Mortal Combat on the 6th Floor, and the Meaning of Strength – Part 02

Upon informing Doyama of her return to Tokyo, he seemed somewhat dejected. They had spent several days under the same roof.

“I doubt you’ll come back here again, but if you ever need help, you can always reach out to me,” the old man told Lavia, regarding her like she was his grandchild.

“I will definitely return,” Lavia said, and departed for Tokyo with Hazuki.

However, what they didn’t expect was the lack of communication from Hikaru for several days. With winter break providing plenty of free time, Hazuki and Lavia roamed the streets of Tokyo like sisters.

Soon, people began to take notice. Hardcore followers of interdimensional affairs remembered Hazuki’s face from her brief media appearance, and upon spotting her in the city, they couldn’t help but notice the striking, black-haired companion by her side. Speculations arose that she might be a new otherworlder.

Rumors began to circulate, but they were treated more like urban legends. The prevailing sentiment was that Lavia, with her black hair and fluent Japanese, couldn’t possibly be a new otherworlder. The fact that previous visitors like Selyse couldn’t speak Japanese fueled this skepticism.

However, the Rising Sun Duo from Nitto Shimbun took keen interest in this development.

“It’s Hikari!”

Upon stumbling on this tidbit on their smartphones and blurting out her name in a tavern in Fujinota, the editor’s clenched fist came crashing on them.

Quickly settling their tab, they hurriedly made their way back to Tokyo. This tavern had actually inadvertently become a hub for journalists from all over the world lamenting the lack of stories in Fujinota. It was inevitable that they would take notice of Nitto Shimbun’s movements.

“What was that ‘Hikari’ thing all about?”

“Does it have something to do with the new otherworlder?”

“How does Nitto Shimbun have intel first?”

“Now that I think about it, it’s weird for the editor to travel all the way here.”

“It is.”

“This smells fishy.”

“Let’s follow them!”

The journalists’ focus fell on the word “Hikari” and the Rising Sun Duo.

The battleground for the scoop shifted from Fujinota to Tokyo.

---

Paula was at her wits’ end, sitting in what appeared to be a simple chair, its back adorned with intricate carvings.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The gleaming church pews were filled with worshippers offering their prayers. Some were kneeling not just along the far wall, but also in the aisles. A lot of believers were even gathered outside.

They had congregated despite the late hour—no, they only gathered during the late hour.

“Oh, the Wandering Saint—ahem, I mean the masked lady sure is praying earnestly.”

“She must be praying for our supplications to be answered.”

“No doubt about it.”

The murmurs of the faithful only made Paula lose her mind even more.

“Look at the anguish on her face. Like a saint single-handedly assuming the suffering of the many!”

Well, yeah! I didn’t expect things to turn out like this. I’m at a loss here!

Paula glanced to her side. She felt a pang of annoyance seeing the old man she treated nodding in approval.

If they claimed they gathered to pray, Paula couldn’t refuse. However, as she witnessed the numbers grow day by day—almost like a pyramid scheme—she shuddered. When she told them she wouldn’t be coming anymore, they bawled their eyes out. There was no way out.

These honest folks never requested treatment from Paula. So why did they assemble? According to the believers, it was due to the vivid memory of the recent Accursed Toxin that befell the capital city.

During that calamity, neither the Church nor the clinic proved reliable, and everyone knew it was the Wandering Saint who saved the critically-ill patients. Rather than going to the church for prayers, it was natural for believers to seek solace from the Wandering Saint herself. Hence, even though she only appeared late at night to not attract attention, believers gathered anyway. Incidentally, during the day, parents came to the church with their children to offer prayers.

“…”

The thought of these people praying for her sent cold sweat trickling down her spine. She couldn’t take the pressure.

“Um, excuse me—”

“Everyone! The Saint is about to address us!” the old man said.

The hushed church fell into an even deeper silence. It was as if all other sounds in the vicinity had ceased to exist.

“…”

Please stop this kind of behavior!

Paula wanted to voice her protest, but the solemn atmosphere stifled her. The believers gazed at her with eager anticipation.

Oh, Lord Hikaru, what do I do?!

In moments of distress, Paula couldn’t help but turn to Hikaru instead of the gods. Then, it hit her.

Lord Hikaru… Of course! Lord Hikaru! I must cast the spell for crossing worlds to reach out to him.

Remembering Hikaru, whom she believed was currently in another world, gave Paula a surge of energy and courage.

“I’m searching for elemental magic stones,” Paula said. “The bigger, the better. If anyone has them, would you be willing to give them to me? I’ll compensate you fairly, of course.”

A hush fell over the room. Her words were shocking.

The Wandering Saint, who had humbly declined rewards and prayers alike, had finally voiced her own wish. This woman had healed countless patients that the clinics deemed hopeless. Hearing her request roused every believer present.

“Did you all catch that?”

The elderly man—he had somehow turned into a sort of organizer—addressed the assembly. The believers rose silently and filed out of the church without uttering a word, as if nothing more needed to be said.

“Huh, uh… What?”

Paula was confused. With so many people present, she assumed at least one of them possessed a reasonably sized elemental magic stone. But she was met with silence. Did no one have what she wanted? Or did they not hear her at all? She watched as the people left the church.

“Your Eminence,” said the old man. “Your wish will soon be granted.” His smile was radiant.

---

Meanwhile, rumors quietly circulated about a new underground organization emerging in the capital, G. Ponsonia.

“What’s this about? An underground group composed solely of downtown residents? How does that qualify as an underground organization?”

“Well, word has it that the leader is a masked woman. And the group is called the Society of Wandering Light.”

“What did you say?!”

The rumors even reached Pond, a satellite town of the capital. Gossip among similar industries spread like wildfire.

Doma Ballast, former head of Ballast Trading, a company known for operating in the gray areas of Pond, had once been on death’s door due to illness. And the one who saved his life was a masked nun—the Wandering Saint.

Edward Ballast, the company’s current president, was currently reporting the matter to Doma, his father. While Edward was quick-witted, he wasn’t a fighter. His older brother Samal Ballast, on the other hand, was an expert brawler, but lacked tactical skills. Their recent heated sibling quarrel had been resolved, and now the trio—former company president Doma, Samal, and Edward—were running Ballast Trading.

They were searching for the adventurers Hikaru and Paula, along with the Wandering Saint, to express their gratitude for healing Doma and bringing their family back together, but they had vanished without a trace.

“Samal’s in the capital, right?” Doma asked, to which Edward nodded. “Tell him to check if this masked woman is the Wandering Saint.”

And with that, the roughnecks of Pond sprang into action.

---

If word had reached Pond, then surely the rumors had already permeated the capital, both in the underworld and on the surface.

“Your attire reflects the state of your mind! You there, I trust you haven’t violated any law?!”

“No, not at all!”

“Then as punishment for that crooked tie, you will give me thirty pull-ups!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!”

With tight collars on dark green uniforms, crew cuts on the men and bobbed hair on the women, one could easily mistake the scene for a military outpost. Surprisingly, however, discipline was more lax than expected.

In a cramped room, roughly fifty individuals donning identical attire but sporting a variety of hair colors sat at their desks. They comprised the Special Investigation Team, reporting directly to the Secretary of G. Ponsonia. They were tasked with sifting through stacks of documents. The unchecked lawlessness of the nobility, fostered by the previous king and his cohorts, had not escaped Queen Kujastria’s notice. To expose corruption and uphold the law, she sought individuals of unimpeachable integrity and granted them formidable investigative authority.

Thus, she established a dedicated investigative unit under the command of an exceptionally stringent individual.

Glancing approvingly at the investigator doing pull-ups, the commanding officer perused the report on his desk.

“Hmm… What’s this?”

The author of the report approached the officer’s desk, visibly anxious. For every typo, they were ordered to do ten pull-ups, resulting in toned back muscles bulging so much that wings might sprout of them at any moment.

“I-Is there an issue, sir?”

“Do we really need intel on the capital’s underground organizations?” The officer tapped the report sharply.

The investigator turned pale. This would undoubtedly result in a grueling session of one hundred pull-ups.

“W-Well, you see, sir, this case came from both the Central Church and the Magic Item Guild. Given the complexity of the case, they asked for the Special Investigation Team instead of Public Safety.”

In truth, the team had been quite idle lately. With most corrupt nobles dealt with, they were conducting field investigations less and less. Once done, all that remained was to compile and store the documents.

Queen Kujastria, struggling to manage the kingdom amidst a shortage of manpower, had forgotten to disband the team.

The commanding officer believed that it was not his place to infer the queen’s intentions. An upright and law-abiding individual, he was a thorn in the side of the decadent nobility. Thus, he was demoted and kept in a low position in the government. After the upheaval, Queen Kujastria appointed him to his current position. He saw diligently fulfilling his duties as his way of repaying her trust.

“A complex case,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Normally, he would balk at unusual cases, but the prospect of tackling a difficult assignment felt like a fitting gesture of gratitude towards the queen.

“Y-Yes, sir. Shouldn’t we handle this ourselves?”

Idle but denied rest, the investigator, on the verge of madness from repetitively sorting documents ten times over, craved a change of pace. Strangely enough, their desires were perfectly aligned.

“Hmm… So, all the elemental magic stones have vanished from the magic item market, and the guild is in a bind. This Society of Wandering Light, an organization rivaling the Church, is behind it. The Church, on the other hand, is fuming over the loss of followers. Did I get that right?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Any proof tying this organization to the underworld?”

“Both the Church and the guild insist they are. Stockpiling items like elemental magic stones to drive prices sky-high is a classic underworld move, which also hit regular folks hard. They’re likely posing as allies to the Church to prevent inquiries. Public Security does not want to butt heads with the Church, after all.”

“Yet now even the Church isn’t pleased with the Society of Wandering Light.”

“Exactly. Many of its followers are just ordinary folk, and it’s hard to determine who’s really pulling the strings. Public Security lacks the manpower for a thorough investigation.”

“They’re not exactly the cream of the crop, I suppose.”

“What do we do, sir?”

“Hmm.”

The officer rubbed his smooth chin. Beards were not allowed in this team.

Cracking a case beyond Public Security’s capacity would undoubtedly earn the appreciation of the queen, the officer mused.

Meanwhile, the investigator who’d brought the report, confronted with the towering stack of documents, felt a rash coming on and longed to leave the building as soon as possible.

“Very well. We’ll begin work on the Society of Wandering Light case starting today.”

“All right!”

Other members in the room, not just the investigator, erupted in cheers.

“Now, before we hit the field.”

“Yes?”

Pointing at the report, the officer said, “Five typos. That’s fifty pull-ups.”