Contents

Cover

Insert

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1: Murderer

Chapter 2: Cracked Wing

Chapter 3: Fallen Guardian

Chapter 4: Mare Tranquillitatis

Chapter 5: Raid Battle

Appendix 1: Akiba Raid Map

Appendix 2: Guild Organizational Chart

Appendix 3: Glossary

Afterword

About the Authors

Yen Newsletter

1

Just as she always did, Akatsuki passed through the narrow door to enter the shop.

The place was deep within the Production Guild District, set in a corner of a ruined building’s remodeled basement. It was filled with stacks of crates.

This store “zone” was the sales area for the production guild Amenoma. As proof, Japanese swords were out on display, status set to non-retrievable. Among the many guilds that forged weapons, Amenoma was an eccentric one that specialized in Japanese swords.

Naturally, the members who ran this eccentric guild weren’t normal either, and as a result of their enthusiastic manufacturing, tools and materials flooded from the relatively large forge at the back of the sales area. Swords and materials that were midway through the production process had overflowed into the sales area and were piled messily in crates, such that the place looked like a storehouse.

Still, as far as Akatsuki was concerned, this was all for the best.

Being greeted with a round of “Welcome!” when she entered a store made her feel pressured, and having products recommended to her by over-friendly salesclerks was a turnoff. Akatsuki was fundamentally shy. She’d grown able to talk quite casually with her guild mates Naotsugu and Nyanta, and she thought she’d managed to make friends with Touya and Isuzu and the others, but she was still pretty uncomfortable around other people.

In that respect, at Amenoma (even though it was because they just weren’t concerned with sales), she was able to relax and size up the items on her own, and she was grateful for it.

“Okay…”

Relying on memory, Akatsuki made for a corner of the shop.

It was an area that held highly versatile Japanese swords.

In this other world, glass showcases weren’t common.

Here, the swords simply hung from hooks on the wall.

Since the sales zone was controlled by the guild and many of the items were set to be non-retrievable, Akatsuki could touch the items, but she couldn’t pick them up or move them anywhere. It was, however, possible to look at them and examine them carefully, so the item properties were displayed. The result was that customers who came to shop weren’t inconvenienced, but there was also no danger of theft. It was a clever system.

It turned out that there were several dozen swords on display.

As it happened, a few of these were items that Akatsuki was keeping an eye on.

In Elder Tales, the conditions that made it possible to equip an item were set on the item itself. For example, the Green Steel Short Sword—Ornate Black Katana Mounting right in front of Akatsuki could be equipped by six of the main classes: Guardians, Samurai, Assassins, Swashbucklers, Bards, and Kannagi.

Samurai were able to equip almost all swords, but if the weapon’s equip settings didn’t include them, they weren’t able to make an exception and equip it. Conversely, Monks weren’t able to equip most swords, but if special permission was granted on the item’s side, it was possible for them to equip that particular sword.

Major equipment for Assassins—Akatsuki’s main class—consisted of bows, whips, and both Western and Japanese swords, but since Assassin was fundamentally a weapon-attack class, it was possible to equip many other types of implements as well, if desired. In the days when this had been a game, Akatsuki had used a short sword simply because it had looked kind of cool, but after the Catastrophe, she’d continued to make regular use of it for more practical reasons. Akatsuki had experience in kendo, and it seemed like the easiest, most comfortable weapon to use.

Choosing weapons was a difficult affair. Akatsuki ransacked the familiar list in her memory, which she’d gone over many, many times already. Elder Tales might have tens of thousands—or maybe even hundreds of thousands—of weapon items, but it was common knowledge that, for a specific Adventurer trying to find the perfect weapon, there weren’t all that many options.

To begin with, there were the weapon categories. These categories included one-handed swords, two-handed swords, spears, axes, pole-type weapons, bows, staves, cudgels, brass knuckles, throwing weapons, whips, and special weapons. Quantities varied by category, but if there were about a hundred thousand weapons in all, each category would, presumably, have about a tenth of that number.

There was also the issue of equipment levels. In Elder Tales, higher-level equipment appeared every ten levels or so. Furthermore, without exception, all Adventurers were compelled to update their weapons and switch them for new ones every ten levels, simply because if they kept using low-level equipment, they’d handicap their companions who were supposed to be on par with them. Skilled Adventurers tended to review their gear even more frequently because of that. In the end, with the level limit apparently set at 100 at current, if an Adventurer updated their equipment every five levels, that meant switching weapons a total of twenty times.

In addition, Adventurers were divided between twelve main classes. While it was possible for one weapon to be equipped by multiple main classes, different weapons would naturally fulfill different needs. For example, a Kannagi looking for a short sword would want one that provided magic power amplification and attribute defense, while most Assassins would want a short sword that focused on agility and attack power. In addition, even if a piece of equipment was geared toward Assassins, equipment choices could still vary depending on whether it emphasized the force of single attacks or attack speed.

These myriad conditions kept narrowing the field of weapon candidates for any one person by increments of one-tenth. By necessity, no matter how vast the total number of weapons was, the options that appeared as a result were limited.

Right now, for Akatsuki, there were probably about ten potential choices.

On top of that, there was an even greater problem:

Whether it was possible to obtain them.

In Elder Tales, powerful weapons were only granted as rewards during raids, almost without exception. Akatsuki had no raid experience. She flattered herself that, as an Adventurer, her level and skills were by no means low, but that was in terms of party Adventurers. In addition, 90 percent of the weapons from raids were nontransferable. In other words, it wasn’t possible to trade ownership to someone else. Unless you participated in a raid and acquired one there, you’d likely never get one.

There were about ten weapons that Akatsuki wanted, but only two could be acquired without participating in a raid—or, in other words, could be purchased.

“…Welcome.”

Hearing a voice, Akatsuki turned around.

A girl about as small as Akatsuki stood there. Of course, Akatsuki was a human whose height had been set to be short. The standard height for dwarves like this girl was about the same as a child to begin with, so the implications were a bit different. Since the race had unique abilities that were useful to several production classes, they were seen fairly often in production guilds.

Her name was Tatara. She was the guild master of Amenoma, a craftsman who’d mastered high-level Blacksmith skills, and one of Akatsuki’s acquaintances.

In response to the voice, Akatsuki nodded.

She might be an acquaintance, but they weren’t so close she could make small talk with her.

“Hmm…”

That said, as far as Akatsuki was concerned, Tatara was a pleasant person to deal with. The general opinion was that she poured all her affection into her swords, and as proof, her subclass was Swordsmith, a high-level Blacksmith class that was rare on the server. Possibly because she was indifferent about human relations, she wouldn’t actively try to sell anything to customers even when they were standing in the sales area. She was one of the few acquaintances that Akatsuki never had to be afraid of.

…Not that that was the reason, but Akatsuki asked the question on her mind:

“Um, I know this is abrupt, but could I ask…? What happened to the sword that was on display here?”

Her voice had gone a little tense. As she asked the question, she thought to herself that people besides her guild mates really did make her nervous. Tatara had flopped her upper body down over the counter carelessly, and she answered from that position: “It sold.”

The words astonished Akatsuki.

This was because, by that point, she’d been coming to Amenoma for two months.

The sort of high-level equipment Akatsuki wanted could get terribly expensive. This was particularly true of the rare raid weapons that were transferable. Some were displayed at Amenoma because they’d been reforged, but as far as Akatsuki knew, there weren’t that many secondhand short swords. As a result, since it hadn’t sold for two months, she’d thought that as long as she didn’t buy it herself, it wouldn’t sell for a while.

“Really?”

“Yeah, for real. They went all out and paid in full with cash…if I remember right.”

“Uuu…”

Words failed her. She really hadn’t seen this coming.

That said, when she looked at the swords on the wall again, the one she really wanted, Ringing Blade Hagane-mushi, or “Iron-Devouring Insect,” was still there. Of the two short swords that had been for sale—Haganemushi and Hail Blade Byakumaru, or “White Snow Devil”—the latter was the one that had sold. That sword had a “proc,” or programmed random occurrence ability that inflicted cold-air ranged damage. Attribute damage was effective against opponents with high physical defenses, but range damage could be difficult to use. In that sense, she might just have been lucky that the one she was really after was still there.

“…Gonna buy it?”

“Uuu…”

That question found her speechless, too.

Of course she wanted it. She wanted it so badly she could taste it.

In any case, as a weapon-attack class, compared to other classes, a larger percentage of Assassins’ combat abilities depended on their weapons. In addition, Akatsuki was currently dealing with some personal circumstances.

She wanted a high-performance weapon.

However, high-performance weapons were expensive.

The remaining weapon, Ringing Blade Haganemushi, was the one she really wanted, and if things were like this, there was no telling when it would sell. That said, the figure written on its price tag was twice as large as Akatsuki’s total assets.

She really couldn’t say she’d buy it.

Of course, Akatsuki was going out to the fields day after day and battling monsters. It had been that way ever since Shiroe began shutting himself up in the guild house after the Zantleaf sweep. However, since the Catastrophe, this world changed as it pleased, and there were limits to how much money a player could earn alone.

For Shiroe, or possibly Marielle, or any of the other guild masters whose names were linked to the Round Table Council, the amount might have been something that they could pay on the spot. However, right now, for Akatsuki, the burden was too great.

Tearing her eyes away from the beautiful short sword in its black sheath, Akatsuki shook her head several times, communicating her intent.

Tatara didn’t seem all that interested in boosting her sales, either. When she saw that Akatsuki wasn’t going to buy anything, she lay down over the counter again, making noises that sounded like “Mukyuu.” Apparently this was where she slept.

As if to shake off her regrets, Akatsuki squeezed the handle of her current favorite short sword in its lacquered scabbard and left the Amenoma shop.

She wanted to improve her combat abilities as quickly as possible, and there was somewhere else she needed to go.

2

It was December, and winter had fallen upon Akiba’s landscapes.

Summer in Yamato had been cooler than summers in Japan in the old world, and apparently, as anticipated, winters were harsher than they’d been in the old world as well. Snow had fallen several times since the beginning of December. There hadn’t been enough to stick, but every time, the wind had gotten colder.

That said, Akiba was an Adventurer town.

While the People of the Earth population had grown, Adventurers still accounted for two-thirds of the traffic in the streets. Adventurer bodies were tough; a little cold was nothing to them, and if necessary, one ring set with a small aquamarine gave them enough resistance to the chilly air to easily repel natural cold.

Akatsuki cut through the morning streets, walking rapidly.

She was headed for the outskirts of town.

At the southern edge of Akiba, Akatsuki blew her summoning pipe, leapt onto a swift black horse, and galloped off.

I want to get stronger…

Once again, Akatsuki murmured it to herself, silently.

Lately, it felt as if she thought this every day… No, several dozen times a day.

One more time, Akatsuki put a hand to her hip, tracing the sheath with her fingers.

It held a kiln-turned ceramic stained short sword. It was a high-level production-class weapon that Akatsuki had obtained before the Catastrophe. It certainly wasn’t a weak short sword. Of the types that could be acquired when adventuring as a party, it was the highest grade.

Akatsuki thought that this weapon was exactly like her.

In a six-person party, her skills were high-level. She could carry out the role she was given flawlessly and efficiently. However, in Elder Tales, there was a world beyond that one: raids. Akatsuki had never taken part in a raid. She’d shied away from the long times spent on standby and the complicated human relationships.

In addition, no one had called her for the task.

However, no matter the reason, the fact was that Akatsuki had no raid experience. That meant she hadn’t acquired the high-level treasure-class and fantasy-class equipment that could be obtained on raids. Akiba was home to major combat guilds like the Knights of the Black Sword and D.D.D. Their members probably included super-top-class Assassins who were more skilled than Akatsuki, and who had equipment she could never obtain no matter how much she wanted it.

Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Nyanta were like that as well.

They’d belonged to the Debauchery Tea Party, a group that hadn’t been a guild but had once dominated the world, to the point where it had become a legend. They were super-top-class Adventurers who’d competed with the major combat guilds for victory.

Compared with friends like that, her own abilities seemed far too shaky.

She was a skilled Assassin, certainly: a modest top-class, or at least the very top of second-class. However, she wasn’t a super-top-class Assassin.

That was Akatsuki’s reality.

The very top of second-class.

She was a lot like the weapon she used.

As a result, she’d started going to Amenoma in search of a top-class weapon, even if it was at the very bottom of its class, but top-class weapons were—as expected—expensive, and they were out of her reach. The way she let her regrets accumulate and went back every day was absurd.

When she reached the Dovature Birdlands, Akatsuki dismounted. She wasn’t planning to do anything bad, but from this point on, she needed to conceal her presence.

She advanced, slipping between the dense trees, and before long, her vision was blocked by a wall of greenery.

Of course there were trodden paths as well, but that sort of animal trail had inherited the game’s design intent, and they meandered. It was a design technique used to make small places look bigger.

The Dovature Birdlands were a type of field dungeon. Although it was an outside zone, the small paths that ran every which way formed a labyrinth, and it had been designed to make it possible to fight lots of monsters.

However, after the Catastrophe, if you didn’t mind losing some speed and taking a little trouble, you could skip the suggested routes and cut straight through the brush. You had to climb up and down small cliffs, and it did take work, but for the petite Akatsuki, slipping through the brush was comparatively easy.

This zone was located about forty minutes on horseback from Akiba. It was a zone designed for parties, and the monsters that appeared there had levels in the 80s. Akatsuki was level 91, and she wouldn’t gain any experience points here, but in exchange, she could move in relative safety. On the other hand, although it was possible to defeat the monsters that appeared here safely, it took more than one attack to do so, which made it the perfect place for testing weapons and practicing. Akatsuki often came here for combat training.

The group she’d come here for was probably training right now, too.

After she’d pushed her way through the brush for a while, she heard the sounds of battle: clashing steel and a raucous noise that seemed to freeze the air; the sharp sound of electrical attacks… Apparently, the Knights of the Black Sword were going over their teamwork and equipment again today.

Akatsuki found a depression in the ground, then quietly sat down. From that cluster of trees, she could look down into the sunken clearing.

There, two parties from the Knights of the Black Sword were in the middle of a fierce mock battle. Akatsuki used her special Tracker skills to erase all traces of her presence, then began to watch their combat training.

Around the time of the Libra Festival, the word Mystery had begun to be whispered through the town of Akiba.

When it first appeared, it was a rumor a bit like an urban legend.

In Elder Tales, Adventurers’ various actions were expressed as special skills. Special skills were granted to Adventurers according to all sorts of conditions, but the most common was through their classes. For example, Assassinate, the high-powered offensive special skill Akatsuki used, was one that could be acquired by Assassins once they reached a certain level. As Adventurers leveled up, these special skills were replaced by higher-level special skills. For example, Assassinate III, which was acquired at level 47, was weaker than Assassinate IV, which was acquired at level 57.

However, even with Assassinate IV, it was normal for its power to differ depending on who used it. The reason lay within the special-skill ranks. A special skill that had just been acquired as a result of leveling up belonged to a rank known as “Initiate.” It could be used, but it wasn’t very powerful. After that, by paying into proficiency or using specific items, it was possible to raise the power of the same special skill to “Elementary,” “Intermediate,” “Esoteric” and “Secret.” To attain “Intermediate,” you needed a scroll made by someone in the same class; attaining “Esoteric” required a scroll made with rare materials. Both were expensive, but could be purchased.

However, it was impossible to attain “Secret” without conquering a dedicated quest. In addition, that dedicated quest required participation in a raid. This difficulty in acquiring special skills was one of the reasons behind the difference in combat strength between super-top-class Adventurers affiliated with raid guilds and second-class Adventurers like Akatsuki.

According to the rumors, “Mystery” was what lay beyond “Secret.”

It was a special skill rank that hadn’t existed when Elder Tales had been a game, at least not before the Catastrophe. For that reason, some also called it Overskill.

Increased power in special skills due to a rise in rank manifested on several fronts.

Although this differed by special skill, Assassinate was an offensive special skill, so the damage inflicted simply increased. From what Akatsuki remembered, there was a power increase of about 22 percent between “Initiate” and “Secret.” There was no knowing how much of a power increase to expect when you attained “Mystery.”

As described, “Mystery” brought nothing but good things. However, its existence was no more than a rumor because the number of Adventurers who could declare categorically that they’d confirmed it was incredibly small. As far as Akiba’s rumor mill went, half the people didn’t believe in Mysteries or Overskills and half did, while even most of the Adventurers who believed in it thought it wasn’t all that powerful. Akatsuki believed in the existence of Mysteries simply because Shiroe had declared they existed.

If I manage to acquire a Mystery, even I’ll be more…

As she thought, Akatsuki hugged herself tightly.

Most of Akatsuki’s own special skills were ranked “Intermediate” or “Esoteric.” Of course, for a party-level Adventurer, these ranks were more than sufficient, but she’d be no match for a member of a major combat guild. Even here, there was a wall in front of Akatsuki.

However, the Mysteries must exist.

Shiroe had said they existed, so they did.

And the ones who were most likely to have attained them were the strongest of the combat guilds, the members of the Knights of the Black Sword. Of course, there were probably Adventurers in guilds like Honesty and D.D.D. who’d attained “Mystery” rank as well, but the Knights of the Black Sword prided themselves on being elite, and it was more likely to exist among them.

No one knew how “Mystery” rank was attained, but in light of the fact that “Secret” was granted through special quests that required raid participation, it was logical that it probably involved some sort of quest. That just showed how little general knowledge there was about the way “Mystery” level was attained. In the current Elder Tales, where strategy sites no longer existed, information traveled slowly, and its value was through the roof.

This was why Akatsuki was huddled up in the brush in the bone-chilling December cold, watching the Knights of the Black Sword train. If another Assassin was using a “Mystery”-level attack, she wanted to see that skill and gauge how powerful it was. If they were going on a quest, she wanted to at least know its trigger.

They’re tough… That was just one attack.

Even from here, she could tell the Knights of the Black Sword were strong: naturally, the Assassins who fought there, but even the other classes as well. They were so strong it was fascinating.

Heeey, cut in deeper.

Lame. That ain’t enough damage, is it?

You’ve gotta step farther in!

The way they spoke might have been rough, but all the members of the Knights of the Black Sword were elites, in the top 1 percent on the Yamato server.

Their movements, their teamwork, the beauty of their equipment, their strength.

Just watching them made Akatsuki want to cry.

Even though fighting was all she could do…

She was weak in combat.

She remembered the profiles of her liege and her junior guild member on the night of the festival, illuminated by the bonfires. A pair of birds soaring to heights Akatsuki didn’t understand.

She’d wanted to be by Shiroe’s side. She’d wanted it very badly.

But she hadn’t even tried to think about what Shiroe was seeing, and now she was paying the price.

I want to get stronger…

Once more, Akatsuki murmured it to herself.

However, she was keenly aware that that murmur alone would never make her stronger. She knew how foolish it was to be sitting here observing the Knights of the Black Sword. She didn’t have the strength to accomplish one single thing.

Akatsuki, who had to protect Shiroe’s secret, was the loneliest person in wintry Akiba.

3

The glass bottle was big, so big it might have been better to call it a glass basin. Pale pink liquid circulated inside the glass vessel, and a man on a stepladder was casually tossing light brown leaves into it.

The fragrance that wafted up smelled like cocoa, but Roderick, who was frowning, knew it wouldn’t taste the least bit sweet if you drank it.

This was a research facility known as “Roderick’s Workshop.”

It was a room in the Roderick Trading Company’s guild tower.

“Guild tower” was one of the terms Adventurers used for guild halls. The term was often used when a guild bought up an entire building, as the Roderick Trading Company had, and used its interior as a guild hall. This was particularly true if the building was a tall one.

The Roderick Trading Company, one of Akiba’s leading production guilds, had purchased a seven-story building on the north side of Akiba that it used as its guild hall. Inside, the laboratory that Roderick claimed as his own was overflowing with glass lab instruments.

There were small items for experiments, but the room also held enormous heating vessels like the one that was currently in use, and a pestle the size of a bathtub.

In order to create items in Elder Tales, all you needed to do was select the thing you wanted to make from a menu. If you had the materials and the machinery, it would be done in ten seconds. Even now, in this world, that method could be used the way it had in the game. However, if you wanted to create something new, as Roderick did, it was another story. You had to do everything by hand, right from the start.

If you wanted to produce in volume, you needed large equipment.

On the day the Round Table Council was established, Shiroe had pointed out the possibilities that lay within the new item-creation system.

These possibilities had first taken root in the field of food and drink, and had then spread to the disciplines of furniture making, smithy, and haberdashery. For the past six months, the artisans of Akiba had continued to discover and develop new items on a daily basis.

However, there were some artisans who were unable to apply manual skills from the real world. Roderick was one of them. His subclass was Apothecary. This was a production class that created the potions and balms that were staples of fantasy games.

Since there had been no “potions to recover 180 HP” in the real world where he’d once lived, there could be no techniques to use as models. Alchemists, Sigilmancers, Gem Engineers and other fantasy world–type production classes all had similar issues.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t create new items, however.

If they were unable to divert recipes and techniques from the real world, all they had to do was inspect the recipes that were already in this world, run experiments, and invent. Over the past six months, they’d created reinforcement-type recovery potions up to level 50, and sigils and gems had been continually improved.

One of Roderick’s great personal achievements had been the development of a mass-produced Appearance Reset Potion. Unlike the real Appearance Reset Potion, it was simple: It only allowed changes to up to two parameters from the gender, height, weight, figure, hair color, eye color, and skin color options. However, thanks to the popularization of this potion, they’d nearly managed to eradicate cases of Adventurers struggling with genders that were different from their old-world selves.

After that, Roderick had continued to analyze, mass-produce, and work out countermeasures for extremely difficult medicines such as Ambrosia, Theriac, and Netherworld Repast.

The Roderick Trading Company was counted as one of the three major production guilds, but its purpose wasn’t quite production itself.

When Elder Tales had been a game, item creation had taken the form of selecting recipes from a menu. There were different recipes for different subclasses, and in order to become able to create a variety of items, artisans had had to collect countless Recipe Scrolls.

For example, even when speaking only of the types of medicines Apothecaries could create, there were instant HP recovery potions, gradual HP recovery potions, HP reinforcement potions, reinforcement potions for abilities, three types of poison antidote, antivenom potions, more than ten poisons for lacing weapons, movement speed increase potions, attack-speed increase potions…and so on. Because potions with stronger effects appeared every ten levels or so, even in the game, Roderick had been able to make over six hundred types of items. In other words, he’d had that many recipes.

That said, it was difficult for ordinary Adventurers, let alone beginners, to collect the vast number of recipes in their entirety. Even among Apothecaries, it took a lot of time and in-game assets to become able to make absolutely anything medicinal.

In an endeavor to counter that game situation, the Roderick Trading Company guild had been established with the goal of building a recipe library. If materials of corresponding rarity were used, it was possible to copy the recipes. In addition, artisans who worked at a guild that accumulated recipes naturally acquired many of them, and so were able to add more value to the cause overall than other crafters.

It was only natural that, following the Catastrophe, the Roderick Trading Company had been the production guild that shifted its focus to research and development.

At this point, most Adventurers who liked research and development had gravitated to the Roderick Trading Company.

In the same way, Adventurers working to apply technology from the old world to this one, to mechanize and mass-produce, were joining the Marine Organization, and Adventurers who liked selling the resulting items and doing business with the People of the Earth were affiliated with Shopping District 8. The Marine Organization ran its own guild shop, even so, but the Roderick Trading Company left its sales work to Shopping District 8 and several commercial guilds. All of its guild members were people who liked mulling over new experiments when they had time.

As a result, the Roderick Trading Company’s guild tower was buried in pointlessly complicated lab equipment and bundles of record documents, and its atmosphere was disorderly. Many fans of MMO games were in high school or college. They’d been students to begin with, and the atmosphere of this research institution-esque guild was probably comfortable for them.

Internally, they often called the Roderick Trading Company the Roderick Laboratory, or the RoderLab for short. To them, it must have felt like an academy with a free and easy atmosphere, where they could immerse themselves in fun research every day.

Including things such as the popularity vote for the lunch delivery girls from Onigiri Shop Enmusubi, it was turning into a guild that was well suited to this other world in a different way from comfy, homey guilds like the Crescent Moon League.

In the heart of that guild hall, an enormous room with a high ceiling, Roderick turned around.

The voice that had spoken to him belonged to a young member of his guild. The companion, who was still young enough to be called a boy, went away, leaving a visitor behind. Roderick climbed down from the low stepladder and greeted his guest.

“Good afternoon, Nyanta.”

“It’s night already.”

Roderick paused at that. …Hmm. He’d been sure it was still before lunch…

“Even if mew skip lunch, night comes.”

His question received an entirely natural response. Nyanta had been looking around as if he was deeply interested, but with a twitch of his whiskers, he took a letter from his pouch in a smart gesture and handed it to Roderick.

On taking it and skimming through, Roderick was left nonplussed.

The sender of the letter was Shiroe of Log Horizon. He’d known that from the beginning. The content was a request for research related to technology development, and he’d anticipated that as well. Such paper-based exchanges were occurring more frequently these days.

After all, this other world held all sorts of plant, animal, and mineral materials. Compounding them, verifying their effects, and searching for new items was incredibly entertaining. It was possible to look at the materials consumed in recipes from Elder Tales’ game days and get a vague idea of the medicinal properties of the required materials. Collecting and analyzing this sort of knowledge and putting together ideas thrilled him.

The Roderick Trading Company attracted these so-called “research fiends.” Although most of the members specialized in different fields, it was safe to say that, on some level, they all had that sort of temperament.

Roderick himself was aware that he had so much fun with this sort of trial and error that he tended to leave his Round Table Council duties to other guilds. The biggest victim of this was Shiroe. As a result, it was hard for him to turn down Shiroe’s requests.

In addition, in most cases, Shiroe’s letters turned out to be beneficial for the Roderick Trading Company as well: suggestions from Shiroe for new products, or introductions to promising guilds or people. At the very least, so far, they’d never been worse off for considering them.

However, this letter wasn’t as easy to understand.

In any case, it held only a few lines.

“That’s what it is, apparently.”

“Nyanta, are you familiar with the contents of this letter?”

“No, not in the least.”

Nyanta waved a hand at the dumbfounded Roderick. Apparently he really didn’t know.

I want a catalog of all the magic items that are currently in circulation in Akiba, or are most likely in the possession of the large guilds. I’d also like you to investigate their abilities. In particular, could you append the flavor text to your survey material?

“Mmm, well… I don’t have any objection to it. However, investigating this is going to take quite a lot of items that are higher than fantasy-class and secret-class. That’s a lot of material. I expect that’s why he came to us, but…”

“We don’t have assets like that at Log Horizon, mew see.”

“So you say, but I’d wager you do have quite a variety of things.”

“Mya-ha-ha-ha. We’ve got lots of growing youngsters, and it’s a drain on the wallet.”

Nyanta laughed gently, showing a laid-back maturity. As always, he was neat and fashionable, a perfect gentleman.

Roderick sighed and let himself be convinced.

If Shiroe had sent him a letter like this, this sort of research would probably be necessary sooner or later. True, it was research which was likely to require a budget, but it wasn’t an amount they couldn’t scrape together.

It was true that the Roderick Trading Company was probably the best guild for a job that required investigating many types of items. After all, it had the largest recipe collection on the Yamato server, and it attracted obsessives who loved research more than anything else in the world.

“There are several things I’d like to discuss. Would you join me for lunch?”

“As I told mew, it’s night.”

“For ramen, then.”

“I suppose I must.”

He shrugged, and Roderick left the laboratory, in which he’d spent who knew how many hours, with his older friend.

Since it was winter, hot soup would probably taste wonderful.

4

It was a cold night.

The wind that stabbed her cheeks had a metallic chill to it. Kyouko sneezed hugely, then looked around. That had been a pretty impressive one. Really unladylike.

Thinking that Master Soujirou would probably be disillusioned with her if he found out, she rubbed at her nose, which had started to tickle again.

For Adventurers who’d reached a certain level, the cold air of winter wasn’t a threat. They could use their equipment to shut out damage from the cold. However, saying they weren’t cold would have been a lie. In particular, the information they got through their sight and hearing that told them “It’s probably cold” convinced their spirits of the cold, long before they took physical damage.

As a result, Kyouko was hurrying to the guild house.

More than half the guild members were probably asleep there already.

While she’d been talking business with Shopping District 8—or rather, just chatting—it had gotten very late. However, it had been worth it: Kyouko’s Magic Bag was stuffed with loot. She’d actually managed to get three salt-pickled salmon. Some of her companions would cry tears of joy if she fed them this. After all, it tasted like home.

If all goes well, maybe Master Soujirou, too—

Conjuring up sweet daydreams, Kyouko broke into a grin.

They’d eat lunch together. The menu would be onigiri, naturally, made with plenty of salmon. “Master Soujirou, you have some of your lunch stuck to your cheek.” “I do? Which one?” “The right one.” “Huh? Where, where is it?” “I guess I’ll have to… There, I’ve got it.” Munch. Heh-heh! Kidding!

In one of Akiba’s back streets, Kyouko turned bright red.

Her twelve-cylinder maiden engine was going full throttle, repelling the midwinter’s night wind.

Kyouko was an athletic type in any case, and her temperature rose easily. She had a good basal metabolism. If it had been Fragrant Olive, she would have gotten a nosebleed and collapsed. The anemic elf’s ability to fantasize left Kyouko’s in the dust.

“Wachoo!”

However, the mental lunch-date fantasy seemed to have made her careless. A sneeze that couldn’t be called ladylike burst out. It really was a problem.

That sneeze had gotten her teased both in middle school and in high school. “What the heck, Kyouko?! You’re like some old guy!” She could still remember it. One of her classmates in brass band had told her that. She’d actually liked the boy quite a bit, too. Calling a girl an old guy… That had been mean. She’d been pretty wounded by it.

True, she’d been a dedicated athletic-club type for ages, and in her class, she’d been less of a feminine type and more of a laughs-with-her-mouth-wide-open type, but even so, she wished he’d chosen his words more carefully. Such as, maybe, “Now there’s a sneeze that hints at real greatness.” …No, actually, that would have been awful. Really terrible.

Kyouko thought about these things as she walked.

Even so, she realized—although it was a bit late for such realizations—that the way she sneezed was the same in this world, too. It had seemed only natural, but come to think of it, it was odd.

Although the fact that I’m in another world is odd enough to begin with.

She directed a verbal jab at herself.

Possibly because of the sneezing, she wasn’t in top form tonight.

The greenery whispered. The air was cold and felt stiff somehow.

Night wind had blown through the spaces between the ruined buildings, rustling the trees. Then, by the time Kyouko noticed, there was a man standing in the darkness ahead of her.

He was about 175 centimeters tall, a man with long hair. A tight black tank top and leather pants. He wore sturdy jet-black armor on his arms and legs only, which gave him a strange silhouette, but strangeness on that level wasn’t uncommon in Akiba, a town of Adventurers.

What made Kyouko stop in her tracks was the indescribable feeling of intimidation that rolled off the man.

Feeling as though her spine had frozen, Kyouko paused. She even took an involuntary step backward.

As if he didn’t like the distance she’d put between them, the man came forward.

In the wan glow of the Bug Lights the Round Table Council had had installed, the man wore a black mask that resembled a blindfold. Although she had no idea when he’d drawn it, he held a sword that seemed to absorb the pale light.

The blade rose smoothly, as if pulled by a string, and Kyouko’s body reacted to it before her mind did.

Kyouko was level 90, and a veteran Guardian too. The West Wind Brigade had a reputation for being a harem or girls’ club, but in terms of achievements alone, it was among Akiba’s top five combat guilds.

Kyouko was skilled enough to be the captain of the West Wind Brigade’s second company.

However, that was all thanks to her Adventurer body.

As the silver light passed by, seeming to skim the surface of her eyeballs, greasy sweat broke out along Kyouko’s spine. The first thing to surface from the midst of her fragmented thoughts was the feeling that she was about to be killed. The man in front of Kyouko was going to kill her. The next thing to surface—the word PK—was shattered by the words in town.

No, even in town, it wasn’t as though murders couldn’t happen.

It was just that the guards would teleport in and stop them.

In that case, if she hung on until the guards came…

In the worst possible scenario, she’d probably die. However, even if she did, she’d revive in the Temple. That was an Adventurer’s prerogative. There was no need to be afraid. In any case, at level 90, there weren’t many things that could kill her easily. Guardians had the greatest defense of all twelve main classes. Since she was in town, she wasn’t wearing her armor, but even so, she was physically sturdy. It’s all right; I can get through this. There was no need to be too afraid.

Thus, she tried to calm herself down.

…But it was no good.

The man had stepped in close enough that he could have kissed her, and when he smiled, showing the red, wet cavity of his mouth, the composure Kyouko had managed to scrape together fell to pieces.

He was too fast. Too fast for her to follow, even with level-90 kinetic vision. Or no, was it technique, rather than speed? When she stared at him steadily, he seemed to slip through the gaps between her thoughts with slimy invertebrate movements, closing the distance before she was aware of it.

She was only able to follow the first few silver flashes.

Kyouko saw the man grasp the hilt of a sword that had sprouted from her stomach.

No.

The sword the man held had run her through.

Expelling something from her lungs that was less a scream than a clot of damp air, Kyouko leapt backward.

However, when she landed, the sneering man was toying with a blade that had grown from her thigh.

Possibly the serial damage had hit her with a bad status effect: The blood that flowed from her wounds wasn’t stopping. Kyouko ran through the alleys like a wounded hare. Her throat stung and wouldn’t let her scream the way she wanted to, and her limbs felt limp, as if she had a fever.

The fact that, even so, she managed to maintain her agility and field several attacks was due entirely to her Adventurer body.

As she continued to raise wordless screams, Kyouko desperately kept trying to gather her thoughts and think of a way to escape.

Subjectively, a long time seemed to pass.

Far too long.

Shaken by her terror of the man, who kept sticking her with his sword any way he pleased, she’d almost lost her sense of time, but even so, too much time had passed.

“Ah, agh! Aie!”

Kyouko couldn’t make the words come out. Stabbing her through the chest, the man warped the red cavern of his mouth into the shape of a smile.

“The guards won’t come.”

As she understood the meaning of those words, a doubt like roaring static filled Kyouko’s mind. That was against the rules. She’d never heard of such a thing. The declaration had been far too unfair, and Kyouko slammed her raised fist into the man.

However, a blade sprouted from that fist.

The sight was almost comical. At some point, the man had jumped back, holding his sword out as if to thrust, and had stopped Kyouko’s fist with it. Overwhelming speed and technique that surpassed Kyouko’s, even at level 90. Soujirou might have been able to follow the attacks with his Mystery, Clairvoyance, but she couldn’t see through them.

1

“So, how about givin’ up? G’wan, g’wan. Just give up and let me take care of you. I won’t do anythin’ mean.”

“Mari. You sound like a lecherous middle-aged man.”

“Ah, ah-wah-wah!”

Akatsuki sat on the edge of the sofa, shooting glances at the chaos in the middle of the room.

The wallpaper in this beautiful guest room was brand-new—a gentle pale pink hue. The interior decoration and furnishings were suffused with a feminine elegance. There was a delicate tea service on the coffee table. This, together with the women who had descended upon the room, made the atmosphere bright and cheerful.

Raynesia, the room’s mistress, was smiling with as much composure as ever, but a subtle hint of bewilderment showed through. Well, that was only to be expected.

The outfit Marielle was trying to put on her was what people called a “nurse uniform.”

Even Akatsuki thought that was too adventurous.

“That garment is a bit too…um…small for me…”

Raynesia shook her head in a little trembling motion that made her look like a rabbit, but Oh, Akatsuki thought, that was the wrong reaction. Sure enough: “Don’t you worry! Our seamstresses made that custom, and it’s just your size!” Marielle declared, catching her.

Refusing in a roundabout way like that didn’t work on Marielle. On Henrietta…it probably wouldn’t work either, Akatsuki thought. She shook her head again.

“Um, like this? This way, right?”

“No, that isn’t it. Eek!”

“Mari… Really, you shouldn’t use your hands like that…”

“Ah-wah-wah!”

The flustered one was Serara. That said, even as she dithered, when Marielle told her things like, “Grab me that headband,” she did so obediently, making it clear what the hierarchies inside the Crescent Moon League were at times like this.

“You aren’t going to rescue her?”

The Adventurer who sat across from Akatsuki, holding her teacup elegantly, was a woman called Riezé. An upper-class young lady with saffron blond hair, she was a Sorcerer affiliated with D.D.D. She was a slim, beautiful girl, and Akatsuki had heard that she was captain of the training unit.

In response to Riezé’s question, Akatsuki shook her head slightly.

The Assassin was rather familiar with this sort of situation. After all, until just a little while ago, she’d been the one taking damage in the spot Raynesia now occupied. While the main aggressor at the time had been Henrietta, not Marielle, she’d experienced the situation itself in a general way.

She was fully aware that if she was foolish enough to attempt a rescue now, the result would be a secondary disaster, or rather, that the number of victims would double. Just like everyone else, Akatsuki valued her own life.

In short, at present, this room had turned into a dress-up chamber sponsored by the Crescent Moon League.

“I see.”

Without particularly reproaching her for it, Riezé dropped her gaze to her tea.

Akatsuki picked up a bean jam bun from a plate and took a small bite. It was sweet and delicious. One of the perks of this mission.

It was strange to call this chaotic tea party a mission, but that was how Akatsuki thought of it.

In any case, she was here because Shiroe had asked her to come. It might have been a small request, but to Akatsuki, it was an unmistakable link to Shiroe. That had been a month ago, but still Akatsuki continued to attend this tea party.

At first, Akatsuki had been the only one.

She’d drunk tea in the midst of an uncomfortable silence, under Raynesia’s dubious gaze, and had taken her leave after fifteen minutes. After a week, Marielle had joined them. Sometimes Marielle came by herself, and sometimes, like today, she brought friends from the Crescent Moon League. After that, starting with Riezé, who was drinking tea in front of her, women from several guilds had begun attending.

To be honest, it wasn’t a mission she was very enthusiastic about.

She’d gotten used to Marielle, Henrietta, Serara, and the other Crescent Moon League women, but attending with members from other guilds was mentally exhausting. She was bad at conversing with relative strangers. She couldn’t talk well, and Akatsuki thought the people she talked to must feel let down, too.

Unexpectedly, aside from the Crescent Moon League members, the first person she’d grown able to talk to was Raynesia.

In all, there were probably about fifteen female Adventurers who stopped by for the tea party. Marielle attended fairly frequently, but even then, it was only two or three times a week. Each of the other members belonged to their own guilds and had various duties.

Akatsuki was about the only one who attended every day… Although this was purely because she wanted to keep her promise to Shiroe to the greatest extent possible.

“Well, I’ll be! What pretty skin. That’s a princess for ya.”

“M-Miss Akatsuki. Um, h-help.”

“Ah-wah-wah-wah-wah…”

“Nah, nah. I’m tellin’ you, I won’t treat you rough!”

That said, it was because they kept seeing each other, not because they’d become friends or anything. She’d become able to make small talk with her, that was all.

…And so it was a problem to be asked for help like this. After all, until just a little while ago, she’d been prey herself. She huddled down, thinking that if she made herself small and stayed seated, the storm might pass over. However, maybe it made her look funny: She caught Henrietta’s eye.

“Akatsuki, dear. Why are you huddling up?”

“!”

Akatsuki flinched, denying it, and Henrietta gave a pleasant laugh. However, for today, she seemed to have given up on the chase. Simply teasing her seemed to have been satisfaction enough.

Looking worn out, Raynesia came to take refuge next to Akatsuki. Even after having been toyed with so much, she sat gracefully, with her knees neatly together. Her expression was the same as always, too, but her lowered gaze seemed tired.

Akatsuki poured tea into Raynesia’s cup as well.

She understood that fatigue perfectly.

The principal offender, Marielle, was rummaging through her Magic Bag, taking out new outfits and lining them up. Serara was being compelled to help.

Alarmingly, swimsuits and similar things had begun to appear in the parade of outfits… Even though it was winter. She began to feel sorry for Raynesia.

Raynesia was a truly beautiful girl. Her slender neck was delicate, and she must have been fine-boned: The line of her shoulders sloped gently, her face was small, and her long silver hair was as lustrous as silk thread. She was quiet and modest; she always had a faint smile on her face, and she never raised her voice in anger. She was a true upper-class young lady.

Oh, but she’s a princess. Isn’t that different from an upper-class young lady?

That was what Akatsuki thought, but she satisfied herself with the idea that “princess” in this case was like a higher-ranking class for “young lady,” so it was more as if the grade had been raised.

Akatsuki and Raynesia’s first meeting had been a barbarous one.

The day they’d resolved to make for Zantleaf, on Shiroe’s instructions, she’d helped Raynesia change. —Or rather, she’d stripped her and made her change clothes. That had been their first encounter. As that was the case, Akatsuki thought Raynesia must think she was a very violent person. Just after the tea parties started, Raynesia had been rather frightened of her, and even now, she was a bit nervous around her sometimes.

However, even then, she didn’t outright avoid her, and she paid attention to what Akatsuki said.

It was clear that she thought carefully about each topic and responded as thoughtfully as she could, to the extent that it made one think, impressed, So this is what a well-bred princess is like. All in all, she was pleasant company, and because her memory was good, once you’d spoken with her about a topic, she understood it. Akatsuki thought she could understand why she was popular.

“Are Adventurers generally able to wear outfits like this to good effect?”

Raynesia spoke up, sounding puzzled. It was a nurse outfit. With a miniskirt, no less. Raynesia wasn’t tall either, but the balance between her head and body was good, and her bust curved prettily, so it suited her. Akatsuki shook her head, feeling rather awkward. No matter how you looked at it, only a sparse handful of Adventurers wore clothes like that on a daily basis. (The fact that there were a few who did was due to the influence of Elder Tales’ game culture.)

Upon seeing that response, Raynesia looked even more dejected.

She was a beautiful girl who looked like a perfect picture no matter what she did, so even depressed, she was adorable. Akatsuki felt even odder.

If I was like that, too, would things with my liege have been…a little different?

That was what she thought.

However, on the other hand, Raynesia didn’t have an Adventurer’s body or an Assassin’s abilities. She wouldn’t be able to stay by Shiroe’s side and guard him. I wouldn’t like that, Akatsuki thought. It was unnecessary. She knew that. However, there was no way to stop the blood that seeped from the wound in her heart.

“…Yes… Yes. It’s a nurse outfit… Pardon? Yes. A nurse outfit. In other words, the uniform worn by girls engaged in medical care… Hmm.”

Riezé had abruptly begun murmuring.

A telechat.

Raynesia looked blank, but Akatsuki began to feel embarrassed.

“No, nothing so halfway. It’s fifteen centimeters above her knees, if you can believe it.”

Apparently Raynesia had registered her gaze as well; she tried desperately to pull the hem of the nurse outfit toward her knees. However, the cloth wasn’t stretchy, and doing so didn’t hide her legs. In fact, when it was pulled taut, the cloth only emphasized the lines of Raynesia’s slim body.

“Um.” At her wits’ end, Raynesia looked to Akatsuki for help, with eyes that said, Please do something. However, Akatsuki wasn’t used to this sort of situation either. Riezé was proper and ladylike, but she sometimes grew mischievous like this without warning. “Hrrn,” Akatsuki grunted quietly, directing a reproachful gaze at Riezé.

Giving a light, pleasant laugh, with one hand set casually against her ear, Riezé feigned innocence: “I’m only joking. It isn’t a real telechat.” What awful taste. Raynesia was also gazing up at Riezé through her lashes.

However, Riezé made a small bow to Raynesia.

“My apologies. I was a bit jealous.”

“What…?”

“Milord is infatuated with you, Princess Raynesia. So much so that when I’m sent over to play—I mean, to guard you—I’m released from training for the day.”

A heavy ache.

It was probably true.

Akatsuki and Marielle had discussed it, and that had been their conclusion as well.

No doubt this People of the Earth princess would need to be guarded. That made perfect sense. As the Libra Festival incident had shown, there was a force that was attempting to attack Akiba, and it was clear that, in order to inflict damage on the town, that force wouldn’t hesitate to involve the People of the Earth.

At the worst, even if Adventurers lost their lives, they could revive in the Temple, but that wasn’t an option for the People of the Earth. Not to mention that, if Raynesia lost her life now, great trouble was sure to ensue. For example, their relationship with Duke Sergiad—Raynesia’s grandfather in the city of Maihama, and the leading lord of Eastal—would sour, and in the worst case, break down entirely.

Naturally, Princess Raynesia was closely guarded by People of the Earth knights dispatched from the city of Maihama. However, People of the Earth were People of the Earth, and their levels were around 30. If an Adventurer seriously tried to kill Princess Raynesia, it would be difficult for them to guard her.

Of course, the town of Akiba had a guard system and a barrier that detected acts of violence. However, it was a function intended to capture or subjugate those who had committed violent acts, and although it might catch the culprit, if Raynesia had died, it had no function that would resurrect her.

Akatsuki thought Shiroe had asked her to do this job because he’d anticipated those circumstances. Marielle said she’d also been casually asked for help. Now, when Shiroe was unable to move a step, all Akatsuki could do was use everything in her power to comply with his request.

However, when she heard the exact same circumstances slip from the lips of the elegant girl who belonged to D.D.D., they brought pain along with them.

She stopped being able to look directly at Raynesia, the girl Shiroe was concerned about.

Even Akatsuki didn’t know when she’d become so weak.

This isn’t me. I’m not like this.

I know I wasn’t like this.

She was happy Shiroe was counting on her.

Even so, here she was, comparing herself with Raynesia and the other women around her.

She wanted to get stronger. She wanted to comply with Shiroe’s request.

She was doing her very, very best to do both. Even so, for some reason, Akatsuki’s world was always dark and cramped. That hurt her.

Surrounded by bright laughter, Akatsuki was all alone.

2

Sunset came early in winter, and by the time they left the manor, even the afterglow had faded completely.

Henrietta thought that nights in Akiba were beautiful. Compared to the old world, to her hometown of Tokyo, they were gloomy, but in comparison with the pitch-blackness of deep night in this world, they seemed quite dazzling enough.

A forest of buildings the color of darkness, towering in the indigo night. The spreading canopies of ancient evergreens. The scene was softly illuminated by magical lights that had been hung here and there. Henrietta thought those whimsical lights were much gentler than glaring neon signs, and far preferable.

“Dusk falls early these days, doesn’t it.”

“It really does.”

Henrietta agreed with the blond girl who was walking beside her.

Her companion took a voluminous muffler out of her Magic Bag and wound it around her neck. From the way the extra at the ends hung down her back, it seemed to have been made for a man. “What is this, anyway? It’s hard to wear. Bulky, too.” The girl looked adorable in the getup as she grumbled, and Henrietta rearranged the muffler for her.

With the lower half of her expression buried in the scarf, Riezé replied to the assistance, “Thank you very much.” She was quite possibly embarrassed; she kept her eyes averted as she spoke.

“No, no, it was nothing,” Henrietta responded, giggling.

This new, younger friend of hers looked like a flawlessly perfect, proper young lady on the outside, and it was likely that the girl herself probably wanted to adhere to that image, but her true colors showed through here and there, and it was very cute. She was probably younger than she looked.

“You needn’t work so hard. You’re quite enough of a lady already.”

“Pardon?”

She smiled at Riezé, who’d turned back to look at her, and pushed her shoulder.

“All right, come on. If we don’t hurry, they’ll close on us.”

“True.”

In this way, the two of them set off for the central avenue.

Henrietta was a member of the Crescent Moon League, while Riezé belonged to D.D.D. However, although their guilds were different, it wasn’t unusual for them to go home from the tea party at Water Maple Manor together like this. Marielle and Serara had returned to the guild a bit earlier to help with the dinner preparations, and Henrietta and Riezé planned to take a slight detour and buy a few side dishes.

Being able to enjoy delicious food every day was a happiness the Adventurers had rediscovered in their lives after the Catastrophe, but it was also a bit of a burden. In order to make food that tasted like anything, the subclass “Chef” was necessary, and as far as Henrietta knew, such players made up only a small percentage of the population.

Following the establishment of the Round Table Council, players had switched subclasses and the percentage had grown. However, it wasn’t unusual for small guilds with ten members or less to have no Chefs among their members. Meanwhile, it was only natural to find Chefs in huge guilds with several hundred members, but preparing meals for several hundred people every day was a great burden.

At present, dining out and take-out meals prepared by People of the Earth were compensating for these circumstances.

“What will you buy, Miss Henrietta?”

“Fried chicken, perhaps. Mari has been whining that she wants some.”

They’d reached the food stall mall, and, chatting, they began to make their purchases. The People of the Earth salesclerks were old hands at this as well. In terms of time, they were thinking of getting ready to close up their stalls, and they raised their voices, trying to sell off the day’s remaining wares.

“Fried chicken? Did you say fried chicken, miss? Buy mine! It’s garlic-flavored, and it’s yours for three gold coins per kilo!!”

Henrietta, lavishly, purchased three kilos of the stuff.

There were forty hungry Adventurers at the Crescent Moon League, and an amount like this wouldn’t count as a lot. They’d polish it off in no time flat.

Next to her, Riezé was buying quiches with hazelnuts. D.D.D. was a major guild with its own cooking unit, so this was probably a present or a snack.

The mall was fairly busy.

In order to weave their way through the river of Adventurers who’d come to shop, Henrietta and Riezé had to pay careful attention to their surroundings. In particular, groups which had returned from the subjugation wore rugged armor and carried long staffs, so they tended to take up more space than people in the old world.

By the time they’d finished buying their preferred items and had reached the mall’s exit, Henrietta’s impressions of the tea party had faded. Just walking through the mall was mentally tiring, and her feelings were focused on the meal ahead at the guild hall.

As a result, when Riezé casually murmured, “Akatsuki looks as if she’s suffering,” the words startled her. Still, Henrietta had been concerned about that lately as well.

“She seems that way to you, too, then?”

“Yes, she does.”

Akatsuki had seemed listless lately. She’d always been rather shy and reserved, and she hadn’t been the type to actively get involved with other people. Since she made things look all right on the surface, most people probably wouldn’t notice, but Henrietta knew. After all, she’d been watching Akatsuki ever since the Catastrophe.

However, she found it a bit unexpected that Riezé had noticed as well. She’d only begun seeing Akatsuki frequently since she started to attend the tea parties held at Raynesia’s manor. In other words, it had only been two weeks or so.

Henrietta’s opinion of Riezé improved a bit.

“Akatsuki has more experience at this than I do, doesn’t she?”

When Riezé said “more experience,” was she referring to age, or did she mean game experience? Henrietta didn’t know, and she nodded vaguely.

“—I don’t really know, either. I do hear she’s a very skilled Assassin. As a matter of fact, I thought she probably was.”

As they left the mall and walked down a road lined with greenery toward the guild center, Riezé continued to murmur. In the cold midwinter air, the girl’s white breath seemed to enfold her words.

“She seems to have come to watch D.D.D. train once. Or rather, I’m not sure it was only once. I mean that I personally noticed her once. She watched us train for more than four hours.”

“Did she…?”

It was the only response Henrietta could give.

She had picked up on Akatsuki’s distress, indirectly. However, what had the few hours she spent watching a top-class combat guild train made that little girl feel? Henrietta could imagine that the pain had probably made her chest groan, but she couldn’t say she understood the pain itself.

Henrietta was an ordinary Adventurer, one who’d never participated in a raid. This world aside, when Elder Tales had been a game, she’d never been among the top-class Adventurers whose names were listed in the rankings.

“At first we thought she wanted to join the guild. It rather sounds like bragging for me to say this, but we aren’t too shabby of an outfit. When it comes to challenging raids, we have the best environment in Akiba— Or at any rate, we work diligently to make it so… Although our staff is composed entirely of morons. As they are morons, when it comes to combat, they’re just like children. No, they are children. More than children. Über-children. They’re high-maintenance children, and they strike out for raids like Americans flocking to a barbecue… And so we thought she wanted to join.”

“I doubt that’s the case.”

“—You’re right. We understood that almost immediately.”

As Henrietta pointed this out, Riezé nodded, with her gaze still turned to the ground.

“We did report it to Milord, just to be safe. Some thought she might be a spy. But his response was ‘Leave her.’ He said to let her watch, unrestricted.”

For a short while, the sound of boots walking over damp fallen leaves continued.

“It appears this rather upset our proud, childish members. I doubt he had misgivings about it, but later on, Milord gave me a special mission…”

The beautiful blond girl’s expression was embarrassed, yet somehow proud. At the sight, Henrietta gave a furtive sigh. Wasn’t having feelings for Krusty almost an act of barbarism? When she remembered the big man who scattered around unreasonable demands with a nonchalant expression, she couldn’t help but feel sympathetic.

However, she pointed out to herself, Akatsuki—who’d fallen for Shiroe—was no different.

In comparison, things were quite peaceful for Henrietta herself.

True, when she thought of Shiroe, she did feel a faint, sweet ache, but the emotion was well within the permissible range. In this world, where there wasn’t much in the way of entertainment, being able to watch Shiroe and Akatsuki—or Shiroe and Minori—being close and savor the ache in her chest was an act similar to reaffirming her own happiness.

Quiet, unreciprocated love from a safe distance. Since she was satisfied with that, it would have been impertinent of her to feel appalled at Riezé and Akatsuki.

“According to Krusty… I mean, Master Krusty, he owes Shiroe a debt of some sort. That’s why he’s allowing Akatsuki to observe without restriction. He also said to accommodate her if anything happens. We aren’t allowed to be aggressively kind to her or to recruit her, but…”

Paying no heed to Henrietta’s thoughts, Riezé stopped speaking.

“Is that how it was…?”

Henrietta thought that that sort of thing could happen.

Even Shiroe probably wasn’t aware of Krusty’s thoughtfulness.

Men seemed to be quite tedious, or rather, roundabout. If he was going to be considerate, why hadn’t he simply spoken to her and heard what she had to say? However, considering Akatsuki’s current position, she thought being spoken to might only have troubled the Assassin.

In any case, I think what dear Akatsuki wants is…probably confidence.

That was difficult.

For a certain type of person, having it was only natural, and they never thought about how to acquire it.

Marielle was like that. Like a golden sunflower, Henrietta’s good friend illuminated her surroundings with boundless light. Henrietta didn’t have the confidence to smile that way. She thought she’d probably never have enough conviction to embrace her surroundings like that, not as long as she lived.

That was something unique to Marielle, something most people, including Henrietta, didn’t have.

On the other hand, Henrietta knew there were people who could never have anything resembling confidence, no matter what they did or how they struggled. For that sort of person, time spent living was probably terrible torture. Henrietta had seen people with frightened, subservient eyes. By the time you were old enough to graduate from college, you’d met several people like that. No matter where they were, that sort of person was either tired and afraid of not fitting in, or they aggressively threatened those around them.

When she considered herself, Henrietta thought she probably fell somewhere in the middle.

She wasn’t able to have unshakeable conviction, the sort of confidence that allowed her to believe she could never lose what was precious to her. However, as a result of hard work and experience, she could anticipate what she would be able to do.

For example, she’d probably be able to stay on good terms with a handful of friends.

She’d be able to do her job well enough that it wouldn’t cause problems for the company.

Marriage… Now that this uproar had occurred and arranged marriages were no longer an option, she honestly didn’t think she’d be able to manage it, but even so, spending her time as her guild’s accountant while poking fun at her friends’ romances would probably make for a surprisingly pleasant future.

It wasn’t likely that she’d find herself playing a heroic part in their endeavors to return to the old world, but she could use the techniques she’d learned so far to protect the younger members.

That was how Henrietta pictured herself.

She couldn’t do what she couldn’t do, but she was able to do what she could.

It was nothing special: an ordinary conclusion drawn by an average person.

“It’s only natural to have wishes that won’t come true,” Riezé murmured, with her face half-buried in her menswear muffler.

Yes, it was only natural.

To ordinary people, it was far too routine.

To most people, living meant getting used to the reality of not being able to have what you wanted. Henrietta was completely used to it. Riezé probably was as well.

That didn’t mean the pain went away.

There was probably no way around getting used to not having things. However, that wasn’t the same as growing numb to the pain of being unable to have them. That was stasis. If you didn’t get used to it, you couldn’t live, but if you grew too used to it, you might as well be dead.

To Henrietta, there was something dazzling about Akatsuki.

That awkward girl had an easily wounded weakness, one Henrietta had numbed in herself on the pretext of growth. It might be a weak point, but it was also an asset.

At the same time, she knew that that tenderness was causing Akatsuki pain.

Henrietta loved Akatsuki, and she didn’t want her to feel that anguish.

However, she thought there really might be no help for it.

She didn’t know how to help her, and in any case, it seemed as though it might not be the sort of thing other people could help with… To the point that, when she looked back at herself, she didn’t know how she’d become the person she was now.

“It looks as though all we can do is simply be with her.”

“…You’re right.”

Riezé probably understood that as well. That was why her response had been a short one.

Honestly, that pitch-black Master Kuroe!

Henrietta heaved a great sigh, being careful not to let Riezé notice.

That young man was too clever by half, but his closest confidante was in distress, and what was he doing? She’d thought Shiroe had the insight to see through anything, but apparently he was blind when it came to this sort of situation.

Or maybe it isn’t that his eyes are good. Maybe he’s simply wearing a telescope he can’t take off.

Thinking something that was just a little rude, Henrietta smiled wryly.

She wanted to be kind enough to Akatsuki to make up for it. Tomorrow she’d bring clothes for Akatsuki as well and make it a dress-up day. Once she hit on that idea, Henrietta’s mood brightened in an instant. As she made a list of the clothes she was mentally pulling out, she excused herself by thinking, This is for Akatsuki’s sake.

The indigo night was still peaceful.

3

There was a force that was attempting to recolor that same night with phenomenal determination.

It was the guild known as “the showiest guild on the Yamato server,” “the harem group,” and “the young ladies with iron discipline”: the West Wind Brigade.

Rumored to have the highest proportion of girls in Akiba (although not all its members were female), as its nickname indicated, the guild always radiated a showy atmosphere. In a first-floor hall, several dozen guild members were enthusiastically making preparations.

Of course, most of the members were girls. However, there was nothing soft about the atmosphere. All sorts of beautiful women and girls were there, briskly tightening wrist guards and leggings, dressed as if headed for a showdown. As they exchanged whispers in low voices, all were indirectly watching Soujirou, their guild leader, in his Japanese-style haori coat.

Soujirou, whose face still held something boyish, looked out over the hall. Twenty-four members were planning to sally forth into Akiba tonight: a team composed of four six-person parties, the same scale as a full raid. Of course, every one of them was skilled and at least level 90.

“Everyone.”

At Soujirou’s voice, the tension in the hall increased. Although twenty-four members were participating in the sortie, others must have been there to help with equipment or see them off: There were more than twice that many members gathered in the hall.

“I know I’ve said this several times already, but we don’t know what the enemy really is. Whatever you do, please don’t get careless. Understand that his power is greater than yours…and mine. Don’t fight him one-on-one. I also forbid independent action. Make sure to move as a team, and report in as necessary. Nazuna will stay here as a contact.”

“Yeah. I took the job, so I’ll do it, but… Don’t do anything reckless, people. If you end up engaging with the target, use top-class combat formation and fight a delaying battle. This time around, we organized things so there’s two healers per team, so you won’t have enough attack power. Don’t think you’ll be able to do anything with just one team. Your duty is to pin ’im down, then call in. That’s it. Okay?”

1

Although there was no particular rule about it, people at the RoderLab who had the same subclass and were doing similar research formed fixed groups, becoming communities that called themselves “sections” or “departments.”

For example, Mikakage and the other Chefs performed experiments to test the limits and properties of new cooking methods and the act of cooking on a daily basis. In order to do this, they needed an abundance of clean water, ingredients, and fuel, as well as facilities such as kitchens, ovens, heating equipment, items with refrigerating and freezing functions, knives of all types, a variety of containers, mortars, mixers, and more.

The value of the groups known as guilds lay in being able to jointly possess large-scale facilities which would have been difficult for any individual to scrape together. Of course, since they were owned by the group, it wasn’t possible to use them by yourself, but even so, the idea of being able to use a top-of-the-line kitchen if you contributed a small amount of money to the guild was appealing. Lately, exemptions were often given even for these contributions. This was because their joint development projects with Shopping District 8 was proving profitable.

The RoderLab held a dozen or so kitchens of varying sizes with all sorts of facilities, and they were used by the roughly seventy members of the cooking section. It was only natural that members of the same class would connect with each other to draw up schedules or adjust the equipment they planned to use.

“Allie!”

When the carefree young man appeared in the small kitchen, it was late afternoon. The light that streamed into the room seemed to have had a hint of orange diffused into it, but it was still too early for sunset.

Startled by the sudden visitor, Allie the Alraune, a petite plant spirit, shivered and leapt up. Grabbing that chance, he caught her easily.

This young male Cleric with awful taste (he was wearing three shirts with loud patterns layered over each other) was Aomori. Both Mikakage and this colleague of hers—who, in spite of being an Adventurer, wasn’t very dependable—were Chefs, and in terms of affiliation, they both belonged to the cooking section.

Allie, who was holding a potato in each hand, flinched, then began to struggle, twisting and wriggling.

“Don’t torment Allie, Aomori.”

“I’m not tormenting her. Am I, Allie?”

The struggling spirit, who was only as tall as a girl who’d just entered preschool, was wearing an outfit that was identical to Mikakage’s. She was a shy girl. To Allie, Aomori was like a scary uncle who seemed to approach to shower her with affection, but always teased her instead. Below the macaron cap that matched Mikakage’s, her big eyes were wet with tears.

“A-o-mo-ri!”

When Mikakage scolded him, Aomori responded as usual, muttering—“It’s not Aomori. It’s ‘Blue Forest’”—but he put Allie down. Still holding her potatoes, Allie ran around behind Mikakage and crouched down, huddling by her feet.

“Got anything to eat here?”

Aomori pulled a nearby chair over and sat down, asking a question that was pretty irresponsible for a Chef. Without rushing, Mikakage pointed at the pot. Aomori shambled over to it. Then, with bizarre cheers of “Yo-ho” and “Wahoo,” he began filling his plate.

Paying no attention to Aomori, Mikakage kept peeling potatoes with a small petty knife. Every time she peeled one, sweet Allie handed her the next one. Since Allie was so short, the way she stood on a special stand, leaning out over the kitchen table with ears twitching, was adorable.

Mikakage was a Druid, and Allie was one of the nature spirits she could summon, but there was no time limit on that summoning. In other words, unless told to go back, Allie would be there forever. Mikakage thought of her diminutive attendant as a little sister, and she lived with her, without sending her back. The miniature cook’s coat and pastry chef hat matched Mikakage’s, and had been specially ordered from the RoderLab’s clothing section.

Mikakage had spent the period of chaos and confusion that had followed the Catastrophe with Allie and her other small attendants. Her little-sister helper Allie. The Myconid who carried her belongings. Orchis, the lullaby songstress. If they hadn’t been with her, she probably would have been crushed. Mikakage was glad she was a Druid.

“So, this.” At Aomori’s voice, Mikakage turned her ears (and nothing else) his way.

“What is it?”

He probably meant the contents of the pot.

She was pretty sure that was… Searching her memory, Mikakage answered.

“Horned Yakuu shank and chickpea stew. It’s seasoned with salt and pepper, cream, butter, and several kinds of herbs.”

“Is that right. I don’t get it.”

At Aomori’s frank response, Mikakage shrugged.

Hearing things like that would only cause her trouble. Mikakage wasn’t good at cooking to begin with.

People might ask, “What are you talking about? Your subclass is Chef,” but Mikakage thought of herself as a confectioner, and she didn’t feel like a cook. It wasn’t that she was completely incapable of making food for meals, but as a rule, she left everything to the pot. Pressure cookers were wonderful: All you had to do was put in the ingredients, add the seasonings, and heat it, and most of the time it turned into food of some sort. Mikakage considered them a great invention and used them all the time.

“By the way: cheese.”

“Huh?”

Aomori, who’d been eating thick potage-style stew, looked up, tilting his head to the side in confusion. When she asked for cheese again, he said, “Oh! Oh, right. Yeah, it’s done, it’s done,” and pulled something that looked like badly shaped tofu out of a refrigerated tote at his feet.

Accepting it, Mikakage sniffed it, checking the smell. It was definitely ricotta cheese.

This would broaden the range of sweets she could make. Should she go with cannoli? Or keep it basic and make a cream cake? She could pair it with pudding, too. If she was going to make something, she wanted to surprise people.

“Thanks.”

“Yep.”

Aomori drank water as he answered. He wasn’t a regular Chef, either.

He was an odd one who’d switched over to Brewer and, although he worked to create all sorts of ingredients, he didn’t do any cooking on his own. That being said, in a way, that was only natural.

If you wanted to cook normally and serve the food to customers, your best bet was to join Shopping District 8 and set up a shop. You could also get financing as one of the minor guilds affiliated with them. If you wanted to produce in volume and aim for the markets, the Marine Organization was the recommended route. They were currently creating a meal distribution system, and you’d be able to do business in a big way.

This was the RoderLab, a place that attracted oddballs who liked researching and developing new things.

In that sense, there wasn’t much difference between Mikakage and Aomori.

“Are you making something else?”

“Uh-huh.”

As she carefully lined up potatoes in a baking dish, then sprinkled them with granulated sugar, Mikakage responded absently. Compared to cakes made with wheat flour, potatoes, and other raw ingredients tended to produce different results depending on the day. Moisture content, sweetness, and the flavors inherent to the ingredients were more pronounced, and they varied. In adding sweetness with sugar, she was only supplementing the ingredients. When she thought of it that way, she had to be careful.

“A present for someone?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Take me with you.”

“No.”

Mikakage answered instantly as she poured in cream. Aomori had an ulterior motive there. After he’d heard it was a girls-only tea party, he’d made the same request dozens of times. Aomori—or most guys, really—truly didn’t understand: Chatting was important.

Really irreplaceable.

There were several things Mikakage had learned after coming to this world.

One of them was the value of time spent with friends. Here, there were no televisions. No cell phones. No movies or manga. Almost anything that could be termed “entertainment” had disappeared. Calling things “entertainment” made it sound as though they weren’t necessary, but Mikakage could declare categorically that this wasn’t the case. It was likely that most Adventurers could.

That miserable atmosphere in the town just after the Catastrophe. Even if they had immortal bodies, it didn’t really seem like “living” when they spent their days in a despondent mood, listlessly eating food that had no flavor. She thought that human life was something better, something more fun. To that end, it was absolutely vital to have something that would console their spirits.

Like sweets. Or friends who’ll eat those sweets.

Come to think of it, Mikakage thought the time she’d spent talking with friends after school had been the best time ever.

She remembered stopping by the hamburger shop almost every day on the way home from club in middle school. They’d order hundred-yen milkshakes and tirelessly tell dumb, funny stories until it got dark. At the time, it had seemed only natural to her, something she’d have limitless access to. When she started high school, she’d drifted apart from those friends and had begun going straight home. Manga and games had filled those hours for her, but after coming to this world, Mikakage had reconsidered, and now she thought human warmth was really important.

Mikakage had been rather shy, but now Allie was here. Mikakage’s small partner was a lot shyer and more timid than she was. Strangely, when she was with Allie, Mikakage was able to be proactive. She’d thought that, for Allie’s sake as well, she needed to actively greet people. When she was trying not to embarrass herself in front of Allie, she was able to manage without being tense, even in front of Princess Raynesia, a peerless beauty… Although maybe she was able to avoid being tense because she’d seen her profile when she’d been caught off-guard.

Besides, sweets that made Allie happy made everyone else happy, too.

Creating new sweets and serving them to her friends was Mikakage’s greatest pleasure now, and it was the center of her daily life. Luckily, she was able to make enough to live on by selling sweets and submitting recipe logs. In that sense, of all the time following the Catastrophe, these days felt the most fulfilling to Mikakage.

The new facts she’d discovered in the cooking section… They did make her feel a bit uncomfortable, but the investigation looked as if it would yield a modest harvest. Investigations were fun, once you got used to them.

“What, the get-together’s that important or something?”

At Aomori’s petulant question, Mikakage took a moment to think. Of course it was important. How could it not be?

Making sweets.

Having people eat those sweets.

Telling pointless stories.

Nothing was as important as these things. The problem with guys was that they wanted set results from everything. But it wasn’t okay to rush any of these elements. Proper heat, proper timing.

Mikakage put on a big oven mitt, took the potatoes baked in cream out of the oven and served them to Aomori. She was experimenting with a new dish. Aomori was emitting whoops of delight, but since it was a prototype, she couldn’t serve it to everyone at the tea parties yet. This was just a couple of steps above tasting for poison. That was why Aomori was good enough.

“Yes. It’s really important. Really-really. I bet there’s nothing more important.”

“Huh? Not even your relationship with me?”

“That’s less important than scorched, failed jam.”

Ignoring the dejected Aomori, Mikakage began to put away the cooking implements she’d used.

After all, even as Aomori sniffled, he’d probably polish off the potatoes, and Allie—who, though shy, was a busybody—would probably comfort him.

2

When the young man’s visit was announced, Raynesia felt something unexpected.

Of course she knew him by sight, and he was an important person, but she realized she had never imagined him visiting her, or indeed anyone.

In aristocratic society, visits were announced several days to several months in advance, but for better or worse, this was Akiba, and the servants at Water Maple Mansion, Raynesia’s residence, had grown accustomed to abrupt guests.

This time as well, the visitor had been shown into the drawing room before Raynesia had even been informed.

With Elissa’s help, the princess tidied her hair a little and changed clothes. Although the young man was someone from “her side,” he wasn’t a noble, and, most important, they were both People of the Earth who lived in Akiba. Deciding there was no need to dress as formally as she would have for a soirée, she’d chosen a long-sleeved one-piece dress with slim lines.

The dress was pink, as misty as a light snowfall. It had been a gift from Marielle of the Crescent Moon League. Of the clothing she’d been given, it was one of the most demure pieces, and Raynesia secretly liked it.

When she trotted into the drawing room, hurrying just a little, the guest stood to greet her.

“It’s been a long time since we last spoke, Lady Raynesia.”

The visitor, who bowed his head politely, was a young man. His name was Kinjo. He was the young leader of the Kunie clan in Akiba.

“I’m terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Raynesia gracefully returned the courtesy.

While Elissa prepared tea, an odd silence flowed between them.

Raynesia didn’t know much about this young man. On the contrary: The fact that he was the young leader of the Kunie clan was nearly all she knew about him. The Kunie were an unconventional clan, even for the People of the Earth, and it was safe to say that, in a sense, they had special influence in Yamato.

Yamato was roughly divided into five territories.

The Ezzo Empire, which had been founded in the wastelands to the north. The Nine-Tails Dominion, a merchant shipping nation far to the south. The Duchy of Fourland, which had already collapsed and was now a dangerous island where monsters ran rampant. The Holy Empire of Westlande, which had inherited the blood of the Westlande Imperial Dynasty. Finally, Eastal, the League of Free Cities, which had put down roots in Eastern Yamato and included the city of Maihama, which was governed by Raynesia’s grandfather.

The same currency was in circulation in all five of these territories. The money was divided into halves, quarters, and whole coins, but these were ordinarily referred to in general terms as “gold coins.” Raynesia had heard that the exact same currency was used, not only in Yamato, but even on the continent.

These gold coins had been used since ancient times, and the members of the Kunie clan were the ones who controlled their circulation, or in other words, the banks.

They had inherited a few of the ancient alvs’ technologies, and they were able to send and receive articles across long distances using a method that was different from the intercity gates. The Kunie clan used these technologies to operate the financial institutions scattered across the country.

However, they weren’t a banking clan.

Their mission was to maintain the magic technologies from the time of the ancient alvs.

The bank was the most typical example, but in Eastal, they were also in charge of maintaining the barrier cities’ magical defensive circles. There were roughly thirty barrier cities in Eastal, and ancient facilities that transmitted magic had been built underneath them. This magic prevented monsters from invading, and it also powered the mobile armor.

With the exception of the cities belonging to the Holy Empire of Westlande, which had been afraid its nobles would rebel, almost all the barrier cities in Yamato were supported by the Kunie clan.

That was how heavy the clan’s responsibility was. In a way, you could say their clan was more important to Yamato than the nobles. Even when Raynesia had been posted to Akiba, her grandfather had duly sent word to the Kunie clan.

However, on the other hand, since antiquity, the Kunie clan had been known for its curious lack of interest in fame or power. Among Eastal’s nobility, the unanimous impression was that they handed their mission down orally and cared only about its accomplishment.

In general terms, ordinary People of the Earth nobles—and Raynesia herself—were conscious of the Kunie as an eccentric People of the Earth tribe that was strange and mysterious, but that had lent its strength to maintaining the world since antiquity.

“Please, do have some tea.”

However, for that reason alone, Raynesia didn’t know how to speak to him. For the moment, because it seemed safe, she offered him the tea Elissa had made. What she’d set down on the low table was green tea they’d recently purchased.

Kinjo softly lowered his half-closed eyes, then brought the cup to his lips.

She’d heard from Elissa that he was young, and even now, when she was facing him, there was no other way to describe him. However, even when she gazed steadily at the young man—who had violet eyes and black hair, and was dressed in a formal suit with a stand-up collar—his age wasn’t clear to her.

Naturally, he was older than Raynesia, but what would he be compared to Krusty the warrior-menace? The smooth contours of his cheeks made her think he might be much younger, and his sinewy hands made him seem much older. Raynesia had never seen anyone whose age was this unclear to her before.

“I apologize for my sudden visit today. A grave incident has occurred; I’ve come to explain it to you, and to apologize.”

Kinjo had returned his cup to its saucer, and he grimaced as he spoke.

“What might that be?”

“A suit of mobile armor has been stolen from the guards’ station.”

“What…?”

“We believe the thief was one of the guards, a member of the Kunie clan.”

Raynesia didn’t usually think of herself as being quick on the uptake, but this time she truly missed his meaning.

She was also keenly aware that the blood was draining from her head.

A vicious dizziness assailed her, and her vision seemed to darken.

Mobile armor was one of the relics from the ancient alvs, special armor used in order to protect a specific zone. The greatest difference between it and ordinary armor lay in the magic that was externally supplied to it, and that function greatly improved the physical abilities of whoever wore it.

Currently, the People of the Earth’s combat abilities weren’t that strong, comparatively. Not only were they no match for the Adventurers, they couldn’t stand up to any monster that was midlevel or above. Even so, they were able to protect their living space in the world because they had help from several quarters.

One was the legendary People of the Earth heroes known as the Ancients, as well as the Adventurers, who acted as guerilla fighters and put down the world’s enemies. Another was the barrier technology that protected the big cities and major highways from monsters.

The organization of guards equipped with mobile armor was an element just as important as the previous ones.

Depending on the situation, People of the Earth who’d been strengthened by mobile armor gained abilities that surpassed those of high-level Adventurers. In addition, although their abilities were limited to the cities, they could teleport and put people in prison. The guards employed these abilities to keep the peace in town.

Of course, the use of these abilities wasn’t unrestricted. Mobile armor required a vast amount of magic just to operate, and she’d heard it could be used only in certain cities.

“Yes, that’s correct. Mobile armor can be used only in a few major cities. Without a constant supply of magic from the enormous magic circle constructed under the city, the wearer finds it difficult even to move. That’s one of the armor’s distinguishing characteristics. In addition, mobile armor is tuned to the magic wavelength of its specific city, so if removed from Akiba, it would be nothing more than rubbish.”

Raynesia was dumbfounded. Watching her steadily, Kinjo kept speaking.

“However, that doesn’t change the gravity of the situation. Even if it’s only papier-mâché if taken outside, within the city, its strength is unequaled.”

Depending on how it was adjusted, mobile armor could greatly amplify output. In the town of Akiba, its abilities surpassed level 100. Its purpose was to control Adventurers who committed violent acts in town, so this was only natural, but its combat abilities were set to surpass even those of Adventurers at the highest level.

In fact, part of the reason Raynesia, a woman, had been posted to this town governed by Adventurers was the fact that her safety was guaranteed by the mobile armor and the guards. Of course, the official stance was that she was taking responsibility for having touched off the battle for Zantleaf by making reckless statements, without permission from the lords’ council. However, it did mean that her grandfather had had that much foresight when it came to posting a defenseless People of the Earth princess to an Adventurer city with only a handful of attendants.

However, the combat abilities that served as a guarantee had been leaked to an outsider. That news indicated a variety of things, all at once.

“But then… You can’t mean… The murderer…”

Raynesia had gone pale. In response to her question, Kinjo nodded.

“Yes, the Kunie clan is involved in those crimes. As embarrassing as that is, I’m forced to admit it.”

The scandal was enough to freeze Raynesia.

The Kunie clan—and a guard, at that—must not cause a situation like this. It was the sort of thing the People of the Earth hadn’t imagined even once in the space of several hundred years.

However, if that was the case, it did explain several mysteries.

The failure of Akiba’s guard system to detect the murders was only natural. The surveillance network was designed to detect harm Adventurers or People of the Earth did to each other. When the guards did battle, it wasn’t a crime: They were keeping the peace.

In other words, there was no way the murders could have been detected.

While wearing the mobile armor, the criminal had combat abilities greater than the Adventurers. Raynesia had no combat strength, and she didn’t know just how much higher “greater” would be, but from the rumors she’d heard over the past several days, she knew there had been quite a few victims already.

Moreover, the fact that the Kunie clan had a hand in the incident was lethal on two points.

The first was that the clan’s existence was far too transparent, as natural as air. The teleporting guards that protected the peace of the city and the banking network that stretched across all of Yamato… The systems were too much a part of society, both for the People of the Earth and for the Adventurers. Their convenience and safety were solid components of the social infrastructure.

However, didn’t that make the fissure in their foundation all the more terrifying? Raynesia hadn’t received expert training, and she couldn’t even imagine exactly what sort of disaster it might cause, but she felt an unease at the idea, like black clouds on the horizon.

The second was more direct: The Kunie, although eccentric, were People of the Earth, and they had killed Adventurers.

Adventurers were completely different beings from People of the Earth. Their physical appearance was similar, but the difference between their biological potentials was as great as the difference between heaven and earth. Adventurers increased their abilities dramatically by engaging in harsh combat over and over again, and when they were high-level, they had combat abilities that would allow just one of them to fight a band of a hundred knights.

Up until now, the Adventurers of Akiba had protected Raynesia. They’d supported her as well. However, wasn’t that because Raynesia and her people were weak? Even if that hadn’t been all of it, Raynesia felt this was part of the reason.

When that crumbled, the relationship between the Adventurers and the People of the Earth might suffer a fatal collapse.

Why is this happening…?

Raynesia’s mind filled with regret and resentment.

There really was no other way to describe her mood. Why had this unnecessary trouble occurred now, when she’d been posted here, when she was standing right out in front? This incident hadn’t needed to happen, had it? The Kunie clan hadn’t had a single scandal in centuries, and she was at a loss to understand why they’d misbehaved now, of all times, and in Akiba no less, the town where Raynesia lived.

“This incident is due to our carelessness. I’m truly sorry.”

“Can’t… Can’t the Kunie clan, um…do something about it?” Raynesia asked.

She’d had a hunch even before she asked him, but she’d had to ask.

“I’m sorry, Princess Raynesia. Of course, if we cut off the supply of magic, the mobile armor will stop functioning. However, if we do that, the city’s defensive magic circle will also lose its abilities, and it will take decades to bring it back into operation. I can give you no other answer.”

In order to protect Akiba from the monsters outside, the magic circle could not be stopped.

The fact that that magic circle was giving the murderer strength shattered Raynesia.

3

Akatsuki, who’d been let into the anteroom, was warming a cup in her hands, a quiet expression on her face.

She wasn’t particularly cold. There just hadn’t been anything else to do.

She didn’t know how much of it was an accident and how much it had been a plot on the part of Elissa the maid, but her sharp Tracker’s senses were letting her hear nearly all of the conversation in the next room.

1

Shoving her back hard, the line began to move.

Akatsuki had been thinking, but the waves of people pushed her into motion, hurried her on. Whatever she’d been thinking about had vanished. Feeling depressed, the petite young woman walked briskly across an enormous intersection.

On both sides of Akatsuki, behind her and in front of her, tall, black shadows undulated, moving forward. She could hear car horns at point-blank range. They were probably being sounded in irritation by commercial trucks that had shoved their muzzles into the intersection and were now unable to budge. The metallic, shrill sounds echoed, but nobody paid any attention to them.

Was she the only one who shrank into herself, feeling as if she’d been scolded, each time that sound blared out? She wished somebody would do something about it quickly, but in her experience, it had never been resolved, not even once. The human walls that flowed around her were overwhelming. Salarymen. Businesswomen. Students. People of all ages and occupations walked on, mechanically.

Some people were talking loudly. They held their cell phones right up to their lips, conducting business negotiations in yells. Akatsuki ducked her head, frightened of the voices that shouted at their subordinates. Cordial voices, promising dates. Akatsuki knew the women speaking into their cell phones in coaxing voices weren’t smiling at all.

That was right: She only “knew” it. She couldn’t see the expressions of the people around her. In a crowd like this, it was nearly impossible for Akatsuki to see anyone else’s face. There was too little space, and even if she looked up, she couldn’t see well.

She only kept walking as if prodded, hurrying, feeling an irritated melancholy, feeling afraid without knowing why.

The town was overflowing with jagged noise. The sound of an emergency vehicle siren, echoing in the distance. Car horns. Exhaust noises, like bad-tempered beasts. The sound of everyone talking away on their cell phones, en masse, rolled in the background like the ocean. Neon lights and music played at all sorts of tempos were mixed in, and the whole mess was plastered over everything like a pizza sauce whose flavor was unidentifiable.

As Akatsuki walked, looking down, she couldn’t understand the music that was playing or the content of the conversations. They only ran together, pressuring her ears; sometimes she almost caught a phrase or a scrap of conversation that surfaced, but the avalanche of information washed it away. Yes, this was a violent flood. Akatsuki wasn’t drowning, but that was only because she’d learned how to close her mouth, ears, and eyes. She’d been swallowed by the muddy torrent and was being swept along, and in that sense, she wasn’t much different from someone who was drowning.

The waves of people that had swallowed Akatsuki passed under the elevated tracks and climbed the sloping road within the urban canyon. Where was this enormous crowd going? Layered structures of glass and concrete bristled as if to pierce the sky, completely burying the ground, and the people went in and out of them. This oppressive state, as if a grotesque giant were chewing and excreting at the same time, was nearly the entirety of the town. Akatsuki and the others traveled in order to be swallowed by buildings, and after being spit out by those buildings, they wandered through this compressed town to be swallowed by different buildings.

The evergreen shrubs caked with red-brown soot were dingy things. They were insignificant plants that only existed to be used as a sort of excuse, an alibi: “This building belongs to a highly-conscious corporation that has taken care to create an abundant natural environment.” Artificial was really the only word for them. Although they weren’t quite trampled, they were pressured by the human wave—the one that was currently pushing Akatsuki along—8,760 hours per year, and they drooped, unable even to keep up appearances.

Akatsuki only glanced at them and kept walking. For all the residents of this city, not falling behind the pace of the surrounding black crowd was a survival strategy. Breaking step was nearly synonymous with dropping out.

Asphalt streamed past Akatsuki’s eyes. She was walking with her head down, and the asphalt, struck by a great variety of shoes, was the main element in her field of vision. Even though they should have been washed away by the previous night’s rain, broken convenience store chopsticks, unidentifiable flyers, plastic bags, cling wrap that had once been silver, key chains that had soaked up muddy water and would no longer be retrieved by anyone, and many other things appeared on the dirty, exhausted road. These were things she was seeing for the first time, of course, and there was no point in really noticing them; they were trampled by the crowd, flowing away into the past as far as the moving Akatsuki was concerned. Still, at the same time, they were unique, and they appeared on the road again and again.

Naturally, any single plastic bag had probably held a product purchased at a store somewhere, but when they appeared on the road as garbage, their individuality was long gone. Now, in every sense, there was no difference between the plastic bag that was stepped on by the crowd and mercilessly shredded and the bag that appeared five minutes later…and this was the same for everyone. Probably for Akatsuki as well.

Time seemed to pass at both a furious pace and as slowly as a snail. The advertising music that was interjected at irregular intervals like sudden, heavy rain sounded like an explosion, and it chopped up Akatsuki’s time in ways that had nothing to do with her feelings. It became a pacemaker, controlling Akatsuki’s daily life. However, it wasn’t that she was too busy to think. On the other hand, in the midst of her thinly sliced time, there was no space for studying or playing, so she inevitably did the things that could be done in small increments.

For the people around her, this seemed to mean talking on their cell phones in loud voices or listlessly buying game items on their smartphones. For Akatsuki, who had no interest in these things, her minced time was a depressing prison of self-awareness. She had to grit her teeth to endure that idleness. The emotion that resembled anger had already cooled completely, decaying into self-loathing. Could she even be called human when she lived a life that was broken down into minimal units like this? Akatsuki thought it was like being livestock. As proof, she had no way to escape this place.

The line stopped, all at once. A traffic signal. It blinked a few times, then turned red, letting traffic that ran at right angles to it move as it did so. The herd of cars rushed by as if pursued by a hunter, setting up a harsh din as it passed in front of Akatsuki. Akatsuki knew that here, in the heart of the city, the distance to the next signal wasn’t even fifty meters. Even if that one was green, these cars would probably stop again at the next one, or the one after that. Even though it was such a short distance, the cars accelerated as though they couldn’t stand it, spraying fumes around. She couldn’t understand what they meant by it. Akatsuki couldn’t drive, and possibly it was some secret she didn’t know.

The cars charged down the road as though they loathed blank space. As Akatsuki gazed at them without really seeing them, she sneezed. She felt as if she’d been doing this frequently since she began commuting through this town, and she rubbed her nose. A faint regret remained after she’d rubbed it. It wasn’t a ladylike gesture, and she was constantly thinking she should stop, but she couldn’t seem to correct it. Because of the acrid, acidic car exhaust, Akatsuki’s nose was always sneezing.

Akatsuki began walking briskly, moving to the front of the human wave. Even if she had begun to “walk,” her steps were short, so it was really closer to a trot.

Abruptly, a doubt welled up inside her: Where was she going? If she was putting herself through this sort of pain to get there, she must have a destination. Not only that, but she was heading there on some sort of schedule, for a meeting or an appointed time. That’s right; she’d been heading to—to school. She thought it had been some sort of learning facility. Probably university. However, for some reason, it had vanished from inside of her.

Despair assailed her first, faster than confusion. She felt as if she’d be crushed by a sense of uneasiness with no outlet, here in this town that was like a conveyor belt line. Laughter. Electronic parade noises of the sort that stirred up a fondness for gambling. The scream of car brakes. The echoing rumble of the Yamanote Line going by. Her throat hurt as though there was a lump in it, and her vision blurred. A desire to stop and stand still flooded her, but Akatsuki desperately kept moving, so as not to trouble the people around her. She crossed at a blinking signal, passed by the front of a convenience store, turned the corner at a bank, moving onward, onward, in the midst of a familiar crowd. Going somewhere that wasn’t here. Maybe none of the people here had anywhere to go, just like that plastic bag. Not even the replaceable Akatsuki. However, to Akatsuki, she was the only Akatsuki there was, and she needed proof that this was true… Even if that proof didn’t exist.

Before she knew it, Akatsuki was running up concrete stairs, taking them two at a time. The dreary emergency stairwell reminded her of the desolate view at a housing development somewhere. It was an extraordinarily familiar view, she knew on sight, but it wasn’t distinctive, and so she didn’t really know where it was. What was important was that she was running up the stairs, and that there was nothing the least bit thrilling about it: It was an escape, nothing more.

She wasn’t clear on what she was running from, but this was because she knew that the moment she specifically imagined it, it would catch her. If she had to say, it was that plastic bag. Akatsuki felt like a plastic bag—trampled by the crowd, clinging as if it were wet, nearly torn—was plastered to her back. Or, no—to the soles of the feet as they struck the stairs, making a rustling noise. But she couldn’t hear it, even if she strained her ears. It wasn’t really plastered to her; that was a mistake. However, for some reason, Akatsuki kept running, unable even to look at her feet. An unpleasant sense of urgency was rubbing her spine like cold needles.

It felt as though there wasn’t much oxygen; she couldn’t get enough air, and she was out of breath. She thought this was wrong, but since she didn’t know what the right answer was, she couldn’t prove it. She ran up the concrete stairs, leapt out onto a landing, doubled back, leaning as though to shake off the inertia, and continued climbing the stairs. The repetition had the absurdity of wasted effort about it, like a rat running in an exercise wheel. Akatsuki fled desperately, spurred on by the sound of concrete excavation echoing from somewhere. It was almost as if she couldn’t stand the concrete stairway itself. Still, in order to escape, she had to run up it. How far would she have to go to reach the end of that chain?

Akatsuki didn’t know how many dozens—or possibly hundreds—of landings she’d passed, but when she reached the next one, she realized it wasn’t a landing at all. Her feet were buried in a creamy gray substance; she lost her footing and fell, dragging the exhaust-stained crowd with her. Car horns. The strident parade. Voices she couldn’t understand. As she fell endlessly through screams and violent wind, Akatsuki was sure she saw that plastic bag again.

2

It was a white beach.

A perfectly clear sky stretched on and on.

A cerulean infinity that seemed to have been sketched lightly in watercolors was full of rippling wavelets.

Akatsuki walked along that shore by herself.

She was alone in that vast space, which was deserted in the way only a winter beach can be.

She felt awed by the sand that crumbled, crisply and easily.

When she looked down, her small toes took another step.

She made one more footprint in the pure, unspoiled whiteness.

Far, far away, she saw a small flying shadow. Was it a seabird?

Crunch, crunch.

All she heard were those quiet footsteps and the sound of the cerulean surf as it lapped the beach.

Hugging her coat around her against the chill, Akatsuki walked.

Slowly, without being rushed by anything.

When she raised her head, the surface of the water sparkled with irregular reflections.

The winter light was simply bright; it held no heat.

Her small footprints and their tiny sound continued across the sandy beach in a chain.

Every time her bare feet touched cerulean, particles of light burst and vanished.

Akatsuki didn’t know where this was, but the irritability from a moment before was gone.

This wasn’t her destination, but she thought it was a safe place.

Strolling along the quiet beach was a pleasant, calming experience.

How long had she walked?

She approached the water’s edge and touched the blue with her bare toes, then pirouetted away.

She dragged her footprints out like a honeybee’s dance.

Because she was all alone, Akatsuki did these things seriously.

However, it was a little funny, and she gave a tiny smile.

Akatsuki’s loyal footprints adored her, following her everywhere.

Even that was fun, like a journal being written.

She had to strain her eyes in order to see into the distance, but she saw a human figure.

It was a tall one, and it was rocking and gazing at the sea as if it was mildly troubled.

Startled by how light her body was, Akatsuki realized belatedly that she’d broken into a run.

She covered what had seemed to be a long distance in so few steps that it surprised her; she slowed her pace.

She wasn’t the type to slam into him bodily and hug him.

However, even so, drawn by feelings of longing, she looked up at the man.

Noticing Akatsuki, Shiroe broke into a smile.

Shiroe normally wore an obstinate expression, and whenever Akatsuki saw him smile like that, it made her feel really satisfied.

As if embarrassed, dazzled, awkward…

After Shiroe narrowed his eyes in a smile, he hesitated a bit. Then he turned to Akatsuki, asked her a question with his eyes, and started to walk down the beach.

Akatsuki began to walk with him, as though chasing the tail of his coat.

Shiroe seemed to be walking slowly on purpose.

Akatsuki, who walked wordlessly beside him, did the same.

There was an elegance about the beach, where the only sounds came from the gentle movement of the atmosphere and the waves.

They were both hesitant to break that stillness.

My liege’s hands are big.

She thought this as she saw him scratch his head two or three times, then adjust his glasses.

She watched the hand go into the pocket of his white coat, then quickened her steps.

Or, no, would slower be better?

If she fell behind a little, it might give her an excuse to catch the tail of that coat.

As she thought that, Akatsuki’s mouth fell into a stubborn line.

The expression she was making wasn’t the least bit cross.

To hide her face, Akatsuki twirled at the water’s edge.

Her camel-brown coat flared out, and she was sure she was smiling.

Shiroe turned back and waited for her for a little while.

The two of them began walking again, crunching across the sandy beach, which might have been made of spun sugar. They could feel the fragile sand changing shape under their feet. The wind that stroked their cheeks was rather cold, but now it didn’t bother them at all. There was a steady warmth in the center of their bodies.

To Akatsuki, everything was novel and fun. Shiroe’s big shoes bit into the sand with a crunch. His footprints were deeper than hers; that was fun, too. A mildly strong wind blew through every so often, setting Shiroe’s coattail fluttering, and she thought it was cute.

Shiroe’s pockets looked five times bigger than Akatsuki’s own, and she thought she’d like to stick a hand into one of them, but of course she couldn’t. Instead she turned back, saw the way Shiroe’s footprints and her own stretched across the beach, and was satisfied.

Something cool brushed Akatsuki’s small nose, and her eyes went round.

White snow fluttered down silently, scattering.

It didn’t bring the slightest hint of coldness with it, and when she touched it with her fingertip, it vanished, delicately.

Snow had begun to fall.

When Akatsuki looked up to tell Shiroe about it, he nodded, smiling calmly, and she realized that no report was necessary.

Shiroe had pulled the hood of her duffel coat up for her, and she put it over her head and continued walking.

She didn’t feel tired, but she thought they’d come quite a long distance.

The turquoise sky grew even clearer, turning a deep indigo, and jewel-like lights appeared in the heavens.

The surface of the water reflected the lights, making everything transparent. It accepted the snow, swaying and pale.

“I didn’t think it would be such a quiet place.”

As Shiroe murmured, he stopped walking.

Before they were aware of it, they’d reached a small inlet.

“Mm,” Akatsuki replied in agreement.

She’d really wanted to respond with something cleverer or more ladylike, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything. Still, it didn’t seem to have made Shiroe cross. He was gazing at the sea, where night had fallen.

Toom.

Toom.

She thought she heard a sound, as though someone had softly struck a great crystal.

It was as if a distant signal was echoing from beyond the enormous sea.

Suddenly, a new awareness came into being in the back of Akatsuki’s mind, but it dispersed the moment she noticed it.

Something inside Akatsuki that was not Akatsuki, something transparent, had blown through and gone.

Even though it hadn’t been her, its loss colored Akatsuki’s emotions with sorrow.

When a big hand touched her shoulder gently as though to encourage her, Akatsuki realized that Shiroe had felt the same thing. His expression wasn’t grim, but it was stern.

Shiroe had taken a box cutter out from somewhere; he lightly ratcheted the blade up, then, awkwardly, cut off a bit of his bangs. The black hair had a mysterious sandy luster to it, and there wasn’t enough of it to really call it a “tuft.”

Taking the box cutter from Shiroe, Akatsuki cut a little bit off the tip of her ponytail. She had no idea why they were doing this, but she did know it was necessary.

The two of them tossed the hair into the cerulean ocean that moistened the ground at their feet.

Somewhere, as if in acceptance, the crystal sounded, and the snow that held no chill fluttered and danced.

At that, finally, Akatsuki understood that these pale fragments were everyone’s memories.

Death doesn’t steal people’s memories, she thought. We offer our memories here for a chance to return. Even if they didn’t remember it, she realized, they stood up again because they wanted to.

“Amazing.”

The words Shiroe had let fall expressed Akatsuki’s feelings exactly.

Just how many thoughts were in the snow that drifted down?

How many people had renewed their resolutions on this shore?

The vast number and weight made Akatsuki feel dizzy.

She was also certain, without reason, that this wasn’t a legitimate, guaranteed right, but unbelievably precious good fortune.

…As was the fact that Shiroe was beside her.

“You fell, Akatsuki?”

At Shiroe’s words, Akatsuki brooded for a little while, then nodded.

That was right.

She’d died.

By the murderer’s blade.

That was all right.

Not because she’d be able to revive in the Temple, although that was all right as well. Akatsuki had fought because she wanted to, and she’d fallen. She had no regrets about that.

However, the awareness that she had died woke Akatsuki’s memories. They were memories of dashing out of Raynesia’s mansion and racing through the sky, and of the enormous “something” Soujirou had pointed out to her. Of the intent profile of the Kannagi who’d protected him, and of the showy yet serious “something” that Riezé, and Henrietta, and the other women who’d gathered for the tea parties had…

—And that was all.

What is that “something”?

Akatsuki realized that “something” was the only word she had for it.

She’d gone through that battle, but she hadn’t made any progress at all.

She felt frustrated and guilty over the things she didn’t understand, and she couldn’t do anything but cry.

She’d touched that important “something.” She finally realized that. However, she had absolutely no idea what it was, or what she should do. Even though she knew how valuable and important it was, she hadn’t been able to put it to use. Even though it had been a present…

She wanted to explain it to Shiroe.

She wanted to tell him she’d found something really pretty, something wonderful.

Something important had been there. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought it was something that had been held out to her.

But she couldn’t explain it in specific terms. The words weren’t there.

The choking regret made Akatsuki cry openly, like a child.

She even felt as though the fact that she couldn’t tell him would hurt something important, and she couldn’t stand it. She was terrified that the value of that gift might be dulled, all because she was worthless.

Something had definitely been there, and yet.

In Raynesia’s eyes.

In Soujirou’s invincible smile.

Dying hadn’t been a mistake. Akatsuki’s mistake had been in failing to grasp it, even though she’d brushed it with her fingertips.

…No. Akatsuki thought it might have been right in front of her from the very beginning. In that case, in not having been able to find it, she’d piled up countless mistakes. Without having anyone tell her so, Akatsuki was convinced that this was true.

Tears spilled over again at her worthlessness. This was why she’d died without being able to do anything.

“I see. That makes two of us, then. I died.”

When Shiroe placed a hand on her head and Akatsuki looked up, he was smiling a troubled, gentle smile. Akatsuki knew he was worrying about her. His reserved, self-deprecating smile was the expression Akatsuki’s guild master wore when he spoke to her.

“You, too, my liege?”

“Mm-hmm.”

After that, there was silence.

Shiroe moved the hand he’d set on Akatsuki’s head as if he was perplexed; Akatsuki thought it was probably because he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Shiroe was a bit clumsy that way. Even though Akatsuki didn’t mind at all, he was probably trying to be considerate.

“I messed up. My predictions were too naïve. —I didn’t believe completely.”

They were words of caution directed at himself, more than a complaint.

“I don’t understand.”

As a result, when Akatsuki responded, she was careful not to complain, either.

“It’s funny. I never thought I’d get to meet you here, Akatsuki.”

The continuation of the whispered answer came after countless snowflakes had fallen.

When she thought about what Shiroe’s words meant, Akatsuki was startled.

He was right: It was very strange. She hadn’t seen Shiroe in quite a while now.

Come to think of it, she’d wanted to see him.

She’d really wanted to see Shiroe.

She’d wanted him to pat her head.

She remembered that she’d wanted him to praise her, too.

That alone was enough to make this chance meeting an odd one.

To think they’d be able to meet in a place like this.

Up until just now, she hadn’t thought about that, either.

The strangeness of having encountered Shiroe.

Even as Akatsuki didn’t understand, she felt that this was not an ordinary place. She was grateful for this miraculous coincidence.

“Yes, my liege. It’s funny.”

She remembered the pure white sands they’d walked across, and the cerulean sea.

In the midst of a landscape so bright it seemed bleached, Shiroe turned toward her.

When she ran to him and looked up, a big hand stroked her forehead.

It was just a coincidence.

Still, that coincidence blessed Akatsuki.

She wanted nothing else.

No doubt the things Akatsuki hadn’t reached were still asleep, still right where they’d been when she’d touched them.

Not only that, but there must be countless things like them. In the shadows, where Akatsuki hadn’t seen them. In smiles she’d overlooked until now, because she hadn’t tried to find them there.

She’d arrogantly thought that the good fortune she’d acquired was only natural. She’d assumed that good fortune she hadn’t obtained didn’t exist. Even though it was likely that good luck and encounters and help were waiting all over the world for Akatsuki to find them.

“…And so I’ll try one more time,” Akatsuki said.

“I’ll try again, too, I suppose—Everyone taught me.”

Akatsuki caught Shiroe’s coat, gripping it hard.

She had a premonition, like the sensation of the fragile sand crumbling under her feet, that this memory wouldn’t stay with her.

Because of that, even as she thought she might leave wrinkles in the coat, she squeezed it tightly, tightly.

She and Shiroe would probably be separated again. That was why she wanted to squeeze the coat. However, her wish was in vain: The endless sand dunes, like powdery snow, were growing brighter.

The faint sound of the receding tide held the memory Akatsuki had given it.

The ultramarine sky was growing more jumbled, and she fell into it.

3

It’s all right.

Slowly, smiling at the sensation that lingered in the palm of her hand, Akatsuki let her consciousness surface.

It’s all right.

Her palm still held the texture of slightly rough cloth.

It’s all right.

However, when she opened her eyes slightly, Akatsuki saw her own small hand, right in front of her face, clenched as if it was holding something.

Akatsuki knew her memories were sifting away, coming undone. As she lay on a hard bier, with tears trickling down her cheeks, she was losing the memory of the dream she’d held inside just a moment ago.

As if to shake off the loneliness and the feeling of guilt that she seemed to have left behind in her shallow sleep, Akatsuki turned her stiff palm into a fist and wiped away her tears.

She got up, then sat on the edge of the plain marble slab.

For some reason, she had the feeling she’d passed through a very strange place.

It had been quiet, lonely, gentle, and transparent.

Akatsuki had traveled there; encountered; realized; and then gotten back on her feet.

She felt as if she’d had some sort of important conversation. If possible, she would have liked to bring it back with her.

Even now, there was a sensation in the palm of her hand. Probably from…cloth she’d gripped. Along with a faint warmth, the sensation was fading rapidly. Akatsuki tried to stop the evaporation of memories that always accompanied dreams, but she knew it was wasted effort.

The sound of the crystal bell was growing fainter.

However, she’d managed to bring back one important thing from that place.

The most important thing.

Akatsuki checked herself over, confirming that none of her equipment had been lost.

She got down from the bier and tried moving, carefully.

It was the first time she’d died since the Catastrophe.

From common sense in Elder Tales, and also from rumors following the Catastrophe, Akatsuki knew that resurrection was accompanied by the loss of a certain amount of experience points and memories. She wasn’t able to identify any lost memories right away.

She remembered Log Horizon, and Shiroe, and the others. In a general way, none of her memories from the old world—her family and school, her childhood memories—seemed to be missing, either. If she checked carefully, she might find holes, but it would probably take some time.

The lost experience points didn’t seem to have left her feeling all that strange physically, either. Since the Catastrophe, people said a loss of experience points—even if it wasn’t enough to lower your level—left you feeling fatigued. However, it was hard for Akatsuki to determine whether what she felt now was from losing experience points, or from having gotten stiff from sleeping on marble. It was no worse than that, in other words.

When she took another look around, she saw that she was in the Temple.

The white marble room held several such platforms, and the walls were adorned with unobtrusive carvings.

This was Akiba’s Temple. Although she hadn’t done it all that often, she’d resurrected in these surroundings when this was a game. Akatsuki began to walk, adjusting the position of her short sword as she went.

There were a lot of things she needed to do.

When she glanced up at the sky from the corridor, the winter sun had risen beyond the clouds.

From the angle, it seemed to be past noon. It had been the middle of the night when she’d begun fighting; had it taken her half a day to resurrect? No, that probably wasn’t it. It was likely that, as she’d resurrected, the thread of her tension had snapped and she’d fallen asleep. In that case, she thought, it made sense that she ached all over.

Akatsuki made her way through the Temple zone, which was larger than it looked.

There were things she needed to do.

There were things she absolutely had to do.

She couldn’t give up just because she’d lost once. Akatsuki had realized just how negligent she’d been up until now. She’d thought she’d been fighting with her entire self. She’d tried to believe she was more desperate than anyone else, but that had been fraud, a mere excuse. There had been lots of things she could have done. Akatsuki had been avoiding the things she really had to do. She’d worked desperately at only the things she liked doing, and had tried to convince herself that that was effort.

Akatsuki advanced resolutely through the chapel, which was illuminated by stained glass.

Once she descended the staircase, which looked wide to her, she should have been in Akiba in no time.

However, the sight that waited there for Akatsuki was something she hadn’t expected.

“Are you all right? You aren’t still injured anywhere, are you?”

Akatsuki was boggled: She’d been careless, and so she’d been easily pulled into a hug. “How sweet!” Henrietta, melting over the way Akatsuki looked, swung her around, nuzzling her with her cheek. Being able to sweep a girl up that easily—even if she was a small girl—was due to Adventurer strength, but Henrietta didn’t seem to have realized this.

“We thought you’d be waking up soon.”

Riezé spoke to her; she’d been leaning against the railing on the stone slope. Behind her, she saw Raynesia, bundled up in fluffy clothes and hanging her head apologetically. Behind the princess stood a woman with fox ears, arms folded, smiling a fearless smile. It was the West Wind Brigade Kannagi she’d seen during that late-night battle.

“……”

Akatsuki’s lips tightened.

She knew her face was growing darker and grimmer.

It wasn’t that she disliked everyone.

She was reaping what she’d sown. Up until now, she hadn’t made any friends of her own age and gender, and so she didn’t really know how to talk to them. That was all.

Still, she knew she had to do it. That was the one thing Akatsuki had managed to bring back from her lost dream. And so, she squeezed Henrietta’s hands, which were over her own stomach, holding her up.

She looked at Henrietta, who’d closed her mouth as if she were startled. At Riezé. At the fox-eared woman. And, most of all, at Raynesia, whose expression seemed troubled.

Once lowered to the ground, Akatsuki simply bowed her head.

“I know this is an impudent request, but I want to ask you for help. Would you teach me about the Mysteries? I want to capture that murderer.”

She saw the fox-eared woman startle, and she knew Henrietta, behind her, had gasped. Raynesia’s face was sorrowful.

“Master Soujirou was able to use a Mystery, wasn’t he, Nazuna?”

Nazuna—the fox-eared woman, a mature-looking beauty—responded to Riezé’s questions. “Yeah. That’s right.”

“But, even so, it wasn’t enough.”

“Right.”

Riezé shifted the conversation back to Akatsuki. “And you want a Mystery, even so. Why?”

Akatsuki bit her lip.

She hadn’t managed to explain it well. They’d probably thought she was making a selfish request just because she wanted a Mystery. Regret filled her heart, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other way to put it.

“Akatsuki.”

However, just then, her eyes met Riezé’s.

The girl, who was probably about the same age as her, was gazing at Akatuski with a cool expression.

She was standing firmly as part of a guild so enormous Akatsuki couldn’t even imagine it. The woman called Nazuna, and Raynesia, and even Henrietta were all connected to people, going above and beyond simply carrying out their own roles, and they all found the places where they belonged.

Akatsuki remembered her resolution. If she backed down here, things would be just the same as before. Just the same as when she’d given it everything she had and failed, yet consoled herself with the thought that she’d done the best she could. Even so, Akatsuki knew that, in life, there were matches you wanted to win no matter what, and battles you didn’t want to lose. There were walls you wanted to get over, no matter who you had to beg or how pathetically you had to plead.

“I want to end that murderer.”

Akatsuki appealed desperately. However, sadly, her mouth wouldn’t work well for her.

“It isn’t just the Mysteries. If there’s a way to stop him, no matter what it is, I want you to tell me. Will you let me depend on you?”

“Do you think you can win?”

The blunt question had come from Nazuna. The West Wind Brigade healer who’d supported Soujirou to the very end. A Kannagi with long black hair and traditional Japanese clothes, which she wore carelessly. Akatsuki answered the question almost without plan.

“I don’t know. But, even if I win, even if I defeat him, it won’t end. If I don’t do whatever needs to happen to end it, it won’t end…I don’t think. We have to try to end it.”

Akatsuki went on desperately, trying to shake off the impatience of being unable to communicate.

She resented her own clumsiness.

“Besides, my liege could do it. Probably… So I have to.”

Questioning looks pierced Akatsuki.

…Over her words, she thought, Shiroe could do it.

Even though she’d already made up her mind, Akatsuki’s words accumulated slowly.

“…My liege…isn’t here. Not in Akiba.”

This was the secret Akatsuki and Log Horizon had been keeping.

Shiroe wasn’t here. Since D.D.D. had gone away, they claimed he was buried under a vast amount of work in order to protect the Round Table Council. But that had been a lie. Shiroe had left, probably to do something only he could do. Akatsuki didn’t know what that was. She didn’t know, but she’d been asked to keep an eye on things while he was away.

And so she had to protect the town from this disaster, which Shiroe would have been able to handle.

She’d promised.

“Nazuna asked whether you could do it.”

At Riezé’s words, Akatsuki flinched, frightened.

1

In the sticky darkness, a man stirred.

Slowly, he pulled his creaking body up out of the mud.

The sound of a trickle of muddy water echoed from somewhere. This might be a sewer, but it wasn’t like the sewers of modern Tokyo on Earth. The area where the man had made his den was no more than an underground labyrinth with rivulets of muddy water thinner than fingers running here and there.

Standing up from his bed, which was just a messy pile of old clothes he’d stolen from the Adventurers, the man slowly ran his fingers over his abdomen. The rough, rust-like matter that clung to his fingers was dried blood. Inside his shredded jet-black coat, the hot wounds had already closed.

Apparently his wounds had healed.

The interior of the iron helmet, which looked a bit like a mask, glowed faintly. It was a magic effect that granted the ability to see in the dark.

Mobile armor was an indestructible magic tool that had existed since ancient times. Even the words magic item and artifact didn’t go far enough: It was phantasmal, a memento from a vision.

Its abilities surpassed the current People of the Earth civilization, the Adventurers’ magic civilization, and even that of the Kunie clan. It was a concentration of lost technology.

In his pale green field of vision, the man inspected his body.

His wounds had healed.

The man’s physical abilities were advanced. Mobile armor dramatically improved his entire body’s motor functions, and its effect on strength in particular was outstanding. In terms of HP, his was probably three times what it had been before he’d equipped the armor. However, on the other hand, it didn’t reinforce his recovery abilities all that much. It had never assumed situations in which the wearer would sustain damage. The defensive abilities of mobile armor could negate most attacks, and if you didn’t take damage, there was no need for recovery abilities. These injuries had exposed an unexpected weakness in the mobile armor. As far as the man was concerned, that had been a significant humiliation.

However, the gear wasn’t his only weapon now.

In the tall man’s hand, Hail Blade Byakumaru looked rather small. It was rattling in its sheath.

This mystical blade was said to have been used by Lugurius, the hero of the ice cliffs, and it granted its owner the qualities of a hero. Apparently, the more blood he let Byakumaru, the White Snow Devil, drink, the further his body adapted to its powers. The muscles in his arms, which had grown to easily twice their size, spoke of this eloquently. The mystical blade rattled in its sheath, hungry for more sacrifices.

Giving a low grunt in the darkness, the man left without a single look back at his den.

In any case, he didn’t really think of this sewer as his headquarters or stronghold. Any place that would hide him and wasn’t noisy was fine. This underground cavern was the space behind a collapsed floor. The air did move, so it was probably connected to something aboveground at some point, but as far as he knew, there were no passages left that were large enough to let people enter. He could use teleportation, so this wasn’t a problem, but if ordinary People of the Earth or Adventurers wanted to break in, it would require a large-scale construction operation.

In his mind, the man visualized the town of Akiba. It was a place he’d guarded for a long time, and he had its layout memorized. Lately, the Adventurers had been reconstructing and expanding the buildings one after another, but the streets were basically unchanged.

He jumped to one of the teleportation destinations he remembered.

Immediately, he was surrounded by empty, windblown air.

The wintry night wind buffeted him, trying to freeze him, but it was blocked by the mobile armor’s cold resistance, and it didn’t affect the man in the least. On the contrary, it was the perfect aperitif, and it brought premonitions of the coming feast.

From a ruin that seemed set to crumble any minute, the man looked down over a deserted huddle of street stalls.

A few lights shone deep in the darkness. At the sight of that fragile, unreliable glow, the man couldn’t keep from smiling. Trembling with joy, he leaned his hunchbacked body out as far as he could, licking his lips.

When the light and noise of the day had gone, the town of Akiba grew still, looking like a young girl lying quietly in the depths of the darkness. During the day, she’d been an extremely stubborn, haughty woman, but in the dark of night, she was no more than a girl, as frightened as a rabbit.

The lean man drew his sword from its sheath.

The freezing winter air swirled around him, losing its edge.

As if his soul was crystallizing, in the midst of pain and delight the man gave a twisted laugh.

He was the winter.

The freezing cold air was the man himself. Just as the raging blizzard felt no cold, the man stripped off his black coat in the darkness and flung it away.

Illuminated by the lights from Akiba far below, the man’s silhouette showed dimly, an unbalanced shape. His lean body was taut, but nothing that really looked like muscle showed on the surface. The man wore leather pants and a black tank top that hugged his torso, and metal armor—gauntlets and body armor—on his lower arms and legs only. The sizes of the components were so different they seemed to belong to someone else. Having cast off his stained coat, which fell toward the street like an ominous black bird, the man was a fiendishly trained weapon.

The enormous metal shells were packed with brownish-gray fibers that stored magic and mitigated shocks. Supplied with magic from the magic circle, the fibers soundlessly began to run. Multiple barriers formed around the man’s arms and legs, and a force field was deployed around his body.

Memories of fighting giants on the frozen plains of the north country rose inside the man.

He was one of Akiba’s People of the Earth, and the memories didn’t belong to him.

They belonged to the hero Lugurius.

Lugurius had fought as an Ancient, and as a Knight of Izumo. For a whole century he’d driven the wicked giants back, to protect the smiles of the people of Susukino. He’d chased the monsters into the Jade Garden, deep in the mountains of Ouu, and had been just a step away from sealing them. That had been the achievement of Lugurius, the hero of Ezzo.

That fierce pride blustered inside the man like a raging blizzard.

If Sutu Inaw, the Maiden of the Japanese Elms, hadn’t betrayed him, if she hadn’t murdered him with a dastardly poison, he would still have been celebrated as the hero of the North and an immortal Ancient. If it hadn’t been for that fragile girl’s treachery…

As if to freeze everything, rampaging wind laced with snowflakes seeped out of the mouth of the sword’s sheath. The mystical blade was responding to the man’s anger; it wanted to work its cursed ice magic.

Lugurius’s grudge screamed that he wanted to gather crowds of people, make them kneel, and make their lives his own.

The man shook his head.

He wasn’t Lugurius.

He was a Person of the Earth, of the Kunie clan. The proud guardians who protected Akiba. However, they weren’t honored. They were scorned as pseudohuman automatons. Although their abilities surpassed even the Adventurers, their status was, at best, security devices, and they were essentially treated as nothing more than accessories for the town. They were a tribe of dogs. Truly a clan of slave-warriors, offered up as sacrifices, just as the characters in the name Kunie implied.

Recalling his own circumstances, the man saw a blazing, pitch-black resentment in them. That resentment twined around rage that was frozen into pure white. That’s how it is. That’s why I was chosen by Lugurius, the man thought.

In order to destroy the human who’d betrayed him, the Maiden of the Japanese Elms.

Showing no hesitation, the man fell from the building, crashing into the ground feetfirst without any particular plan. The barriers around the man’s body didn’t even flicker at a mere six-story drop. On top of that, most of Akiba’s streets weren’t paved. They were soft black dirt, with mossy roots crawling across them. Having landed, shattering twisted branches and tree roots as he did so, the man realized there were barely any signs of life.

There was no prey.

The murderer was suspicious. He also wondered whether they’d all run away.

The man had excellent combat abilities, but he wasn’t omnipotent. There were countless things he wasn’t good at, and one of them was searching for enemies. In the first place, the clan’s guards were ordinarily stationed in the security facilities during their shifts. When the facilities detected a crime in town, guards in mobile armor rushed to the scene and apprehended the criminal.

Detection and searching for enemies were functions of the security facilities, and individual guards didn’t have them. Naturally, as magic equipment from ancient times, the mobile armor didn’t have the ability to strengthen these functions either.

As a result, the man’s senses weren’t good enough to grasp all of Akiba, but even so, the night was far too empty. Going to bed when the sun went down was common sense in this world, but things were different in Akiba. Possibly because of their advanced combat abilities, Adventurers tended to go to bed later than People of the Earth. This was because they were able to defend themselves from nocturnal monsters.

Maybe as a result, even late at night, it was rare for the streets of Akiba to be entirely empty of Adventurers. This was the sort of person the man had sacrificed repeatedly to his mystical sword.

However, right now, he could sense no one.

The man swung Byakumaru in irritation. A spiral blizzard was released, freezing a patch of briars. He kicked them apart, then headed north on the central avenue, searching for sacrifices.

The mobile armor’s teleportation abilities were only compatible with the zone of Akiba.

The armor received its teleportation magic from the ancient magic circle said to have been built under the city. As a result, if Akiba’s Adventurers had evacuated from the city, he couldn’t leave the city to pursue them.

In addition, the teleportation wasn’t able to cross zone boundaries.

Isolated, closed spaces sometimes formed small enclosures known as zones. The rooms at inns were one example. The existence of a door made a small area that could barely hold two beds a separate space, shutting it off from the outside world by magic. It was in the town of Akiba, but it wasn’t considered part of Akiba.

The same was true for the magic facilities known as guild halls that the Adventurers used. Each of the numerous headquarters inside the buildings, seemingly made of obsidian, functioned as separate spaces, or so he’d heard. Most of the buildings the Adventurers had rebuilt were also used as separate zones now.

The man wasn’t able to invade spaces like these with teleportation. Even if he walked to them directly, the zone magic carefully identified the people who were allowed to enter or leave, and would exclude him.

Because of this, hunting prey that had shut themselves up in zones was difficult.

Holding a hand to his throat, the man chuckled.

In other words, this was a siege.

Frightened of the military might of this man, this hero, the Adventurers had finally admitted defeat and shut themselves away. Laughing softly, the man wandered, searching for prey. Peering into alleyways, destroying signs, and swinging the mystic sword was almost unbearably fun. He would probably never have admitted it, but the man was behaving like a murderer drunk on blood.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A small shadow appeared, blocking his path.

The lean man’s mouth twisted into the shape of a crescent moon.

How small. What soft-looking meat.

As the small shadow came toward him, trailing the faint scent of camellia oil, the murderer intercepted it. The blade of ice and snow groaned, demanding a sacrifice. Together, they would smite this town with a hero’s rage and hunger.

2

At the feel of the clash, Akatsuki steeled herself.

Her opponent was a monster. She couldn’t afford the slightest bit of carelessness. Or rather, forget carelessness: What she was most keenly aware of was the probability of her loss.

In any case, she wasn’t a tank, specialized toward drawing enemy attacks. She was an attacker, designed to inflict damage.

During this operation, Akatsuki was third in the priority order for this position. In other words, there were two members who were better suited to direct combat than she was.

Which meant that the fact that Akatsuki was now crossing blades with the murderer was half coincidence. The town of Akiba was two kilometers square. It wasn’t vast, but it certainly wasn’t small. In addition, one unit was too small to build a network to guard against a murderer who could appear anywhere. However, there were circumstances which kept them from deploying a large number of personnel.

For that reason, the strategy Riezé—the raid leader—had chosen took the form of a patrol conducted by squads. Dispersed action by squads of between three and six members created a net that was sparse but still widespread.

One other reason lay in Akatsuki’s subclass and combat experience. Her subclass, Tracker, had several types of special skill that investigated conditions across a wide range, including presence detection and searching for enemies. The range she could monitor alone was equivalent to the area four squads could cover. Her discovery of the murderer had been coincidence, but that hadn’t been all it was.

Wordlessly, Akatsuki unleashed a blade from the left.

Quick Assault released a silver light that seemed to split the night into horizontal halves. Knowing she couldn’t take this guy down with an attack of that level, Akatsuki threw herself forward, using the momentum from her slash. Quick Assault’s special characteristics had increased her leg strength and agility, and she’d spotted a safe area by the murderer’s side.

However, cold air and an impact that was enough to make her shudder burst from the short sword that struck at her back.

Akatsuki had known, but she still gave a bitter groan. She tumbled forward, then picked herself up.

She’d thought she’d leapt into her opponent’s blind spot, but she’d been forcibly chased out of it.

“Akatsu… Eep!”

Struck by a cold, violent gust of wind, Marielle covered her face. Even so, a faintly sparkling recovery effect shimmered on Akatsuki’s back. It was response-activated recovery. Like the Druid Pulse Recovery and the Kannagi Damage Interception, this was a class-specific recovery magic effect, the type that distinguished the three recovery classes from each other.

Feeling the ripples of that recovery like the palm of Marielle’s warm hand, Akatsuki stepped forward. Evading the tip of the blade that bore down on her, dodging right and left with her small body, she pressed forward, forward.

Before her was the demonic murderer, the one she’d been no match for that day.

The core of the incident, the thing she had to defeat.

With a faint smile, the man waited for Akatsuki’s charge. The ominous armor he’d equipped was mobile armor… Or parts of it, anyway. Akatsuki and the others already knew that. Its defensive power was probably equal to that of fantasy-class magic armor. However, she was undaunted.

In the blink of an eye, a blizzard began to rage on Akiba’s wide avenue in the dead of night, freezing the soil.

When Akatsuki looked across the avenue, she saw the ordinary, unchanged walls of the buildings. Even as she fought, Akatsuki’s mind raced. The range of the blizzard was about five meters, ten at most. The katana the murderer brandished was its origin; it was gushing cold air.

As she evaded new attacks she hadn’t been able to take in the previous battle, Akatsuki thought about countermeasures. That had been the first thing Riezé had taught her: Size up your opponent. Watch them and clarify what they can and can’t do. No matter how tough the fight you’re in, you mustn’t give up on that. Akatsuki bit her lip and observed that lesson.

That said, she couldn’t go on the defensive. Right now, Marielle was behind her. Marielle, the leader of the Crescent Moon League, and her bright smile. Her liege’s friend. She couldn’t let her get hurt. Not as a ninja, and not as a gamer.

Marielle was a healer. In order to let healers do their jobs, the vanguard had to draw the enemy. Even if she wasn’t a dedicated tank, right now, Akatsuki was the only one who could fill that role. That meant she had to focus the enemy’s hate on herself.

The feeling of anxiety was strong enough to tear her limbs off.

It made Akatsuki want to cry out, but she bit the urge back and swung her blade.

One. She threw in an Accel Fang. She knew it wouldn’t reach him.

Using the recoil, another Accel Fang. It scraped her opponent’s gauntlet slightly. The grating noise of slashed metal, a scorched smell. Feinting with one more Accel Fang that drew nearly the same trajectory, Akatsuki dropped low, almost as if she was hugging the ground.

The former Akatsuki would probably have leapt up.

She’d been desperate to put power behind her attack, and had wanted to be as far above her opponent as possible. However, this time was different. Her body was already small; if she rolled, ducking, her opponent’s own limbs would act as a blind and he’d lose sight of her. This attack method used her own small size to her advantage, and it wasn’t an advantage she’d had in the past.

Akatsuki had received this strategy from the others.

She unleashed a Death Stinger, as if to pry him open. Unfortunately, the attack she slammed into the back of his knee didn’t add continual damage. However, it had thrown the murderer slightly off-balance, and she struck at his brute-force attack with her Kiln-Turned Tenmoku Sword.

The sound of clashing steel echoed loudly through Akiba’s night.

Unable to hold out against his force, Akatsuki had jumped back about five meters, and she was already sweating. The series of exchanges and its tension had raised her temperature, even in the face of the cold that blasted at her from the murderer. Her arms hurt, too. Although she normally held her short sword with her left hand, she set her right hand on the hilt as well, timing her move to match her opponent’s attack. She’d realized that if she didn’t do it, she wouldn’t make it through.

However, the reality was that, even with both hands in play, she took great damage.

That was only to be expected. According to the Elder Tales specs, if your timing matched exactly, an effect that made the attacks cancel each other out would occur. However, this wasn’t something you could do intentionally as a rule, and even if it did occur, it wasn’t the sort of effect that would reduce the damage to zero. It only meant that you could weaken your opponent’s attack slightly. Powerful attacks surpassed the cancellation and wounded the opponent directly…just as the murderer’s attack, with its extraordinary force, had punched through Akatsuki’s cancellation.

Even so, Akatsuki had a little smile on her lips.

Her arms felt puffy, as though they were inflamed, but a golden, sand-like sparkle had enveloped them and was healing them. Response Activated Recovery was a spell that automatically recovered HP in response to damage inflicted by enemies. This healing power provided support through five or ten attacks. The spell automatically recovered health with each enemy attack, and its effect was enormous. Akatsuki and Marielle were beginners at raids, and the breathing room casting a spell beforehand gave them was a nearly unparalleled merit.

However, it did have weaknesses. Recovery conducted after damage had been taken—recovery after the fact—wouldn’t let you avoid fatal injuries. It couldn’t handle the sort of powerful attacks that severed arms and sent them flying in one blow. Besides, Marielle’s Response Activated Recovery was less experienced than the sort used by, for example, a Cleric affiliated with D.D.D. Even if it actually was recovering, Akatsuki’s HP was far from fully healed.

Even so.

Akatsuki ran.

She charged as if falling: Trick Step. She twisted her right leg by force, turning halfway around. In a mesmerizing movement, she ran past her opponent, inflicting Paralyze Blow as she did so.

Because, after all, Akatsuki wasn’t dead.

“Akatsuki!”

The murderer’s attack grazed her yet again. She could feel her armor being slashed. The attack had been a blast of death that passed over Akatsuki’s heart.

But she was alive.

Her fighting spirit was blazing. A week ago, she hadn’t been able to fight without hiding behind Soujirou. True, the situation was bad. Even with a normal healing spell layered over Response Activated Recovery, her HP was still falling. However, that was only natural. She was up against a murderer, one who was clearly a raid-class enemy. Akatsuki was a hastily trained member of a weak guild, and this monster wasn’t the sort of opponent she could take on. As proof, even Soujirou, leader of the West Wind Brigade, had gone down under his attacks. There was a reason she was able to tackle that opponent, if only for a limited time. The reason gave her courage.

Morning Star Catcher was wrapped around her right arm, the one she’d thrust out. This production-class gauntlet had been made for her by the Lucky Dice sisters. The matte bracer generated a force field, and it had greater defense than its appearance suggested. Even if the blizzard whittled away the defense on her right arm, Ink-Feather Garb gave off a faint glow of magic, forcibly creating a tiny gap in time to allow her to twist her body.

As she used her natural agility to slide through these gaps, Akatsuki was grateful for her new defensive gear. Even though her silhouette had gained attribute defense and increased abilities several times greater than what it previously had, there had been barely any increase in weight. They were all presents from the girls who gathered for those tea parties.

“Could you use something like this?”

“The size is all wrong. Here, I’ll fix it for you.”

“You can eat those strawberries. Those are everyone’s.”

“I’ve got some fan-tas-tic materials. Hee-hee-hee!”

The girls had smiled at her, taking care of Akatsuki almost as if they’d gotten a new little sister. They might have been more than half teasing her, but they’d given her unstinting support.

Most of the equipment that was protecting Akatsuki now had been presents from them.

The durability of her old equipment had deteriorated too far in her fight with the murderer, and it had been clear that it wouldn’t be able to stay with her in her new battle.

She’d known all the women’s faces, but she’d never spoken to any of them for more than half a minute or so. Whether or not they’d heard the explanation about the murderer that Akatsuki had given or the circumstances surrounding Akiba’s crisis, they spoke encouraging words to her and gave her sweets.

It whipped up the old familiar feelings of irritation in Akatsuki’s heart. It was a conditioned reflex: She didn’t want to be treated like a child. Still, on the other hand, there was a comfort in it that she’d never felt before.

Akatsuki had gone down on her knees and begged for their help. That meant that, in a way, she couldn’t get around being treated like a child. Giving up on her repulsion, Akatsuki thought: It’s because I’m not strong enough. Begging everyone for help was admitting defeat.

However, even so, not being strong and losing certainly weren’t meaningless.

She thought there were some things you could only understand by admitting weakness.

One of them was probably the peace she felt in her heart.

When she calmed down and thought about it, Akatsuki understood right away that the many people who’d spoken to her hadn’t had any particular ill will. They were only treating her with kindness, plain and simple.

Most of the people she’d rejected and bared her fangs at hadn’t had the slightest intention of making fun of her.

Of course, it had been a very embarrassing experience, but there was nothing about it that she couldn’t accept.

Strangely, Akatsuki was very focused as she fought.

The HP bar, where she could see her HP edging downward, didn’t bother her.

She struck with another attack, hitting the murderer with the biggest movement reduction effect she could manage. This was an expression of trust in a confirmed tactic, more than it was a way to prolong her own life.

“Ten more… Five!”

At Marielle’s voice, which was almost a scream, Akatsuki gave a small smile.

Come to think of it, Marielle had said this was a first for her, too.

Right now, Akatsuki and the others were fighting their first-ever raid.

3

Having been contacted by telechat, Riezé immediately passed on the content to the other team leaders.

“Target acquired. He’s currently traveling on foot down the central avenue in the direction of Old Ogawamachi. Akatsuki’s unit made first contact. A two-man cell, with one healer. Team D move; all others stand by.”

As she relayed the telechat in a yell, Riezé also broke into a run.

The raid had finally begun.

Riezé sent telechat after telechat. There were currently twenty-four Adventurers in Akiba under her command. According to the standard formulas of party organization, they should have formed four parties of six members each. When those were joined together, they’d have a twenty-four member full raid. However, this time, they hadn’t been able to use that formation: Four parties wouldn’t be able to patrol all of Akiba. They’d had to split up, or in other words, organize into smaller teams. Although she hadn’t announced it, the twenty-three people currently under Riezé’s command were split into irregular parties of two or three members. There were more than ten of these.

Riezé was part of the group as well. Kyouko was trailing along behind her. She was a level-90 Guardian, and had been one of the victims during this incident. Riezé herself was a Sorcerer.

Their formation was far too fragile. Even if Team D, which she’d contacted, joined up with Akatsuki’s team, there would only be four members. They really wouldn’t be able to keep a large-scale class enemy in check.

Riezé and Kyouko had been over by the canal, and they ran under the elevated tracks, hurrying toward the central avenue. Unfortunately, the action was a long ways away. They’d have to cut clear across Akiba on a diagonal. The distance was probably a little less than a kilometer. However, with their sturdy Adventurer bodies, they could probably reach their destination in about two minutes.

They detoured around the decayed skeleton of a billboard, dashing down a path covered by underbrush.

“It’s Akatsuki?”

“Yes. Are you all right, Kyouko?”

“Of course. To be honest, I am scared of that guy. Still, I’d fight him again before I’d put him in front of Master Soujirou. I’m not an athletic type for nothing!”

“That’s the spirit!”

“We’re absolutely going to win this!”

Although Riezé didn’t respond to those words aloud, she nodded firmly as she ran. Akiba’s volunteers had leveled the ground in the plaza in front of the station, to make the outdoors more pleasant; the two of them cut across it with strides that were practically long jumps and ran into the guild center, dashing up the concrete stairs as though they’d sprouted wings.

Riezé bit her lip and reviewed the current strategy.

Most of the mysteries had been solved. It was probably safe to say that she understood most of how it was done as well.

The enemy was the dead warrior Lugurius.

Or rather, something that resembled Lugurius.

He was a raid enemy and quest boss in Decayed Exploit, which had been packaged with Sacred Heart, the tenth expansion pack. Since Decayed Exploit had been fully raid content, it was meant to be played with twenty-four people, but the difficulty level wasn’t all that high. Things had been different at the outset, when they hadn’t had enough information, but after that, she didn’t remember the combat content being difficult at all. In any case, the Decayed Exploit quest had been an introduction that acted as a gateway to a bigger quest, the Nine Great Gaols of Halos. Its difficulty really couldn’t be that high.

Even as an enemy raid boss, the fallen warrior Lugurius, who was said to have died in the Ezzo Empire, had haunted Hokkaido. Riezé had no idea why he was attacking the town of Akiba now. She didn’t worry about it, either. Worrying about reasons wasn’t her style. To Riezé, reasons were meaningful only at the stage when you were examining ways to deal with something, and at this point, handling the situation by force was the only way to turn it in their favor.

Riezé had conducted exhaustive interviews of all the victims who had been attacked by the murderer so far. As a result, she had inferred that the culprit was Lugurius, or someone who had tendencies and powers that resembled Lugurius’s. It had taken time because, at first, the murderer hadn’t been able to exercise his abilities completely, or had been trying to hide them.

It was also because the murderer wasn’t simply the raid monster Lugurius: He also had the combat power of mobile armor. He was a monster who could use two different types of strength, and when the incident had first occurred, these two types had camouflaged each other.

The hint that had decisively revealed the truth had been that the murderer’s weapon was Hail Blade Byakumaru.

Akatsuki, who had fought the murderer last, had declared that it was.

As weapons, short swords were on the small side, and it was hard to tell them apart. Riezé wasn’t confident that she could look at an equipped one and guess its name. However, if a girl who also used short swords had declared it, then Riezé concluded that she must have been certain.

After that, things had moved quickly. The name Hail Blade Byakumaru had reminded Riezé of the tale of the hero Lugurius, who had been fond of that sword and had used it to fight for Ezzo, and of the quest to subjugate the now-fallen warrior.

A cursed weapon.

It seemed ridiculous, but that was what Hail Blade Byakumaru was.

From a report Mikakage had delivered, Riezé knew that flavor text was being eroded. The hero who had died filled with bitterness had written his feelings of rage and resentment into the explanatory text of his beloved sword. That cursed text had taken physical shape and attacked its bearer.

That’s absurd!

For the several hundredth time, Riezé bit her lip in a spasm of irritation. Flavor text had taken shape and attacked someone.

That situation awoke a visceral terror, as though a nightmare had slipped out of the realm of dreams and tried to tear its dreamer apart.

However, in a territory separate from that horror, the brain that was entrusted with D.D.D.’s training unit had set to work on tactics. If the murderer had Lugurius’s abilities, there were roughly three of them.

One was a great increase in HP. Lugurius’s maximum HP changed drastically depending on the number of people in the zone. In Decayed Exploit, a quest in which he’d been faced in a subterranean graveyard, he’d kidnapped more than fifty People of the Earth and had had them in the zone with him. That alone had raised Lugurius’s HP to three times its minimum.

If Akiba had stayed as lively as it was ordinarily, his HP capacity would probably have soared, swelling to more than several hundred times its normal size. No one would be able to take down a monster like that, not even the West Wind Brigade or D.D.D.

And so Riezé had come up with a plan. She’d worked with Henrietta, who wasn’t here right now, to get a ban put in place on going out at night. Just as they’d evacuated the People of the Earth from the zone in the raid quest, they’d make the town of Akiba a battle zone that was empty of everyone but themselves. That was the minimum requirement for fighting Lugurius.

The second was that all his abilities increased in response to the number of people who were nearby. All of Lugurius’s abilities—his attack power, evasive power, defensive power, and hit rate—increased in response to the number of Adventurers within a fifty-meter radius. This had been part of Lugurius’s secret, the one that had defeated even Soujirou. It was also the reason Riezé had divided her raid into the smallest groups possible.

It had been the same in the Decayed Exploit quest. They’d left only the six strongest, while the remaining eighteen had evacuated the People of the Earth, simultaneously routing the vengeful ghosts that had been attracted by Lugurius’s grudge. By doing so, they’d been able to weaken Lugurius to the point where he was an enemy that could be defeated.

The last was the range attack that used ice. The area in front of Lugurius turned into a blizzard, decreasing visibility. No doubt there would be cold-air damage as well. On its own, the ability was a simple one, but precisely because it was simple, equipment with attribute defense was the only way to deal with it.

The more living people there were in the area, the greater his abilities would become. He could freeze all living things. These abilities existed to express the background for Lugurius, who had died swallowing his resentment.

These were exceptional abilities, given to him as a dramatic background because he was a raid quest boss.

These three abilities were Lugurius’s secret, and the factors that made this battle hopelessly difficult. In Akiba, which overflowed with people, a gimmick that had made for a mere warm-up as level-90 raid content became the worst possible ability.

In particular, the combination with the mobile armor’s teleportation ability was lethal.

Lugurius could run at any time, and he could aim for a place and time when there were lots of people in Akiba. So far, the murderer had chosen to attack the town only at night, but that might not last forever. It might be because the combat time in the original quest had been night, or it might be the murderer’s own preference. It could even be coincidence.

Riezé could think of another “worst.”

It was the inability to declare the murderer who had Lugurius’s abilities as an enemy NPC. According to eyewitness testimony, the murderer was a Samurai named Enbart Nelles. In that case, he was cursed, and at the same time, he had a human mind. In other words, he had the ability to learn.

Raid quests were game content. True, they were designed to be hard enough that you’d get wiped out several times, but that was only because the administrators had made them that way, in order to let you enjoy the sense of achievement when you eventually did conquer them. Riezé knew this precisely because she belonged to the biggest raid guild on the Yamato server. There had been an invisible trust relationship, rather like the one shared by good rivals, between players who enjoyed harsh raid content and the administrators.

However, this was no longer the Elder Tales game, and Riezé and the others weren’t game characters. There was a possibility that this raid hadn’t been designed in such a way that they’d be able to conquer it eventually. On the contrary, the possibility that it hadn’t was much greater.

And wouldn’t that possibility continue to grow? Once Riezé and the others fought him once, the murderer would know their strategy. It was possible for him to attack Akiba in ways that were craftier and more lethal. The teleportation ability and Lugurius’s resentment went together far too well. The only thing Riezé could imagine beyond that union was hell.

Of course she’d thought of countermeasures. Riezé had a shot at success.

However, even so, there was no proof.

After the Catastrophe, this world had lost the reliability of a game, and there was no guarantee whatsoever that any plan would succeed. The realization made Riezé shiver. Just having put something obvious into words, inside her mind, made her feel as if an ice-demon had suddenly seized her spine. Riezé shuddered with chills that wouldn’t stop.

Neither the title of operation commander nor the pride of being training unit captain did her any good.

On the contrary: They only made her terror all the greater. With those titles, Riezé could make mistakes that would take others’ lives along with her.

Her knees had gone oddly weak. She scolded them and kept moving.

It was a terrible thing. Riezé finally knew the terror that came with the responsibility of involving other people in her decisions. She thought of the silver-haired princess, wondering if she’d known that terror since she was born. The thought that she’d dashed into the lords’ conference and ridden on a griffin with Krusty when she knew that terror gave Riezé a feeling that was close to awe.

That princess was really something.

…As was Krusty. And Shiroe. And the eleven guild masters. And Akatsuki.

What a terrifying thing it was to try to change matters, even though there was no guarantee of success.

She was ashamed of herself for having made fun of it, calling it a middle schooler’s journal. She’d just looked down on them from a place she’d assumed was safe and spouted her ever-so-valuable opinions.

Riezé was embarrassed by her own ugliness. However, for that very reason, she couldn’t turn back.

There were nine ways the strategy she’d prepared could end. She’d explained this to everyone as “taking the proper steps as the occasion demands,” but not having been able to narrow it down to one way was proof that she was an incompetent strategist.

Still, even so…it was better than losing.

“We’re here!”

The steel door—which Kyouko had opened by practically breaking it down—led to empty, moonlit space. What spread below them were broken concrete beams, evergreen treetops that half-covered their field of vision, and, far below them, Akiba’s station-front plaza.

This place, where the wind roared, was the fifteenth floor of the guild center, the obsidian fortress that was Akiba’s pride. It was the shattered top floor of a former high-rise building that seemed to have been smashed by a blow from a giant.

“Be careful, Riezé.”

The wind, which was freezing cold because it was perfectly clear, billowed Riezé’s mantle, trying to snatch it away. Instantly, Riezé stiffened, but Kyouko grabbed her belt firmly, and the two of them hid themselves in the shadow of a pillar.

Opening their telechat menus again, Riezé and Kyouko plunged into the midst of yet another battle.

4

In that same guild center, in a room somewhere underground, a different sort of battle was approaching its conclusion.

The combination of faded indigo wallpaper and dim, indirect lighting made the room feel like the ocean floor at night. Remembering the labyrinth she’d come through to reach this reception room, Raynesia gulped. This was not polite behavior for a princess, but endless timidity welled up inside her, and she couldn’t help it.

She’d met with all kinds of aristocrats before.

She’d always thought it was a pain in the neck, but she’d never felt this uneasy. For the first time, she realized what it was like to be swallowed up by a mood, rather than by the content of the conversation. It felt as if she was about to be engulfed in an eerie atmosphere completely unlike the awe she felt with her grandfather Sergiad or with Krusty-the-menace.

She concentrated on relaxing the hands that were clutching a handkerchief in her lap.

If she wasn’t careful, it felt as if she might cling to even that thin cloth.

A warm hand gently touched her shoulder. It was Henrietta, one of Akiba’s most accomplished ladies. At the reassuring touch, Raynesia almost turned around involuntarily and thanked her, but through sheer willpower, she forced herself to refrain.

Right now, she had to prioritize her conversation with Kinjo, the man sitting on the sofa opposite hers.

The young leader of the Kunie clan was smiling the faintest possible smile. He seemed so at ease, it was tempting to believe that the meek expression with which he’d apologized to her at Water Maple Manor had been just her imagination.

It wasn’t fearless. It wasn’t taunting, either.

Raynesia was convinced that this was this man’s natural expression. He might have been pretending to be demure during their previous meeting. Elissa was always pointing the same thing out to Raynesia, and Raynesia didn’t feel like calling him on it, but even so, she braced herself again.

“You’re certain you want us to interrupt the magic channels from the magic circle?”

“Yes,” Raynesia answered.

They’d been repeating this exchange ever since she arrived at this subterranean mansion, the Kunie clan’s headquarters in Akiba. Kinjo had already accepted her request and given his agreement. His black-coated Kunie attendants had gone to initiate the interruption.

This question was probably the final confirmation.

“If we stop the supply of magic, the magic circle that serves as the city’s defense will also lose its abilities. It will take decades to bring it back into operation.”

His gaze was questioning. Raynesia nodded firmly.

“Yes. I understand.”

“The guard system that protects Akiba will stop.”

“Yes, it will.”

“The city will be defenseless.”

“Yes.”

Raynesia answered without hesitation.

Was she uncertain? —Absolutely.

Of course she was. Even in this moment, when she was feigning calm, she was very close to bursting into tears from regret and fear.

Why me? she thought.

And also: Why is this happening?

If she could have run, she would have, no matter what apologies she had to make.

That was obvious. Only natural.

But she’d made up her mind. She’d resolved to make this request.

When she thought back now, she understood what Kinjo had done to her that day.

This young man had come to leave the decision in her hands. He’d set the whole burden down at Raynesia’s feet and gone home… Probably wearing this same faint smile. No doubt it had been premeditated.

Coward, Raynesia thought. Don’t toy with me. This failure had been caused by the Kunie clan. Why shouldn’t they make the decision and bear the responsibility? She thought that the Kunie clan, and no one else, should resolve the incident immediately and pay for the damages.

If no such convenient resolution method existed, as the person in charge, Kinjo could at least have stopped the magic circle on his own. Then, if the citizens of Akiba saw it as a problem, they could throw rocks at him… That was what she thought.

However, come to think of it, that was exactly what Raynesia had been thinking of doing.

When Raynesia had learned of this incident, she’d thought of contacting her grandfather, Duke Sergiad. She’d also considered begging Krusty in tears. Wouldn’t that have been forcing all the responsibility for the decision onto them? She couldn’t say she’d never done anything like that. In fact, up until now, that was practically all she’d done.

Kinjo was exactly like Raynesia.

And the girl in black had flown off into the town.

At the time, Raynesia had thought:

Oh, how convenient.

Of course, if notable Adventurers got wind of this incident, there was danger of a serious confrontation between the People of the Earth and the Adventurers. As a daughter of the Cowen family, and as a noble of Yamato, she absolutely had to prevent that. However, on the other hand, when she hung her head in the usual way, the Adventurer girl had leapt into the incident on her own, and an inkling of a solution had conveniently appeared. Not only that, but she’d eavesdropped, and the situation had progressed without Raynesia having to make a decision.

It was true that, for a moment, she’d thought that way.

That was what had made her see it: The responsibility Kinjo had shifted onto Raynesia was the responsibility Raynesia had constantly shifted onto those around her, from the time she was born until now. The irritation she felt regarding the young man in front of her was the exact emotion Raynesia should have turned on herself.

Of course she’d discussed this issue with Riezé and Henrietta. Through them, the matter had been reported to the Round Table Council as well. However, Raynesia was the one who’d made the decision. She couldn’t just pass the responsibility Kinjo had foisted onto her on to the Round Table Council. The fact that she hadn’t liked having it done to her wasn’t the only reason.

No matter how you tried to gloss it over, Kinjo was a Person of the Earth, and so was Raynesia. They couldn’t very well just shift things onto the Adventurers, could they?

Adventurers and People of the Earth were different beings.

In blunt terms, People of the Earth were weaker than Adventurers. However, precisely because that was the case, there was a line they couldn’t yield. If they left everything to others, saying it was because they were weak, it would be admitting that they weren’t simply weaker but inferior as well. In that case, they’d never be able to join hands. They wouldn’t be able to be friends.

Elissa’s words rose again in her ears.

Dropping all pretenses, Raynesia glared at Kinjo.

“This incident wasn’t solely the Kunie clan’s mistake. The fault lies with all People of the Earth. We blundered in being unable to provide sufficient defense. We must admit that, clearly and plainly. As that is the case, I have decided that cutting off the supply of magic is the best policy we can implement at this time.”

“……”

“We must do what we can in order to apologize to the Adventurers. This time, that means stopping the magic circle.”

“It may cause a greater nuisance.”

On having this pointed out to her, Raynesia didn’t know what to say.

Of course. As an individual, she didn’t have the power to bear responsibility for all the consequences that might arise from this incident. Was there anyone or anything that could bear that responsibility? The responsibility for a decision that used a great number of irreplaceable human lives as the wager? Raynesia silently murmured the word gods. It was a cheerless, lonely word.

Still, nobles were people who bore unbearable responsibilities.

Even if it meant their crucifixion, nobles showed courage.

Raynesia had learned this from the grandfather she respected.

Just like faith in the gods, this teaching had no physical form, but inside Raynesia, it was a truth with a solid feel to it. Moving her head as though it needed oiling, Raynesia nodded a few times. It was an unbecoming gesture.

“There’s no need to worry.”

As if to encourage Raynesia, Henrietta spoke from behind her. She wore a cape over the uniform that marked her as a senior envoy of the Round Table Council, and she spoke in a clear voice.

“The Round Table is already aware of this incident. Please assume that you have our consent with regard to stopping the magic circle.”

“You have patrons in the Round Table Council, then.”

“They aren’t a patron. They are simply cooperating in efforts to bring the situation under control, as fellow residents of Akiba. I presume ‘fellow residents’ includes the Kunie clan as well. Am I mistaken?”

“Is that Lord Shiroe’s rhetoric?”

Henrietta’s voice stiffened. “No.”

Raynesia didn’t know what the exchange meant, but she glared at Kinjo the whole time, determined not to yield a single step.

“…Understood. No matter what the cause of this incident was, it’s true that the Kunie clan failed in its defense. We have left a blot on our proud, centuries-old history of defense and the administration of the magic circle. We were distracted by the natural disaster that has come from the continent, and we have consistently underestimated the threat of the West. The blame for these sins lies entirely with me.”

“…Master Kinjo?”

The young man in front of Raynesia spoke with his head bowed, but Raynesia wasn’t able to understand most of what he said. The words were enigmatic, and they gave her a premonition of something, but the greater part of it slipped through her fingers.

This man… The Kunie clan… They’re different from the People of the Earth somehow…

“It’s just as you say. I expect we must also do what it is in our power to do. Not rejection, but a new step. I apologize for testing you earlier. I will place us in your debt with regard to this matter, Lady Raynesia.”

When he raised his head, Kinjo wore a solemn expression. It was something Raynesia had never seen before. However, shifting into that enigmatic smile, he bluffed, “That said, I would like to repay that debt to someone else.”

Apparently Kinjo had tested her.

Raynesia finally came to that realization. That previous meeting had been a test Kinjo had set her. She understood this, although she didn’t know its objective or the results. That was a terribly troublesome thing. Even though she truly wasn’t suited to it, this Kinjo and the mind-reading menace and that white devil with glasses were all scheming to make her shoulder heavy burdens.

“It appears everything is ready.”

A young member of the clan whispered in Kinjo’s ear, and he informed Raynesia as well.

To answer him, for the first time, Raynesia looked up at Henrietta, over her shoulder. Shaking her honey-colored hair, the intelligent woman with glasses wore a distinctive expression, as though she was gazing off into the distance. She murmured a few words in a small voice.

“In ten…five… Understood. In one minute.”

On seeing Henrietta—who’d probably just awakened from a telechat—nod, Raynesia spoke in a firm voice.

“All right. Then consider this my formal request: Please interrupt the magic supply circuits to the magic circle that defends Akiba.”

One minute later, a ripple like a small sigh from a giant spread through the town of Akiba.

The absolutely invincible guard system had shut down.

5

“Ten meters…five meters… Engage!”

A sweet voice echoed over the road.

Akatsuki dodged the gigantic stone figure that abruptly appeared as if she’d known it was coming. The golem, which looked like a locomotive made of gray granite, swung down a stout arm that was roughly the size of a car.

Apparently even the murderer didn’t decide he was able to take that attack: He evaded magnificently. Although the golem’s attack was penetrating and had a wide range, it wasn’t all that fast; dodging it was easy.

However, Akatsuki had included that in her calculations.

As the murderer evaded the golem’s attack, she aimed for his side: Fatal Ambush. This technique, which was crowned with the term “ambush,” had a long activation time, or “charge time.” It was hard to hit a fast opponent with this particular special attack skill. She activated the attack from his blind spot in a combination that used the golem as a screen.

Her reward for having struck home with a difficult attack came in the form of damage to the murderer.

The sword guard howled with rage, and Akatsuki twisted away, evading a blizzard. A slight evasion of a few dozen centimeters. It really wasn’t enough to dodge the blizzard range attack, and what covered for her, as expected, was the golem. Akatsuki lasted through the cold air by ducking into its giant shadow.

However, as the penalty, the golem began to freeze over with a cracking sound.

The golem boasted a huge body, and as its appearance suggested, it had lots of HP. However, it was only “a lot” in terms of the minions Summoners could summon. These minion-class summoned creatures had about a third of the combat strength of an Adventurer at the same level. That meant they also had one-third the HP. Even if the golem was slanted toward defense and toughness, its HP didn’t even equal Akatsuki’s.

However, it was possible for it to last five seconds against the murderer’s attack, and with those five seconds, Akatsuki and the others could shift into their next action.

“Pulse Recovery… There ya go!”

Holding a rod that resembled a broom, Mikakage cast the unique Druid healing spell, Pulse Recovery, on Akatsuki from behind the wrecked hood of a decaying microvan. A vivid green glow began to pulse over Akatsuki’s heart, guarding her. Her HP gradually replenished itself in time with its rhythm.

At Mikakage’s feet, Allie, a little girl whose gestures exactly mimicked Mikakage’s, was also casting a spell. Alraune, plant spirits, were able to help out in combat just like the other summoned minions, but more important, they had a special ability that boosted the effect of their summoner’s recovery spells. Shy Allie squeezed her eyes shut and brandished a tiny ladle. This wasn’t out of fear: She was desperately, heroically trying to help her mistress.

After the Pulse Recovery spell came a ranged recovery spell, then an instant recovery spell. Mikakage cast more healing spells on Akatsuki, one after another. She was using the unique Druid healing work, which combined several recovery spells, in an attempt to heal Akatsuki, who’d been wounded during the fierce battle. This devoted act, which ignored her remaining MP, recovered Akatsuki’s HP to about 80 percent.

Akatsuki didn’t thank her. She didn’t have the time for that.

Her current mission was to draw all the murderer’s attacks to herself, and to sprint down the central avenue. The only way for her to express her gratitude was to carry out that mission perfectly. Her mind was more focused than ever before, and Akatsuki understood this very well.

The range of her senses widened, growing as clear and calm as the surface of water, grasping the state of her surroundings.

Marielle, who was running along behind her, was continuing to chant Response Activated Recovery so that the spell wouldn’t be interrupted. The Monk girl who was acting as a mobile attacker and her Cleric partner were from the West Wind Brigade.

Feeling a sizzling, burning sensation on her skin, Akatsuki leapt in the opposite direction from the Monk girl.

Byakkou, the Summoner who’d created that opening for her by summoning the golem earlier, had summoned Lance Dísir from an enormous magic circle. Clad in pure white dress-style armor, the spirit hurled a shining spear that had seven branches. It was a sub-variant spell of Combat Skill Summoning—Sword Princess. It was the Summoner’s greatest attack spell, and yet it was unable to do lethal damage to the murderer. That was only natural: Raids weren’t so easy that they could be finished up with an attack spell from one person, no matter how strong. However, the continuous attacks were wearing a hole in the rock.

As Mikakage and Byakkou cast attack spells and recovery spells one after another, Akatsuki’s group dashed through the pair’s area. They couldn’t stop. Akatsuki and the others had to lead the murderer to the target location, and besides, if Mikakage and Byakkou kept casting spells at that rate, they’d burn through their MP in less than two minutes.

“You can do it!!”

A bright cheer that wasn’t at all suited to a scene of mortal combat reached her. As the murderer bore down on her with a face like a demon, over his shoulder, she saw Mikakage waving so hard it seemed as if her arms might come off. Akatsuki’s chest grew warm. It wasn’t just due to Pulse Recovery.

“Update! Ten more meters!”

With Marielle’s supporting voice at her back, Akatsuki danced through space as if to cut out the moon. They’d passed through the Mikakage-and-Byakkou area. There were ten meters until the next area. It was like a winter parade that traveled through a variety of attractions. Lugurius’s abilities increased in response to the number of Adventurers who were within fifty meters of him. This meant they could only station a few people within a fifty-meter range.

However, if the combat time dragged on, those few people would burn through their MP and grow exhausted. In addition, with only a few people, they wouldn’t have enough damage output, and combat time would inevitably be drawn out. As a result, they’d wear down much faster. It was a vicious cycle.

In order to break through that, Riezé had come up with this raid tactic. They’d set up several circular areas with fifty-meter radii in several places around Akiba, distributing them so that they didn’t overlap. The squad with Akatsuki at its center would lead the murderer through these areas, using the firepower and recovery abilities of the members stationed in the areas to recharge and attack at the same time.

As Akatsuki ran, she thought of the remaining areas.

She swore she’d keep running until morning if she had to.

She knew that Marielle’s encouragement had been growing less frequent for a while now. Akatsuki was an attack class, so she could watch her remaining MP and be stingy with her special skills as she fought. The damage itself would probably drop, but that only meant the battle would drag on longer. However, Marielle was a recovery class, and things were different for her. If Marielle was stingy with her recovery spells, it would lead directly to Akatsuki’s death.

For that very reason, precisely because she was leaving that heavy responsibility to others, Akatsuki wanted to protect them. She didn’t want to lose. The equipment that hugged Akatsuki’s body, the protective spells that supported her, the various arts that healed her—none of these were hers.

In order to repay the treasures she’d borrowed, Akatsuki charged ahead, rushing onward.

Seeking sharper steps, faster slashes.

Inside Akatsuki, something clicked into place.

Lowering her body into a slight crouch, she stopped breathing for a moment. The image that rose in her mind with that stance acted as a trigger, activating a special skill: the Tracker’s “Hide Shadow.” Ordinarily, the special ability could be activated only from the command menu, but Akatsuki had added conditions to her martial arts and trained until she could activate it.

Almost as if her life force was draining away, the sense of presence evaporated from her black-clad body. Akatsuki was fading.

Even Akatsuki stopped knowing where she was. As the demon sword flew toward her, its attack stood out sharply in her fixed field of vision. Akatsuki was leaving herself open to an attack that would strike home. However, there was another Akatsuki watching the scene from somewhere else. “Hide Shadow” had evolved to “Shadow Lurk,” and the separated life force was traveling straight across the battlefield.

Akatsuki ran through the murderer’s attacks, which whipped up a freezing blizzard.

The shadow that looked like Akatsuki and Akatsuki’s own perspective were in different places.

As proof, her shadow flickered and blinked, blurring as though the blizzard was erasing it, and, like a phantom, it negated every attack.

In the midst of overwhelming acceleration, Akatsuki reached the murderer’s back.

She wasn’t able to hold this state for long periods.

The special skill was active for only a brief time, while Akatsuki stopped breathing and froze her heart. A skill that could take an ability that was ordinarily used for infiltration work or evading monsters’ senses and forcibly activate it during combat: This was the Mystery Akatsuki had acquired.

AFTERWORD

Hello for the first time in a year and a half. This is Touno Mamare.

…Wow. I’m really sorry this is so late. I sort of got lost, body and soul. The writer’s the “lost child,” not Akatsuki. Common sense would dictate ritual disembowelment. To all the readers I kept waiting: I’m terribly sorry. I plan to get myself back in gear.

Thank you very much for buying Log Horizon, Vol. 6: Lost Child of the Dawn. It’s cold every day, but by the time this gets to you, the water will probably have started to warm up a bit. All sorts of things have been happening. They made Maoyuu—Demon King and Hero into an anime. Stuff has been on the radio constantly. I got to meet lots of different people! I’m really grateful.

All right: The Log Horizon novels have entered their second season, and as previously announced, I’m changing the heroine of the afterword from Sister Touno to my editor, Fta.

Why the heroine change, you ask? The popularity poll that was held in Log Horizon, Vol. 4 (Thank you for all your votes). In that poll, Sister Touno came in twenty-second, and my editor Fta came in fifteenth. Fifteenth place… That’s Kawarimi Senbei (from the Relaxing Character Popularity Poll). —I couldn’t really feel the awesomeness in that.

Well, if it had been Lady Yukari Yakumo (Touhou Character Popularity Poll), the awesomeness would have gotten through to me. My sister, in twenty-second place. That’s an overwhelming difference in combat power.

I’m quick to spot opportunities, and on seeing this, I decided to bet on a winner and switch the heroine. It wasn’t because I messed with Sister Touno a bit too much and have become the target of serious mental attacks. That isn’t it at all, but I’d like to note that, when you’re an adult, it’s important to avoid unnecessary risk.

Okay, since I bet there are lots of you who won’t know who I’m talking about if I just throw the name “Fta” out there, Fta is the supervising editor of Log Horizon. She’s a talented lady editor with glasses, but she’s really small. About the size of a soft drink bottle. In terms of race, she’s a Fairy of the Koropokkuru variety. Carnivore. During meetings, she usually kneels formally on the tabletop. When things get lively, though, she jumps. She’s a terribly cute, talented editor, but she is a carnivore.

I don’t mean “carnivore” figuratively. She really is a carnivore.

One day, after a meeting, we’d decided to go to a family restaurant to eat. I knew my meat-loving editor, so I casually attempted to establish rapport—“They’re holding a hamburger steak fair, you know?”—and she got mad at me: “Ground meat isn’t meat! Hisss!” Whenever I try to order bean sprout namul at a yakiniku restaurant, she says, “I don’t eat grass. Hisss!” According to Fta, all women love meat. Come to think of it, Sister Touno seems a bit like that, too.

One day, Fta and I were talking:

“Apparently there’s someone who wants to make a Log Horizon anime.”

“Oho.”

“NHK.”

“Sounds fishy.”

“It really does, doesn’t it? I thought so, too. They’d never make an anime out of that.”

“Let’s just ignore them and work on another job.”

“Sounds good. Want to leave it alone and go eat meat?”

And so we left it alone for about six months, and then they settled on it formally. That’s called “dry-aging.” They say it’s going to start airing in autumn 2013. That’s half a year away, but the production work is already in full swing. By the time this book comes out, they’ll probably be releasing information about it, little by little. It’s going to be aired nationwide, so please do watch, if you feel like it. If possible, I’d be really happy if you watched it with your brothers and sisters or as a family. We should be launching all sorts of projects, too, so look forward to that.

The Log Horizon publishing team celebrated at a pub a little bit early. To be honest, I don’t really believe they’re making an anime yet, so I’d like to go out for a meat banquet once things are more settled.

And, with that report on recent events, this has been Log Horizon 6.

In the world of television, “All I need is the one” is a line that you hear all the time, but lately I’ve been thinking that “Just the one” is pretty difficult in real life. Maybe you want to get involved with one person, but that person has a pretty big society inside them. Family, comrades, friends. I think you have to get involved with all of it, and then you’ll finally reach the person you wanted to connect with in the first place.

Akatsuki, who wants to be linked to one person (Shiroe), may have come up against that limit. This story was about how, at times like that, the people around you may be what you have to face. In other words, this story belonged to the girls. There are bonds that are created by doing your very best, and this was that sort of story. Apparently all girls like meat.

The items listed on the character status screens at the beginning of each chapter in this volume were collected on Twitter in February 2013. I used items from 291to230, carduus06, ebius1, hakuhai, hpsuke, kane_yon, kuroyagi6, luck_29, makotoTRPG, mizu_to, momon_call, ro_ki_, root425, sawame_ja, tepan00, and yamaneeeeee. Thank you very much!! I can’t list all your names here, but I’m grateful to everyone who submitted entries. There were lots of submissions from new readers this time. Once the anime starts, I may get to meet all sorts of new readers!

For details, and for the latest news, visit http://mamare.net. You’ll find information about Touno Mamare that isn’t Log Horizon–related as well. Look for information on the comicalization projects there, too! Hara, Motoya Matsu, Koyuki, and Kusanaka are making it possible to read fantastic Log Horizons, and I’m really happy.

Finally, Shoji Masuda, who produced this volume as well; the illustrator, Kazuhiro Hara (Allie was thanks to Tensai Design); Tsubakiya Design, who handled the design work; little Fta of the editorial department! And Oha, I’m in your debt yet again! Thank you very much! I’m really, really sorry to have been so late.

Now all that’s left is for you to savor this book. Bon appétit!

Mamare “Looking over the storyboards for Episode 1 of the Log Horizon anime” Touno

About the Authors

AUTHOR: MAMARE TOUNO

A STRANGE LIFE-FORM THAT INHABITS THE TOKYO BOKUTOU SHITAMACHI AREA. IT’S BEEN TOSSING HALF-BAKED TEXT INTO A CORNER OF THE INTERNET SINCE THE YEAR 2000 OR SO. IT’S A FULLY AUTOMATIC, TEXT-LOVING MACRO THAT EATS AND DISCHARGES TEXT. IT DEBUTED AT THE END OF 2010 WITH MAOYUU: MAOU YUUSHA (MAOYUU: DEMON KING AND HERO). LOG HORIZON IS A RESTRUCTURED VERSION OF A NOVEL THAT RAN ON THE WEBSITE SHOUSETSUKA NI NAROU (SO YOU WANT TO BE A NOVELIST).

WEBSITE: HTTP://WWW.MAMARE.NET

SUPERVISION: SHOJI MASUDA

AS A GAME DESIGNER, HE’S WORKED ON RINDA KYUUBU (RINDA CUBE) AND ORE NO SHIKABANE WO KOETE YUKE (STEP OVER MY DEAD BODY), AMONG OTHERS. ALSO ACTIVE AS A NOVELIST, HE’S RELEASED THE ONIGIRI NUEKO (ONI KILLER NUEKO) SERIES, THE HARUKA SERIES, JOHN & MARY: FUTARI HA SHOUKIN KASEGI (JOHN & MARY: BOUNTY HUNTERS), KIZUDARAKE NO BIINA (BEENA, COVERED IN WOUNDS), AND MORE. HIS LATEST EFFORT IS HIS FIRST CHILDREN’S BOOK, TOUMEI NO NEKO TO TOSHI UE NO IMOUTO (THE TRANSPARENT CAT AND THE OLDER LITTLE SISTER). HE HAS ALSO WRITTEN GEEMU DEZAIN NOU MASUDA SHINJI NO HASSOU TO WAZA (GAME DESIGN BRAIN: SHINJI MASUDA’S IDEAS AND TECHNIQUES).

TWITTER ACCOUNT: SHOJIMASUDA

ILLUSTRATION: KAZUHIRO HARA

AN ILLUSTRATOR WHO LIVES IN ZUSHI. ORIGINALLY A HOME GAME DEVELOPER. IN ADDITION TO ILLUSTRATING BOOKS, HE’S ALSO ACTIVE IN MANGA AND DESIGN. LATELY, HE’S BEEN HAVING FUN FLYING A BIOKITE WHEN HE GOES ON WALKS. HE’S ALSO WORKING ON THE LOG HORIZON MANGA ADAPTATION PROJECT, AND LOG HORIZON, VOL. 1 (FAMITSU CLEAR COMICS) IS ON SALE AND REALLY POPULAR. IT’S ALSO RUNNING ON COMIC CLEAR’S WEBSITE, WHERE IT’S POPULAR AS WELL.

COMIC CLEAR SITE: HTTP://WWW.FAMITSU.COM/COMIC_CLEAR/SE_LOGHORIZON/