personal virtual space, all looked around with interest, and kept their guards up.

Iris decided to try her menu window, and she found that it opened here without issue. She could access all of her avatar functions and system screens, including Skills, Arts, equipment, and items, all without issue. Perhaps the virtual space had been built on the same engine, or perhaps Narrow Fantasy Online’s system was carrying through. But she knew that thinking wouldn’t bring her any closer to understanding it, so she abandoned the train of thought.

“I really don’t get it, though...” She checked her status and saw that it read “Unknown Point” under “current location.”

“The reason they left the connection in place, you mean?” Kirschwasser responded, rubbing his chin.

“Yeah. I don’t see what either Thistle or Pony would have to gain from it.”

“That is true. It could have been to build hype, or a simple failure to fix a bug. Neither option would be especially admirable of the devs.”

Iris felt sure they must have known about it, but she had put in the GM Call just to be safe. They should really try to do something about it.

It was while she was walking, thinking that over, that something unexpected happened.

“It looks like there really is nothing here,” Stroganoff said, looking disappointed. “The field map is all they’ve finished, I guess...”

“Or perhaps it’s here to get people excited, and they’ve merely disguised it as a bug.” Matsunaga, standing with him at the head of the group, seemed a little disappointed, too.

Iris was also considering that maybe it was a good time to leave the field.

Just then, Yozakura’s avatar doubled over. “Ah...”

“Yozakura?” Iris asked trepidatiously.

Because Rosemary, as an artificial intelligence, was not equipped to provide emotional output, Yozakura’s expression did not change. But she clutched her chest with a hand, fell to one knee, and placed a hand on a tree trunk to support herself—all clear indications of “agony.”

Kirschwasser noticed the irregularity and immediately offered Yozakura a shoulder for support. “What is it, Yozakura?”

“Oh, did something happen?!” Amesho, Yuri, Kirihito (Leader), Matsunaga, Stroganoff, and the others, who had been walking ahead, turned around and ran up to her.

Iris checked her guild member status from the menu window and saw nothing wrong with Yozakura’s avatar. Something like this would seem to suggest an issue with the player’s physical body, but...

Under normal conditions, when the player’s physical body experienced pain or some other stimulus, as long as it wasn’t an emergency, the Drive system would filter it out. The next step would be to send a warning message, and then, if too many pain signals reached their brain, the system was designed to log them out. It was hard to imagine what condition would result in the avatar displaying this sort of suffering.

Of course, that was all under “normal conditions.” Yozakura’s login method was far from normal.

Yozakura clenched and unclenched her hands repeatedly as she looked around her.

“Yozakura, does your stomach hurt?” Iris asked, concerned. “Want to get back to town and log out?”

“No...” Yozakura shook her head in response to the kindness offered her.

The sharp-eyed Matsunaga stood a little ways away, watching thoughtfully.

“Father, Iris, this is an urgent situation, so I must speak.” Yozakura’s tone was so unchanged from normal that Iris actually found it slightly annoying. But her next words caused Iris’s heart to freeze over. “I myself am being accessed externally.”

“What did you say?”

“I am being taken apart remotely.”

Yozakura’s words, spoken so casually, suggested a chilling possibility. Iris and Kirschwasser both froze up. The others around them were naturally confused, unable to understand her statement. But it was Matsunaga who first figured it out, followed by Amesho, and one by one, their expressions grew suspicious.

Yozakura’s player, Rosemary, was a program. By reversing the process under which she had been developed, it would be possible to deconstruct her remotely. If one thought of her as a human, though, this was the equivalent to being slowly dismembered while still alive. Now that Iris knew about Rosemary’s rich emotional life, she couldn’t just laugh off comparisons of a program to a human.

Rosemary was in the middle of being dissected alive.

There was no change in Yozakura’s avatar. That was only natural; the avatar was a user account created through conventional methods, with no special connection to Rosemary’s program. This meant that the progression of the erasure would not be reflected in Yozakura’s form. It meant that they could see no signs whatsoever of the terrifying process that was taking place.

Iris was beginning to feel uneasy. She had to hurry, but what could she do? Kirschwasser must have felt the same way. The fact that there was no change in Yozakura’s appearance just caused them to freeze up uncertainly.

“Sir Kirschwasser, you should log out immediately,” Matsunaga said in a slightly strained voice. “I won’t ask what’s going on, though I’ve figured it out... You need to log out, pull out the LAN cable, and turn off the router. That’s the most reliable way to stop this.”

“A physical severance of connection? But... no, I’ll do it.” Kirschwasser shook off his hesitation. Cutting off the connection between the server and the outside world would likely damage the avatar data of the other players remaining, as Matsunaga had said before they entered this field. But that was trivial compared to Rosemary’s “life.”

Kirschwasser opened his menu window to do just that.

But the perpetrator of this plan was truly cruel. Before Kirschwasser could log out, Iris’s avatar experienced a sudden change. That didn’t just apply to Iris, but all the players there—more precisely, every player except for Yozakura and Kirschwasser.

The world went black around them. The thick tropical rainforest disappeared in an instant, and Iris was cast into empty space. A warning message appeared before her eyes.

“Your game is being forcibly ended due to disconnection from the server.”

Realizing that her GM Call had gone through did not put her mind at ease. The timing of it felt malicious. She could easily guess that they were the only ones who had been disconnected from the server, while Kirschwasser and Rosemary had been left in the jungle.

It was probably also only the game that had been severed, which would mean Rosemary’s gradual erasure was likely still going on.

And also, yes... Kirschwasser and Yozakura were connected to that jungle through the internal network of the server it was housed on. It was fully possible that even if the connection to the game was severed, they might still remain in there. The purpose of separating them from the game was to prevent Kirschwasser from choosing the option to log out from the menu screen.

Iris couldn’t be sure about this, but the possibility was very real.

Iris—rather, Airi Kakitsubata—sat upright, her consciousness having fully returned to the real world. She felt a fluffy soft bed beneath her, totally different from the one she usually slept in. She removed her Miraive Gear, then remembered that she was in Megumi Fuyo’s room.

She had to do something. But there was nothing she could do by herself.

Just as she was thinking that, the door opened.

“Oh, perfect timing. Airi, I just got a bit of urgent work in...”

“Fuyo!” Airi cut her off. The question of whether it was all right to ask her for this lingered in her mind for a moment, but she cast it away immediately. She could think about that later. “I need your help!”

Fuyo’s expression returned to normal the moment she noticed the unusual severity in Airi’s voice. She spoke to her in a calm, yet gentle tone. “Has something happened?”

Eikei Fuyo was the president of Tsunobeni Co., one of Japan’s five largest trading companies. As was his habit, he was once again walking through the garden of his estate in Mitaka City, Tokyo, holding his beloved cat. The cat he held in his arms was named Miké. It was a Russian Blue that had grown fat from its sumptuous lifestyle.

Eikei Fuyo was in high spirits. His deeply sheltered daughter Megumi, who had had so much trouble making friends, had brought a friend home for the first time today. She seemed a bit shy around strangers, but also like a goodhearted, straightforward girl. He had suspicions that the age difference was a bit too great, but considering his beloved daughter’s job, it was probably a good thing to always have a contact with younger sensibilities.

His work was going well as always, too. Ichiro Tsuwabuki, whose investment advice he’d been asking for quite often lately, had proven an excellent advisor. Truly, he had the wind at his back. It was about time for him to hear from Ichiro again on that, too, though given the arrest and everything Ichiro had to do surrounding that, he felt a bit bad obligating him to do it.

It would soon be afternoon, so Eikei Fuyo thought over his plans for the day. If that Airi Kakitsubata girl chose to remain a little while longer, he’d love to introduce her to his beloved garden and have afternoon tea together. Lately, one of his favorite pastimes had been inviting a famous patisserie to come by and make him sweets. And since Megumi had come home, too, he thought maybe he’d speak to her, too.

With those thoughts in mind, he walked down the brick tiles, heading for the mansion. Before he could reach the mansion’s expensive door, though, it burst open, and Megumi Fuyo and Airi Kakitsubata flew out.

Eikei Fuyo’s face broke into a smile.

“I see you two have afternoon plans already,” he laughed.

“Forgive me, Father!”

“Sorry, talk later!”

The two were like a whirlwind, running off towards the mansion’s garage.

Eikei Fuyo laughed heartily, rustling Miké in his arms. The fat cat merely knitted its brows unhappily.

“That’s youth for you, isn’t it, Miké?”

“Meow.”

“I think a storm’s on the way, isn’t it, Miké?”

“Meow.”

Eikei Fuyo kept laughing as he pulled a smartphone from his breast pocket. He still wasn’t at all comfortable with the touch panel, but clumsily, he managed to open his address book, pull up Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s name, and tap “call.”

Ichiro hung up the phone and tucked the smartphone into his breast pocket. His expression was vicious, and that, more than anything, was something Shaga had never seen from the man before. There was none of the calm there that Ichiro usually displayed. Shaga watched silently for a few moments to see what he might do, but after closing his eyes and thinking for a while, Ichiro just called a waitress, opened a menu, and said this:

“Give me everything on the menu, from here to here.”

“Huh?”

“All of it.”

Shaga wasn’t the slightest bit surprised by the strange behavior he was witnessing. He brought a coffee cup to his mouth, thought, It begins, and nothing more.

When Ichiro Tsuwabuki got flustered, he became extremely reckless with his spending. It had died down quite a lot recently, of course.

Thinking things must have gotten rather serious, Shaga asked: “So, what did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s made his move,” Ichiro said in a surprisingly level voice. “He said that Iris and Megumi left their house in a hurry. There was a Miraive Gear in Megumi’s room, which Iris seems to have been playing, and the servants remember hearing them say something about ‘Rosemary.’”

“I see.” Shaga lit his cigarette and pulled out his own smartphone. As he checked the e-mail he’d received while Ichiro was talking on the phone, a wrinkle appeared on his brow. “I think we’ve hit a small snag on our end, as well.”

“Tell me.”

“The perpetual assistant inspector received a tongue-lashing from his superior. A detective is heading for your house now to confiscate the supercomputer and the server.”

“If they only wanted to confiscate them, I wouldn’t mind, but I doubt that’s it.”

The waitress appeared again with a tray of cups and a nervous expression on her face. The coffees and café lattes made from a variety of beans and flavors sat cramped upon the small, elegant table.

“Reminds me of one of those lotus pod Photoshops,” Shaga said.

“A what?” Ichiro always engaged earnestly with whatever he was given. He took a cup, and while showing only superficial interest in the aroma, continued. “It’s only speculation, but I believe that Sakurako-san is trapped. The house’s locks are flawless, and unless Sakurako-san, Rosemary, or I try to open them, the detectives won’t be able to get in.”

“If you’re not at home, they’ll call your cell phone.”

“Yes, and I’ll ignore it.”

This was the sort of reckless proposal that would normally be unthinkable from Ichiro. It seemed to Shaga that he was treading a line very close to breaking his own rules. Ichiro Tsuwabuki had never yielded before authority, but his personal philosophy demanded adherence to basic social norms.

Around the time he’d finished all the coffee, the second and third courses of drinks arrived. Before long, other light meals, such as sandwiches, were brought. One after another, they went into the stomach of the self-professed light eater, Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

“Our first task will be to save Rosemary,” Ichiro said. “Then we need to get people from the police who are not influenced by Pony, and are on our side legally, to take action, so that they can’t do anything to Rosemary once they have her.”

“I can put in some calls,” Shaga said. “But either way, we have to stop Pony from doing what it’s doing. You have a plan?”

Ichiro didn’t answer at first. His hand stopped halfway to a sandwich, and he closed his eyes. Then, after a moment’s thought, he said, “I do.”

Shaga had no interest in the psychological process the man had had to go through to steel himself to say those words. If Ichiro said he had an idea, then he did, and if he said he’d do it, he’d do it. He didn’t have the kind of relationship with the man where he could inquire about something like that gracefully.

But there was one other thing Shaga was curious about, so he decided to ask it. “Tsuwabuki, are you going to eat all that?”

As far as Shaga knew, Ichiro Tsuwabuki was a light eater.

Ichiro broke the sandwich on the table in two, took out his smartphone to start calling someone else, and responded. “When I get angry, I get hungry.”

Ah, so he is angry, Shaga thought.

Fuyo raced her K-car down the highway right at the speed limit. Airi was surprised by what a reckless driver Fuyo was. Airi would be old enough to get her license next year, and this was a reminder that driving brought out one’s true self. She’d have to be careful.

After she’d logged out, she had explained everything to Megumi. She’d explained about going to the hidden field with the other players, about how it had been the 3D map Ichiro had created for fun, about the fact that it was unrelated to NaroFan, about the fact that Rosemary had created the connection, and about how Rosemary herself was currently being taken apart remotely by some unknown player.

She’d had a feeling that she wasn’t explaining it all terribly well, but after hearing it all, Fuyo had quietly nodded and said, “I understand.”

She had agreed to Airi’s response for help, and then said nothing else except, “Come with me.” She’d taken her own light automobile out of the garage, put Airi in the passenger seat, and left the house. Now they were driving down the highway.

“Have you told Ichiro about this?” Fuyo asked her as she drove, the first question she had posed to Airi this entire time.

Airi shook her head. “I haven’t.”

She looked at her cell phone. There were plenty of ways she could let the young heir know what was going on if she wanted to. Yet Airi was hesitant. She knew that, given what was happening to Rosemary, it was an urgent situation. But the situation’s urgency made it all the more clear what action Ichiro would take if he knew.

She knew what he would do, and what would come of it.

Airi thought back on the conversation they had had at Thistle the day before. She thought about what would happen if he broke his own rules for Rosemary’s sake. She didn’t want to think about it. The fact that she could so easily imagine what might happen was all the more reason why she didn’t want to think about it.

If Ichiro acted, things would no longer be able to remain as they were. A fatal change of some sort would take place. Airi wasn’t yet mentally ready to let that happen.

That was why she had asked Fuyo. Fuyo was the only “adult” that Airi could trust. She was her best friend, and an adult, and so she could trust her. She knew it wasn’t exactly fair, but it was the only tool she had at her disposal.

“I understand how you feel, Airi,” Fuyo said as she gazed out the windshield from the driver’s seat. Such a gentle voice, such a kind expression.

“Fuyo, I...”

“We’re friends, after all. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything works out somehow.”

The car stopped at a red light. Fuyo looked at Airi and smiled.

“Airi, you should just be as strong and mature as you always are. I understand how you and Ichiro both feel. I promise I will save Rosemary.”

“As a rival in love?” Airi asked.

“Yes, as a rival in love.”

Those were words Airi wished Rosemary could hear. In that moment the hesitation in the back of her mind immediately lifted, and her mind became clear. Airi Kakitsubata had her focus back. “All right, Fuyo. I’m counting on you.”

“Leave it to me.”

The car continued racing towards the chaotic 23 wards of Tokyo.

“What are you talking about?”

Azami Nono was on the phone, displaying an anger she rarely ever showed. All eyes in Thistle were focused on her.

She was speaking directly to Shinya Otogiri, the CEO of Pony Entertainment, Inc. Pony currently held about 40% of Thistle’s stock, and a little over 10% had been bought up ny him personally. That meant he was effectively their majority shareholder. It was unbelievable that one would snarl at their own owner like this, but if you’d heard what he’d said to her, perhaps it would seem justified.

“It was impressive how quickly you responded to that GM Call, but don’t try to do any more than that,” the man said coolly. “Of course, you should continue to do your duties as developers. There were players on that map, after all, so you’ll want to repair their avatar information.”

“That wasn’t what I was asking about!” President Azami snarled.

A little before noon today, she’d received a GM Call from a player letting her know about one of the “hidden fields” people were talking about. Recalling what had happened the day before, President Azami could more or less guess what was going on. She had been left out of everything from the discovery of the unauthorized access through to Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s arrest, but she was hoping that at least Pony’s countermeasures had cut off the unauthorized access route.

The realization that they had left an access route behind was a huge wake-up call for her. At the same time as she’d received the GM Call, she’d sent out an order to cut off their access to the game, and it was done. That much was fine. But what President Azami didn’t understand was his statement that she shouldn’t try to do anything more.

“Well, listen, Nono,” the man said. “I know what you’re trying to do. You found the new unauthorized access route, and you’re trying to seal it for good this time. I’m saying I want you to wait. After all, unauthorized access really is a massive problem. I want you to wait until I dispatch my own engineers.”

“If I may say, your company’s actions in dealing with the unauthorized access incidents do not seem to be made in good faith,” she snapped.

“Ahh.” There was a moment’s pause, and then laughter from the other side of the phone. It was a snickering sort of laugh. “Good faith, eh? Good faith as a company, you say?”

She felt a sticky, unpleasant feeling begin to wind around her like a snake.

“I heard, Ms. Nono, that the one behind the last account hack, the... what was it again? The artificial intelligence... That it actually got away.”

President Azami froze up. Was he on to them? Before her brain could fully catch up, the man on the other end of the phone continued.

“If the public were to learn about that, it would be difficult for Thistle to stay in business. Not even I could cover for you then. Don’t you want to keep making games at your company?”

President Azami fell silent, unable to respond. Otogiri’s words had hit their mark. But more than that, she wanted to know if this man really knew where Rosemary was. But just as she was wondering about that...

“Coming in!!” The door to the office flew open.

Airi had asked Fuyo to help her, but she didn’t know what the woman actually needed to do.

Fuyo’s car entered the metropolis from the highway, making a beeline to Jinbocho in Kanda, Chiyoda Ward. Naturally, they were heading towards Thistle. Airi had been thinking about going right to the young heir’s house, but she also knew how strict the security at the mansion was. If Ichiro was at home, things wouldn’t have gotten to this point, and if Kirschwasser couldn’t log out, then no one would answer the intercom anyway, so a visit there would just be a waste of effort.

Besides, they were in a race against time. Airi didn’t know how long it would take to take apart a massive software program like an artificial intelligence remotely. In the ten or so seconds between when the process started and when they had been disconnected, she hadn’t noticed any sign of fatal changes. It might depend on the number of people on the job, but she guessed it might even take several hours.

The first thing they had to do was get to Thistle headquarters and explain the situation directly. If Azami knew what was happening, she could probably do something. She was Rosemary’s creator, after all.

On the way, they tried to call President Azami, but no one answered. It was the same when they tried to call Thistle itself. The woman was probably just busy, but the situation being what it was, Fuyo and Airi felt unusually nervous. At the moment, Thistle was entirely a child corporation of Pony. It was impossible to deny the possibility of there being pressure from above preventing them from answering.

Just then, Fuyo abruptly turned the steering wheel, causing Airi’s head to hit the passenger side window.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, Airi. But we’re in a hurry. We’re changing our destination.”

“Huh?” Airi asked confusedly, rubbing her bumped head.

“I don’t know who it is that’s trying to delete Rosemary, but... shall we attempt to guess?” Fuyo asked seriously, staring straight forward.

“W-Well...”

“The president of Pony gets along very poorly with Ichiro’s father,” Fuyo said. “I doubt that by itself would spur something like this, but who else would benefit in the end from Rosemary being deleted? And who else would have the means to go after her directly?”

“Oh... I see.”

There was something different about Fuyo in this moment. Airi was reminded of her presence during the guild sponsor incident; she was staring at the face of Megumi Fuyo. Not the naive, aging rich girl, but the famous designer who crackled with rival energy.

Fuyo was a major heiress whose father commanded Japan’s economic world. The more Airi thought about it, the more she realized that the world Fuyo came from was very much like the young heir’s. She was even alike in the way she attempted to live off her own talent rather than leeching off her parents forever.

Despite knowing that, the fact that Airi wasn’t intimidated might have been the result of her numbed sensations at the moment.

“So, Fuyo, where are we going?” she asked.

“To Shibuya. MiZUNO’s headquarters.” Fuyo’s eyes were like steel. “Airi, I’m going to do what you don’t want Ichiro to do.”

Azami Nono was shocked by the person who barged in. “Ah... um... Asuha?”

It was Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s second cousin, the player of Felicia in Narrow Fantasy Online. She was dressed in pastels appropriate for a girl of her age. Marching through the office, whose members looked a bit shaken by the appearance of a real-life middle school girl, she thrust her smartphone screen at Azami.

“It’s an e-mail from Itchy.”

Azami’s voice trembled as she took the proffered cell phone. “A-Asuha, this is...”

The e-mail contained all of Ichiro’s suppositions about what was going on. Azami’s emotions, already high-strung from the conversation with Otogiri, lurched rapidly in a new direction.

“Is this about Rosemary?” Edogawa, in a corner of the room, asked sharply.

Asuha turned around.

The man gave a small bow. “Hello. I’m Edward, Edogawa.”

“Oh, hello. I’m Felicia, Asuha Tsuwabuki. Thank you for taking care of Itchy.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say. I’ve never done anything to take care of him.”

But Azami didn’t even hear their conversation. Rosemary was being erased. That was roughly what the e-mail amounted to. She had already hung up on Otogiri, but she remembered what he had said. It was Azami herself who had told him that the account hack had been done by the artificial intelligence Rosemary, and it was she who had filed a false report out of fear that she would be disposed of as a mere program.

Even if it meant she herself had committed a crime, she wanted Rosemary, who had acquired free will, to “live” somehow. Part of it was her curiosity as a researcher, while another part came from her feelings as a mother.

Right now, though, even that wish was being threatened. Rosemary was being erased. Azami could not accept that.

An idea coming to her, she turned to her PC and began furiously typing on her keyboard. A strange atmosphere hung over the office. The others looked at Azami, a range of emotions in their eyes, but she didn’t have time to scrutinize their meaning. She had to save Rosemary.

“President Nono!” It was Edogawa who grabbed Azami’s arm. He had been talking with Asuha prior to that, but at some point he had appeared at Azami’s side.

While he did that, Asuha snatched her smartphone back from her.

“Wh-What? Let me go!” Azami snapped.

“President Nono, get ahold of yourself. I understand what you’re trying to do. You want to cut off the access route, right? Didn’t you read Mr. Tsuwabuki’s e-mail?” Edogawa spoke rapidly and loquaciously in a manner that was totally different from his usual listless speaking patterns. But he couldn’t hide the trembling emotion in his voice.

The e-mail they had gotten from Ichiro had gone on to speak in more depth about the access routes that Pony was using to dismantle Rosemary remotely. Rosemary had rigged a backdoor program in the Ten Sages, and now, communication was going on between Thistle and the Tsuwabuki mansion with extremely weak network security on both ends, which made hacking extremely easily. It had taken time to notice and repair this, and they had just begun working at plugging the holes when she’d gotten that call from Otogiri.

The backdoor program was what was being used to take Rosemary apart. If they could just finish the repairs, that could potentially interrupt the erasure process, but it wouldn’t fix the fundamental problem. As long as Rosemary was in the system, it would be hard to say that the Tsuwabuki network security was perfect, and there were many ways they could get at her if they were willing to be unscrupulous.

Turning on Pony now wouldn’t save Rosemary. Azami would just be taking unnecessary risk. To not just delay Rosemary’s disassembly, but to stop it completely, they needed to stop the problem closer to the root.

“But there’s no way I can do that!” Azami shouted in frustration.

“Yes... well, probably not by yourself,” Edogawa said with an air of hesitancy. “Listen, President. Maybe it’s not my place to say this, as a transfer employee...” In that moment, the trembling in Edogawa’s voice wasn’t coming only from anger and indignation. “If Mr. Tsuwabuki sent this e-mail, it means that he probably has a plan to do something about it himself. Rosemary may be saved even if we don’t do anything. But I don’t like that idea, because I really hate him.”

“You must care a lot about Itchy, Mr. Edward...” Asuha whispered.

“I’m telling you, I hate him!” Edogawa screamed.

What were they talking about, at a time like this? A tiny bit of irritation entered Azami’s expression. But when he said his next words, she could not help but agree.

“I don’t think you want to just sit back and watch while that man saves Rosemary, either.”

“W-Well...” Azami tried listlessly to deny it, but eventually nodded.

“Mr. Edward, do you have an idea?” Asuha asked.

“I do. I definitely do.” Edogawa nodded. “I really didn’t want to resort to it, but it’s a method you’re familiar with, too, Felicia.”

In that moment, his eyes were not those of the endlessly put-upon small business systems engineer, Domon Edogawa, but of Machina Blacksmith Edward, who had once crawled his way up to become the number one in the Akihabara Forging Guild.

Full of confidence, Edward turned to President Azami and said, “I’m going to get ahead of that terrible man. Because this will probably be my last chance.”

“Oh, I managed to log in,” Matsunaga said.

It had been less than two hours since they had been disconnected from the system. A rather fast response, in Matsunaga’s opinion. He thought they’d receive some warning or penalty from the devs for having entered the hidden field, but there was no sign of it. He suspected the developers didn’t want to acknowledge the existence of the hidden field, and a penalty would be acknowledging that it had existed.

When Matsunaga logged in, he was standing in a corner of Martial City Delve. It was the same place they had been just before they jumped into the hidden field through the “hole.” A few other had already logged in. They were looking around, clear despondency on their faces.

“Hey, Matsunaga.” Five Knights led by Stroganoff were already there.

Matsunaga raised his hand lightly and returned the greeting. “Hey, Stroganoff.”

“What’s going on here?”

“I’m not sure. We were cut off from the field, and there was a location error for our avatars, so I guess they must have fixed it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Stroganoff said.

“What did you mean, then?”

Stroganoff hardened his features in a way that reflected his “Monstrous” title. “I’m talking about what happened on the hidden field. Yozakura was in pain, and the connection was severed right afterwards. You caught on to something, didn’t you?”

“Ahh...” Matsunaga scratched his forehead.

That was true. Though it might be more accurate to say that the circumstances had made him curious. Kirschwasser and Yozakura should have been disconnected from the game when the rest of them were. That being the case, then as Matsunaga had suggested, Kirschwasser should have physically disconnected the network and preserved Yozakura. Of course, that was assuming Matsunaga’s preposterous theory was true. He was a little concerned about how perfect the timing was, though...

It was clear that that wasn’t what Stroganoff wanted to hear, though. He wanted to hear Matsunaga’s preposterous theory. But Matsunaga was a bit hesitant to voice it, given what a ridiculous-sounding story it was.

Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be right to hide it, either. These players were just as worried as he was.

“Hear me out, Stroganoff, and don’t laugh.”

“Are you doing a bit?” Stroganoff asked skeptically.

“No, I’m serious.” Matsunaga made his face solemn.

Stroganoff’s expression tensed. “This isn’t like you. Out with it.”

“Well, I think that Yozakura’s player might actually be an artificial intelligence.”

Stroganoff burst out laughing. “Gwahahahaha!”

“Hey.” For the first time since he began playing NaroFan, Matsunaga wanted to kill one of his fellow players.

He had known Stroganoff would laugh at the idea. That was why he hadn’t wanted to say it. After all, they knew that Yozakura’s player was in love with Ichiro. The suggestion was utterly mad.

It was her words, “I’m being taken apart,” that concerned him. It was a terrifying phrase if it was coming from a human mouth. It couldn’t be just a bit of roleplay, either, as Yozakura wasn’t that sort of character. And when Matsunaga had offered his suggestion of countermeasures to Kirschwasser based on his theory, the Knight had agreed without hesitation. In other words, the pieces fit together.

“That’s not like you, Matsunaga,” Stroganoff chortled. “I think you’ve been watching too much anime.”

“He’s been watching too much anime since the day he was born,” one of the four commanders behind him said, and the others seemed to be in agreement.

But Matsunaga was backed up from an unexpected direction: the sky.

“You’re exactly right, Matsunaga.”

The group looked up at the sky and saw a humanoid form approaching from an already short distance away. The knights tried to recite the cliché lines:

“What’s that?”

“A bird?”

“A pla—”

“Stop that.” The figure from the sky landed before they could finish it all.

It was an unexpected visitor.

“Hey, it’s Edward,” Matsunaga commented. “Haven’t seen you logged in for a while.”

Yes, it was the Fighting Blacksmith of the Akihabara Forging Guild, Edward. As usual, it was hard to read emotion on his mechanical face, but his usual thin, monotone voice seemed somehow passionate.

“I’ve been busy with RL work,” Edward said. “I know that’s hard for a small business owner and a professional blogger to understand...”

It seemed he was as sullen as ever. Clearly, he was only ever soft in front of Bossman.

Stroganoff interjected, “What’s going on, Edward? You also think that Yozakura’s player is an AI?”

“She is, Stroganoff, but I don’t have time to convince you about it, so just indulge me, please. I want to save Yozakura.” Edward spoke rather quickly, but there was definite appeal in what he had to say next. “Listen, you two. Do you want to beat Ichiro Tsuwabuki at something?”

The workers at Thistle Corporation had never been so united in purpose.

Or, well, maybe they had... After all, the office was like their second home. They had worked together here to make their very own game. Their balance was sloppy, their business skills were weak, and for a for-profit industry, they were extremely lax. But Azami Nono knew they were first-rate when it came to pursuing a united goal.

In this moment, the Thistle Corporation looked like itself again: liberated from the designs of Pony Entertainment, united in the pursuit of a single goal. Part of it was their grand mission of saving Rosemary, but there was another feeling that pervaded, as well. It was a bit like that of children playing a prank.

The plan’s name was Operation: Final Five.

Azami couldn’t begrudge them this bit of silliness. At the least, Edward really did seem to want to save Rosemary, and his plan was definitely unscrupulous, but it felt like it would be extremely effective while also keeping Pony in the dark about what they were doing until the very end.

“The location data for all the avatars is fixed!” a worker shouted excitedly.

“Great job! Let’s move the plan to the next phase!”

The one who had taken the lead on the project was a GM known mainly by his avatar name, Raspberry. He’d become so known by this handle that Azami, to her great shame, occasionally forgot his real name.

He cast a glance at Azami and scratched his head. “Are we being too silly, President?”

“No, it’s fine,” she assured him. “Everyone’s been so gloomy lately. Let’s give it all we’ve got on Final Five.”

“Okay!” Raspberry agreed forcefully.

The workers as a whole were facing their screens, tapping their keyboards. Their next job was the exact opposite of what they had been doing until recently: They were reconnecting the game and the hidden field. As long as the back door program used for the unauthorized access was still active, such connections were extremely easy to make.

The problem was Kirschwasser’s player. Being cut off from the game meant that she was likely trapped in the virtual space. Having used an unauthorized route to enter the Tsuwabuki mansion’s virtual world, being cut off from the game would eliminate her ability to log out. That was how the system worked.

Of course, just reconnecting her to the game wouldn’t allow her to log out again right away. Their prioritized restoration was the easiest part possible: a route for avatars to travel back and forth. Once the virtual spaces had been cut off, it would take some time for the NaroFan menu window to be usable there again. Which meant it would still take time for her to be able to log out.

That was why they were going forward with Operation: Final Five.

“Connection re-established!”

“Okay, let’s contact Edward and...”

“Wait! One avatar has already entered the connection area!”

“Th-This avatar is...”

They seemed to be getting really into it, Azami thought. They must have been feeling rather bottled up themselves.

“Okay.” Next to her, Asuha whispered something and put away her smartphone. It seemed she had sent someone an e-mail, but Azami couldn’t be sure who it was. “Miss President, can I borrow a Miraive Gear, too?”

“Oh, yes. Please take part in Final Five.” She gave her a quick nod.

Asuha clenched her fists and said: “Okay, I will!”

Watching Asuha leave the room, Azami found herself thinking of Ichiro Tsuwabuki. Edward’s statements had suggested he was working on his own plans, and Azami thought that sounded about right. Setting aside the question of whether Edogawa and the others would beat that aloof man to the punch...

She could imagine, more or less, what he might attempt to do. And she knew that it would bring about a fatal change in his relationship to her—in other words, the relationship between developer and player.

Asuha had likely realized that, as well. As the one who had invited Ichiro Tsuwabuki to join the game, what must she be feeling?

The thought of it made her feel a bit lonely.

The logout button was grayed out. He touched it again and again, but nothing changed.

After the umpteenth failure, Kirschwasser closed the menu window and slammed his fist into a tree. Kirschwasser and Yozakura were, in this moment, the only ones inside that enormous jungle. He could more or less guess why this was happening.

The field they were in had been cut off from the game. Some of his data, such as graphics, stats, Skills and Arts, were autonomous within the fictional space, which meant there was no visible change in Kirschwasser’s avatar. But when he opened a menu window, it was clear that none of the functions could be used.

The fact that he and Yozakura were the only ones left in the fictional space was likely because they could access it through the house’s local network. They were completely trapped right now. Because they weren’t accessing it through an expected route, they couldn’t log out. It was a fatal flaw in the system.

If his physiological needs such as hunger got too great, Kirschwasser would receive warnings and then be forcibly logged out. But he didn’t have time to wait for that.

“Rosemary, I’m sorry!” Kirschwasser—rather, Sakurako—could feel in that moment how powerless she was. All she could do now was sit on the ground, cradling Yozakura’s avatar.

“Father...” Yozakura said in an extremely calm voice. “Am I going to disappear?”

Sakurako didn’t say yes. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to acknowledge the reality.

Sakurako had only met Rosemary for the first time the day before. Rosemary was the hateful AI who had used the house’s security measures against her and locked her in her house.

But so what? Her sense of self had developed so much in just these two days. Sakurako had been happy to see that growth, and she was certain that Ichiro would be pleased to see it, too. They had become real friends.

Sakurako had cooked for her, and Rosemary had said that her food was delicious. She’d grown annoyed with her, discussed the parts of Ichiro that Rosemary didn’t know, and even gloated at her. When Rosemary had said that she wanted to be a maid, Sakurako had thought it was impossible, but she had also wanted to encourage her a little.

How was she supposed to acknowledge that that same Rosemary was being deleted, right now, by some pigheaded fool?

“I do not wish to disappear.”

At those words, Sakurako looked up.

“Father, I do not wish to disappear. I still have not done anything. I have not yet told Ichiro that I love him.”

It was difficult to put into words the emotion welling up in Sakurako now. Ichiro Tsuwabuki had always said that what could be expressed in words was merely superficial; that the human heart was not so easily communicated. She usually just let those words roll off her back, and never expected that she would now feel them so keenly.

“You can hear this, can’t you?!” Sakurako screamed. She screamed at the cruel someone who was still dismantling Rosemary, despite recognizing in a corner of her mind that she had seen this scene before. “You can hear this, and you’re still doing it?! She’s not a program! She’s alive! Can’t you see that?”

A silence fell.

Then a message window appeared in the air, a phrase displayed on it. “This is my job.”

Rage.

Sakurako’s vision went red. She drew her Knight Sword and threw it at the menu window. It passed through and embedded itself deep into the tree behind it. “You rotten person!”

Another message appeared. “My boss is a rotten person, yes.”

“You should go punch him in the face, then!” Sakurako shouted, unable to restrain her anger.

Anger at the unreasonable person behind Rosemary’s dismantling. Anger at the executor of it, who was still doing it, even now. She was even angry at the fact that they were claiming it was on their boss’s orders. If that was the case, couldn’t the person at least try to rectify their boss’s misunderstanding? But no matter how she shouted and chastised that person, the process continued.

Below the message window sat a Pony Entertainment company emblem. So, Pony was behind it after all, Sakurako thought. But what good would knowing that do for them now? She felt abashed.

“You cannot do anything,” the message window said, as if to emphasize her powerlessness. “No matter how strong you are, no matter how you try to attack the badge of the window, it will not affect me in the real world. But you may try, if it will make you feel better.”

The words seemed to see directly into Sakurako’s heart. For a moment, she pulled out her Knight Sword, and thought about slicing the badge to bits. But she shook her head. The person was right that doing that wouldn’t accomplish anything.

If nothing else, she wanted to be by Rosemary’s side, to hold her hand and to distract her from her fear of death. Perhaps it was just self-satisfaction, but even if it was...

“Father,” Yozakura spoke up, suddenly. “There...”

She was pointing at a completely unremarkable bit of space. But then, a clear change came over it.

A rip appeared in the air. Then, the rip expanded. It was an unreal sight, like something out of anime made possible here in this world of highly detailed computer graphics. Once the rip reached a certain size, it split open, like thin ice beneath a boot.

A shadow slipped in through the cracked space. A black whirlwind blew in to the virtual jungle world.

With the force of its flight, almost as an afterthought, it sliced at the Pony badge with its sword. For some reason that resulted in a damage visual, but the number displayed was zero.

Slipping through the trees, the intruder landed, standing at a diagonal from Sakurako and the Pony emblem.

“Is that...” Sakurako whispered, dumbstruck. The new intruder was someone who shouldn’t possibly be here. Before Sakurako could even wonder how he had come, she finished, “King Kirihito!”

“Hey.” The boy in black raised a hand in greeting. He had fallen from ultimate solo player to second-best solo player, but there was no trace of his legend losing its power. He hadn’t friended a single person, and no matter the situation, he always aimed to solve it by himself. No one knew his true identity. People could make guesses about his rough real age and gender, but nobody had ever gained positive proof.

To Kirschwasser, or to Yozakura hanging limply in his arms, he just gave a short greeting over his shoulder. His brazen attitude hadn’t changed, either.

“What are you doing here?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Felicia filled me in.”

Asuha, then? But wasn’t this virtual world completely cut off from the game?

As Kirschwasser/Sakurako was wondering about that, King Kirihito took an even more implausible action. He readied his faithful sword before the message window and attacked the Pony emblem.

Calm letters appeared on the message window. “This is pointless.”

“Oh?” King Kirihito showed no sign of being fazed. “But here’s something the old man used to say. Whether or not something is pointless is for me to decide.”

His attitude was lackadaisical from beginning to end, but there was force in the way he held and struck with his sword.

“It’s nonsense,” King Kirihito added with a chuckle. It sounded like he’d been wanting to say that for a while.

But it was pointless, wasn’t it? Sakurako tilted her head. They weren’t dealing with a game boss built out of data. No matter how much he attacked that badge, it wasn’t going to let out a death rattle and collapse. There was no way that this could possibly harm the person who was taking Rosemary apart somewhere in the real world.

But King Kirihito readied his XAN and unleashed its power. Advanced graphic visuals poured from the sword, making the virtual space tremble.

Watching the sight, Yozakura whispered, “Kirihito.”

“Yes?”

“I must speak to you.”

“Can we do this later?” At King’s dismissive words, Yozakura fell into silence for a few moments.

“But I...”

“Oh, that’s right.” King turned back, scratching his head. He stared straight at Yozakura and shrugged his shoulders. “Did I forget to mention? There’s no need to worry. I’m here to—”

“We’re here to save you!!” a voice bellowed through the virtual jungle.

Just like when King Kirihito had appeared, a fissure opened in space, and then a red-haired giant broke through, as if ripping it apart with the sheer force of his body. He rode a monstrous steed at least three meters tall, holding his magical sword Sour Cream aloft in one hand.

King clucked his tongue ruefully as the man stepped on his line. “You’re here already?”

“I could say the same to you! I can’t believe you stole my spotlight again!” Stroganoff of the Red Sunset Knights seemed more amused than irritated. The giant dismounted his horse, looked at the dumbfounded Sakurako, then roared with laughter. “You look as surprised as a crow who’s been dinged with a peashooter, Sir Kirschwasser!”

“No need to worry. Leave the rest to us,” Tiramisu, who had arrived behind him, said with a smile.

All of the sub-commanders of the Knights seemed to be present. But what could they possibly be planning to do? Sakurako’s confusion only grew deeper. Yet she could feel Yozakura, in her arms, cling to Kirschwasser’s armor a little tighter.

“They all came here... for me?” Yozakura asked.

Sakurako heard the words, then looked at Rosemary. It was true. She didn’t know what was going on, but there was one thing she could say with utmost certainty: “Yes.”

The person dismantling her didn’t seem to know exactly what was going on. They only repeated the “It’s pointless” line one more time, apparently having realized they were trying to get in the way, but was unable to do anything about it.

King Kirihito and the Red Sunset Knights led by Stroganoff prepared their weapons en masse and charged at the Pony badge.

“Stand down, King! You’re no use in this fight!”

“Yeah, right.” As King unleashed “Bash,” the light effect unleashed by XAN grew larger, until the radiance streaming through the jungle threatened to burn their eyes. It was followed by Stroganoff’s “Down Burst,” Tiramisu’s “Punishment,” and Parmigiano’s “Comet Cannon” all exploding out one after another. Naturally, all did zero damage.

From the midst of the action, Stroganoff shouted, “You’re the real star here! Go, Gorgonzola!”

“Right.” Gorgonzola, who had been chanting the whole time, thrust his fist up to heaven. The field scenery was overwritten for a moment as they appeared to be transported into deep space, surrounded by twinkling stars. Before long, that galaxy contracted into a single point, which was followed by a huge explosion. It was the massive attack spell Art that had the flashiest visuals in all of NaroFan, “Galaxian Explosion.”

“Oh, it’s begun,” said a voice.

Kirschwasser turned back to see the leader of the Dual Serpents standing there, his Hide Coat flapping in the wind. “M-Mr. Matsunaga...”

“It’s impressive. This isn’t a sight you see often. What a flashy lineup.”

“But no matter how they attack, they’ll never do any damage,” Kirschwasser said.

“Oh, they’re definitely doing damage. It’s not the emblem we’re attacking, you see.” Matsunaga snapped his fingers, and a dust cloud erupted as countless figures leaped up from the ground. The late summer fashion, ninja gear in pastel colors, seemed strange when combined with their threatening Noh masks, which reflected their determination.

This was the Dual Serpents’ Frilly Shinobi Army, a legend across the Asgard Continent.

“Father,” Yozakura said.

“Y-Yes?”

“The speed of the dismantling is slowing.”

“What did you say?” Sakurako looked around the field again. Kirihito and the Knights were attacking the company emblem before them, while Matsunaga and the Shinobi Army danced their odd dance behind him. All of them seemed to be lagging somewhat.

In that moment, she understood completely the meaning of Matsunaga’s words. She knew what they were really attacking.

“Operation: Final Five. That is this plan,” Matsunaga said, dancing powerfully.

“In other words, F5 tactics...” Kirschwasser whispered.

It was a terrifying plan indeed. The method which Ichiro Tsuwabuki had employed back in the Delve Necrolands, which the devs had since forbidden... That horrible sealed technique was now being unleashed here, in this place.

It wasn’t the emblem they were attacking, nor the person taking Rosemary apart. It was the virtual space and the server on which Rosemary resided.

Again and again, seams formed in the virtual space here and there, and player after player swarmed in.