4 - Noble Son, Descend

Asuha Tsuwabuki was a 14-year-old girl attending a middle school in Nagoya. She didn’t yet know what she wanted to be when she grew up.

Turning 14 meant that she was an adult (at least, that was how she felt about it), and adults needed to solve their own problems. To throw a tantrum because nobody would help her was something a child did.

Asuha couldn’t understand what was going through Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s mind. In the 14 years she had known him, she had never been able to. Itchy was nice, and cool, and he often did whatever she asked, but she had never seen him compromise on the things he wanted to do. That he usually did whatever she asked didn’t mean that he always acted in her best interest.

Asuha was wandering around a residential block in Nagoya, having gotten Sera Kiryu’s address from her homeroom teacher. Apparently the teachers knew that the two of them had been friends since elementary school and, concerned about Sera’s non-attendance, they had given Asuha the address on the condition of secrecy.

They were friends, supposedly. But this would be Asuha’s first time visiting this house.

It was neither large nor small, just an ordinary residential home. Still, to someone like Asuha, who lived in an apartment, having a real house still conveyed a certain degree of wealth. She felt a little discouraged.

“Yes, who’s there?” a clear, feminine voice responded to Asuha’s press of the intercom button. It was Sera’s mother.

“Oh. Hello... Um, well, my name is Asuha Tsuwabuki, and, um...”

“Oh, Sera’s friend?”

Was she going to be allowed in as easily as that?

The door opened to reveal the familiar figure of Sera’s mother. She was a beautiful woman, completely unchanged from the day they had first met years ago at the arcade. It occurred to Asuha, for the first time, that Sera strongly took after her.

“Hello, Asuha dear. Come in, come in,” Sera’s mother said.

Asuha was vaguely startled. Was she actually being welcomed?

“There is another method by which you could talk to Sera Kiryu,” Ichiro had told Asuha yesterday in the game.

She had always known that if she couldn’t find King Kirihito in the game — and really, even if she could — that visiting his player at home would be a lot faster. Yet she had balked at the idea. She felt guilty over not having noticed that Sera was being bullied, like she had let her friend down somehow. In truth, it was Asuha who was most afraid of the face-to-face meeting.

But, Asuha decided, that wasn’t an excuse, so she steeled up her nerve to pay the call.

She knew that Ichiro would be using whatever methods he had at his disposal to meet King Kirihito in the game. She didn’t know what exactly he wanted, but Ichiro had said he would do what he wanted to do.

While he had always respected Asuha’s desires, he never compromised his own. And when they had met Sera in the game world, he had shown no deference at all to Asuha’s desires before adopting his own approach.

Besides, she wanted to make amends.

“It’s a bit of a mess. I’m sorry,” Sera’s mother said as they passed through the living room.

Asuha looked around, stunned.

It was game systems as far as the eye could see. Game systems from all companies and eras were hooked up to the TVs. There were multiple PCs, too. And not just that. In one corner of the room, collecting dust, covered in books and game software... was that a cabinet for a popular arcade fighting game?

“U-Um... Is that...”

“Ah. Er, the truth is, I enjoy games quite a bit. My husband doesn’t, I’m afraid... But I once had quite the local reputation as a gamer,” Sera’s mother admitted.

It appeared Sera had received some degree of special education from a young age. Perhaps it was simply in the blood.

While Mrs. Kiryu went up to the second floor to fetch her child, Asuha cast another look around. The walls were packed with framed pictures and awards, all of them gaming related. Asuha was looking at one dated 15 years ago, entitled “With the PPC Siblings at Game Center Arcadia,” when Mrs. Kiryu came downstairs again with an apologetic expression on her face.

“I’m sorry, Asuha. Sera won’t come down. Could you go up instead?”

“Um, are you sure?” Asuha asked.

“Hmm? Sure about what?”

Asuha answered hesitantly. “Um, is it okay for us to speak face to face...?”

“Ah...” Mrs. Kiryu gave her a slightly pained smile. Judging from the way she was acting, she seemed to have had some idea of what had happened in the game.

“I don’t think you need to worry. Sera isn’t the type to hold grudges. And you have permission, so go ahead.” Kiryu’s mother seemed to be the rather carefree type. Even so, nervousness ran through Asuha as she climbed the stairs.

She stood tensely before the door, then gave a soft knock. She heard Sera’s husky voice from the other side, saying, “Come in.” The tone of the voice was surprisingly calm.

She opened the door and found the room inside dark. The curtains were open, but all the lights were turned off. There were no decorations and no notable possessions except for a desktop PC so impressive it was hard to believe it belonged to a middle school student. Its monitor was the room’s sole source of illumination.

Sera Kiryu sat in front of it.

“H-Hey, Kiryu,” Asuha said.

“Hey.” Kiryu’s hair was cut short and androgynous, as always. In one corner of the room hung a middle school uniform that Asuha could barely imagine Sera wearing; it had been that long since they had met face to face. It didn’t seem like an outfit her friend belonged in.

“Kiryu, I... I’m sorry about the other day,” Asuha said, leading with an apology.

“Oh, it’s okay. I got emotional, too,” Sera said, then fell into silence. There was a certain monotone quality to the words.

Asuha looked at the hanging uniform again. Despite not having been worn in close to a year, there was no dust on it at all.

“Listen, Kiryu... Come to school, would you?”

Sera remained silent at first, gazing at the computer screen, but finally turned back to meet Asuha’s eyes. “I want to go,” her friend said.

Asuha was surprised by the response.

“But I can’t.”

“Why not?” Asuha asked.

“I’m weak.”

Asuha was startled. “You are?”

“Yeah.”

Sera apparently believed the bullying at school had been the result of personal weakness, that someone as strong as Asuha would never have been the victim of something like that.

Asuha didn’t believe she was that strong at all, but rather than protest immediately, she decided to listen.

Sera went on, saying things like, “I can’t go to school if I’m not strong,” and, “Even if I try to go, I’ll end up not wanting to go again...”

“In that case...” Asuha began, unable to just accept that. She had been feeling a growing sense that something about this was wrong, and at last, decided to come right out with it. “...it’s not okay to only be strong in the game.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Sera agreed.

The response left Asuha feeling a bit deflated. She had expected a stronger comeback.

Sera spoke. “I know it’s not enough to just be strong in the game, but I don’t have any self-confidence... I was hoping the game would be a first step to becoming stronger, but I guess it was just escapism...”

In the dim room, Asuha saw something glitter in Sera’s eyes. She stood there, not knowing what to say.

“I thought that if I could make myself strong in the game, the real me would be stronger, too. But all I’m doing is beating monsters created by a program. I’m not actually dealing with people. I guess that’s not good enough, huh?”

Sera’s grasping at straws, Asuha thought, in desperation...

Sera had stopped coming to school because of bullying, lacking the self-described strength necessary to fight back. That didn’t refer to physical strength, but something more internal.

Sera had needed a way to become stronger, and the most immediate solution had been the VRMMO. In other words, Kirschwasser had hit the nail on the head from the start.

From an outsider’s point of view, it did look like mere escapism... and perhaps it was mere sophistry to argue that it wasn’t. Asuha had to admit, even she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t imagine how a game could give anyone the strength to deal with bullies.

As Sera had said, the monsters King Kirihito was beating were just mindless things created by the program.

“I was thinking of completing the Grand Quest myself,” Sera said, looking back at the screen. On the screen was the site vsoku@VRMMO Aggregate Blog, the affiliate site run by that Matsunaga guy. “But at the end of the day, this stupid thing isn’t going to make me strong. Not really.”

“Kiryu...” Asuha saw the self-loathing in Sera’s expression. She wanted to shout, “That’s not true!” but she bit her tongue. She knew that would be an irresponsible thing to say, a pathetic show of kindness to set her own heart at ease.

“Tsuwabuki.” Sera broke away from the screen again to look back at Asuha.

“Wh-What?”

“Um, the old man. Ichiro Tsuwabuki...”

“Yeah?”

“Is he your brother?” Sera asked.

Asuha was surprised by the question. She had never seen Sera Kiryu express interest in any particular individual before.

“Um, well... He’s my cousin. My second cousin, actually. My grandfather is Itchy’s grandfather’s younger brother.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who talks to their second cousin,” Sera said.

“I guess most people don’t.”

“Do you have a big family, Tsuwabuki?” Sera asked.

It was less a big family, Asuha thought, and more a strongly-connected one. She didn’t know how other families did things, but theirs met up at their great-grandfather’s house in Kyushu every year to celebrate the New Year. No matter how busy they were, even if they were halfway around the world, every one of them came together for a New Year’s banquet with about 50 people. Her friends never failed to be surprised when she told them about that.

“He seemed like a pretty amazing guy,” Sera commented.

“Yeah, Itchy’s really amazing.” Hearing what felt like praise for her beloved second cousin raised Asuha’s spirits a bit, and she immediately launched into a paean for him.

She began with Ichiro being the heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern, how handsome he was even in real life, and how he was so smart he’d graduated from college at a foreign university by the time he’d been their age. She described how he was a genius at sports, and how he ranked as a top artist in the fields of both art and music.

As she rambled on and on, most people would usually shout, “You’re exaggerating!” But it was all the truth, and Sera listened with great interest.

“I see.” Sera smiled for the first time as Asuha completed her bragging. “Do you love him? Your ‘Itchy’...”

“Huh?” The question so took Asuha by surprise that she couldn’t help but stammer. She knew that it was absurd for her to play dumb. She knew that. He was Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

If it came to love or hate, of course she’d say she loved him, with pride... but for some reason, she was hesitant to admit to it right here and now.

“W-W-Well, um... That’s none of your business, Kiryu!” To hide her sudden and inexplicable reticence, Asuha turned the question back on her friend. “I-I could ask the same of you, anyway! Why are you so interested in Itchy?”

“Hmm...” Sera sat thoughtfully, knees pulled to chest, and finally murmured a soft, “I was just curious,” followed by silence.

It was such a loaded silence that Asuha couldn’t find it in herself to press further. But her friend’s next words were even more unexpected.

“I want to beat him.”

Asuha was stunned. “Kiryu?”

“I think that beating a guy like him would give me a lot of confidence in myself.”

“Even just in the game?” Asuha asked with trepidation. Sera nodded.

“Even just in the game. Maybe all the more because it’s a game...”

Asuha was baffled. She knew how talented and amazing Ichiro was. Even in the game, Ichiro was strong. On top of his quick grasp of game fundamentals, he had his naturally quick reflexes and his pay-to-play resources.

Ichiro had seen King Kirihito’s strength, and still felt certain that he could rise above it. If Asuha were to be completely honest, she couldn’t imagine anyone beating her second cousin, ever. Thus, to say “You can beat him,” would be irresponsible.

But to say “You can’t beat him,” would be cruel. Asuha couldn’t say either.

In the end, she could only say one thing. “Itchy will be at the Grand Quest, too.”

Sera Kiryu’s eyes narrowed in the darkness. “He will?”

“And I think he wants to see you, Kiryu.”

“I see...” A smile appeared on Sera’s face, full of meaning Asuha couldn’t understand.

I don’t get it... Asuha thought frustratedly. Was a fundamental distrust of the game standing in the way of her ability to understand? All she could tell was that Ichiro and King Kirihito were bound up in some mutual agreement.

“I’m gonna go,” Sera announced.

“...Okay,” Asuha muttered, trying not to sound too petulant. But before she left, there was one thing she had to say. The one thing that honestly reflected her true feelings. “When you do come to school, I’ll be waiting.”

“Sure.”

Asuha started for the door, but Sera spoke again, giving her pause.

“Tsuwabuki.”

“What?”

“Thanks for coming. It was good to see you.”

“Sure.” The words lightened Asuha’s heart, even if only a bit.

Kiryu’s mother, who had apparently been waiting outside with her ear pressed to the door, must have realized Asuha was coming and quickly straightened out her appearance.

Asuha bowed to her politely, asked to be excused, and then left Sera Kiryu’s house behind.

“Ichiro-sama, what are you looking at?”

Ichiro was enjoying his post-breakfast leisure time on the sofa with his tablet in hand when Sakurako brought him coffee. He placed the tablet on the table to take up the cup.

“Matsunaga’s blog,” he responded.

“Ohhh...” Sakurako bent over to have a look at the screen.

It was vsoku@VRMMO Aggregate Blog, the affiliate site run by Matsunaga of the Dual Serpents. The blog amassed threads from message boards within the VRMMO and other social networks, and Matsunaga himself wrote articles on his own investigations and in-game events. The most popular posts were the event articles.

Matsunaga had feelers everywhere in the game, and he wrote not just about official developer-sponsored events, but also interplayer scuffles and drama, in interesting and funny ways.

The United Guild was no exception.

Any dedicated player would be interested in an event that featured multiple guilds working with top players to complete a Grand Quest, but on top of the event’s innate interest, Matsunaga was a master of fanning the flames. The outline alone sounded like a plotline straight out of a manga, even if it was Matsunaga himself who had arranged it that way.

“He’s got real talent as a producer,” Ichiro said, sounding rather impressed.

“I agree,” Sakurako said. “Given the way he seized control of the atmosphere at the conference yesterday and guided it to go just the way he wanted.”

“Though it appears that one was just a kagemusha,” Ichiro added. “A political decoy.”

“Really?!” Sakurako asked, startled.

The article Ichiro was reading described the results of the conference. There was no mention of the friction between the players; it just explained how the teams had been divided roughly between an above-ground boss-slaying team and an underground event-triggering team. It seemed most of the Knights’ forces would be focused above-ground, which meant that Stroganoff must have put up quite a fight.

At the end of the article, Matsunaga made a brief mention of King Kirihito, writing that he hadn’t come to the conference, but his words implied a sense of certainty that he would show up at some point during the Grand Quest.

“I hadn’t noticed before, but he’s written quite a lot about King Kirihito in the past, hasn’t he?” Sakurako noted.

She was right: Matsunaga occasionally wrote articles about various legends of King that had sprung up within NaroFan. One story talked about him beating an earlier Grand Boss solo; another about how he had acquired one of the game’s legendary unique weapons.

“Considering the influence that Matsunaga’s blog has, he may even be the originator of King’s ‘legendary’ status,” Ichiro said as he clicked a link to another article about King.

“Do you think there’s a connection between King and Matsunaga?” Sakurako asked.

“I don’t believe so. But Matsunaga seems to want to make sure that people know about King,” Ichiro said.

“Well, he is playing solo in NaroFan,” Sakurako said. “That’s a topic ripe for interest...”

Ichiro had suspected some ulterior motives to Matsunaga’s actions when he had been invited to join the United Guild. Of course, Ichiro didn’t care about those motives — he had taken the invitation because he’d wanted to — but they did seem to have something to do with King Kirihito. It was as if Matsunaga was trying to author a storyline for the world of the VRMMO.

A producer, indeed... Perhaps that was why he had his guild play the role of the villain.

“Really, everyone does enjoy the game in their own way,” Ichiro said with a beaming smile.

“How do you enjoy it, Ichiro-sama?” Sakurako asked.

“Me?” Ichiro brought his coffee to his lips, breathed, and set the cup down. “I believe you know, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, I believe that I do,” she admitted, “but...”

Ichiro closed his eyes and replayed the elegant flow of King Kirihito’s swordplay in his mind. To be honest, he was shaken. Such a thing existing, even within the bounds of a game, completely exceeded his imagination. This was what kept the world interesting: the way it occasionally produced things that far exceeded his expectations.

When Ichiro saw something that moved him profoundly in this way, he had a bad habit of wanting to surpass it. Of course, this only applied when the act lined up with his own inclinations, but the “strength” that King possessed was a barometer that Ichiro found indispensable to his being.

Any accusations of immaturity he might receive for feeling this way were mere nonsense. If anyone thought it was petty for Ichiro to use everything he had against King Kirihito, they were merely underestimating King Kirihito’s capability. To Ichiro, King Kirihito — Sera Kiryu — was unquestionably worth fighting on equal terms. At least, within the world of the game.

“Sakurako-san, are you going to log in today?” he asked.

“Hmm. I’m not terribly interested in participating in the quest,” she answered. “Ichiro-sama, you’re in the dungeon-crawling team, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I could come accompany you if you want... Though my level may be a bit too low. I think I’ll wait until after all my housework is done to log in.”

“Hmmm... very well.” Ichiro stood up and headed for the Miraive Gear Cocoon he had set up in the game room.

“Are you preparing to log in?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good travels, then,” Sakurako said, in the manner of one sending a warrior off to battle.

But Ichiro’s manner was as cool as ever. He merely held up a hand and said, “Mm.”

Members of the Dual Serpents made up the lion’s share of the dungeon crawl team that Ichiro would be joining, along with the Anthromorph Thief Amesho and the Mage Gorgonzola of the Knights.

Their destination, the Forgotten Catacombs, was swarming with Zombie Legions and many other powerful monsters, but Matsunaga had come up with a rather cheap trick to expedite their journey.

It was based on an exploit of the game’s AI. When the number of players on a map surpassed a certain limit, the AI would adjust the quality of the graphics and the frequency of mob spawns to keep the server from getting overloaded. Since the Forgotten Catacombs was a single map with no transitions, sending a large enough number of players into it at once would force the system to throttle their encounters.

Matsunaga had asked Amesho, who had a great many friends, to supply this large number of players, spamming the dungeon to further guarantee the success of the main team. It seemed the rumors of Amesho having 2,000 friends was not at all exaggerated, as nearly 500 of them, all of them elite players (and all of them male) flooded into the dungeon at the catgirl’s call. Having the monster spawn rate so decreased would greatly simplify their quest through the dungeon.

“I hate the choppiness...” Amesho said, waving her arm around.

Ichiro agreed. “I hear the Thistle Corporation’s servers and system-regulating supercomputer are quite excellent, but still...”

“It’s like an F5 attack... It’s not gonna take down the server, is it?” Amesho asked.

“I doubt it.” Ichiro had determined that the server load wasn’t that extreme just yet.

His Cocoon-type Miraive Gear’s 200 teraFLOP image processor was 25 times more powerful than that of the consumer-grade Miraive Gear X. It was on the level of supercomputers in the old days. Combined with the excellent network of Tsuwabuki Estates, it was keeping his movements as smooth as ever. He perceived almost no degradation in experience quality; the power of money at play once more.

“Oh, that’s right. I haven’t friended you yet.” Amesho opened her menu window and sent a friend request without hesitation.

“You really have no scruples, do you?” Ichiro asked.

“You don’t wanna be my friend, Tsuwabuki?” Amesho asked.

She was quite short. She had set her height just shorter than the lowest possible height allowed for male avatars so that there was no male avatar that she couldn’t look at with upturned eyes. She did this with Ichiro now.

So this is how she has so many friends, Ichiro thought, a piece clicking into place. Sakurako had told him about this. In online games, female players could use their gender as a weapon to more easily acquire items and experience.

“Well, I don’t mind.” Ichiro could see no reason to refuse, so he accepted the friend request.

“Yay! Tsuwabuki is my 3,000^th friend!” she exclaimed.

“And you are my fourth.” Ichiro called up the in-game browser and opened Matsunaga’s blog.

The most recent update had been thirty minutes ago. It provided the number of players participating in the plan, a detailed timetable, and at the end, links to videos and past articles.

Matsunaga didn’t outright say that last-minute participants were welcome, but knowing him, he had probably done it to encourage rubberneckers.

“Oh, hello, everyone. How are you?” a flippant voice rang out. Matsunaga himself had just logged in.

“Matsunaga, there are way too many people!” Amesho exclaimed. “Is it all choppy for you, too?”

“I’ve overclocked my image card,” Matsunaga replied, “but even without that, the X’s double-precision floating point can run at eight teras. Unless your network connection is miserable, there should be no fatal drop in performance.”

“Hmm...” Amesho murmured.

Anyone who had bought a Miraive Gear would probably have at least a decent network connection, but those with an already strained network connection — perhaps a public setting — might see lag.

“If you’re really worried, open config and reduce your graphics quality,” Matsunaga said.

“Hmm... naw, thanks. I guess I’ve gotta just deal with it.”

“Would you prefer us to avoid attack magic with flashy visuals?” asked an Elf man clad in an all-concealing indigo robe, approaching them.

It was “Demon” Gorgonzola. He was the Knights’ greatest Mage, and in keeping with his celebrity reputation, he had many attack spell Arts with impressive visuals. Bringing out a series of those in their present environment would certainly put a major burden on the server.

“Ahh, good point,” Matsunaga said. “Perhaps we should let Mr. Tsuwabuki and Miss Amesho, who can deal with mobs in more mundane ways, handle most of it.”

Ichiro just shrugged. He had spells with flashy visuals and sword techniques like Strash, but he could also bulldoze enemies with his brute stats alone, and he also had the Monetary Blade Breaker skill he had worked out the day before. He certainly could fight in ways that wouldn’t burden the server.

Ichiro looked around. Nearly all of the main dungeon crawl force was in place. Most of them were from the Dual Serpents, but the Knights had sent some Scouts and a handful of front-line fighters. It was looking about time to head out.

“Um... Itchy, are you here?” a hesitant voice leaked out.

The group turned in unison to look at the source of it.

“Hey, Felicia,” Ichiro said.

“Ah, Itchy...”

“And Kirihito,” Ichiro added.

It wasn’t King; Kirihito (Leader) of the Kirihitters had accompanied Felicia. As an intermediate-level player, she would have needed him to escort her into a dungeon in the middle of the Necrolands.

When she had thanked him for walking her there, he merely said “We are friends, aren’t we?” and left. Of course, for friends, they weren’t even on each other’s friends lists, but she wasn’t about to comment on that.

“Um, Itchy. I went there today,” she began. She didn’t specify where she had been, but Ichiro understood immediately. She meant Sera Kiryu’s house.

“Hm, so? How did it go?” he asked.

“I don’t know...” she admitted, truthfully. “So I still don’t know what to do. And I know you’ll both just do whatever you want...”

As Felicia pouted, Matsunaga, who had been watching from afar, chose this moment to speak up. “Will you be joining us, Miss Felicia?” he asked.

The question came as a surprise to everyone present. Felicia was the lowest level of the assembled players by a wide margin. She wasn’t specialized for dungeon exploration, and it was clear that bringing her along would be nothing but a burden to them.

While Felicia froze up in the face of the unexpected question, Ichiro immediately guessed Matsunaga’s scheme. Even so, he said: “If she wants to come, I won’t stop her.”

“Wait,” Gorgonzola’s dreary tones emanated from the hood of his robe. “What good will having her along do? I’m not taking responsibility for anything that happens to her, either.”

“Aw, let’s take her along!” Amesho said with a grin, her reaction the polar opposite of Gorgonzola’s. “It’ll be easy-peasy with so many of us around! And having more people is always more fun!”

Amesho was correct, of course. Ichiro was confident that he could reach the bottom floor even by himself, and now he was surrounded by fellow elites. They should have no issue protecting Felicia.

Of course, there was no reason at all to bring her along...

Felicia was likely well aware that she wouldn’t add anything, but after a minute to process the suggestion, she said, “I want to go.”

“Yay!” Amesho cried, jumping up and down. “Friend me, okay, Fellie? Hee hee hee, 3,001!”

Amesho strode up to a very disoriented Felicia and pumped her hand enthusiastically.

Ichiro, in that moment, could do no more than speculate as to why Felicia had agreed to go. But whatever the reason, if the once-ambivalent girl was now making decisions for herself, he had to respect those decisions. Such were Ichiro’s thoughts as he watched Matsunaga from afar, the man grinning as things had once again gone as he had orchestrated.

The dungeon crawl proceeded smoothly.

The spam plan had worked like a charm, keeping the powerful mobs to a minimum, and the rest of their fighters were so strong that even without Ichiro, they probably would have had smooth sailing.

“My arms are moving all choppily...” Felicia said.

“I know, right?” Amesho exclaimed.

Felicia and Amesho had apparently become fast friends. Being cast into the crowd of elites had made Felicia nervous, but making a friend with a relatively similar mentality appeared to have loosened her up.

“VRMMOs are just like mobile games, huh?” Amesho added. “With lag and slowdown and stuff... Going through that in virtual reality is no fun!”

“Amesho, do you play mobile games a lot?” Felicia asked.

“Aw, I’ve played ’em for a couple of years... That’s right! Lemme show you something neat.” Amesho assumed the dignity of a top player, showing off one rare item after another that most people wouldn’t see in a normal playthrough.

When Felicia asked how she acquired the rare items, the answer was merely, “Connections!”

In other words, people had given them to her.

With the majority of the dungeon raid party consisting of the taciturn Dual Serpents and the dour Elf Mage Gorgonzola, the two vibrant female players stood out all the more. A few members of Gorgonzola’s group sometimes looked like they wanted to join in on the conversation, but the chemistry between them projected an impenetrable wall of femininity that not even the game’s strongest magic users could surpass.

Matsunaga cast a glance at the girls, then turned his eyes forward again.

Ichiro hadn’t been terribly surprised by Matsunaga’s suggestion that they bring Felicia. He had more or less guessed at what he was planning, and Felicia’s presence — despite being a drag on the party — fit right in with it.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Tsuwabuki?” Matsunaga asked, turning back. He must have felt the other man’s eyes watching him.

“Hmm, let me see if I can guess what you’re thinking.” Ichiro held up an index finger, reciting one of his favorite phrases.

Matsunaga did not hide his scowl. “Please don’t.”

“You’ve been obsessed with the idea of creating ‘myths’ on the internet,” Ichiro continued, with at least enough consideration to keep his voice low so that no one else could hear. “We could call them legends, or folklore, if you prefer... or gossip, in more vulgar terms. Then, one day, you found King Kirihito. I don’t know how you learned about him — and I don’t really care — but you’ve been writing articles about him, trying to craft the legend of Narrow Fantasy Online’s ultimate solo player.”

Matsunaga said nothing in response.

Ichiro remained at his side as they walked diffidently down the corridor, and he continued. “Was that your reasoning behind creating the United Guild, as well? Was your insistence on dividing up the Knights to keep them from defeating the Grand Boss? That way, the Knights will lose, or find themselves on the verge of death, only to have King appear and slay the boss... That’s the scenario you’re after.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but Ichiro believed Matsunaga had actually laid even more groundwork. Perhaps he had convinced one of the Knights to throw the fight, which would make it even more dramatic. The Knights’ membership seemed to really enjoy roleplaying; if any of them was less concerned than Stroganoff with the glory of defeating the Grand Boss, they might go along with such a suggestion from Matsunaga.

“Then I, of course, was in your way,” Ichiro added. “Like King, I could easily make it to the bottom floor of the dungeon on my own. If you left me to my own devices, I might have just reached the Grand Boss before King, and defeated it. You couldn’t have that.”

“Impressive,” Matsunaga said, and sounded like he meant it. “You’re exactly right. Really... But now that you’ve figured out that much, there’s no point in hiding it, I suppose.”

“You wanted someone to figure it out, didn’t you?” Ichiro asked.

“Am I that transparent? What a shock.” Matsunaga’s trademark smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been an internet denizen for 20 years. I’ve been running affiliate blogs for about ten of those years. I’ve found that the world of the internet is fertile ground for the creation of myths.”

Matsunaga’s voice was surprisingly calm, without a trace of anger.

“You often see the words ‘God’ and ‘Festival’ thrown around to describe people or events. It’s a sort of mass hysteria — though that may be a quirk of the Japanese user. Internet folklore, to use your word... I’ve always wanted to try to craft such a story for myself. The joy of watching your copypasta reprinted in insomnia threads or watching the views on a video you’ve posted skyrocket... Do you understand that? Maybe not... You seem rather above that kind of thing.”

“A desire for recognition?” Ichiro asked. “I understand the logic behind it, but I’ve never felt it, personally.” His words were tactless, but Matsunaga showed no sign of anger.

Ichiro Tsuwabuki had met “producer” types like Matsunaga before. As the sole heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern, he had had much experience with them. His father had been very lucky that Ichiro had been born a genius with no obstacles in life.

That, of course, had led to patrons, and it was men like Matsunaga, producers, that had helped Ichiro make a name for himself in the business world at such a young age.

Ichiro had enjoyed the treatment at first, but he’d tired of it in time. They had set up expectations for Ichiro, and he had met those expectations easily. In a way, it was a formation of a myth.

Ichiro hadn’t been affected by being elevated to the status of myth, but some people might be. Even more so for people already struggling with inferiority complexes.

“Do you know anything about the person behind King?” Ichiro asked.

“I have some idea,” Matsunaga responded. “I myself am an outcast in society, so I can tell he’s of a similar breed.” Matsunaga sped up very slightly to walk ahead of Ichiro, hiding his expression. “Perhaps that’s one reason I want to see King declared the strongest.”

Felicia more or less knew what Ichiro was thinking.

Just as Sera Kiryu wanted to settle things with Ichiro, Ichiro wanted to settle things with King Kirihito. When she put how Ichiro was acting together with what she knew about him, that was the only conclusion she could come to.

She had talked to Sera Kiryu in the real world just a few hours before. Felicia still didn’t fully understand the meaning behind the way her friend had smiled at her, but she did know why Sera wanted to settle things with Ichiro. It was a sort of groping in the dark — a search for any way to find the strength to face the real world. In Ichiro Tsuwabuki, Sera had finally found a barometer for that.

Felicia had witnessed King Kirihito’s strength firsthand. Even if it was only in a game, she had to acknowledge the immense skill it took to play that way.

But what if...

What if Ichiro effortlessly beat King Kirihito?

Would Sera just brush it off, or plunge into heartbreak and never recover?

The unwavering cool she had always admired so much in Itchy... she had never hated it as much as she did right now. Could she ask him to go easy on someone, just this once? Even if she did, he probably wouldn’t listen to her, and it would make him think of her as a child, too. She decided to make no mention of it.

“What’s wrong, Fellie?” Amesho asked.

Felicia had been absorbed in her own thoughts for a while, but as Amesho called her back to attention, she pasted on a smile. “N-Nothing!”

There were a few reasons why Felicia had accepted Matsunaga’s offer to join them in the underground expedition. One was that she wanted time to think.

King Kirihito would surely be appearing in the Grand Quest soon — though above or below ground, she couldn’t be sure — which meant that it wouldn’t be long before Ichiro and King met up again.

She had to figure out what she should do before that happened. She needed time to think about that.

Her other reason was the possibility that events here might help her make up her mind. At the moment, she had no idea where the dice would fall.

About two hours after the beginning of the raid, the group arrived at the final floor.

Moving further in, they came upon an altar room with a stone monument. There was a small group already there, standing in formation around it — either spectators, or challengers trying to complete the event first. Since the party was made up primarily of spellcasters, there was a high chance they were the latter.

“Hey.” Ichiro was the first to speak, without any trace of shyness.

The party around the stone monument all turned to him at once and took a few steps back.

“Making progress?” he asked. “If so, we’ll take over.”

“We’ll take over.”

“We’ll take over.”

“Let us take over.”

Ichiro heard the string of voices coming from the group of top players behind him. Scary.

Even if the mob spawn rate was bottlenecked, the group had still made it to the bottom of the dungeon with just one party. They must have also been in the top 15% of all players. They weren’t that eager to withdraw.

At Matsunaga’s signal, the line of Dual Serpent archers in the back readied their bowguns, with poison-tipped arrows made from Hades Silver.

“Wow, rare arrows!” Amesho cried.

“They’re easily crafted through alchemy, provided you have enough Hades Silver,” Matsunaga spoke, the lightness of his words belying the threat behind them. “They’re ideal for PvP.”

“Itchy, this atmosphere is getting kind of dangerous...” Felicia said nervously.

“I think this is just how conversations go between men of great talent,” Ichiro said. “Of course, it’s all nonsense. What’s the problem, Matsunaga? Set the weapons down.”

“Hmm,” he answered.

With another signal from Matsunaga, the entire ranged squad lowered their weapons. They were like marionettes, all acting in precise unison. If this was also part of their roleplay, it was extremely impressive.

The threat likely wasn’t serious, but Matsunaga’s “joke” had been more to take the wind out of the other party’s sails. They now knew that arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere desirable.

“Um, shouldn’t the first party to arrive have some right to go first?” Felicia asked.

“Yeah, seems like good manners to me,” Amesho agreed.

The early bird got the worm, after all, and respecting the order of arrival was the Japanese way. Anyway, the glory of clearing the quest went to the one who beat the Grand Boss, not the one who activated the event. Felicia couldn’t see what was wrong with letting the first party do it. But Matsunaga just let out a condescending little chuckle.

“Ah, but it’s clear... They’re at a standstill. They don’t know what to do.”

“Matsunaga, the way you laugh is so creepy...” Amesho said.

“Is that a compliment?” Matsunaga turned his serpentine gaze to the advance party, whose members simply shrugged resignedly. It seemed he was right.

All that he had written on his blog and announced on the broadcast was that spellcasters were needed to activate the event. The setting fluff had suggested that they had to seal away a Devil Zombie created by the Necromancer. It was only natural, then, that some top level players might try to put these things together, gather up some spellcasters, and see if they could trigger the event.

To Felicia, though, this just suggested a fundamental nastiness on the part of Matsunaga’s character.

“Well, you probably can’t read the stone monument,” Matsunaga said. “That requires a high-level investigator class. You need a party that can read the stone to trigger the next event flag. Our team is made up of three parties, and each has members that can read the epigraph, so we have no worries in that regard.”

The advance team slumped in disappointment.

“Well, then.” Matsunaga began tossing his dagger — his specialty weapon — playfully in the air as he walked up to the stone monument, the dress of his hide coat flapping about him. “If all of our spellcasters use enchantment-type Arts on the stone, it should trigger the event.”

“Hmm.” Gorgonzola was the first to comply, and the other spellcasters followed his lead to approach the monument.

There was nothing for Felicia to do, so she just lined up beside Ichiro and Amesho to watch the spellcasters form their magic circle.

After quite some time, a flashy light visual began to wreath the monument.

“Ah, the event has triggered,” Matsunaga said.

“It took long enough,” Gorgonzola intoned.

“Good work.” Ichiro plucked a fatigue restorer out of nowhere and handed it to him. It was probably another microtransaction, but Felicia didn’t feel like yelling about it anymore.

The fast-spinning disc of light hovering over the monument began to contract. Then, suddenly, it turned an ominous color. The faint pink light took on points of black and red, then became a torrent of eerie darkness which rushed into the monument all at once. A moment later, the monument began to vibrate.

“Gwahahaha!!!” A voice with an exaggerated reverb effect echoed through the stone chamber.

That escalated quickly, thought Felicia.

“Foolish adventurers, I thank you! Your magic has unleashed the full breadth of my power! The Devil Zombie that was once sealed in Delve will now be unleashed!”

“Wh-Wh-Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!” Amesho and the lead-off party sounded off in perfect chorus.

Felicia could have sworn she saw someone conducting them.

“Is this the Necromancer that destroyed Delve in the past?” Ichiro asked.

“Likely so,” Gorgonzola nodded.

Oh, yeah, Felicia thought. That was the backstory. Since she wasn’t a hardcore Achiever, she wasn’t that familiar with the details of the Grand Story.

“Adventurers. Allow me to grant you a... reward for your assistance,” the Necromancer’s voice continued.

“Not that I mind, but they’re not even hiding the fact that the explanation on the monument and the story contradict each other, are they?” Matsunaga commented.

“The previous Grand Quests were like that, too,” Gorgonzola agreed.

“True enough. Let’s headcanon that the monument was just a ruse by the Necromancer.”

“Yes, your reward is... eternal death! May you sleep forever in my catacombs, your bodies fodder for my ambitions!” the voice cried, the story proceeding bombastically despite the disinterest of the players watching.

As the shaking in the stone monument died down, fissures began to open in the walls around them. Polys mixed with rubble visuals went flying as a foul stench rose up from all corners. The sound the system sent directly to their brains was like resentment itself, shrieking up from the bowels of hell.

Felicia froze up in fear. The terror she had witnessed in the dungeon two days ago reared its head before her once more.

A Zombie Legion.

The advance party and the bowgun squad, both standing against the wall, readied their weapons with accustomed reflexes, as one would expect from top-ranked players. Ichiro stood in front of the frozen Felicia to protect her.

“Well, I’ve come to expect this from the game by now,” Matsunaga said casually. “Sloppy script-writing, isn’t it?”

“But I do enjoy this kind of thing,” Ichiro answered.

“I suppose the Devil Zombie must be reviving up on the surface right around now,” Matsunaga said unconcernedly. Nevertheless, he readied the dagger in his hand. The other players also prepared their weapons in reaction to the monsters that came pouring out. “Well, we’ve accomplished our goal, so we’re free to do as we like. It’s a good thing we have quite a few recovery items.”

“Nonsense,” Ichiro responded as he bought a Monetary Blade from the config menu. “Matsunaga, the Grand Quest is not over yet, and I have not yet achieved my objective. This may be a fine warm-up, but the true challenge still awaits me.”

Ah, I knew it, thought Felicia as she heard Ichiro’s calm words.

She knew why he had intentionally followed Matsunaga’s plan and gone underground. In the end, it was something so simple.

“Not that I haven’t been already,” Ichiro murmured as he readied the Monetary Blade to face the zombie horde, “but I’m going to do what I want.”

Meanwhile, what was transpiring up on the surface could be thought of as the Grand Quest’s “main course.”

The United Guild’s underground team had completed their mission on schedule, causing the Grand Boss to spawn above-ground. It was time for the surface division to rally to face it. The hand-picked participants in this part of the mission — consisting primarily of Red Sunset Knights — charged boldly into battle, soon to seize the glory of triumph over the boss.

Or so it should have been.

Stroganoff fell to a knee, supporting himself with his magic sword. His body was badly beaten, his HP gauge was down 30%. Squad commanders Gazpacho and Parmigiano had fallen, and Tiramisu was hanging on by a thread. She was known for having the highest defense stats out of all the Knights, but she had been forced to focus on protecting the others, and the strain of it was starting to show plainly in her face.

“Guoooooaaaaah!”

It was an unworldly noise. While it couldn’t possibly be causing the air around them to vibrate, the players felt it throughout their bodies as if it really was a physical force.

It was more than just a feeling, though. This was the monster-exclusive Art, “Terror Howl.” The howl, which seemed to ring out all across the Necrolands, inflicted the merciless debuff “Terror” on all players whose stats were below a certain threshold.

The eyes, blazing red...

The gaping maw, slit from ear to ear...

The dripping skin, glistening eerily from head to toe...

White fur covered its head and ran down its neck and along its back. The skin below was a deep purple, marked here and there with visible, pulsating veins. Its head contained two horns that proudly asserted themselves skyward, but what drew the eye most of all was its four unnaturally enlarged, muscular arms.

“Damnation! What were the devs thinking?” Stroganoff swore hoarsely, and all other players present seemed to be in agreement.

The Grand Boss — the Devil Zombie — was proving more powerful than they could ever have imagined. Each swing of its four arms sent the vanguard of tanker Knights scattering like confetti in the wind. Gazpacho, who had been meant to serve as a shield for the Knights alongside Tiramisu, had been no exception.

“Tiramisu, get back,” Stroganoff ordered. “We need your health back at max before that next four-hit combo. Spellcaster support squad, switch your auto-cast to defense buffs.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” they all said.

If they fell here, after all their boasting, the proud Knights would become a laughingstock. They had to seize victory at any cost.

Although the surface team was made up primarily of Knights, having had part of their core team diverted underground had been a crippling blow. They had been joined by other top players in exchange, but it was hard to coordinate with someone whose playstyle you weren’t familiar with.

Suddenly, Stroganoff heard a scream from Tiramisu, whom he’d sent to the back lines. He turned to see it — a grotesque display of corpses piled one on top of each other. A Zombie Legion, that fighting objet d’arte created by the Necromancer.

Stroganoff cursed again. He had always known that other mobs might spawn in the vicinity the Grand Boss. He had faced cruel stage setups that implied a solo Grand Boss until a sudden rush of mobs assailed the party from behind. But no matter how bad it got, they’d always been able to deal with it.

Until this time...

It was a raid boss so powerful, it could cut through their front lines in seconds, backed up by multiple Zombie Legions and waves of Skeleton Chariots. It was excessive, by any stretch of the imagination. Stroganoff rarely complained about the development team, but even he couldn’t restrain his resentment in this situation.

“You must withdraw, Tiramisu!” The voice that roused the rattled warrior came from the hero rumored to have never logged out since the service began: the High Elf Philosopher, Tomakomai. The delicate features behind thin-rimmed spectacles contorted in disgust as he looked up at the towering Zombie Legions.

“Mr. Tomakomai...” Tiramisu began.

“I have no other choice,” he answered. “It seems I must unleash my hidden power.”

“H-Huh?”

He threw his glasses — the symbol of his intelligence — to the ground, and charged singlehandedly at a Zombie Legion.

“Screeeeeeee!”

With a screech utterly unbecoming of a Philosopher, he unleashed a flurry of flying kicks. Surprisingly, the damage was enough to cause the Zombie Legion’s enormous body to tremble. But a second Zombie Legion slapped the airborne Tomakomai back to earth.

“Gwaaagh!” Tomakomai’s willowy body struck the ground of the Delve Necrolands. What he had been trying to accomplish no one could say, but the hero who had never logged out since the service had begun now fell silent.

Stroganoff had been able to watch it all go down, but he couldn’t turn to aid Tiramisu. Dealing with the charging Devil Zombie in front of him took everything he had.

Tiramisu valiantly drew her Celestial Sword, and with the determined gaze that had earned her the name “Saint,” she stared down the Zombie Legion.

But, no... It was not possible.

She and the few party members who remained on the back lines were not enough to face down the horde. And if Tiramisu fell, there would be no way left to stave off the Devil Zombie’s attacks.

It’s hopeless, Stroganoff thought. But just as that thought entered his mind, a sudden gust of black wind pierced through her target.

There was no fanfare, just a sudden impact shock, as if the monster had been struck by a thunderbolt from heaven. The intruder dug into his target, tearing through flesh until its HP bar reached zero, then hit the ground like a bullet. The rubble and dust cloud effect kicked up by his landing concealed, for the moment, the shadow’s identity. But then the Zombie Legion he had eviscerated let out a moan, and slowly began to topple.

The dust cleared. A black coat fluttered in the wind.

With unadorned straight blade in hand, a young man with childlike features glared at the large horde of the undead.

“That’s...”

Someone called his name. “King Kirihito!”

“I see King has arrived,” Matsunaga said, opening up an app in his menu window.

Felicia looked up from where she was crouched in the corner.

The battle below ground had been settled with surprising speed. Ichiro, of course, had brought the full force of his abilities to bear, but Amesho had been stronger than expected, as well. Gorgonzola had contributed a great deal, and the party that had arrived before them had also given it their all. Of course, Matsunaga’s dagger and the bowguns of his archer squadron had proved quite useful, as well.

When asked about the secret of her power, Amesho had merely said, “Connections!” One assumed she was referring to the rare items equipped to every part of her body.

Ichiro was unaware of it, but the dagger she carried was part of a class of legendary weapons of which only seven existed in the game, and a bloody PK battle had raged around their acquisition. When asked how she’d gotten it, she’d merely replied, “From a friend,” which had stunned Matsunaga and Gorgonzola beyond the use of words.

“Oh?”

“Let me see...”

Amesho and Ichiro peered over Matsunaga’s shoulder at the application he was using. It appeared to be video capture software that also let the user watch video taken by someone else in the game in real-time. At the center of the screen was King, glaring at a Zombie Legion as it fell in a cloud of dust.

Ichiro looked around for Felicia and saw that she had quietly crept forward to watch the video, as well.

“What effective staging! Though I’m sure he didn’t intend it. He likely meant to arrive on time, but then the event triggered just a little bit early...” Matsunaga said happily, then opened up his text editor.

Perhaps he was already thinking up his next blog article.

“You have my thanks, Mr. Tsuwabuki.” The relief in Matsunaga’s voice was palpable. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but you were very cooperative. Thanks to you, I’ve safely accomplished my goal.”

“Ah, yes. But I haven’t actually accomplished mine yet,” Ichiro pronounced offhandedly.

Matsunaga’s moving fingers stopped. “Mr. Tsuwabuki... Do you...” His manner changed, a menacing glint appearing in his eye. Perhaps recognizing the malice in his voice, the bowgun squadron pointed their weapons at Ichiro.

“I came underground because I thought I might find King here,” Ichiro explained. “It was the first place I met him, after all. We left a bit of business unfinished, you see...”

Ichiro spoke the words with his usual indifference, but Matsunaga easily grasped the intent underlying them.

Ichiro didn’t care what else was going on. He was going to try to settle things with King Kirihito now. It was the exact development that Matsunaga had needed to avoid at all cost.

“Ooo, is this a fight?” Amesho enthused, while Gorgonzola gravely intoned, “It’s not good to fight.” Felicia’s brow remained furrowed.

“Mr. Tsuwabuki, no matter how quickly you go, it will take an hour... no, two hours, to reach the surface,” Matsunaga said. “King and the remaining Knights will have more than enough time to defeat the Grand Boss. I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

“Nonsense.” Ichiro brushed aside Matsunaga’s attempt to persuade him. “I make my own luck. And Matsunaga, you said it yourself. The entire dungeon is a single map.”

“I did say that. What of it?”

With one hand in his pocket, Ichiro began walking around the stone room. The bowguns tracked his every move.

In a split second, Ichiro removed the hand from his pocket and thrust it at the ceiling. The magic power that Ichiro had been storing up with “Charge Cast” suddenly burst out of his body. It focused in the space just before his fist, formed into the shape of a dragon, and took flight.

It was the water attribute attack Art, “Dragon Rise Wave.” A strike that mimicked the rising dragon that sang of victory over the mountains of the gods. A torrent of magic energy that could reverse the flow of a waterfall. And combined with Break Object raised to an absurdly high level, it broke a hole in the ceiling of the dungeon. Ichiro had secured a direct escape route.

“Unbelievable.” Gorgonzola stared, dumfounded, while Amesho grinned and squealed.

Matsunaga showed no reaction. Perhaps he had expected this, after all. As a Dragonet, it was natural to assume that Ichiro would have mastered the flight ability that would be needed to use the escape route.

“I see I was right to bring insurance along.” Matsunaga snapped his fingers, and the flagstones in the stone room suddenly flew upwards.

Multiple players wearing horned Noh masks and ninja outfits leaped out and grabbed Felicia from where she stood. Not even Ichiro could react effectively against a surprise attack from an unexpected direction. Felicia neither screamed nor struggled as she was held in place, a small knife pointed at her neck.

“The Dual Serpent Shinobi Corps! So they really do exist!” Gorgonzola exclaimed.

“Matsunaga, that’s a dirty trick, ya know...” Amesho growled.

I thought that might be why he invited Felicia, Ichiro thought. That much was within the realm of his expectations, but what was really surprising was the fact that Felicia was so calm about it.

“Now, far be it for me to invoke a cliché, but... stay right where you are, Mr. Tsuwabuki. It would be very easy to pierce Miss Felicia’s throat.”

“It’s only a game.” Ichiro’s cool demeanor turned a few degrees chillier.

“You’re awfully cold-blooded, aren’t you?” Matsunaga asked.

“As I never bleed, I could not say. That aside, Matsunaga... I believe Felicia came with us with the full knowledge that something like this would happen.”

The restrained Felicia raised her face at Ichiro’s statement. He could see no fear in her expression.

It was clear enough that Felicia did not want Ichiro to fight King Kirihito. In other words, she was in agreement with Matsunaga — which might have been all the more reason why she had knowingly come along. The possibility that Felicia might go through with this was not part of what Ichiro himself had considered, so it took him aback slightly.

Despite holding Felicia hostage, Matsunaga showed no signs of gloating. He seemed to find it entirely conceivable that Ichiro might just watch her die. With the atmosphere stretched taut around them, it was Felicia who spoke first.

“Itchy.”

“Hm?”

Felicia bowed her head hesitantly for a moment, then asked...

“Itchy, you want to fight Kiryu... right?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you want to beat Kiryu... right?”

“Well, yes.”

What emotions were driving her in that moment? Felicia, as though making up her mind about something, pulled a dagger from her breast pocket. The masked Shinobi that was restraining her hurried to take it away, but she had inputted her action a moment sooner.

“What?!”

“Ah!”

“Wah!”

Sounds of astonishment rang out from all over the room.

One of the stone walls burst in, allowing ingress to a 50-meter-tall Power Golem. There was no point in restraining Felicia at this rate, and the bowgun team with their aim fixed on Ichiro couldn’t help but shift their attention to the golem. In an instant, everything holding Ichiro back was gone, and he had the opening he needed to take flight.

Ichiro didn’t even hesitate.

The Dragon Wings on his back unfurled, and he flew towards the hole in the ceiling. Below him, chaos reigned.

The massive Power Golem’s first act was to protect its master. It reached for the squad of burly Shinobi, sending them flying before they knew what was going on. Even Matsunaga was struck dumb by the sight as the golem put Felicia on its hand and fired up the rocket boosters on the backs of its legs.

“Itchy!” Felicia shouted. As Ichiro headed for the surface, Felicia’s golem was hot on his heels. “I never actually figured out what to do, and I really don’t want to see you two fight...”

He could barely hear her over the roaring verniers, but he could tell that Felicia was screaming with all her might.

“...but I also wanted you both to do what it is you want to do! So...”

Her golem was specialized for power alone. It lacked speed and stamina. The boosters ran out of fuel almost immediately, and the golem lost its thrust. The massive 50-meter body slowed, floated, and then tilted into freefall. Felicia lost her balance on its hand.

Ichiro grabbed her fragile arm.

“I-Itchy...” she stammered.

Ichiro pulled the stunned Felicia upwards and cradled her in his arms. The Power Golem disappeared in the distance below.

“Thank you, Felicia,” Ichiro said honestly, without changing his expression.

“N-No problem...” she managed.

“That’s all I wanted to say, but I can’t exactly leave you behind now, so why don’t you join me?” he asked.

“Sure...” He could feel her nod awkwardly in his arms.