Copyright

Log Horizon, Volume 6

Mamare Touno
Illustration by Kazuhiro Hara
Translation by Taylor Engel Cover art by Kazuhiro Hara
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
LOG HORIZON, VOLUME 6
Lost Child of the Dawn
©Touno Mamare 2013
First published in Japan in 2013 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo,
through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.
English translation © 2016 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of
copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to
produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a
theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use
material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the
publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Yen On
150 West 30th Street, 19th Floor New York, NY 10001
Visit us at yenpress.com
 facebook.com/yenpress
twitter.com/yenpress
yenpress.tumblr.com
instagram.com/yenpress
First Yen On eBook Edition: February 2020
Originally published in paperback in November 2016 by Yen On.
Yen On is an imprint of Yen Press, LLC.
The Yen On name and logo are trademarks of Yen Press, LLC.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not
owned by the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-9753-0989-3
E3-20200204-JV-NF-ORI
 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 Haganemushi, 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.

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.

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.

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.
 Again and again, Kyouko struck out with her fists and her feet.
Kyouko had zero martial arts experience, but Adventurers’ physical
performance was fast and destructive enough to lead even a bear around by
the nose. Those attacks fell prey to the man’s blade, almost as if they were
drawn into it. The single sword that hung from the man’s right hand sliced
Kyouko apart, protecting the man as if it had multiplied by a thousand.
She didn’t understand.
She had no idea what in the world was happening.
Kyouko didn’t know why the guards weren’t coming, or why a PK had been
allowed to run loose in the middle of town, or why a monster like this had
infiltrated Akiba.
Kyouko couldn’t even think straight anymore, and she kept fighting as if
delirious with fever. However, if Kyouko seemed feverish, the man was lunacy
itself. Smiling a sticky smile, the man ran his sword through every inch of
Kyouko’s body, as if tormenting her, toying with her.
The midnight battle came to an end in silence.
The late-night wind that blew between the buildings carried away the sound
of their struggle.
Kyouko fell, still not understanding, and as if it had been promised from the
beginning, the man stabbed his bright sword into her neck. As her vision
dimmed, fading to black and white, Kyouko saw the blood that clung to the
sword, her own blood, turn into frozen crystals and sift away.
Even though it was midwinter, they looked like pale pink flower petals.
Was the lethargy that lingered in her limbs frostbite? Tears that weren’t from
sadness fell from Kyouko’s eyes onto the immobile remains of her arms and
legs.
Kyouko had been on the brink of reaching something. However, in accordance
with the laws of this world, she was sent to the Temple. By the time she woke
and reached the guild hall where her companions waited, it was the next
morning.
 And so rumors of the murderer who threatened Akiba’s winter spread like
wildfire.

A killer had appeared, one who dominated Akiba’s nights.

The news spread even faster than the wind that blew over the town. On the
first night, there had been three victims. The next night, just one. However, on
the third day, a group of five had fallen.
Since several of these had been veterans from combat guilds, it seemed safe
to say that the murderer’s preposterous combat abilities had been proven to be
far greater than those of level-90 Adventurers.
At first, people thought the incident would be easily resolved.
To begin with, this world had been modeled on Elder Tales, and in it, there
was power in numbers. Even if the murderer was a bit stronger than an
individual, if six people in a functional party formation surrounded him or her, it
was assumed they couldn’t lose.
The peculiar conditions of this world also gave them an advantage when it
came to capturing the criminal. All the victims had been killed by the murderer,
but they were still alive. Even if Adventurers died, they were shunted to the
Temple and reborn. As a result, there was a wealth of eyewitness testimony
regarding the murderer, and of combat information.
Enbart Nelles.
No guild affiliation.
Level 94, Samurai.
Long, dark hair with hints of indigo and a mask like a blindfold. Metal armor
that encased his arms and legs.
With that many characteristics, they’d assumed that investigating would be
easy. True, the incidents had occurred late at night, but that didn’t mean they
had to limit their search for the criminal to nighttime. As a matter of fact, guilds
—particularly the West Wind Brigade and Honesty, which had suffered damage
—were continuing to hunt for the culprit.
However, even now, a week after the incidents, they hadn’t so much as
glimpsed him, and the number of victims kept growing.
When Adventurers killed other Adventurers, the term for it was a “PK,” or
“player kill.” It was one way of playing, and the act was currently restricted at
the zone level by Akiba’s Round Table Council. Yet, even though adventurers
who committed PKs again and again were known as player killers—also
abbreviated PK—that didn’t mean they were automatically called “murderers.”
To begin with, the town of Akiba was a zone under the protection of the
guards.
If a violent act was committed there, a magical alert went to the guards’
station immediately, and the guards—People of the Earth in special equipment
—went to capture the offender… Or they should have. At this point in time, it
was clear that something very strange was afoot.
Of course, in the process of their investigation, the Round Table Council had
inquired at the guard station. As a result, they’d learned that, at the time the
incidents had occurred, the guards hadn’t detected any abnormalities.
Apparently, at least as far as the Elder Tales game system was concerned, no
PKs had occurred.
Rumors about the uncanny cutthroat spread rapidly through Akiba.
However, this wasn’t because the incidents were an object of serious terror.
Instead, the stories were taken more as a morbidly fascinating urban legend.
After all, to Adventurers, death wasn’t that great a risk.
It did have a certain disadvantage, of course: the danger of losing memories
from the old world. Through a careful information disclosure maneuver by the
Round Table Council, this fact had gradually become known to the town of
Akiba. The dejection regarding this destruction of memory wasn’t a small one,
and it was particularly marked among the Adventurers who were involved in
production classes in the town.
 However, on the other hand, it was true that there was a certain mood of
pragmatism as well.
This was probably due to the fact that Adventurers who had experienced
death a dozen or so times said that the destruction of memory wasn’t
significant enough to feel like a problem; in fact, they were still participating in
the town of Akiba without any trouble, just as their companions were.
Either way, the Adventurers lived in this world, and inevitable fates were
inevitable.
Even if they were attacked by the murderer and became a victim, it wouldn’t
do them any critical damage.
In addition, although the Adventurers of Akiba didn’t say it outright, it was
partially because they placed great confidence in the Round Table Council, or
RTC.
The RTC, which had been established less than a month after the Catastrophe
and had handled Akiba’s self-government ever since, had produced a variety of
tangible and intangible achievements. The Adventurers shared a common
experience that gave their community a clearer origin than any in the old world:
the shock of the Catastrophe, and the following devastation; given that, the
residents of Akiba were quite proud of the representative system that had risen
out of the ashes. They’d even managed to pull together and hold the Libra
Festival last month.
In other words, the term monstrous clearly expressed the strangeness of the
incident itself.
Unfairness that deviated from the system. A monster that attacked out of
nowhere, like a natural disaster.
—And yet, even so, the damage wasn’t severe. On the contrary, the incidents
seemed designed to cause only terror, and they were almost like a campaign
tale. Most of the citizens of Akiba thought that, even if he behaved ferociously
now, the matter would be resolved before long.
In any case, ever since the Catastrophe, all sorts of abnormalities had cropped
up in the world and new incidents occurred nearly every day. And, too, as the
largest Adventurer city on the Yamato server, Akiba was one big sieve of
information. Mysterious incidents, mildly troubling incidents, hair-raising
incidents, anxiety-inducing incidents—all sorts of things were here.
It was true that this serial killer wasn’t the sort of problem that could be
neglected, but Akiba had several other, bigger problems at the moment.
The two that could be deemed Akiba’s main concerns were the Seventh Fall
Subjugation Operation and the sudden rise to power of an enormous guild in
Minami.
The Akiba expeditionary force, which had been victorious in the Zantleaf war,
had finally begun its invasion of Seventh Fall, the castle of the Goblin tribe. The
Goblin King appeared in the course of the Return of the Goblin King quest, and
his strength changed depending on how active the Adventurers were during
that event. In the confusion that had followed the Catastrophe, the Adventurers
had ignored the Goblin King, and he’d developed to the point of plotting to
send soldiers into the Zantleaf Peninsula. No doubt he was stronger than any
previous raid boss.
No matter how high the difficulty level had risen, the enemy was
fundamentally a Goblin, a midrange demihuman. Naturally, if this had been a
game, he wouldn’t have posed enough of a threat to worry about.
However, on the other hand, they couldn’t ignore the fact that it was possible
that common sense from the game no longer applied to the post-Catastrophe
world. In addition, even if he was a threat the Adventurers could cope with, it
wasn’t hard to imagine that he might be lethal for the People of the Earth.
Due to these circumstances, Akiba’s Round Table Council had dispatched a
subjugation force composed of elites.
It had 450 members, with Krusty as commander-in-chief.
Of course, these troops were being dispatched to subjugate the Goblins and
to bring stability to northeastern Yamato, but at the same time, the expedition
was part of their exchange with Eastal, the League of Free Cities.
To that end, Krusty and Isaac, two of Akiba’s most prominent heroes, had
gone to the front with the subjugation army, and even Akaneya and Calasin had
gone along as reinforcements.
That meant that the burden on the other Round Table Council guild masters
would inevitably increase. There was a rumor that they were spending every
day in the guild center or their own guild homes, fielding exhausting workloads.
This expedition operation was what was drawing the most interest in Akiba at
the moment.
The 450 members of the expedition army had departed ages ago, and no one
had any doubts about their victory, but the rear duties, such as supply transport
and relief personnel, weren’t going anywhere. There was also no telling when
the Adventurers in Akiba would be asked to provide backup. Thus, there were
reasons to pay attention, and no reasons not to.
The other subject that was attracting attention was information about Plant
Hwyaden, which was said to have brought the West almost completely under
its control.
At this point in time, many of Akiba’s Adventurers had mixed feelings about
the town of Minami.
To the players on the Yamato server, who were from modern Japan, the
system of self-government established in Minami looked like a one-party
dictatorship.
In the first place, in the Elder Tales game, having a variety of guilds crowded
together had been the natural state of things, even where the game system was
concerned. It had been only natural that the early confusion in Akiba had taken
the form of guilds competing with each other.
It seemed somewhat high-handed that, in a short period of time, a single
guild—Plant Hwyaden—had claimed supremacy and, on top of that, had
absorbed all the other guilds.
However, could they criticize the move? That was hard to say. Instantly
declaring that it was bad, just because it was a dictatorship, would have been
too simplistic. In fact, according to the information that came in from Minami,
trouble caused by Adventurers had dropped off dramatically, and although their
policy was different from Akiba’s, the Adventurers seemed to be advancing
matters in harmony with each other.
In the first place, these were Adventurers who had played on the same server.
It wasn’t unusual for old friends and companions to live separated, some in
Akiba and some in Minami. Sometimes Adventurers were invited to move to
Minami from Akiba and did so, and sometimes they were invited to Akiba from
Minami and moved that way.
In any case, Japanese people weren’t good at bringing up politics in everyday
conversation.
As such, Adventurers were conscious of the difference between Akiba and
Minami and considered it high-interest news, but they also knew it was a
slightly awkward topic to discuss.
In terms of the population difference between Akiba and Minami, there were
comparatively more Adventurers in Akiba. However, Plant Hwyaden had more
than twice as many Adventurers as Akiba’s largest guild, the Marine
Organization.
Even as they felt a premonition of trouble in the situation, people were
hesitant to express clear opinions on Minami, and the mood was an
uncomfortable one.
At present, Akiba was caught between these two major news items, and
although the days passed peacefully, there was tension about them as well. As
a result, although they knew the information about the murderer, most of the
Adventurers didn’t attach much importance to it.
On the fourth and fifth days, the murderer failed to appear.
However, on the sixth day… An arrest patrol squad from Honesty was
completely wiped out.
The Round Table Council sent out a mild alert, requesting that people
voluntarily refrain from going out at night. The Adventurers were one thing, but
for a Person of the Earth, the situation would be irreparable. So far, all victims
had been Adventurers, but that didn’t guarantee the safety of other groups.
However, even at this point in time, no Adventurers predicted what the
appearance of the murderer truly meant.
 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.

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.

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?”
 *
Nazuna, who wore a loose dressing gown, spoke in a leisurely voice.
The team that was about to head out was tense, and that was enough.
Things would be fine. She believed in her guild mates.
The West Wind Brigade was smaller than D.D.D. or the Knights of the Black
Sword, but it had managed to stay in the fierce struggle to be the first one into
battle thanks to its firm unity and strong sense of purpose.
Now the West Wind Brigade was talking big about apprehending the criminal.
Nazuna, whose abundant black hair was bound together at her back, gazed at
each and every one of the members who were preparing to head out. There
had been no oversights, either in equipment or in strategy. Nodding to the guild
members, who were all raising cries of “Understood,” Nazuna continued:
“All right, you’ll switch in two hours. We’ll organize the second strike unit and
get them ready here. There’ll be a midnight snack waiting when you get back,
and it’ll be a good one. Of course, you’ll be heading out again two hours after
that, so don’t relax too much. Like Souji said, the other guy outranks us. Be
careful about that. Okay, Souji, it’s all you.”
“Hmm. Let’s see. I think you said everything I was going to say. All right, then,
just one thing: The target killed one of us. —Cut him down.”
Soujirou was a young man with an atmosphere like spring sunlight.
His vaguely good-natured smile was the same as ever, but those words—
which he’d spoken without raising his voice—froze the air in the hall. As if
drawn by that cold air, the shoulders of one female Cleric trembled, and she
screamed out her determination to get revenge in a voice that seemed to have
been wrung from her stomach. It was already completely dark outside, but
none of the members paid any attention to that.
The four teams valiantly burst out of the guild hall.
The West Wind Brigade’s guild hall was built to feel rather Japanese.
It hadn’t been that way originally; the change reflected the guild members’
taste and Soujirou’s preferences. Similarly, the first floor was a spacious place,
to allow for troop inspections before sallying forth. It was empty, with no
furniture.
Pulling a wooden chair into that great hall, Soujirou sat down.
For the moment, he was on standby, but apparently he couldn’t bring himself
to withdraw to the dining hall or his own room.
“I hear they’re making miso pork in the dining hall.”
Nazuna spoke to him, thinking she should try, but Soujirou’s only response to
her proposal was to smile and shake his head.
Nazuna pinched the tip of her chin and thought.
She’d been this way in the old world as well, and for a woman, she was
relatively tall and full-figured. It wasn’t the sort of glamour an idol singer would
have, but her figure was good. Although she’d been told she was “easy on the
eyes,” as far as she was concerned, her body was a bit too much for her.
Apparently, when she stood with her feet apart at shoulder width and crossed
her arms, she looked more self-possessed than her age would suggest.
She was the type who was good at looking after people, and since she was
also one of the guild’s founding players and one of its longest-serving members,
the people around her trusted her completely. As a result, half-inevitably,
Nazuna was viewed as the sub-master of the West Wind Brigade. Nazuna
herself was aware that she handled more of the practical business than Soujirou
did, who led by exercising his charisma.
All the members were good kids who idolized Nazuna, and Nazuna thought
they were adorable as well. The West Wind Brigade was Nazuna’s tribe. After
living together here since the Catastrophe, she thought of them all as her
family.
However, sometimes, when Soujirou let a practical expression show through
a crack in his usual mild-mannered mask, it made her remember her old
comrades, and then she wanted to lean on him.
Naturally, logic was on Soujirou’s side this time.
 Their opponent was a murderer who threatened Akiba’s nights. As one of the
eleven guilds on the Round Table Council, the West Wind Brigade bore a certain
moral responsibility for the safety of Akiba. Nazuna also acknowledged that the
major combat guilds had a duty to patrol the town.
Furthermore, this murderer had killed a West Wind Brigade member.
Of course Kyouko had revived in the Temple. What she’d lost from the
incident, memories included, hadn’t been serious. Although Kyouko was afraid
of the murderer, even she wasn’t so frightened that she wouldn’t be able to
face him again. She’d said so herself. However, an assault was an assault. The
murderer had struck at Nazuna’s—and Soujirou’s—family.
That was unforgivable.
Nazuna thought so as well.
She thought Soujirou shared that anger. However, even so, his decision had
been a bit too smooth. That was in his personality; he’d been that way ever
since he was part of the Debauchery Tea Party. When you called it “carefree” or
“unhesitating,” it sounded good, but on the other hand, it leaned toward
relentlessness and cruelty.
Nazuna thought Soujirou wasn’t anywhere near as gentle and good-natured
as the women of Akiba thought he was. Well, no, he was a gentle, good-natured
boy, but it wasn’t because the individual in question was exceptionally good.
He was like that because he was like that. That was all.
Soujirou was kind to women. Almost without exception.
However, it wasn’t because he liked them personally. He was simply “that
kind of boy.”
He was giving orders to retaliate against the person who’d struck a girl in his
family, not because he had any particularly deep attachment to Kyouko. He was
merely “that kind of boy.”
It was a certain type of rule, a mechanical decision, and Nazuna was unable to
influence that part of him. She could probably get him to postpone such a
decision temporarily, or to cancel it for something else—for example, she could
tell him, “Let’s meet up with the Knights of the Black Sword first” or “We should
let the Round Table Council handle things this time.”
However, she couldn’t admonish Soujirou, or guide him to grow.
The only ones who could influence Soujirou on that level were Shiroe and
Kazuhiko.
Because Soujirou was overly conscious of women as beings who must be
protected, Nazuna’s words about certain things would never reach him.
Soujirou was kind to girls. It wasn’t a virtue; it was one of his flaws, and it
couldn’t be corrected.
In the West Wind Brigade, people assumed Nazuna was one of Soujirou’s
lovers.
However, to Nazuna, Soujirou was something like a little brother.
He was awkward and unsteady, and she couldn’t leave him alone.
The fact that Soujirou was able to present himself as guild master, as if that
was normal, was just a fortunate coincidence, with no guarantees and nothing
to support it. Nazuna thought the boy named Soujirou Seta was someone who
could easily destroy his own guild at any moment.
I mean, I love him. Of course I’m absolutely nuts about him. But.
Unconsciously ruffling Soujirou’s black hair, Nazuna found herself caught up in
her thoughts.
She did love him, but—speaking without fear of being misunderstood—the
boy was abnormal.
…To the point where he was about on par with the murderer.
If he hadn’t been, he’d never have been able to hold together a guild that
consisted of over ninety women. Not only that, but it wouldn’t have been
possible to use that system to aim for the top of the server in raid clearings.
“What’s wrong?”
Soujirou spoke to Nazuna; his eyes were round. He’d probably gotten worried
because she’d been quiet for so long. But even with her concerns, Nazuna
smiled back at him… He was family, so there was no help for it. She’d just have
to use what she had to make up for what Soujirou lacked. And they’d have to
avenge Kyouko, another family member who’d fallen to the murderer’s blade.

The moment a white mist began to gather at her feet, the scent of the wind
seemed to soften.
The night shook off the heaviness it had worn like a thick curtain, growing
gradually lighter and more transparent. It was a premonition of dawn.
The town of Akiba was still shrouded in darkness, but the chest-crushing
pressure of late night was already gone.
The sky was slowly turning a limpid deep blue. Although the silence was
unchanged, time flowed on.
Akatsuki had just finished a night of patrolling, and she was tired.
One all-nighter wasn’t enough to affect Adventurer bodies in the least, but
scouting had kept her nerves under constant strain, and it had tired her
mentally more than physically.
I’m hungry…
She wanted to drink hot potage.
Nyanta’s special potage soup, with lots of corn.
However, right now, she was up on a crumbling elevated track. At Log
Horizon, her friends were probably sleeping the deep sleep that came just
before dawn. She couldn’t pester them for warmth.
In any case, these late-night wanderings were a secret from her guild mates.
She was jealous of the young girl who was her friend, and she wanted to
become as strong as the Adventurers in raid guilds, so every night, she slipped
out of her home and pursued the murderer. She couldn’t tell her friends about
something like that.
 As she looked down at the town, which was gradually growing brighter,
Akatsuki heaved a deep sigh.
The reason she couldn’t tell, and the reason she felt this tired, was that she
was aware that this quest was, at heart, nothing more than her own selfishness.
The wish to get stronger was simply her ego. Neither Shiroe nor Naotsugu had
asked her to do it. Even Akatsuki knew that chasing the murderer was a bit like
trying to grasp at clouds.
True, if she pursued the murderer, she might be able to witness high-ranking
guilds in combat.
If that happened, she might get to see the Mysteries they used.
If all went well, she might even find a hint about the rank.
All these things were hypothetical. Haphazard action plans based on
“maybes.”
Akatsuki knew this acutely. That was why she couldn’t tell her friends.
Crossing over the main drag, Akatsuki walked along the elevated track toward
the center of Akiba.
By now, the darkness had left Akiba, and early morning had come. The cold,
cutting wind peculiar to winter mornings stole the warmth from Akatsuki’s
cheeks. She’d spent the whole night in her ninja clothes so that she’d be ready
for combat at any time, and she’d gotten cold. It had been all right during the
night, when she’d stayed on high alert and moved around, but once day had
broken, while she’d been gazing vacantly down at the town, she seemed to
have gotten chilled.
Her mood wasn’t very cheerful.
Akatsuki thought that was only to be expected. She’d prowled around town
all night long, and she had nothing to show for it.
She clambered up onto a big, mossy chunk of concrete, then reached out
farther, finally arriving at the top of the rubble. In the old world, this place had
probably been a platform on the Chuo Line, but now lots of trees grew here,
turning it into a hanging garden. The air was cold, but because the wind was
blocked, she could breathe a little easier.
This huge structure wasn’t a separate zone; it was an open, freely accessible
object set up in Akiba. That meant there was no set entrance or exit, and if
she’d wanted to, she could have jumped down off the elevated track.
Akatsuki thought absently about going down the central staircase and cutting
through the guild center square…but then sat down on a decaying bench.
She didn’t think she was that tired.
It was only that she didn’t want to move anymore.
Once she sat, the area around her stomach felt heavy. It felt as if something
had curdled there, and she couldn’t stand it.
Akatsuki was surprised at herself.
Why was she sitting on the bench, and why was she staring at the ground?
She was forced to face the fact that she’d simply been tormenting herself that
much.
She kicked a pebble with her toe. The pebble rolled across the hanging garden
which had once been a platform, and was now cracked and crumbling here and
there and bristling with ancient trees. She saw a small bird take flight;
apparently she’d startled it.
Feeling terribly depressed, Akatsuki found her thoughts meandering.
About the guild. About Shiroe. About vulgar, stupid Naotsugu. About Nyanta
and his delicious cooking, about her juniors, about the Crescent Moon League,
about the enemies she’d fought before now.
And about Minori.
She thought she was a very feminine girl. She was tidy. She was conscientious,
cheerful, not timid, and polite… None of those things were anything special on
their own. She was cute, but only on a level that would have made her mildly
popular in class, and she tended to be a bit too direct.
She couldn’t cook, and she was a middle schooler, so she certainly didn’t
know all the fashionable shops around town. Akatsuki thought Minori’s taste in
pouches was childish. When she talked to Shiroe, she frisked around and her
voice went high-pitched, and it must have made Shiroe feel fed up with her.
Akatsuki bit her lip hard.
What was she thinking?
Shameful.
Even she thought she was being disgustingly narrow-minded.
The self Akatsuki had seen in the mirror had been ugly, drawn out, and
warped. The bitterness of jealousy had accumulated like sediment, and it
tortured her. What had Minori done, anyway?
At the very least, she’d probably never held any ill will toward Akatsuki. Even
so, privately, she looked down on Minori, thinking of her as a cheeky little kid…
Even though she knew that wasn’t really the case. Even though she knew
Minori was her lovable, hard-working junior. Even so, she couldn’t hold back
the feeling that the girl was just an uppity, annoyingly precocious middle
schooler.
As she brooded this way, all alone, she couldn’t take it anymore. The jealousy
she was normally able to forget when she was in a crowd flooded her heart. She
couldn’t hold the torrent back even if she tried, and it seemed about to swallow
her up.
Akatsuki took several deep breaths.
She relaxed her clenched fists.
The deciduous trees had dried up for the winter and lost their leaves, but the
conifers were still deep green; it was their shadows that fell over the damp
garden.
Somewhere, she heard a twitter, as though someone were shaking a small
bell.
It was the little bird she’d seen earlier.
In the winter air, this deserted ruin from the Age of Myth had a bright, crisp
beauty to it. Even the clear air, which froze the white breath she exhaled, was
an important, irreplaceable element that highlighted that beauty.
 In the midst of light that was simply white instead of bright, Akatsuki felt she
was a black stain. A black stain that would only spread if scrubbed. Even her
dark hair, which she’d been proud of until now, became loathsome at the
thought.
When she thought that Shiroe might not like her hair—that he might prefer
hair of a brighter color, like Minori’s—she felt as if her stomach had been
packed with stones.
…This, even though Akatsuki knew very well that Shiroe wouldn’t base his
likes and dislikes on a thing like hair color. Shiroe wouldn’t show favoritism over
something as material as tresses.
Even so, all because of her jealousy, Akatsuki had found herself asking:
Doesn’t he prefer lighter hair?
She’d spread the filthy jealousy inside her to Shiroe, someone she respected
as her liege.
Even as she sat there, Akatsuki’s jealousy was compromising Shiroe.
And I call him “my liege” with this mouth?
Akatsuki finally understood why she’d sat down on this bench.
In short, Akatsuki didn’t want to return to the guild hall.
She was just like an elementary schooler who’d skipped after-school lessons.
That thought struck her as ridiculous, and she laughed. It was a childish
escape.
Akatsuki was cold, in pain, and in a wretched mood. It had been her precious,
precious place to belong, and she’d been really happy there, but in order to
protect that happiness, she’d stayed up all night, chasing after power, and now,
after all that, it was hard to go home. Reality, in which she’d gotten her
priorities backward, reproached her.
Minori and Touya and the rest of the younger group were out on an overnight
hunting trip, so they weren’t there.
If she went back to the guild house, she wouldn’t have to see them. She was
well aware that Nyanta would give her a warm welcome.
 …And so, not wanting to go back was not Akatsuki’s choice, but her ego’s.
Even she knew that not wanting to be seen in this jealous state was vanity.
However, she couldn’t throw it away.
I want to see my liege.
That was what Akatsuki desired. The wish was so strong it made her chest
tight.
She wanted to see Shiroe. She wanted to talk to him, even if it was only a
little. She wanted to go up close to him and tug on his white coat. She wanted
to pour Black Rose Tea into his teacup from a canteen. She wanted to sit on the
sofa with him and look out the window. She wanted to stand beside Shiroe as
he looked at complicated documents and made an equally complicated face,
and then imitate that complicated face herself.
But that wouldn’t happen. Selfish and vain as she was, she didn’t think she
was qualified to set her mind at ease near Shiroe. Not only that, but if she went
back there now, she’d never be able to run off again. From this point on, she’d
live as a sort of free bonus that came with Shiroe.
She’d thought that wouldn’t be so bad.
She’d thought it would make her happy to be her liege’s ninja, as if she was
sunbathing beside him.
However, that had been cheating.
Minori had taught her that she’d only been leaning on him, because it’d made
her happy.
A swallow that lost its ability to fly would stop being able to follow Shiroe
someday. When that happened, they’d have to part ways.
She’d been thinking the same things for a while now, over and over. In all of
them, the subjects were “I” and “mine.” Even she thought it was too self-
centered, and it disgusted her.
There probably wasn’t anyone who’d like a girl like that. Akatsuki herself
wouldn’t want a friend who was so self-centered that she could only talk about
herself.
 …And so, she couldn’t see Shiroe now.
It was also an order she’d received from Shiroe, her liege.
“…I’ll stay at an inn today,” she told herself.
Akatsuki forced her heavy body to its feet.
She really shouldn’t have been tired, but she felt oddly listless. It had to be
the emotions.
This strange land, caressed by the winter wind, was vast, and no voice
answered her call.

Raynesia shut her eyes tightly, against the cold.

Naturally, simply closing her eyes did nothing to take the edge off the chill.
It was rare for her to be out in the streets of Akiba like this.
Even if she was at a new post (or rather, being left to her own devices),
Raynesia was the second daughter of the House of Cowen, the leading family of
Eastal, the League of Free Cities, and a successor to one of the two remaining
dukedoms in Yamato. Due to security issues, she didn’t go out much. Even if she
did go out, it was usually only to perform inspections from a carriage, and she
almost never walked around town in her everyday clothes this way.
If Marielle from the Crescent Moon League hadn’t suddenly stopped by and
said, “Let’s go get brunch somewhere else today!” she probably wouldn’t have
gone out at all.
Generally, Elissa or the guards would have put a stop to this sort of sudden
outing, but this was Akiba. If a few skilled Adventurers were protecting her,
she’d be safer than if she’d stayed shut up in Water Maple Manor. On top of
that, although she didn’t know what her motives had been, Elissa had made the
preparations for the outing so quickly that she hadn’t been able to talk her way
out of it.
 “You’re all fluffy, aren’tcha!”
“I suppose you should wear a hat, too.”
As a result, Raynesia was walking toward Akiba’s main avenue, flanked by
Marielle and Riezé.
For today’s outing, she was wearing a hip-length coat trimmed with fluffy fur.
To begin with, Raynesia wasn’t very familiar with the contents of her own
wardrobe.
Because daughters of the nobility had their ladies-in-waiting select their
clothes for them and changed several times a day, this wasn’t unusual, but on
top of that, Raynesia wasn’t much interested in fashion, so hers was an extreme
case.
After all, she was lazy. Changing clothes didn’t bring her much joy in the first
place. If they’d left her to herself, she was confident that she could have spent a
whole year in a linen dress.
Of course, Raynesia had received more than enough aristocratic training.
Everything had its own time, place, occasion, and etiquette, and she knew quite
well what sort of clothing she needed to wear.
It was a pain, but Raynesia was aware that her long silver hair was unusual.
Clothing that suited that hair was also unusual, and unfortunately, pajamas
weren’t on the list.
As a result, Raynesia didn’t know what sort of clothes her wardrobe held, or
how many of them there were. She only thought, vaguely, that there were all
kinds of things in there.
“There just isn’t much low-level cold endurance equipment, is there?”
The group was walking along in a close huddle, with Raynesia in the middle.
The girl who’d spoken to her from behind was named Mikakage.
She was a sociable, cheerful girl, another of the people who attended the tea
parties.
“No,” Raynesia answered, briefly.
 She’d answered obediently because Mikakage was one of the people she felt
indebted to. It wasn’t because she was an Adventurer. The woman was a Chef.
Since she brought over all sorts of snacks at every opportunity, going against
her was out of the question.
Raynesia didn’t really know the details, but apparently there were two types
of Chefs among the Adventurers.
These were Chefs who had high skill values but were personally quite bad at
cooking, and true Chefs whose cooking techniques matched their skill values…
or so she was told. Skill values expressed the individual’s cooking prowess, and
so Raynesia didn’t really understand why people talked about “letting treasures
go to waste” or, on the other hand, “being well-matched.”
However, even if she didn’t understand that aspect of Adventurer culture, she
knew that Mikakage was known as a “real” cook, and in fact, the snacks she
brought were delicious.
These were cakes and candies so delicate she had no idea how they’d been
made: truly jewel-like sweets. On the other hand, while they were brought over
far less frequently than the sweets, Raynesia liked her pork miso soup and rice
with mushrooms as well.
According to Mikakage, sweets were art, but other dishes were
entertainment. Raynesia could only wonder about that. She thought they were
delicious, with mellow flavors.
Mikakage took the muffler that Raynesia had wound around herself and hung
an odd accessory from it. The little spirit that always followed Mikakage around
stretched up on tiptoe, insistently trying to see. It was a little stuffed animal, a
puppy, and really cute: It was roly-poly, and it looked sleepy.
“The percentage isn’t much, but what do you think? Is that a little warmer?”
“Yes. It is warm.”
The People of the Earth probably couldn’t make tiny stuffed animals this
elaborate. The best they could do would be wood carving. That meant this was
the first time Raynesia had worn a stuffed animal as an accessory. She thought
it made her outfit much more like the Adventurers’ than wearing jewels or
ribbons would have.
“Excellent.”
Mikakage nodded. Marielle, who’d peeked in from behind her, said, “Isn’t
that nice!” and gave a dazzling smile.
This Marielle woman was another of the people who often came to Water
Maple Manor.
She always brought all sorts of clothes to change into, so she’d thought she
must be in charge of clothing and accessories for some guild somewhere, but
when she listened closely, it turned out that she was one of the Round Table
Council eleven. The leader of one of Akiba’s eleven governing clans.
At first, Raynesia had been very tense, but before long, she’d gotten used to
her.
On hearing that she belonged to one of the town’s governing clans, she’d
begun conversations as if she were talking to a member of the peerage, but
every time, she found herself turned into a dress-up doll and regaled with town
gossip, and it became a bit of a performance.
Marielle was thoroughly cheerful, loved parties, and was always smiling.
She’d been the first one to call Raynesia “Sia.” Raynesia had been called
“Reisi” by her family, but she’d never been called “Sia” before. At first, it had
bewildered her, but she’d soon grown used to that, too.
Her tea parties with the Adventurer women were already part of Raynesia’s
daily routine.
And while Raynesia might be “the winter rose of Eastal,” Sia was just an
inexperienced People of the Earth girl who’d been posted to the Adventurers’
town. She was a noble, of course, and a fledgling diplomat, and sometimes she
played at being a merchant. But whatever she was, she wasn’t “the winter rose
of Eastal.”
Raynesia realized that the girl with honey-colored hair who was walking
ahead of her, matching her pace to Raynesia’s unsteady steps, had turned back.
She was a girl called Riezé, and she managed the knights in D.D.D., another of
the eleven guilds. She supervised Krusty, Raynesia’s archenemy. Her rank within
the guild was probably high as well.
Riezé frequently attended Raynesia’s tea parties, too, and Raynesia thought
she was a very clearheaded young lady. Her demeanor was the most
aristocratic of all the attendees. However, even so, she was far more
enlightened than the hidebound members of Eastal’s high society.
Riezé was even the one who’d taught her that word enlightened.
It meant, “Wearing clothes that don’t constrict your stomach, and being able
to eat custard dorayaki,” which were little custard-and-mini pancake
sandwiches.
It was a very, very good word.
From Raynesia’s perspective, all the Adventurers seemed like unprecedented
beings.
This was probably true for all People of the Earth, not just for Raynesia. Even
Elissa sometimes sighed, let her shoulders droop, and lamented, “Come to think
of it, they are Adventurers, aren’t they…”
Adventurers were far too different from their people, and Raynesia and Elissa
didn’t understand them.
Raynesia met many of People of the Earth these days, and almost every day,
they asked her:
“What are the Adventurers?”
“How should we handle them?”
Since she’d been posted to the town of Akiba and was serving as an
intermediary with the Adventurers, Raynesia met with People of the Earth
nearly every day, and then mediated trade with the Adventurers, looked for
Adventurers who would take on job requests, and often gave them advice.
Personally, she didn’t think she was managing to do the job properly at all, but
even so, since there was no one else, she had to do it.
Even though she was asked about the Adventurers, Raynesia didn’t know the
answers either. In fact, there might be many things Raynesia knew less about
than any other given Person of the Earth. And what’s more, because she was in
closer contact with the Adventurers than anyone else, as the days went by, the
number of things she didn’t understand kept growing.
However, she’d managed to understand a few things.
Adventurers were Adventurers.
Raynesia thought that the most fundamental mistake the People of the Earth
lords had made at the lord’s council in the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice was
attempting to treat the Adventurers like nobles.
The Adventurers weren’t nobles; of course trying to treat them according to
the rules of the aristocracy wouldn’t work well. In the same way, Adventurers
weren’t lords’ subjects or knights, either. They weren’t even People of the
Earth. For that reason, it was a mistake to treat them according to People of the
Earth rules, or to try to adapt them to fit their convenience.
Raynesia thought that had been why the conference had failed.
Adventurers were only Adventurers. They shouldn’t be classified as anything
else.
However, come to think of it, Raynesia’s surroundings were bursting with
people who could be labeled. Counts were counts, barons were barons, knights
were knights, chamberlains were chamberlains, citizens were the residents of a
city, and villagers lived in villages. Hunters hunted and woodcutters cut down
trees.
People had roles, and they lived within those limits. That was only natural.
Before Raynesia was Reisi, she was the granddaughter of a duke, and the winter
rose princess. She’d never had a single doubt about that. Even now, she didn’t
hate the idea, and she thought it was only natural.
However, she’d realized that it wasn’t possible to use those rules to
understand the Adventurers. All she knew was that, even if she didn’t know the
correct answer, she mustn’t try to fit them into a framework or look at them in
terms of their class or role.
It would certainly have been easier if she could have gotten along with the
Adventurers by putting them in broad categories, such as “members of the
Crescent Moon League clan” or “guild members with cooking skills.” Like the
knights in the Knights of Maihama, or the ladies-in-waiting that came to the
castle to serve, or the critical young male aristocrats.
However, Marielle and Riezé and Mikakage were all too remarkable for that,
and she couldn’t do it.
Every single Adventurer was like a special jewel, polished carefully by the
gods. Each was unlike any other, and they sparkled and shone.
“Hmm? What’s up?”
Marielle turned back and looked at her closely, seemingly worried.
Raynesia smiled and replied, “I’m fine.” Seeing this, Mikakage asked, “Are you
hungry already?” and the whole group laughed. Do I really look that hungry?
Raynesia worried. The Adventurers always had little sweets in their pockets or
bags, and they were constantly trying to feed them to her.
Once they were on the wide avenue, Raynesia and the others turned north.
“This way?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Marielle and Riezé, who’d spoken to each other, were dressed comparatively
lightly.
Unlike the People of the Earth, the Adventurers preferred activewear.
Apparently this was true even now, in midwinter. Marielle was wearing a short
skirt that exposed her tight-clad legs. She thought she really had to be cold, but
the person in question didn’t seem bothered by it.
Riezé was wearing a coat and muffler, but underneath, she wore the same
sort of white blouse and tight skirt she always did. Raynesia and Elissa, who was
just behind her, were far more bundled up.
It was sheer coincidence that Raynesia spotted Akatsuki just then.
Because Marielle had asked Mikakage, “Is Milky Margaret over that way?”
and Mikakage had trotted ahead to show the way, the two who’d been paying
attention to Raynesia had moved away from her. As she gave a small, relieved
sigh, she happened to look up and see Akatsuki, leaving a building through a
door that seemed to lead underground.
Akatsuki was biting her lip.
The slight figure walking on the other side of the road looked like a lost child.
Suddenly, all sorts of feelings flooded Raynesia. It was the sort of mood that
came from a night spent gazing up at the ceiling of a dark room for hours on
end.
Raynesia tried to say something, but before it became words, it stopped, as
though something had gone wrong in her throat.
She didn’t really know what it was she would try to say.
Raynesia felt like a vine that had collected rainwater in its leaves and was
slowly bending. The expression Akatsuki had worn was the sort of expression
that drained the strength from you and made your heart feel heavy. It was an
expression she’d never seen before.
She looks like a child, somehow, she thought, out of nowhere.
Raynesia had thought of that black-haired girl as a dagger made of obsidian.
As beautiful as a jewel, with a strength she couldn’t comprehend.
Using the head even she didn’t think worked very well, Raynesia considered
her next move, then gave up. Either way, Akatsuki was gone, vanished into the
crowd. She hadn’t noticed Raynesia and the others. She’d just passed right by.
The thought gave Raynesia a slight, if painful, feeling of trouble in her chest.
…But this wasn’t particularly unusual.
All sorts of feelings were constantly drifting through Raynesia. Most of them
weren’t guests she could welcome, but she’d known since she was small that if
she curled up under a warm comforter and closed her eyes, they would melt
into the darkness. She was rather confident in her ability to curl up under a
comforter.
Raynesia shook her head, trying to switch gears.
This was the town of Akiba, and she was a fledgling negotiator. She had more
than enough motivation and necessity to switch gears.
 “Heeey, Sia! Whatcha doin’? This way!”
At the call, Raynesia broke into a delicate run on unsteady feet.

“Princess. Priiiincess.”
Elissa called her mistress’s name.
She’d called to her because things had seemed awfully quiet. Raynesia was on
the sofa, looking down.
She seemed to be at a loss. Her spun-silver hair spilled over her small,
rounded shoulders, flowing down like a waterfall. The beautiful girl wore a
disconsolate aura that would have made even a stern-faced corporal whom
orcs feared want to speak kindly to her and comfort her: You mustn’t get so
discouraged. I’ll help you.
Madame Henrietta would probably have said she looked “like a puppy in the
rain.”
In any case, she seemed fragile, lonely, and filled with melancholy.
She was the very image of the sort of frailty that made you want to run to her
and hug her.
However, Elissa knew very well:
This was her “I’m tired and I don’t want to do anything else” pose.
“Prin-cess.”
“Elissa?”
Raynesia raised her chin, her gaze upturned.
Framed by cheeks as smooth as a boiled egg, her damp eyes shimmered.
Make no mistake: Her eyes weren’t damp because she’d been thinking sad
thoughts, or because she was moved, but because she’d been biting back a
yawn.
 “Yes, yes. You’re tired, correct? I’ll prepare your bedroom shortly, so wait just
a little longer, please. Would you like tea? Or perhaps something sweet?” Elissa
asked.
Raynesia had a better appetite than her appearance suggested, and it had
been quite some time since she’d eaten brunch with the group of Adventurers.
It wouldn’t be at all strange for her to start feeling hungry soon.
She had no idea whether it was due to her constitution or something else, but
no matter what or how much Princess Raynesia ate, she never gained weight.
Not only that, but even when she ate meat or cake, her skin stayed as smooth
and soft as a baby’s. She couldn’t fathom how rough skin could be a concept for
anyone. Elissa was extremely jealous that she could eat without paying
attention to her diet.
After the Catastrophe and the reformation in Akiba, an abundance of flavors
had been rediscovered in foodstuffs of every variety. Now, half a year later, the
reformation had permeated People of the Earth society as well, and everyone,
from the aristocrats at the top to the commoners below, was enjoying that new
experience.
The revolutionized food had a true depth of flavor, and people often ate too
much. At this point, many People of the Earth nobles were afraid of gaining
weight, but Raynesia was the exception: She didn’t gain any at all. Elissa had
complicated feelings about this. Elissa carefully limited herself to one piece of
cake every three days. She was fundamentally different from superhumans like
Raynesia.
“No…”
Raynesia shook her head slightly, then turned to the side, resting her cheek
against the back of the sofa as though she couldn’t bear it any longer. A young
apprentice knight whose heart burned with longing probably would have gotten
a nosebleed from that gesture alone.
Not me, though.
Casually approaching Raynesia, Elissa lifted her slipper-clad feet and shifted
them onto the sofa, bending her knees. Raynesia didn’t resist; she sat sideways
on the sofa, lethargically.
 For a “lovely princess of Maihama,” the position was a rather ill-mannered
one. If a man had been in the room, it might have given him the wrong
impression. Internal aspects aside, Raynesia had learned very well how a noble
princess should carry herself, and as a rule, even her family didn’t see her in
poses like this one.
Elissa was the only one who was able to see Raynesia like this.
Not that I particularly want to, mind you.
Having confirmed that Raynesia’s feet were up, she took out an indoor broom
and swept under the low table and the sofa.
“Princess.”
“Hmm?”
“What did you eat today?”
“Cream stew.”
“My, my… In the style of the Adventurers?”
“They said it was Flame Boar. It was good.”
“Things have been lively lately, haven’t they?”
“They really have.”
As they conversed, Elissa continued briskly cleaning the room.
This was a guest room that was kept immaculate, as a rule. It didn’t take
much work. Even if she was cleaning, there was technically no need for her to
go to the lengths of lifting her mistress’s feet up onto the sofa. If she’d been
dealing with an ordinary noble, no doubt they would have struck off her head.
She was able to do these things precisely because she was dealing with the
absentminded—or rather, tolerant—Raynesia.
Lately, they were hosting tea parties nearly every day. If she swept up
immediately like this, it would make work easier for the person in charge of
early mornings. Tomorrow, the Adventurer women would probably come to call
again. In particular, the small black-haired girl—Akatsuki—had come every day
for the past ten days or so.
 “You look very tired today.”
“Yes.”
Raynesia wasn’t saying much.
She really must be tired. Elissa couldn’t blame her. Madame Henrietta and
Madame Marielle had done just as they pleased with her. After returning from
brunch, Raynesia had been subjected to yet another dress-up tournament.
Remembering her mistress’s voice—which had pleaded for mercy in a truly
pitiful way—Elissa chuckled a little, deep in her throat.
It was Elissa’s job to dress her mistress in such a way that she could present
her anywhere without embarrassment.
Yes, meticulously managing Raynesia’s clothes was her duty as well.
After all, due to her mistress’s appearance, people noticed her. Thinking of
outfits day after day was a monumental task.
For example, if she had a conference with a merchant, and she wore the same
dress to the conference after that, she’d probably be held in contempt for
“always wearing the same dress, even though she was the daughter of a
dukedom.” As a result, Elissa and one other of the ladies-in-waiting’s jobs was
to keep types of dresses on hand every day whenever she changed clothes,
morning, noon and night, and to keep a careful record of the accessories she
wore each time.
If they were dealing with People of the Earth nobles and merchants, that sort
of conventional treatment was enough. It was a troublesome duty, and it
required puzzle-like planning abilities, but if she thought about it as being a
time-honored job, it was nothing.
When dealing with the Adventurers, though, she had trouble. After all, there
was simply no precedent. If it was an audience or some other formal occasion,
it was possible to design outfits according to the topic of the audience or the
requirements of etiquette. However, these recent tea parties were considered
purely private affairs. An overdone outfit risked incurring the Adventurers’
displeasure. Still, even if it was all right to wear casual clothes, she didn’t know
what sorts of clothes were considered “casual” according to Adventurer
common sense.
After all, Adventurers wore all sorts of clothes. Most Adventurers seemed to
distinguish between clothes worn for battle and ordinary clothes for around
town, but for some, the line between the two was blurry, and it wasn’t unusual
to see individuals who spent most of their time in plate armor.
There was another problem as well. In an attempt to learn the Adventurers’
preferences and customs, she’d examined dresses and outfits which it would
have been hard to call dresses in Akiba beforehand, and the prices had been all
over the map. Though imperfect, the House of Cowen was a great noble family.
That meant that, although the Adventurers’ equipment was expensive, it wasn’t
as if they couldn’t purchase casual clothes. However, even if that was so, the
pricing was far too incomprehensible. It was common for a silk shirt to have a
price fifty times higher than the practically identical shirt hanging next to it.
The shopkeeper had explained that the materials were different.
The longer she listened, the more astounded she was, but Adventurer shops
sold boots made of tanned Gorgon hide and bustiers made with Falnat down, as
if that were only natural. Clothes made by subjugating and using such high-level
mystical beasts were so expensive that even the dukedom, which had one of
the People of the Earth’s greatest fortunes, couldn’t afford to buy them up one
after another.
Truth be told, the dress-up tournaments that were held day after day were, in
part, the result of Elissa having asked Marielle for advice. “Just relax and leave
everythin’ to me,” Marielle had declared merrily, and thanks to the clothes she
brought in, Raynesia’s Adventurer-compatible wardrobe was gradually being
filled out.
For the sake of that project, Elissa felt no hesitation about offering up her
mistress for a dress-up doll party. In any case, if she didn’t do something like
this, Raynesia wouldn’t budge an inch. Elissa thought it was good medicine for
her.
She loved and respected Raynesia nonetheless, of course.
When she’d spoken sharply during that conference, Elissa had felt like
applauding: Even if it was her own mistress, that had been splendid. However,
Raynesia was a fundamentally indolent, cowardly, thoughtless, feather-pillow
girl (meaning her head was stuffed with down).
Elissa respected and loved her, but if asked whether she could constantly
serve her with respect, she’d have to say it was doubtful.
Well, this is for Raynesia’s sake, after all.
As she folded up a lap robe, Elissa pondered.
It wasn’t just the clothes.
Having friends of the same gender who were her own age, or marginally older
or younger, was a rare experience.
It was one thing for Elissa, who was the daughter of a low-ranking noble, but
for Raynesia, who’d been born the granddaughter of the Cowen dukedom, they
might be even harder to find than a good husband.
Elissa remembered the perfect smile her mistress had worn in the palace at
Maihama, and at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice. Aristocratic society was strict.
A single bad rumor could be fatal, particularly for young women.
In order to survive surrounded by the watchful eyes of the gossipy sparrows
at court, Raynesia had acquired elegant manners. The mask she’d chosen to
protect the honor of her grandfather and her family was so perfect that it had
won her legendary renown and the name “Eastal’s winter rose.”
However, for that very reason, Raynesia had never had a real friend. Her
relationship with Elissa might be relatively close, but even so, a lady-in-waiting
was a lady-in-waiting.
“Still, although it may not be my place to say it, you looked as if you were
quite enjoying yourself.”
“Pardon…?”
“I think it’s good that you’ve made friends.”
This was really true.
Elissa thought that, over the past two weeks, Raynesia’s expressions had
grown quite varied.
 “They aren’t friends.”
—However, the words that came back weren’t what she’d expected.
“Hmm? Then what are they, pray tell? When you spoke with them… Well,
sometimes you seemed to be at your wits’ end, but you looked as though you
were having fun.”
“They’re Adventurers.”
Raynesia answered Elissa’s question without any particular enthusiasm.
“I wasn’t having fun while we talked. The Adventurers are different from us.
They’re much too different. The etiquette I’ve learned doesn’t work. Unless I
put my feelings into words and communicate them properly, they won’t
understand, and if they don’t, we can’t talk to each other.”
That was probably correct.
The Adventurers weren’t particular about social standing. When they held tea
parties, they even invited Elissa. Similarly, since being posted to Akiba, Elissa
had acquired a few acquaintances: Madame Henrietta, who worked in a way
with which she could sympathize; Riezé, who bore a very slight resemblance to
her little sister back in her hometown; and Serara, who was so domestic she
would have loved to have her as a fellow lady-in-waiting.
Of course, as Raynesia said, Adventurers and People of the Earth were very
different. Sometimes their views conflicted, and sometimes they couldn’t tell
what the other was saying. However, it wasn’t so bad they couldn’t join hands.
Elissa thought Raynesia had taught her more about that than anyone else.
For that reason, at the same time, she asked a question, as though urged on
by her doubts:
“But you were so…”
“If I had even a little fun, I have to tell them I had fun. If I’m sad, I need to say
I’m sad, and if I’m happy, I have to express my gratitude. If I don’t, they won’t
understand, so I do it. You know, too, don’t you, Elissa? I’m really more idle and
cowardly and…irresponsible. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about
fashionable society and the nobility. If I could take naps every day, that’d be
enough for me. In any case, I don’t really understand that sort of thing.”
Raynesia’s murmur sounded somehow bored.
“It’s a job.”
“—Is it, then.”
“…”
Raynesia looked away, leaning limply against the back of the sofa. Spelled out
in words, it looked as if she’d grown tired of it, or had given up or, at the very
least, as though her attitude was irresponsible. However, beautiful girls had it
good from start to finish, and even that careless pose was as pretty as a picture,
which made it impossible to deal with.
Elissa was the only person Raynesia showed this sort of pose to.
In the presence of People of the Earth nobles, she acted like the perfect lady,
and naturally she did so with princesses her own age as well. Even with the
Adventurer women, although she was genuine, she was meek as a lamb. It
might have been Raynesia’s armor, designed to keep her innermost heart
hidden.
—I suppose there was that individual as well…
Elissa remembered the big sandy-haired man. True, Raynesia did seem to
have opened her heart to that young man. However, the elements of not being
able to lie or deceive him figured largely into that Raynesia hadn’t had the
freedom to choose in the first place.
Hadn’t she ever wanted that?
If I had even a little fun, I have to tell them I had fun.
That was what she’d said.
Still, didn’t the fact that she was thinking that way mean she was confessing
that she had enjoyed herself?
Even if she was tired enough to nap on the sofa before dinner, Elissa thought
that if she looked forward to each day enough to wake up the next morning
without any help from her maids and be thinking about what to wear, then
surely they were friends, and it wasn’t simply a job.
Hadn’t Raynesia been enjoying life a lot more since coming to this town full of
Adventurers?
However, her princess turned her gaze to the window, which had already
begun deepening to indigo, and she didn’t seem to have realized this simple
fact of friendship. Either that, or she was avoiding the word friends. Elissa didn’t
know whether she’d given up on those somewhere along the way, or whether
she’d never hoped for them in the first place.
Elissa felt something like mild pity.
This girl, Raynesia, who’d been blessed with beauty and acclaim and wealth
and even status, sometimes seemed to have abandoned something once and
for all. It would be sad if the heroic courage she’d shown at the lords’ council
had been born from resignation like that.
As the princess gazed out the window, naturally her expression was beautiful
and fragile, but it also held a trace of boredom. At the sight, Elissa heaved a
sigh.
She wanted to help her mistress, but she knew that lukewarm advice
wouldn’t reach her.
Raynesia’s excellent lady-in-waiting was well aware that Raynesia was just as
stubborn and unreasonable as she was lazy.
 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.

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.

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.
 No matter how she thought about it, though, it was too much for Akatsuki to
deal with alone. Akiba was in crisis: It was the sort of thing no one but a big
guild like the West Wind Brigade or D.D.D. would be able to cope with, the sort
of thing the Round Table Council might have to move for.
Akatsuki thought she should probably pretend she hadn’t heard anything and
leave.
That beautiful princess, a girl like moonlight, had been worrying about
whether or not to tell the Adventurers. Akatsuki felt as though, if she heard part
of the murderer incident before Raynesia had made up her mind, it would have
had too great an effect on the state of things.
As a result, Akatsuki thought she’d get a look at Raynesia’s face, but when she
thought about it later, she realized it might have been too capricious of her.
Because of what her liege had said, she’d thought she’d at least check on the
princess’s expression; the reason she even attempted it was the mission Shiroe
had given her, and nothing more than that. In any case, right now, Akatsuki
didn’t have a shred of mental leeway to worry about other people.
She slipped out onto the balcony through the window of the anteroom. In
combination with her drab everyday clothes, she probably looked like a
creeping shadow. For a high-level Adventurer’s physical abilities, jumping across
to the balcony of the drawing room—three meters away—was even easier than
stepping across the border of a tatami mat.
Raynesia was there, in the shadow of the elaborately sculptured window
frame, beyond a lace curtain that looked like foam. The young man who’d been
speaking with her a moment ago must have gone home: She was sitting all
alone on the drawing room sofa, burying her face in a large cushion.
How strange, Akatsuki thought, absently.
 Raynesia had always been calm, cheerful and genuine, and she’d held her
head high. She was the sort of beautiful girl you couldn’t help but envy. Even
more than her beautiful silver hair and her slender neck, her constantly modest,
gracious manner created an atmosphere that was decisively different from the
Adventurers. The girl Raynesia had the power to persuade any Adventurer that
upbringing really did determine who you became.
…And now Raynesia was leaning forward as if her strength had run out,
hugging a large cushion and burying her face in it. She didn’t look like Raynesia
at all.
“It’s useless.”
There was glass between them, but she’d heard that voice.
The faint voice had been like a silver bell, but reckless bewilderment clung to
it.
“It’s really no good.”
Every time she shook the cushion, her smooth silver hair rippled like a
waterfall.
“…Why now? …Why me?”
It was as if Raynesia’s body had wilted.
A long, long sigh escaped the princess, and she became a fragile little girl.
“Things are not going my way—”
On the wintry balcony, Akatsuki nodded. She understood that feeling all too
well.
There were too many difficult things in the world, and too few things she
could do well with her own hands. It was a very frustrating, miserable feeling.
“Could you make this a little easier on me? …Would you give me a bit of extra
help? Would you hold back…just a little, perhaps?”
Akatsuki had wished these things as well.
Was there anyone who hadn’t?
 But they wouldn’t come true.
She didn’t think there was anyone who hadn’t been let down. No one ever
got everything they wished for. The things you’d thought you’d gained, the
things you thought you’d made, the things that were yours alone… Before long,
they all faded, slipping through your fingers.
It was too trivial, and sometimes she wanted to think that maybe wishing
itself had been a mistake. It was so bad it made her think that spitefulness was
the chief element in the world.
“What should I do?”
Raynesia sounded as if she was at a loss, and so Akatsuki answered her.
“Discuss it with the Council?”
“But if I do that, won’t we find ourselves at war with the Adventurers?”
“Still, you can’t keep it a secret. It’s hard to say we know enough about the
situation, but even so.”
The window had been opened ever so slightly, and Akatsuki had slipped in
through it, not even disturbing the curtain, to stand in front of Raynesia.
She felt something just a little nostalgic. She’d looked down on her liege when
his head had been bowed like this. That time was very distant now. The one in
front of her wasn’t her black-haired liege, but a silver-haired princess.
“I really will have to tell, then…?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why is that menace gone at a time like this? He always turned up when he
had no business here, and now… He’s truly useless.”
“Krusty left for Seventh Fall, the Goblins’ castle.”
“I know. Still, that doesn’t mean… Oh, no, that isn’t it…”
“…”
“That isn’t…it?!”
Raynesia’s head came up as though she’d been stung. The corners of her
drawn lips were trembling, and she was trying desperately to compose her
expression, but the corners of her eyes were very slightly red.
“Um, oh. I…”
Raynesia hastily resettled herself, sitting up straight. Akatsuki stood in front of
her. Since the tall princess was dealing with the petite Akatsuki, even when she
was sitting down, if she sat up straight, there wasn’t much difference in their
eye levels. Possibly because she was uncomfortable, Raynesia lowered her gaze.
Akatsuki felt bad for making her feel like that.
Akatsuki hadn’t meant to eavesdrop either, or to come into the room like this.
“Wh-what— You, um… You heard…?” Raynesia peeked up at her through her
lashes. Akatsuki nodded. Raynesia acknowledged, “Of course you did…” letting
the end of the sentence fall in resignation.
Both seemed to be at a loss for words, and time flowed between them.
With no help for it, Akatsuki took a sweet red bean bun she’d bought for
lunch out of her bag and handed it to Raynesia. The two girls sat on the sofa,
side by side, and for a short while, they quietly savored the sweetness they’d
torn apart.
“The criminal’s a Person of the Earth?”
Raynesia answered Akatsuki’s question, haltingly.
“Yes, that’s right. A suit of mobile armor has been stolen from the Kunie, a
clan that is responsible for guarding the town. Apparently, since the mobile
armor is guard equipment, incidents it causes in town won’t be reported, and
it’s able to bestow great combat abilities. I’m really…terribly…sorry.”
“Why?”
“Pardon?”
“Why was it stolen? Who stole it?”
“The person who stole it also seems to be missing. We don’t know whether
the person who’s currently using it is the member of the Kunie clan who stole it
or not. We don’t know his goal or where he’s hiding, either.”
 “I think he’s hiding in the sewers.”
“In the sewers?”
Akatsuki filled her in on what she thought.
“From what I heard, I doubt he’s hiding outside Akiba. In that case, the sewers
are about the only place that hasn’t been searched completely, and where he’d
be out of sight.”
From what she’d heard, the murderer seemed to have acquired the power of
a guard.
Akatsuki had been startled when she’d first heard that, but, if true, it did
explain a few things.
The murderer’s combat abilities had probably surpassed level 100 and were
close to level 110. The Adventurers of Akiba were mostly around level 90, so of
course they’d be no match for him.
At the same time, if he was using the guards’ power, he was very unlikely to
leave Akiba. After all, if he left, he’d lose his combat power. Considered that
way, the number of places he could hide was limited.
However, capturing him was likely to prove extremely difficult.
In order to bring crimes committed in town under control immediately, the
guards had a teleportation function. When used to punish PKs, this function
was reassuring, but when a criminal was able to use it proactively, there was no
better escape method.
Even if one of the big guilds formed a raid force and surrounded him, if all he
wanted to do was run, he’d be able to get away for sure.
“I see…”
Akatsuki looked at the girl in front of her.
A daughter of the greatest noble family in eastern Yamato: the House of
Cowen.
A legendary beauty whose name was known throughout Eastal.
The intermediary between the People of the Earth and the Adventurers, and
the central figure in the Zantleaf war.
The “mystic princess of the silver moon.”
The girl before her didn’t seem like any of those things. She looked ordinary.
She wore an expression of depressed anguish, but even so, she was nibbling
at her sweet red bean bun. This was a regular girl, the sort you could find
anywhere. Not only that, but Akatsuki thought she was probably the same in
the other women’s eyes.
“That’s a problem for you?”
“It’s a problem.”
As the two of them nodded, it was likely that neither had the leeway to cope
with anything but their respective problems. At the very least, Akatsuki saw
herself in this beautiful silver princess.
Akatsuki’s liege had said something:
Protect Raynesia, the People of the Earth princess.
Akatsuki had taken those words to mean “guard duty.” However, just now,
she’d realized there was a possibility that that hadn’t been it.
I wonder what my liege wanted me to protect…
If it had been about physically protecting Raynesia, there wouldn’t have been
any need to come to these tea parties, would there? If the other girl had only
wanted to be physically protected, there wouldn’t have been any meaning in
hosting the tea parties, would there? Wasn’t she overlooking something
important? Something Marielle and Henrietta and the others noticed a long
time ago?
The words Akatsuki wanted to say to Raynesia were, It can’t be helped.
Lots of unfair things happened. There were lots of things you couldn’t handle,
lots of wishes that wouldn’t come true.
There really was no help for that. Akatsuki didn’t have the ability to draw a
miracle to Raynesia, and so the only words she could say to her were It can’t be
helped.
 If she were able to add one more thing, it would probably be, You’re doing
your best.
Akatsuki had seen the great achievement she’d pulled off at the lords’
conference. She’d also heard Shiroe’s evaluation of her. And, for a while now,
she’d hidden close to her, watching over her. As a result, she could say, You’re
doing your best.
However, was she qualified to say those words to her? The girl was a
daughter of the nobility, the representative of the People of the Earth, and she
was shouldering a heavier responsibility than the eleven guild masters on the
Round Table Council. Akatsuki was uneasy about whether those were words
she could say to her.
When she’d thought that far, Akatsuki realized she personally felt just a little
respect for this silver-haired girl. That was why she’d come here every day and
watched over her from nearby.
Even now, when she was frantic to get stronger, when it was hard for her to
go home to her own guild house, she’d been on her mind.
“I’ll go find him.”
Akatsuki stood up.
If the one she was looking for was a Person of the Earth, and if he had a
special teleportation item, that would give her ways to look for him. He
probably spent the day lying low in the sewers, and at night, he used
teleportation to infiltrate a place where he could see across the whole town—a
place ordinary Adventurers couldn’t get into—and watched the streets.
“What?”
“I’ll carry out my duty. I saw that you’re giving it your all.”
Raynesia’s outstretched hand closed on empty space.
Having found a clue, Akatsuki had departed through the open window,
sortieing into the streets of Akiba again.
 4

Ten eyes were gazing at silver light.

The crossing blades drew trails like shooting stars, light bursting forth, only to
vanish.
As if through an agreement, they slipped past each other or struck each other,
with a noise of rejection that was more like shards of crystal than metal.
As Nazuna and her companions watched, the murderer and Soujirou were
locked in mortal combat.
The strikes Soujirou’s weapon, an uchigatana, paid out were incredibly
smooth, without the slightest hint of intimidation. However, Nazuna knew that
each strike held an unavoidable terror for its target: The slashing attacks
seemed slow only because they were so graceful. Soujirou’s attacks saw
through his opponent’s evasions, and in contrast to their appearance, were
perfectly lethal.
Yet the murderer repelled Soujirou’s attacks with his grotesque gauntlets and
armor.
It wasn’t proper swordsmanship. His movements were instinctive, his fighting
style nearly animalistic. It was colored by a clear joy for murder that only
humans felt.
Almost before the sparks from one deflected attack had vanished, the
murderer’s sword struck from a slipshod stance.
Unlike Soujirou’s, his attacks didn’t follow the etiquette of swordsmanship. In
a sense, they were rough strikes.
However, precisely because they were so haphazard, they were fast and hard
to predict.
In fact, Nazuna’s companion Kyouko had fallen victim to them, and Kawara,
whom Nazuna was cradling now, had sustained a serious injury.
“The boss is amazing…”
 The murmur that slipped from the form between her arms mirrored the
thoughts of all the members who waited behind Nazuna.
They really should have surrounded this opponent and fought as a group.
Enbart Nelles.
Level 94, Samurai.
Nazuna no longer thought that this demon, who was one level above
Soujirou, was an Adventurer. The idea that he was a Samurai was ridiculous.
Nazuna had been watching a Samurai (Soujirou) for a long time now. True,
the special-skills system in Elder Tales was diverse, and there were lots of
special skills that the Samurai class could acquire. Level changed most skills into
more advanced ones, and there were about forty series. It wasn’t possible for a
single Samurai to master all of them, but the difference between the skills the
murderer in front of her was using and the ones Soujirou used was just too
great.
The stranger wasn’t a Samurai. The way he fought was too different from
Adventurers.
Even so, at first, they’d faced him as a party.
It had been directly after one of the West Wind Brigade search teams had
encountered the murderer and failed to capture him. Soujirou’s group, which
had been waiting back at their headquarters, had sortied and engaged the
murderer in this narrow alley.
However, Nazuna’s group’s battle plan—to surround and obliterate him—had
fallen apart easily.
In this alley, in the gap between two ruins, it hadn’t been possible to put
together a decent formation. On top of that, there was no one in Nazuna’s
party besides Soujirou who could pin down the murderer’s uncanny
swordsmanship.
Kawara, the second vanguard, had been sliced up in the blink of an eye, and
Nazuna and the spell casters had taken damage as well. If Soujirou hadn’t
dashed forward in one sprint and put pressure on the murderer, one or two of
them would probably have been sent to the Temple by now.
Nazuna quietly gave her thanks.
Not because Soujirou had saved them.
And not for the good fortune of having gotten by without sacrificing any girls
in front of him.
Attacks that would have cut people with sound, if that had been possible,
came together over and over. It was evening, and the winter wind was growing
dryer, becoming cold enough to crack. The murderer’s sword raced as if to slash
that air apart.
In the midst of a landscape where white mist leaked out even if you tried to
hold your breath, Soujirou repelled the attacks.
It was Soujirou’s Mystery, Clairvoyance.
Nazuna didn’t understand it completely, but Clairvoyance was a defensive
Mystery. Soujirou had told her it saw trajectories that ran through the air. It was
a new power he’d acquired. Making free use of it now, Soujirou continued to
deflect the murderer’s attacks.
Soujirou’s usual composure was absent.
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have deflected the attacks. He would have let them
slip by him, or parried them.
The fact that he couldn’t do this showed just how fast and sharp the
murderer’s strikes were.
Then a strike he couldn’t fully parry came along, and one of the large sleeves
of the armor Soujirou wore, which made him look like a warrior from the
Warring States period, flew off.
Her other companions probably couldn’t tell, but Nazuna bit her lip.
That attack had burst the defensive barrier she’d been providing to Soujirou.
It was a defensive spell that prevented damage to HP by setting barrier magic in
advance. In a way, you could say it was invisible, additional HP. Ripples ran
across the surface of the pale blue, mirror-like effect, and it shattered. Even if
those around her could see it happen, Nazuna, the spell caster, was the only
one who could know specifically how much damage it had taken before it fell
away.
The Purification Barrier Nazuna had used had been equivalent to slightly less
than 20 percent of Soujirou’s total HP. In other words, in that moment, if the
barrier spell hadn’t been there, Soujirou would have lost 20 percent of his
health. The attack power was equivalent to that of a raid boss, and it made
Nazuna anxious. If he took attacks like that one after another, Soujirou really
wouldn’t last.
Of course she was preparing to chant another barrier into existence, but it
wasn’t a spell she could use back-to-back. Kannagi like Nazuna fought by
combining barriers and subtle recovery to fully protect their companions from
danger.
If she blindly stuck with barriers, she’d lose more MP than she had to, and
before long, the battle would begin turning against them. Even without that, it
felt as though she was walking a tightrope. If the murderer in front of her
sensed that she was casting defensive spells like this, his blade might turn on
her.
However, if she turned her back on the fight, she wouldn’t be able to protect
or heal Soujirou.
All she could do was watch him, gauge her own powers, and continue to
entrust everything to barriers, even if they were like tissue paper.
What is this guy? As if a gamble like this could exist!
There were some things she understood precisely because she was a Kannagi.
She was the main healer of the West Wind Brigade, a guild which yielded to
other top-class groups in terms of size yet kept challenging raid after raid
anyway and was one of the top guilds on the server.
Yet defeat in this fight seemed almost certain.
Because the tank who was drawing the enemy’s attacks was Soujirou, they
were managing to preserve a balance by the skin of their teeth, but if it hadn’t
been him, Nazuna was certain they would have been trampled, and that would
have been that.
 Even Soujirou wasn’t able to parry all the attacks.
Of course, even if this had been a raid, it wouldn’t have been possible to
negate all the attacks from a giant dragon or murderous golem. In most raids,
combat moved forward with at least three, and sometimes as many as ten,
healers supporting just one vanguard player. Then, while the vanguard kept the
powerful enemy pinned, the attackers shaved its HP down to nothing.
However, right now, they didn’t have enough healers or attackers. In any
case, in this narrow alley that was like a gap between furniture, they couldn’t
use a raid formation.
Nazuna and the others had thought that if the enemy was an Adventurer, or
possibly an average monster, they had nothing to be afraid of. They hadn’t
thought the murderer would be such a demon.
And again—
“Ghk!!”
The enemy slipped through Soujirou’s attack.
The murderer had gotten around to Soujirou’s right side before they were
aware of it. His weird silhouette moved like an insect as he took a swipe at
Soujirou’s shins. Soujirou leapt, evading the attack, but his usual dance-like
grace was gone. He didn’t have that sort of breathing room.
Soujirou would link several attacks together and break down his opponent’s
stance, working diligently to create an opening for an attack, but this monster
would use his strange martial arts to negate the blow. It had happened again,
just now.
He slipped through Soujirou’s attack and caught him in the back.
If they could only hit him with an attack, she doubted he’d respond like an
actual raid monster, but they just couldn’t hit him. Even if Soujirou was able to
stay this active, if things kept on this way, Nazuna’s MP would run out and the
front line would crumble.
And it was likely that…
As long as we’re here, I bet Soujirou won’t run.
 She was sure of it.
“…Master Sou.”
“Boss.”
“It’s no good, I can’t see!”
She heard murmurs that held hints of pain. It was Nazuna’s companions. They
were covered in wounds, and it was technically Nazuna’s job to heal them, but
right now, she couldn’t even do that properly. She wanted to hang on to even
the slight amount of MP it would take to heal them.
On a separate circuit from her increasingly anxious heart, Nazuna put
together a plan for retreat.
Soujirou couldn’t run. This was partly because he would never abandon his
female companions, and also because he was already being pushed hard by the
murderer: Running would leave him open to attack from behind.
In the same sense that Soujirou couldn’t run, Nazuna couldn’t run either. If
Nazuna ran, the barrier would fall in a few seconds at the earliest, and thirty
seconds at the most. If the barrier fell, the damage would be dealt straight to
Soujirou’s HP. In order to keep Soujirou alive—in other words, to delay the
pursuit for even a little while—Nazuna couldn’t run.
But what about the other girls?
She could let Kawara and Olive and the others go first. That was probably the
only right answer.
However, she needed an opportunity to do it. If they began running away
pell-mell now, the murderer might shift his target from Soujirou and lay waste
to the girls. It was Soujirou’s role to keep that from happening, of course, but
there was no guarantee he’d be able to prevent it entirely. The demon was
simply that skilled.
If they had some sort of chance… Even as she thought this, time was slipping
past her, and it was growing darker. The murderer’s blade danced, shining with
a phosphorescent glow. The twilight stretched out, longer and longer.
Glimpses of uncertainty were visible in the way Soujirou swung his sword. The
battle was a contest. Even if this was Soujirou, she couldn’t presume that
mental agitation wouldn’t trigger his collapse.
Just then, a swallow swooped down.

She ran along the branch of an ancient tree that surrounded the guild office
building, then launched herself from its tip.
The thinner the branch, the better. Branches that seemed thick enough to sit
astride felt secure, but when using flexibility to “fly,” they were a bit
inconvenient.
In movements she’d repeated over and over, Akatsuki ran through the town
of Akiba.
There were corridors in the air, just as there were roads on the ground.
Branches and roofs that were easy to jump to. Balconies and crumbling signs. In
the Adventurers’ town, which held the ruins of old buildings and ancient trees,
there were routes specifically for those who raced through the sky.
When had she become able to travel through the air along those routes
without thinking about it?
When this was a game, it hadn’t been an option.
She didn’t think she’d been able to do it yet when the Round Table Council
was established. By the time they returned from Zantleaf, she’d already been
doing it unconsciously. She wasn’t clear on when she’d become able to do it,
but by now, she couldn’t imagine traveling through Akiba without this method.
Even in zones she’d never visited before, she felt herself unconsciously
observing the flow of the wind, the placement of the buildings, and the
positions of trees and the walls of structures.
Her long hair fluttered through the layers of the air.
If her hair was heavy, that meant the air was damp and rain was on its way.
 If it tugged at her, the wind was strong, and some of the routes would be
unusable.
Having acquired even this sense, Akatsuki had begun to gain physical skills
that were far and away the best among the Adventurers who used these
corridors in the air.
She was only doing what she always did, but her body felt hot deep inside,
and her limbs were light.
Akatsuki watched for the instant her weight came down on the tip of a
branch, then flung herself into the air. When she caught the wind, her
awareness of her body’s movements was sharper than usual. She’d repeated
these motions dozens of times, but why was it that she was able to land on the
next branch using half the strength she normally used, then let her mind skip
ahead to the next leap, which would use the shift in her weight?
Her short conversation with Raynesia spun around and around in her mind.
Akatsuki wasn’t good at thinking about herself in relation to other people,
and she couldn’t organize her thoughts well. How Raynesia had looked.
Raynesia’s words. Her own feelings. Her responses. They floated up inside
Akatsuki like rising bubbles, brushing against her, then burst and vanished.
Because they disappeared before becoming words, Akatsuki didn’t really
know what it was that had pushed her into motion.
Raynesia was working hard.
Those words alone smoldered in her heart.
…To the point where she thought she should be rewarded.
The evening sun was retreating into the west. As she watched it out of the
corner of her eye, she strained her ears, spreading her senses wide and thin.
The presence-sensing skill she’d used over and over again picked up
miscellaneous murmurs from the town of Akiba.
Let’s go back to the guild and make onion soup.
Where should we hunt tomorrow?
Want to go get dinner with me somewhere? I, um… My treat!
 Y’know, I’ve been thinking about a new business.
I swear, our sub GM is so strict!
I wonder if I could get a date somehow.
The Adventurers eat twice as much as we do, don’t they…
Nah, three times as much.
The conversations were truly trivial, nothing important. Ordinarily, she
probably wouldn’t even have registered the exchanges. However, for some
reason, Akatsuki’s ears picked them up with unusual clarity today.
These were their secrets.
Everyone lived through the activities of their day, and in the evening, these
were the modest plans to spend the night with the people closest to them.
Either that, or the little private wishes each had for themselves, about what sort
of day they wanted the next to be. Of course these weren’t the kind of secrets
that would cause them trouble if anyone overheard, but in the sense that they
were the individuals’ feelings about themselves, the whispers counted as
secrets.
Akatsuki didn’t really know, but it was likely that the murmurs were very
important to each of those people. Today, she understood that importance.
Without knowing what it was she’d touched, Akatsuki brushed against
something big and extraordinary.
Possibly because she’d been thinking these things, by the time she spotted
the fight, she’d already leapt into it.
It was about two minutes from the time her ears caught the rasp of sword
guards in close combat and she changed her course, to the point where she
spotted the battle from a deserted fifteen-story building. The instant she
detected it, she flung herself lightly into the canyon between the two buildings.
She didn’t simply relax into the free fall: She kicked the walls of the buildings
on either side, trying to accelerate.
Putting a hand to the hilt of the short sword bound to the small of her back,
Akatsuki held her breath and plunged into a tailspin.
 As she felt the kickback from cutting through the membranes of air that were
automatically deployed by magic equipment, Akatsuki finally recognized the
situation.
A single party was fighting the black murderer. There was a Samurai
vanguard, and a rear guard composed of just one healer. They rest had been
partially wiped out.
The vanguard was Soujirou, guild master of the West Wind Brigade, one of
the eleven guilds that made up the Round Table Council.
In MMO games, what Akatsuki had done was called “kill stealing.” It meant a
situation where one party was fighting an opponent, and an Adventurer who
wasn’t a member of the party attacked that opponent without permission.
Since the action was very closely related to stealing experience points or
treasure, it was considered poor etiquette and frowned upon.
On top of that, the other party was from one of Akiba’s leading combat guilds.
Since Akatsuki was bad at dealing with other people, ordinarily, she would have
been at her wits’ end and probably wouldn’t have approached in the first place.
However, this time was different.
Her consciousness was saturated with everything that had happened since
that morning.
Her mind felt as though she was delirious with fever, but even so, the world
Akatsuki leapt through looked dozens of times clearer than usual.
An Accel Fang, sweeping sideways from the right.
It didn’t reach. She’d known it wouldn’t. She kicked the wall, danced through
space: Stealth Blade.
She flipped, dodged: Quick Assault.
As she’d felt on that first charge, the murderer was strong. Akatsuki probably
couldn’t win.
Even so, she didn’t stop.
In an attempt to gain even a small hint: Venom Strike.
 She stepped back as the enemy’s sword bore down on her. Not enough. She
forced herself backward with Gust Step. Still not enough. Even as the pale blade
slipped through Akatsuki’s zone of defense, freezing her spine, she stepped
forward with blazing composure. Not caring that her right bangs had been cut
away: Accel Fang.
Too shallow. One more! Carefully changing the trajectory, as if scooping it up:
Accel Fang.
Faster, faster, faster still.
At some point, Akatsuki noticed that pale blue ripples were shimmering
around her.
It was a Kannagi’s barrier spell. She could tell it was a high-level spell, several
times stronger than the one Minori used. No doubt it was support from the
healer she’d seen a moment ago.
However, Akatsuki knew that even that was no more than slight insurance.
The murderer’s blade was still turned on the Samurai in front of her. That was
why he hadn’t made many counterattacks on Akatsuki, which was why Akatsuki
was still alive. If it had been one-on-one, Akatsuki’s life would have been long
gone.
Although she hated to admit it, the round-faced boy—who wore his hair in a
ponytail even though he was a guy—was one of the top-class vanguards on the
server, West Wind Brigade leader Soujirou Seta. He was a tough guy with a war
record and fame that made Akatsuki’s pale in comparison, and even he wasn’t
able to restrain the black murderer.
“Run!”
Akatsuki saw the corners of Soujirou’s lips rise in response to the words she’d
screamed.
An intense, penetrating gaze struck Akatsuki. Even though he looked younger
than she was, it was a man’s expression, and a threatening one, and Akatsuki
anticipated that it would frighten her. However, in fact, she’d ignored that
premonition and was still fighting like a small-scale storm.
“Why?”
 Soujirou’s question was quite natural, and it left Akatsuki at a loss for words.
She’d only yelled on reflex, and even she didn’t know why she’d said it. This
Person of the Earth, who was far stronger than Akatsuki, was a monster.
Come to think of it, that was probably only natural. His level was higher than
any Adventurer’s, and his abilities were being augmented with mobile armor.
Another look showed her that the swollen silhouette of the murderer’s limbs
was due to the fact that he’d forcibly fixed parts of the guard armor to his body.
The bits that looked like light-emitting diodes—proof that magic was still being
supplied?—formed a defensive membrane, blocking the Adventurer’s attacks.
Akatsuki probably couldn’t win. It was likely Soujirou couldn’t either. No one
could defeat the murderer in this narrow alley. The only way to do it would be
to surround him with far more Adventurers and put pressure on him…but was
that why she’d yelled? Did she want to use herself as a decoy to save Soujirou?
Amid Akatsuki’s saturated thoughts, she saw Shiroe, looking up at the sky, his
face troubled.
“Why?”
“Because defeating him and resolving this are two different things.”
A grotesque strike bore down on Soujirou, ready to rip through him, and
Akatsuki intercepted it with all her might:
Assassinate. It was an Assassin’s fastest, strongest special skill, dealing over
ten thousand in instantaneous damage, and even that could only knock the
murderer’s thick, black, enormous gauntlet off course.
“So run!”
“I can’t agree to that.”
At her repeated warning, Soujirou’s smile deepened. He’d had his sword
raised over his head, and he brought it down.
The murderer dodged, then released a superhuman kick that Soujirou evaded,
letting it brush against the right side of his bangs. As he lost hair in the exact
same place as Akatsuki, Soujirou stepped in to cross swords, slashing up at the
blade that had been on its way down.
 Soujirou was strong. Probably several times stronger than Akatsuki.
Even from an exchange that had taken no more than a fraction of a breath,
she could tell.
However, precisely because of that, Soujirou must have known he couldn’t
finish off the monster here and now… And yet he wouldn’t run. Why? What a
stubborn boy, Akatsuki thought. Come to think of it, all the men in this world
were stubborn. Touya and Rundelhaus—the younger boys in the group—were
exceptionally stubborn. Naotsugu was more stupid than stubborn, and he
couldn’t mend his ways. Sage Nyanta was also more stubborn than he
appeared. The fact that he put cucumbers in salads was proof. Akatsuki felt as
though the only one who’d listen to her suggestions was her liege, Shiroe.
“On your left!”
Akatsuki stopped abruptly, and a violent mass of metal flashed right past the
end of her nose.
She’d just barely avoided that side blow, and Soujirou, still watching Akatsuki,
evaded it lightly.
Akatsuki stared, admiring the motion, and began to feel strange.
Even now, Soujirou was directing a bone-chilling smile at the murderer and
Akatsuki alike. Ordinarily, Akatsuki would have felt enough pressure to make
her run straight home.
But she didn’t.
There was something here, too, something big that Akatsuki didn’t really
understand. Soujirou hadn’t threatened Akatsuki. He was trying to give her
something, and she had grazed it.
Akatsuki felt guilty for not knowing what its true shape was, but, even without
knowing, she understood that it was something terribly important.
“Nazuna. Go home ahead of me, please.”
“—Understood. We’ll await you at the guild hall.”
At those words, Akatsuki finally understood that Soujirou had continued to
fight a battle he couldn’t win against the murderer to protect the girls who’d
been rendered helpless. Sensing the barriers that flew at her and Soujirou as a
final act of support, Akatsuki felt the others leave. Even as she did so, she and
Soujirou began a ferocious attack.
Neither Soujirou’s flowing strikes nor the attacks that Akatsuki poured all her
special skills into worked against the murderer. They layered on several dozen
attacks. The mere fact that they’d managed to last this long against the
murderer, with just the two of them, set this battle apart from the man’s
previous assaults, but of course Akatsuki didn’t have the time to register that.
Her strength wasn’t enough, but even so, she desperately swung her sword.
She also thought that, as an Adventurer, even if she put herself on the line
here, she’d just resurrect in the Temple. What could a cheap life like that
change? Even without that, Akatsuki was tiny and weak and slow on the uptake.
Still, she thought Raynesia was doing her best.
Before she knew it, the precious barriers they’d been given as support were
gone. Apparently the cold air that blanketed the area wasn’t due solely to the
winter wind; it was some sort of range attack that radiated from the murderer
in front of them. Soujirou had been a direct target for a while now, and his HP
was down to about half. There was a limit to how long they could fight this way.
“All right. I’d better give at least a small present to my senior’s junior, too.”
Soujirou murmured something incomprehensible, then resettled his stance.
Akatsuki had been a kendo girl, and even she thought it was a beautiful
middle guard stance: a seigan stance, in kendo jargon, with the sword pointing
at his opponent’s eyes.
“That said, there isn’t all that much I can say.”
Smoothly, Soujirou stepped out in front of Akatsuki, who was taken aback,
and swung his blade. It was a straightforward attack, and on its heels, the
murderer’s counterstrike cut through space. He’d swung and missed.
“Watch carefully. Listen closely.”
This time, the murderer dealt an attack with bone-crushing force. Soujirou
intentionally received it, in order to get in an equal blow on his opponent. In the
midst of Soujirou’s red blood, which froze in midair, the two separated, then
closed again.
“Want it badly, and keep thinking about it. Don’t give up; keep training.”
Akatsuki had leapt out, and she also swung her short sword desperately.
Even though it was something very important, because Akatsuki didn’t
understand its importance, it broke.
That was a terribly bad thing. Sadness filled her chest.
“…It’s pitiful, hardly an explanation at all, but… That’s everything about the
Mysteries.”
The murderer spun, with his hips as the focal point. He was a small-scale
hurricane.
Not yet, Akatsuki thought. She still didn’t understand. She’d touched
something, and yet…
She wished hard for just a little longer. It was a feeling of frustrated regret, a
feeling Akatsuki didn’t normally have.
It was sorrow at parting with “something” that was slipping away from her.
However, as if to smash those feelings along with her, the roaring, onrushing
blade came down.
She felt a longing, as though her fingertips were just about to reach
something. However, with an attack that seemed to shatter even that, in the
midst of pain they hadn’t ever imagined, Akatsuki and Soujirou “died.”

The tea party didn’t turn into a dress-up tournament every time.
That morning, when they hadn’t been blessed with fair weather, the mood in
Raynesia’s guest room was quiet.
It was safe to say that the atmosphere of the tea party was determined by its
members. When Marielle came, it immediately turned bright and lively. When it
was only Henrietta, the atmosphere resembled a consultation meeting.
And when it was her and Riezé, the mood was calm and elegant.
Today, apparently, the Crescent Moon League and Roderick Trading Company
members wouldn’t be coming. Riezé had told Raynesia so, and Raynesia had
looked puzzled. She’d welcomed this strategist from D.D.D., who led a training
unit; they’d taken lunch together, then had green tea that was served from a
large pot.
Outside the window, the wide, overcast sky threatened rain.
The blond Adventurer who sat on the opposite side of the small reception set
gazed through the window into the distance.
She was fairly well acquainted with this female Adventurer, Riezé. The girl was
calm and courteous, and she was from the same clan as Krusty-the-menace.
The two of them didn’t really converse.
That said, it didn’t trouble Raynesia much. Raynesia was the type who
generally did care about that sort of thing, and so at first she’d been solicitous
and spoken to her about this and that. However, the blond girl had told her
clearly that she didn’t need to bother, so she’d stopped trying to force a
conversation.
Still, it wasn’t as though things were uncomfortable, or as if she couldn’t talk
to her. If they had a good topic, they occasionally had quite long conversations.
That was Raynesia’s current relationship with the girl named Riezé.
Silence did trouble Raynesia, but she certainly wasn’t good at conversation for
its own sake. On the contrary, she was aware that she was bad at it. This meant
her relationship with Riezé was a pleasant one, as far as she was concerned.
Besides, today, Raynesia wasn’t in the mood for that sort of thing either.
A Person of the Earth—and a guard, at that: a being who should have upheld
the law in Akiba—had been corrupted and was attacking Adventurers. There
had already been several victims. At the thought of her small acquaintance,
who’d dashed out toward the town leaving cryptic words behind her, Raynesia’s
mood grew too painful to bear.
Why did this happen? Why me? The questions never left her mind.
The weather seemed as if it might be trying to exacerbate her depression, and
her brow clouded.
“This Tokyo does get quite chilly, doesn’t it? I expect this winter will be a cold
one.”
“Tokyo…?”
The quiet words Riezé had let fall drew Raynesia back to reality.
It was an ancient alv word that meant “eastern paradise.” It was said there
was a primeval steel plate with the letters “Tokyo” on it in Castle Cinderella,
where Raynesia had been born and raised.
“Oh, erm. It’s an Adventurer word that indicates the whole area around
Maihama, Akiba, and Shibuya,” Riezé said.
Hearing that explanation, Raynesia nodded. The statement seemed to be in
agreement with her superficial knowledge.
“Was your birthplace warmer than Tokyo, Miss Riezé?”
“It wasn’t ‘warmer than Tokyo,’ it really was Tokyo, but… Yes, I suppose so.
Winters weren’t this cold. That said, we didn’t have much resistance to cold in
the first place, so we wore thicker clothes then and stayed shut up in our
houses.”
…Didn’t have much resistance to cold? Stayed shut up in their houses?
Sometimes she abruptly stopped understanding what the Adventurers said.
As Raynesia tilted her head, puzzled, her eyes met Riezé’s.
Riezé quietly returned her teacup to the table, then gazed at Raynesia for a
little while. Raynesia wasn’t sure how to interpret that gaze. Then Riezé began
to smile. It was a peaceful, gentle smile, a kind she’d never seen before.
“I was born in a small town in Tokyo.”
“Not in Akiba, you mean?”
 “That’s right. It was a town called Kiyose. Here…it would be the area around
Nobidome District, I think. It’s the sort of place where you’d expect to find
something, but there’s nothing.”
“But…”
According to Raynesia’s memories, Nobidome District was a habitat for water-
dwelling monsters. Not only was there no town there, there wasn’t a single
village.
Raynesia was startled by her own surprise.
“Then you aren’t a noble, Miss Riezé?”
She said this because she’d thought Riezé was the child of some aristocratic
family, and an influential one at that. All Adventurers were educated to the
point where they couldn’t be considered commoners. Even among them, Riezé
and Henrietta were nobles whose grace and elegance shone through in their
interactions with others. It wasn’t a matter of superficial etiquette. She thought
they were true nobles who’d been raised in an environment where they’d been
able to be considerate of others since birth.
It wouldn’t have mattered if they weren’t, and Raynesia had no intention of
discriminating because they were commoners or Adventurers. When she
thought about why she’d been startled, that was the answer she reached.
“No, I’m not. I was born into a small, ordinary family, raised as an ordinary
child, and sent to an ordinary school.”
“……”
“You have schools here as well, correct? They’re places where children gather
and are made to learn. In the place where I was born, all the children in the
area are sent to one school or another. It’s mandatory.”
She didn’t know anything about Riezé.
She didn’t know about Akatsuki either, or Henrietta, or Marielle, or Serara, or
Nazuna, or Mikakage, or Ranya, or Azukiko.
…Or about Krusty.
In other words, she really knew nothing about the Adventurers.
 She’d been made to see this over and over, and yet here it was, happening
again. Raynesia felt shame and despair over her own ignorance.
“Let’s see… When I was a child, I think I was quite the tomboy. Children’s
anime… You don’t have that here, do you? Fairy tales, I suppose it would be. I
adored those, and I dashed around with the boys. That said, I graduated from
that sort of thing when I turned ten… After that, let’s see… I overreached myself
when I tried to become a lady, failed, and was laughed at by those around me. I
liked studying, and I was good at it. If I did it, people praised me, so I got good
at it. Of course, it didn’t take long for that to become only expected, and before
long, people stopped praising me…”
“Oh…”
This was something Raynesia knew as well.
She’d been good at smiling and being well-behaved. Sitting so that she looked
precociously mature and wise hadn’t been difficult for her. She’d done it
because she liked being praised. Raynesia had loved her father, mother, and
grandparents—her family.
It had become second nature by now, and it was ingrained to the point where
she couldn’t handle things any other way, but originally, she’d wanted the
people who were important to her to smile. She’d wanted them to be happy.
“I was an honor student at school because adults liked me and because I was
particularly good at studying. It wasn’t that I worked desperately at that; I was
simply born that way. The town where I was born had several large hospitals,
and there were lots of elderly people. As a result, I was probably more
conscious of adults’ eyes than I was of children’s… In that sense, I’m glad I came
here and joined D.D.D. I’d grown conceited, and there are people here who
broke me. There are people who taught me, after I’d fallen apart, that it didn’t
have to mean the end of me. Lots of—”
“I—!”
Raynesia stopped her; her tone was firm.
She couldn’t hear this.
She wasn’t qualified to hear it.
 She’d thought she was a strong woman. Raynesia was embarrassed at having
thought Riezé was of noble blood and that she’d been an Adventurer by birth.
In the end, didn’t that simply mean she hadn’t even tried to understand her?
Once she realized this, the world she knew seemed very petty and narrow.
It wasn’t that she didn’t know about the world because she’d been raised as a
princess of Maihama. Raynesia’s world was small because she hadn’t tried to
see the things that were right beside her.
You’re working hard, Raynesia.
She finally understood the meaning of the words that had been spoken to
her.
They’d meant, “I was paying attention.”
Raynesia had been such a child that she hadn’t even understood that that was
what was being said.
“I was born in the city of Maihama. Since I am a princess, technically, I was
raised by a nurse from the time I was small… I don’t know many of the games
others play. I think I was probably wealthy and happy. I had pretty clothes and
plenty of food. I never felt that my life was in danger…”
Raynesia began to speak in a small voice.
“When it came to my studies, there were several teachers in the castle. I think
the education I received was above average for a Person of the Earth, but from
your perspective, I’m not sure how proud of it I can be…”
Raynesia put the words together, unsure of what she should tell her, or how.
It was a childish ceremony, going on clumsily, just as Riezé had shown her.
“I think I also acted more demure than I really was because I wanted my
family to praise me. I…I’m really very lazy. I’d like to spend every day napping
and sunbathing, and I don’t understand even half of the complicated
conversations I hear. When I’m bored, I bite back yawns.”
Riezé was thoughtful, and confessing this to her took quite a lot of courage.
However, although Raynesia watched Riezé for reactions, she didn’t consider
breaking off. After all, that swallow-like girl had probably flown beyond this
point.
“I came to this town because I thought I could escape tiresome formalities
that way. Even now, I’m bad at business discussions and shouldering
responsibility. When I come face-to-face with things I don’t understand, it
makes me want to cry. I think eating little rice balls and spacing out suits me
best. However, I’m… In short, I am a princess, so—I can’t do that, and I also
think I shouldn’t. Truthfully, I don’t even know whether that’s really the case,
but…”
The words wouldn’t come out well, and Raynesia began to feel resentful.
Krusty would probably have picked up that feeling for her.
However, that probably wouldn’t have been okay.
There was something between her and this blond girl, and the swallow-like
girl, that she wouldn’t be able to create or connect that way.
She felt as though she’d heard Elissa’s admonishing chuckle. Instantly,
Raynesia’s temper flared, and she continued rather violently, as though
wringing the words out.
“I think there’s something terribly important somewhere, and because it’s
important, I have to treat it as though it’s important. And so I, um, I think I have
to stay a princess. —Only I never have enough strength, so…”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to do things properly with you, too, Riezé. Not only with you, but with
Akatsuki as well. And with Marielle. If I don’t, I don’t think I’ll be qualified to be
your friend, or to live in Akiba…or to be arrogant enough to think of protecting
anything.”
“‘Do things properly,’ was it?”
Riezé laughed a little at the words, but hiding her embarrassed tone with a
composed expression, she granted Raynesia’s wish for her.
“You’re right. This sort of thing is… Well, once one’s in high school, it’s a little
embarrassing. Since we’re dealing with each other straight on, you see… In that
case, first, a little advice: ‘Do things properly’ is a difficult way to put it. Too
difficult. Let’s be friends, Raynesia. I am an Adventurer, but if you don’t mind
that…”
It was a single fragment of something important, handed to the slacker
princess from an entirely unexpected source.
 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.

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.

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.
 She couldn’t make that promise.
She couldn’t guarantee it.
She didn’t want them to ask her to.
“…I can’t do it alone. That’s why I want your help. Please, help me.”
That was a pain that was hard for Akatsuki to bear. Admitting that she was a
child, admitting that she was helpless, was as painful as if she were being
physically cut. A feeling like a curse began to take root in her: Was that really all
the strength this little body could hold?
Still, before Akatsuki’s very eyes, Shiroe had made the same request.
Henrietta’s arms tightened around her in a hug, and Akatsuki was startled by
their warmth. Seeing her, Nazuna gave a languid smile, as though to say she’d
been surprised into giving up the offensive.
“I’d been thinking something like this was going to come up, ever since Souji
said he was pulling out. Everyone at Shiroe’s place is stubborn. Birds of a
feather flocking together, I guess.”
“I’d call that a half-passing grade, I suppose. By training unit standards, you
need to drill repeatedly. At present, D.D.D. has confirmed eight Mysteries, and
is in the process of examining them in detail. Milord has already given his
permission. He said to pass them along to you, Akatsuki,” the blond-haired girl
informed her, calmly.
“I also have something I must do.”
Still silent, her face pale, Raynesia nodded.
“…Honestly. To think I came all the way to Theldesia to be a middle schooler
again…”
With Riezé’s little sigh as the signal, a small, modest subjugation unit was
formed.
However, to Akatsuki, it was a very big step.
 4

Mikakage nibbled her onigiri.

These box lunches, delivered by Onigiri Shop Enmusubi, were an incredibly
popular meal at RoderLab. They’d never gathered proper statistics, but there
was a general rumor that over half the lunches in the guild were supplied by the
place.
Behind Mikakage, a friendly People of the Earth girl wearing a triangular
kerchief was passing out onigiri with order tags stuck to them, one at a time.
Her glossy black hair was cut in an even bob just above her shoulders, and her
ever-changing expression was charming. She thought the girl’s name was
Kaede.
Onigiri Shop Enmusubi was run by approximately twenty People of the Earth,
and of them, about five cute girls were treated as idols. They were particularly
popular at RoderLab; there was even a fan club. This girl, Kaede, vied for “most
popular” with Kuudelya, and Mikakage remembered seeing her on a poster in
the cooking building.
No, not that. Now’s not the time for that.
Furrowing her brow, Mikakage bit into her rice ball.
Today of all days, she didn’t feel like mindlessly thinking about the cute box
lunch–girl rankings.
After all, Mikakage was shouldering a small part of this uproar. Of course, it
wasn’t as though she was responsible for it. Mikakage had only reported what
she’d learned from her current investigations and the implications of that
knowledge, and she wasn’t the least bit responsible for the incident itself. Still,
that didn’t clear up the murky feelings in her heart.
Allie the Alraune, Mikakage’s plant spirit partner, climbed up into her lap, and
Mikakage gave her a small onigiri. The Alraune took the perfectly round rice ball
in both hands and bit into it. Even as she let the sight soothe her, Mikakage
looked around.
 The enormous, semicircular, cone-shaped hall she was in was commonly
known as “the lecture hall.”
Right now, it was filled to about 80 percent of capacity.
For the moment, it was lunchtime, and most of the participants were taking
boxed lunches out of their packs or unwrapping the bundles of onigiri that had
been delivered.
Ordinarily, more people would have gone outside or to the cafeteria, but due
to the content today, movement of that sort was sluggish.
There were both morning and afternoon conferences, but the morning
session had been more like presentations by the various research departments
than a conference. The afternoon session would probably follow suit.
The RoderLab was a guild that resembled a university. As a result, no matter
what they did, conferences tended to end up as reports on research results.
The atmosphere in the tiered classroom was hard to describe.
It certainly wasn’t cheerful. It would have been safe to call it depressed.
However, rather than simply despairing, it felt as if it was stirring restlessly,
hiding confusion and excitement down at the bottom. As a matter of fact, here
and there, people with the same major had gathered in groups and were talking
in low voices.
Some of these groups had gone beyond gathering by major and were holding
quiet, ongoing debates.
That was how shocking some of the content of the morning’s presentations
had been.
“So hey, there’s some good stuff, too, yeah?”
Her colleague Aomori, who was also stuffing his face with onigiri, spoke from
beside her.
“Would you call it a good thing?”
“Mmm. Probably?”
Hearing Aomori’s noncommittal answer, Mikakage nodded vaguely, a little
troubled.
It was true: She couldn’t declare that it was a bad thing.
Mikakage had given her presentation during the morning session.
Because of the way it was organized, the RoderLab held many presentation
meetings every month. The cooking section to which Mikakage belonged was
no exception. However, the cooking section created things that were good to
eat, and their presentations almost always took the form of sampling parties.
Mikakage had used up all her energy on her presentation that morning.
To her—a Chef whose presentations didn’t usually use materials or involve
long oral statements—the burden had been a heavy one. Her colleague had
pushed it all onto her, and words of resentment coiled within her.
Mikakage kicked Aomori hard, stole the fried chicken out of his lunchbox, and
quickly gave it to Allie.
“What was that for?!”
“Is it good, Allie?”
Shy Allie didn’t answer the question. She only ate the fried chicken
energetically, keeping it hidden from Mikakage. She looked adorable, and
Mikakage was relieved.
Little by little, even Adventurers without Chef subclasses were becoming able
to cook.
That was the report Mikakage had given.
At present, there were two types of cooking method in this world.
The first was the “menu method.” Carrying the materials listed in a recipe you
“remembered,” you opened the operations menu in the general vicinity of
kitchen facilities. Once you selected the desired recipe from the operations
menu, the dish was complete.
No matter what kind of dish it was, as a rule, the production time was ten
seconds.
There were great advantages to this method. First, the required time was an
obvious advantage. Even if it was a stewed dish that took time, or a fermented
food, it only took ten seconds.
The economy of the ingredients that were used up was another advantage. At
most, recipes only listed five types of ingredients. This included seasonings. For
example, when making Meat and Potato Stew, you needed just three types:
three potatoes, one beef, and one dark soy sauce. You didn’t need onions or
carrots, and sweet rice wine wasn’t required either. Of course, the finished
product looked as though these things had been used. It was as if the materials
had been supplied from thin air.
Of course, there was an enormous—a far too enormous—disadvantage as
well. This was that, no matter what sort of ingredients had been used or what
kind of recipe you’d made, the finished food tasted like bran porridge. One
could call it a flavorless flavor. The texture was also like a bland energy bar, and
it was nothing that would whet anyone’s appetite.
The other method was known as “home cooking.”
With this method, it was necessary to cook just as you’d done in the old
world. You weren’t restricted by recipes, and the taste depended on whether or
not the person who was cooking knew how to prepare that particular dish. You
had to get all the ingredients together; they wouldn’t pop up out of nowhere. In
addition, the freshness and condition of the ingredients determined how
complete the dish was. In other words, it was very similar to cooking in the real
world.
In both cases, the overwhelming difference from the real world was that the
person doing the cooking had to have a Chef subclass. It was also characterized
by the fact that, with both the menu and home cooking methods, restrictions
were applied according to Chef levels.
With the menu method, if the Chef’s level hadn’t reached the level set for the
recipe, the probability that the dish would succeed decreased.
With the home cooking method, it wasn’t possible to see the Chef level that
was specifically required, but there was a high probability of failure with
complicated techniques such as steaming or frying, or with dishes that required
lots of steps.
 In either case, if they failed, just as in the days when this had been a game, all
that was left was a charred wreck or a sloppy mess.
For Adventurers without a Chef subclass, every dish failed. No matter how
good at cooking they’d been on Earth, they weren’t even able to make salad.
Ever since the Catastrophe, this had been common knowledge.
That was slowly beginning to crumble.
Now, even Adventurers without Chef subclasses were able to use simple
seasonings and cut up ingredients. At this point, they could make salads.
What was happening? No one knew.
They didn’t even understand the Catastrophe. There was no way for them to
understand what this change meant.
However, it wasn’t hard to anticipate that the range it affected would be vast.
Even Mikakage and the other Chefs weren’t able to say exactly when this
change had taken place. Akiba and the Round Table Council had noticed the
subclass restrictions on item creation early on. That had been what had
triggered the establishment of the Round Table Council in the first place.
It was safe to say that the way people with the same subclass formed
departments at the RoderLab was based on that same discovery. In other
words, all the people around Mikakage were Chefs. Not only that, but all of
them, Mikakage included, were high-level. In addition, that knowledge was
widespread in Akiba, and there was a universal awareness that meals were
made by guild Chefs, or that you purchased side dishes from Chefs who were
selling them.
That was why they hadn’t noticed when this phenomenon began.
According to Mikakage and the cooking section’s recent investigation, about
half of all Adventurers now had a decent probability of making salad
successfully. Even the ones who failed seemed to be feeling a different
response than they’d felt before.
They’d managed to verify that the phenomenon was occurring.
However, it wasn’t yet clear whether it was the result of each individual’s
unconscious efforts—a result of the Adventurer’s abilities expanding—or
whether some game protection was coming undone. They’d confirmed that a
similar phenomenon was occurring among the People of the Earth. It had even
been possible for Allie, a plant spirit.
What was even more frightening was the fact that the phenomenon wasn’t
limited to cooking.
For example, the Carpenter subclass had monopolized item creation in the
field of construction, while in furniture production, it had been the
Woodworker subclass. That had been the way this world was.
However, at the presentation meeting that morning, reports that were similar
to the one Mikakage had given on Chefs had shown up here and there.
The techniques of construction and forging weren’t as familiar to modern
people as cooking techniques, and so even when they tried to conduct surveys,
the sample sizes were too small, and they couldn’t get conclusive evidence.
Even so, from a handful of cases, there had been clear reports that the old
experience rule was wavering.
Mikakage wasn’t the only one who was disturbed.
Aomori, her other friends in the hall, and everyone at the RoderLab had a
premonition of something.
At the sudden hush, Mikakage looked up.
The eyes of the people around her were focused on Roderick, who stood on
the platform. Since it was still the middle of the lunch break, the nearby
companions who’d been stuffing their mouths with onigiri and sandwiches were
gazing at Roderick with expressions full of questions.
The man wore his white coat casually, and there was fatigue in his ordinarily
calm, easygoing face. Scratching his head, he began to speak.
“Uh. I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, but I was waiting on news regarding an
investigation; that’s come in, and it looks as though we’ll have to switch gears
this afternoon, so let me cut in here. We’ll extend lunchtime by an hour. In
addition, when I say ‘switch gears,’ I mean we’ll be shifting to
countermeasures.”
 At the words shifting to countermeasures, a stir ran through the hall.
Half was surprise at the fact that it was on a level where countermeasures
were necessary. Half was due to the fact that the cautious Roderick had decided
to actively contribute.
“You can keep eating, so do listen. There are three concerns I need to report.
The first has to do with the Appearance Reset Potions and the difference in
genders going back to the days of the game. According to many cases…or
rather, to nearly all cases, we reported earlier that physical bodies influence
character, and it appears as though voices are influenced as well. It isn’t clear
whether or not the vocal cords have a mechanistic role, but the voices of
Adventurers who currently have female bodies are gradually growing
feminine…even if the player happens to be male.”
A pen rolled, making an awfully loud noise.
The lecture hall was so silent there wasn’t a single cough to be heard.
“The next has to do with visual observations… Erm. We haven’t actually
confirmed this matter. We’re measuring again, but it’s still uncertain. That said,
I think it is a fact. The distance between the town of Akiba and Fuji seems to be
expanding. Or rather, the space between two arbitrary points is growing, albeit
slightly.”
This report seemed to have struck most of the crowd in the venue as a bolt
from the blue.
“Excuse me…”
One timid-looking Blacksmith raised his hand. When Roderick gave him
permission, the question he asked gave voice to everyone else’s doubts.
“Is that true everywhere, do you think? In other words, is Yamato…growing?”
“We believe so.”
At Roderick’s answer, the entire venue gulped.
“The final matter has to do with the results of a survey request we received
from an external party, but I think I should share them… It’s in regard to the
flavor text set for items. For some items, we have confirmed that this text has
effects.”
Mikakage’s eyes went round.
Flavor text with effects? What did that mean?
For example, say there was a certain magic weapon: “Damage +5%,
Additional Flame Damage 180 to 216 Points, [STR] Boost +15.” This was the
strength of the magic. Special magic effects accompanied normal weapon stats,
making the weapon more powerful.
In comparison, “flavor text” indicated text like this: “This weapon, Mighty
Inferno Spear, was bestowed on distinguished knights by the regular army of
Ancient Westlande. It is decorated with Fire Dragon fangs and holds the power
of flames. In antiquity, Loga Zari used this spear to inspire courage in his
subordinates.” In other words, it explained the item, detailing its origins and
features. It was information you could read as a result of appraising the item,
but in terms of the game, it was meaningless. It was text that existed to enliven
the atmosphere.
In any case, the “flavor” in flavor text meant just that: to add flavor. That was
all.
There were no effects. Not having effects was what made it flavor text…or
that was how it should have been.
But there were effects?
Mikakage didn’t understand right away just what that meant.
Because she didn’t know, she looked at Aomori.
Aomori didn’t know either. He looked back at Mikakage uneasily.
Most of their companions were doing the same thing.
Roderick closed his eyes briefly and gave a deep sigh. On seeing him,
everyone braced themselves, finally realizing that something troublesome had
happened.
“We don’t think these are isolated phenomena. It’s impossible to think that
phenomena such as these could happen at a time like this, one after another,
without any connection to each other. In other words, we feel they are related
cases. At present, we believe this world is in the midst of ongoing, large-scale
changes. The Catastrophe has not ended. I propose that we gather information
regarding this matter to the greatest extent possible.”
Roderick’s words rolled around the dumbstruck hall, unanswered.
Almost none of Akiba’s residents knew of these changes yet.

In a busy office, Akatsuki and Raynesia were both kneeling formally.

In front of them were Riezé and Henrietta. Lots of maids were bustling around
them, and for some reason, Nazuna was kicking back and eating a strawberry
daifuku, a dumpling made of mochi and stuffed with jam.
Akatsuki had been marched straight here from the Temple, and after she’d
been fed a combination breakfast/lunch served with the words “for now,”
they’d decided to ask her about the circumstances in detail.
Akatsuki had thought that being asked for “the circumstances in detail” would
be a problem, and she kept shooting glances at Raynesia. Prompted by
Henrietta, Raynesia sat down neatly beside Akatsuki.
The pile of the luxurious carpet was long and fluffy, so her knees certainly
wouldn’t get sore; but Akatsuki lived in a Japanese-style room normally and so
had absolutely no reluctance with regard to kneeling formally. However, what
about Raynesia? She didn’t seem used to kneeling that way at all; she was just
copying Akatsuki, with a terribly serious expression on her face.
“We’ve heard the general outline already. The murderer is actually a Person
of the Earth. A member of the Kunie clan, at that. Those combat abilities are
thanks to mobile armor. The city’s defensive magic circle supplies the magic,
and he has acquired fighting power equal to that of a small-scale raid boss.”
At Riezé’s words, Raynesia hung her head.
Apparently Raynesia had explained the circumstances to the female
Adventurers who gathered for the tea parties.
This startled Akatsuki.
A Person of the Earth was killing Adventurers.
Raynesia had been terribly frightened and worried about that situation being
discovered. Even so, as she knelt formally next to Akatsuki, looking at Riezé and
Henrietta, her expression was a resolute one, not one of dejection.
However, that might have been only natural. Come to think of it, the People
of the Earth princess Akatsuki had thought she wanted to support had ridden a
griffin and soared through the sky in order to recruit heroes for the Zantleaf
siege.
“—If this incident is discovered, the relationship between Adventurers and
People of the Earth in Akiba will sour. If suspicion toward the Kunie clan grows,
cracks may begin to appear in city life itself. That’s what you two thought. You
were concerned about that situation, Akatsuki, and so you tried to resolve the
incident, instead of killing the murderer. Is that correct?”
Still sitting, Akatsuki thought for a little while, then nodded.
Put into words, that was probably what it was.
Akatsuki was aware that she’d dashed out into the nighttime streets without
thinking much at all. She’d only wanted to tell somebody that Raynesia hadn’t
made a mistake. She’d felt that if she stopped the murderer, that would get
across. No: She was only able to understand that because she was thinking
about it after the fact. If she remembered that time honestly, she might have
been simply acting out her frustration for no good reason. She thought she’d
just been venting her irritation at the world, which didn’t even try to
understand her or Raynesia.
However, she was hesitant to put that into words, and she only gazed at Riezé
silently.
“I can understand why you would have thought that. I don’t think it’s an
incident that can be kept hidden to the end, but even so, resolving it quickly will
be a big part of calming the uproar.”
 “Plus there’ve been all these victims.”
Nazuna, who’d taken sweet sake out of her pack, poked fun at Riezé, who was
speaking like a lecturer.
“…Will the West Wind Brigade make this matter public, then?”
“Nah. Soujirou said he’d pull out. We won’t make it public or retaliate. The
guild members will probably have something to say about it internally, but
Soujirou will handle that somehow. That’s the sort of guild we are. I’m the one
who cleans up the mess… Although whatever happen now is up to you two.”
“That’s…”
“Enough of the roundabout review. Just lecture ’em already.”
At Nazuna’s words, Riezé and Henrietta sighed.
It wasn’t that they couldn’t deal with Nazuna, but they would have preferred
her to go through the proper procedures, yet Nazuna didn’t seem to care one
bit. Depending on how you looked at them, her licentious, traditional Japanese
clothes also seemed untidy. White skin wrapped in a chain mail undershirt
bulged from the open neck of her clothes, and as she sprawled on the sofa, she
vividly resembled not a fox but a big cat.
Her current appearance didn’t match her stern, tense atmosphere in battle.
However, to Akatsuki, she looked natural. This version of her might be the real
one.
But maybe there’s no such thing as a “real version”…
Akatsuki thought that the Shiroe who patted her head was her real liege.
However, he was her liege when he was at his wits’ end over documents as
well, and the one who arranged for reinforcements on the battlefield was her
real liege, too.
It made a slight pain race through her chest, but the lieges who praised
Minori and smiled at Marielle were also real.
Just as the Raynesia next to her didn’t look elegant and fragile as usual—or
limp and tired. Instead, she wore an intent expression rife with determination.
 Essentially, it was likely that none of it was a lie.
In the midst of a world that had grown just a bit wider and more vivid,
Akatsuki realized this for the first time.
There were lots of “reals.”
“In short, is this what it was?”
In front of Akatsuki and Raynesia, Henrietta folded her arms and spoke to
them softly.
“You thought you could do it all on your own and tried to look impressive. You
knew you really should have discussed it with us, didn’t you? Akatsuki and
Raynesia, haven’t you gotten a bit conceited? Aren’t you patronizing the people
around you?”
Henrietta’s eyes held none of their usual mischief.
She wore a truly serious expression.
Akatsuki had no way to respond. She was right.
This incident wasn’t the worst it could have been. She could excuse herself by
saying the blood had rushed to her head and she’d dashed out.
But she’d hidden in Shiroe’s shadow all this time, and there really was no way
to excuse that.
In the end, she hadn’t tried to relate to other people: She’d considered it too
much work and had cut them off, thinking she didn’t need them. Sage Nyanta
and Naotsugu were one thing, but hadn’t she been stingy with her words with
Minori, Touya, and the others, the younger members of her own guild?
Of course she’d supported their efforts. She’d guarded them silently, provided
materials. She’d reconnoitered and chosen hunting grounds. However, she’d
avoided speaking with them directly and traveling around with them. There
hadn’t even been a good reason.
She’d used evasive words, saying that that wasn’t her role.
The realization that she’d dimly understood this tormented Akatsuki.
“How long do you intend to stay on your own? Don’t you think it’s spoiled of
you to assume that, provided Master Shiroe is there, that’s enough?”
At Henrietta’s reprimanding voice, Akatsuki drooped.
She had no words. Everything was as she’d said.
Because she’d been entirely dependent on her liege, the moment that liege
was gone, she’d stopped being able to do anything. She’d wanted to at least
carry out her liege’s request, but she hadn’t even been able to do that. Even
though it was a mission Shiroe had given to her alone…
“Did you visit this manor with the intention of acting as a guard?”
Feeling as though her thoughts had received a response, Akatsuki raised her
eyes.
“Visiting Water Maple Manor and assisting its security system—that duty
wasn’t given to you alone, Akatsuki. It was mine as well, and Riezé’s.”
This time, Akatsuki turned bright red with shame and pain.
Come to think of it, that was only natural. Raynesia was currently one of the
most important women in Akiba, and Akatsuki wouldn’t have been assigned as
her only guard. Raynesia’s tea parties were being held on Shiroe’s instructions.
If she’d given it just a little thought, she would have known.
Even the thought that Shiroe was counting on her had been self-
important.
That was so sad and frustrating that it made tears well up.
Now wasn’t the time to cry, though. Akatsuki had definitely thought that she
would protect Raynesia. However, she hadn’t wanted to protect only her life, as
a bodyguard. That day, at that time, she’d wanted to protect the wish and the
nobility of this girl, who bore a heavy responsibility as the representative of the
People of the Earth.
“Akatsuki is, um…m-my—”
Raynesia broke in, speaking with what sounded like great difficulty.
However, Riezé stopped her.
“But I still want your help. I need it.”
 Akatsuki desperately strung pleading words together.
“Yes, of course. I will help, and so will Riezé. Just as we promised a moment
ago. However, to whom are you directing those words?”
That question was incredibly difficult for Akatsuki.
To whom? To Henrietta and Riezé? To Nazuna? To Mikakage and the others
who weren’t here?
But who was that? Who should she rely on? Did she have any right to rely on
anybody?
Still, there was definitely something there.
It was only that Akatsuki couldn’t find the right words. The gift was there.
Akatsuki had realized that in the dream she’d lost.
The thing she’d let fall in the faint light of dawn tormented her.
She was sure she’d been holding it tightly, along with Shiroe’s coat, but when
she’d opened her eyes, her hand had been empty.
She hadn’t been able to bring it back from the dream.
There was an unbearable impatience in her chest.
The words she was sure she’d had wouldn’t come out.
They had to be there, properly, inside her heart, but she couldn’t
communicate them to everyone.
Akatsuki thought, quite seriously, that if it made it possible to convey these
feelings and wishes—the ones she thought were really, truly important—to
everyone, she wouldn’t mind splitting her own chest open.
However, even if she’d split her chest open, they couldn’t have seen them.
At the thought of the worthlessness of her clumsy self, Akatsuki’s expression
twisted, and she found herself on the verge of tears.
“Akatsuki is my friend.”
Having shaken off Riezé’s restraint, Raynesia declared this; her face was
angry. Akatsuki gazed at her with an expression of blank amazement.
 Inside her, something was born.
It was the words she hadn’t managed to hold on to, and the door she’d been
pretending not to notice. The key to that door.
Hearing those words from the silver princess—words she’d never thought
she’d say—warmed Akatsuki and gave her strength.
“Raynesia is doing her best, so… I want to help her. Everybody… With
everybody. Because, um…we’re friends…”
She couldn’t put it into words well.
Feelings of embarrassment and helplessness and depression flooded her.
Even so, the strong determination that she had to push through was there as
well.
As if to break through that irritation, Akatsuki took half a step forward.
It was an advance so small you really couldn’t call it a step.
Inside her mouth, the word friends seemed about to become hoarse with
hesitation.
Inside Akatsuki, a slow understanding came together.
The Raynesia who wore a peaceful smile and seemed to be somewhere far
away was real, but the Raynesia who was getting angry beside Akatsuki was real
as well. The Henrietta who always toyed with Akatsuki was real, but so was the
Henrietta who was taking Akatsuki to task. The Riezé who carefully inspected
the dresses the People of the Earth wore and the Riezé whose profile was that
of a battle commander were both real.
When she looked at them properly, straight on, there were all sorts of people
around Akatsuki who worried about her.
Even if Akatsuki looked uncool, it wouldn’t make her a fake. The Akatsuki she
couldn’t forgive was still the real Akatsuki.
There were this many people who were worried about the Akatsuki who’d
messed up and been killed.
She thought she understood why Riezé had mentioned middle schoolers. This
really was middle school level. To think she’d have to learn something like this
so late in the game… I’m lower than Minori, Akatsuki thought. Still, there was no
gut-wrenching anxiety in the idea. It was probably true that she was lower than
Minori. Besides, right now, there were people right here in front of her who
were worried about her.
“Understood. In that case, I have a plan. A plan to put an end to this matter.
I’ve contacted the Round Table Council and requested that they set a ban on
going out at night. Three days from now, let’s bring down that murderer.”
At Riezé’s words, Akatsuki felt her heart relax. This time, she wouldn’t get it
wrong.

Henrietta looked out over Akiba from the landing on the stairs.
Most of the town’s trees were deciduous, but there were some evergreens as
well. The verdant accents within the gray town were gentle on the eyes. The
Crescent Moon League’s home was in this guild center, so she was used to the
scenery itself. However, at the moment, the altitude was different.
Her guild home was on the fifth floor of the center. This landing was on the
tenth. She was headed for the top level of the same building—in other words,
for the Round Table Council.
Henrietta kept walking. Viewed from a real-world perspective, climbing up
and down a high-rise building with dead elevators time after time would be
torture, but Adventurer bodies were high-performance. She could make the
entire round trip without any trouble, even when carrying a wooden crate.
The walls of the stairwell were exposed concrete, but she reached the floor
she wanted without the cold posing much of a problem.
Greeting a Person of the Earth girl whom she knew by sight, Henrietta
entered the Staff Office. This was the core of the Round Table Council. The true
“Round Table Council” indicated the council composed of the leaders of the
eleven guilds that represented Akiba, but the plans they settled on were
administered by this Staff Office.
Many loud voices had said that technically, in some way, the eleven guilds
had a hand in setting Akiba’s policies, and it was probably a bad idea not to give
them space in which to do that, so each of the eleven guilds had been given an
office inside the Staff Office. That said, most of the eleven guilds were big
enough that it wasn’t odd for them to be representing Akiba. Most of the guild
masters had offices within their own headquarters and conducted a variety of
business there. Although it was a midlevel guild, the Crescent Moon League was
the same in that respect, and Marielle had a fancy office that reflected her
tastes.
As a result, it was typical for guilds to put someone in their Staff Office offices
to hold the fort and use them as places where they could be contacted.
However, unfortunately, the Crescent Moon League didn’t have that many
people. This meant that Henrietta stopped by regularly to organize the
materials and correspondence that had piled up.
Many People of the Earth worked here, too.
This was partly with the goal of commissioning them for simple office work,
and partly an operational test to see whether or not they could work together
in the same space. It might have been all right to ask them to handle the role of
contact, but they were letting the current situation stand. Even without being
assigned jobs like that, the People of the Earth staff had all sorts of work, such
as handling contacts and negotiations for Akiba’s several hundred guilds.
Having greeted them, Henrietta reached the office, then let out a groan. The
work desk was overflowing with documents again. This happened all the time,
and just looking at it depressed her. Of the eleven guilds, the Crescent Moon
League had things comparatively easy, and even it was like this. She didn’t even
want to think about the other guilds.
As she quickly sorted the files, Henrietta poured them into the crate she’d
brought along. It looked like a huge amount, but most of it was reports and
confirmation documents. When files weren’t important enough to take back to
the guild house, she just signed them to show they’d been looked over and
tossed them into the furnished “approved” box.
As she performed this simple work, she thought back over the past few days.
After that day, things had moved quickly.
Riezé’s supervision had been brilliant, but the other participants hadn’t fallen
behind. Come to think of it, even though they were women, Nazuna, Kyouko,
and Azukiko had participated in raids before the Catastrophe. Organized action
was probably their forte.
Raynesia’s sitting room had become a temporary strategy headquarters, and
a work desk Riezé had brought in from her guild had been installed there. That
room was a scene of pandemonium to rival this one. Vast amounts of written
memos overflowed in the processes of correction and the creation of clean
copies. Henrietta and the other Adventurers had been raised in real-world
Earth’s paperless society, and the sight made their heads ache.
The participants in the antimurderer strategy called the initiative “the arrest
strategy,” “the recapture strategy,” and similar things.
Because they were using Raynesia’s manor as the strategy’s headquarters,
the only participating members were the women who’d been invited to
Raynesia’s tea parties. Which meant that, of course, Henrietta and Marielle
were participating as well.
There were two central figures: Akatsuki and Raynesia. Unfortunately, not
only were both of them unused to this sort of exercise, they didn’t even have
any aptitude for it. Their eyes had gone wide at this string of “firsts,” and they
were running around in confusion. As the ones who’d proposed the plan, the
two of them were key, but as far as group action was concerned, they couldn’t
be counted upon. As a result, Riezé and Henrietta were handling the actual
administrative duties.
They’d had to.
Growing tired of organizing, Henrietta sat in a leather-covered armchair and
looked up at the ceiling. As long as they weren’t summoned, no staff other than
Crescent Moon League members would enter the office. It was probably
inevitable that her posture looked more deflated than usual.
 At the guild, she was surrounded by Marielle and the other cheerful, noisy
members, and she couldn’t think properly. Henrietta gently pushed her glasses
up, gave a quiet sigh, and took a single card out of her well-used mini commuter
pass case.
It was a brusque card, with nothing but a few lines of letters written on it in
plain handwriting.
The card was a bank account.
A card that showed an account at the only banking organization in Elder Tales,
which was annexed to the guild center. It was an access card, something that
hadn’t existed until now.
Before the Catastrophe, Elder Tales had been a game. Its “bank” hadn’t been
like a bank on Earth: It was a nonprofit organization that was there to hold
players’ cash and items. Actually, it hadn’t even been a nonprofit organization.
It had been one of the game functions.
The moment game characters were born—in other words, the instant they
began the game—they automatically had a bank account. Procedures to open
one weren’t required. Guilds were the same way: The instant they were
formed, they had one bank account. It was an automatic process, and in
exchange for being no trouble at all to open, you couldn’t refuse to have one.
That was the long and short of what it had been. Naturally, there hadn’t been
any cards or bankbooks. After all, the game system identified individuals with
absolute precision and managed everything without those things.
However, the card in front of her was different.
It was one of the three cards the three committees on the Round Table
Council would soon have the right to own. The account it showed belonged
neither to an individual nor to a guild. It was a possibility no one in Yamato had
considered.
“…Because of this, I’d really prefer to stay quiet just now.”
Henrietta spun the card around and around between her fingertips and closed
her eyes.
She’d had a vague hunch that Shiroe wasn’t in Akiba. No one had explicitly
told her so, but she’d guessed as much when Shiroe had asked her to take care
of this card.
The card didn’t have any meaning; not yet. There was no money in the
account, and it wasn’t linked to any action. At present, it was just a blank
account that had been set up.
However, the future possibilities were dizzying.
Henrietta knew this. Just thinking of how it would be used gave her a faint
chill.
The matter of the account hadn’t been made public because the card was
currently still meaningless. In other words, at this stage, they were still verifying
the possibilities, and it wasn’t yet time to announce them. At the very least,
that was how it had been explained to Henrietta. Meanwhile, Henrietta had
also guessed the circumstances that hadn’t been explained.
Shiroe had probably avoided announcing it because he’d taken information
leakage into account.
Akatsuki’s behavior in hiding the fact that he wasn’t in Akiba also supported
this idea.
Krusty, Shiroe, and Michitaka were thinking about problems that might come
up in the future. The existence of enemies was probably one of those problems.
To make matters worse, they thought they’d have to assume they might exist
within the Round Table Council as well.
Henrietta felt that Plant Hwyaden was in the west, watching Akiba. Although
a minority, the Odysseia she’d begun hearing about were eerie as well.
The idea that, if we only die enough, we’ll be able to return to Earth…
Their incomprehensible claim made Henrietta sigh. The worry was too heavy
for the accountant of a midlevel guild. She couldn’t possibly shoulder it.
However, in that case, who would carry it? It would be easy to say Shiroe could
do it and leave it to him. However, would that be all right? From Henrietta’s
perspective, Shiroe was younger than she was.
That’s right. He’s younger. That pitch-black gentleman. Honestly…
 Shiroe probably didn’t have any particular interest in Henrietta as an
individual. No matter what he was doing, he wasn’t doing it for Henrietta’s
sake. Still, she felt as though it wouldn’t do to say, “Shiroe can handle it” and
detach herself, as though it were someone else’s problem. She felt as if that
would be the same as giving Shiroe up.
Since she thought this way, Henrietta was convinced that she really did need
to be involved with the murderer incident.
If Riezé was advising Akatsuki with regard to combat, Henrietta should
probably be involved with the matter from a different angle. She’d provide
cover fire for that obstinate Shiroe. Henrietta thought it would be rather nice to
pitch in and help for that reason.
Ever since the ball at the Court of Ice, where she’d danced with Shiroe,
Henrietta had thought that she didn’t mind supporting him. She thought it
suited her to support Akatsuki and Shiroe from the shadows.
Riezé, meanwhile, was drilling Akatsuki and training the other members of the
task force in teamwork.
Until dusk, they practiced the Mysteries. There were several interested
people involved besides Akatsuki, so their information regarding the Mysteries
would probably expand a bit.
Then, after dinner, they’d assemble for a meeting, and after that, Akatsuki,
Riezé, and the rest of the combat unit would scatter throughout Akiba, in order
to keep an eye on a wide area and capture the murderer.
Having heard the detailed circumstances from Akatsuki and Nazuna, Riezé
had apparently determined that the murderer wouldn’t show himself for
several days. Henrietta had agreed with her, and it was good to have that time.
The murderer had taken ferocious attacks from Soujirou and Akatsuki, and had
sustained more damage than ever before. It would probably take some time for
those wounds to heal. Since he wasn’t an Adventurer, it would certainly take
more than a night.
Henrietta had negotiated with the Round Table Council and had a ban on
going out at night put in place for Akiba.
 This was a trick she’d settled on after discussing the matter with Riezé, both
for damage control and to draw out the criminal. These days, Akatsuki and the
others who were on guard continued patrolling until dawn, then slept for a
short while when the sun came up.
Now was the time for Henrietta to do her job as well.
Putting together a mental list of people who needed to be persuaded,
Henrietta stood. She scooped the documents on the work desk into the crate
without sorting them, then contacted Hien via telechat.
Michitaka first. Then Calasin, then the members of the eleven guilds. This
persuasion work would serve to provide a smoke screen for Shiroe’s operation
as well. She didn’t know how far Shiroe had anticipated, but Henrietta smiled,
feeling a bit spiteful.
“It may not go the way you’ve predicted, Master Shiroe. Especially…the
determination within the girls.”
 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.

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.

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.

“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.
 Pointless.
With the speed of a swallow in flight, Akatsuki swung her short sword.
The attack, which had come at the murderer suddenly from behind, left a
shallow cut on his neck. To think that even when she’d launched an attack on a
vital spot from that illusion, he’d been able to avoid a fatal wound. The power
of the demon sword was limitless. But…
Pointless.
There was no delight at having a wish fulfilled in Akatsuki’s heart.
She held her breath and activated Shadow Lurk again. The shadow double
appeared immediately, and she used it as camouflage to leap out of the way of
a triple thrust from the demon sword.
Evading the large pellets of ice that accompanied the thrusts, Akatsuki sped
up even further, dancing over the murderer’s sword.
The Mystery she’d acquired was the same as that demon sword.
A skill that operated on external logic that went beyond Elder Tales.
The power Akatsuki had wished for was the same as that blizzard-crazed
demon. The young innocence that had longed for it seemed terribly
embarrassing to her now.
A green pulse dwelled in Akatsuki’s chest, and a cloud of powdery golden
scales surrounded her.
There was power in the gauntlets on both her hands, and the black clothes
she wore protected her.
More than that, the hands that had been waved so hard they’d seemed in
danger of coming off… The words that had been spoken to her. These small
affirmations warmed Akatsuki.
Mysteries—or Overskills, as some called them—were a state beyond the
changes of the Catastrophe, reached through individual effort after
understanding the system in Elder Tales. They were insignificant tricks, and they
were also the result of training. In the end, although Riezé had instructed her in
the eight Mysteries D.D.D. had grasped, Akatsuki hadn’t been able to learn a
single one. Just as, for example, Nyanta’s cooking was a combination of
Nyanta’s Chef subclass and his own, real skills, every Mystery required
awareness and study on the part of the person in question in order to be
complete.
They weren’t something you could learn how to use simply by having
someone explain them to you.
They weren’t the sort of thing you could acquire in an instant, the way you
could level up if the game system granted permission.
You didn’t try to acquire Mysteries. You simply worried endlessly and trained,
and the Mysteries lay beyond that.
“The real lesson is that you can say the Mysteries don’t mean much,” Nazuna
had said. Those words had engraved themselves into Akatsuki. These weren’t
powers that existed so you could boast about being a high-class Adventurer.
They were more important: fragments of the “something” Akatsuki had
brushed against that day.
In order to demonstrate this, Akatsuki ran. To vanquish her own naïveté,
which had wished for power, she slid her short sword from its sheath. Even if it
tore her apart, she had to shatter that demon sword.
The true form of Akatsuki’s Mystery, Shadow Lurk, was her Tracker subclass’s
Hide Shadow. It was a special movement method that she shouldn’t have been
able to activate during combat, but which she’d forcibly activated in this real,
post-Catastrophe world, using it in combination with Road Mirage and Trick
Step to create doubles. It was a set of wings Akatsuki had made for herself,
wings that were hers alone.
With a sharp report, the swords bit into each other.
Even with all those support spells, even with all this assistance, the
murderer’s power still far outstripped Akatsuki’s. Even as she was showered by
long breaths crazed with the scent of blood, as their swords locked and pushed
at each other, the murderer leaned on Akatsuki, overpowering her.
I have to get some distance and drop out for one attack.
 Having reconfirmed the strategy, in order to evade the lean man in front of
her, Akatsuki released Stealth Blade in pinpoint mode. She’d shown the
murderer this skill many times; he’d dodge with the left half of his body, and
she’d use that opportunity to get some distance… Or that was what should have
happened. But.
“Like this? Huh, like this?”
The murderer had let her pierce his side without defending, and he smiled
with an expression of intolerable delight. The demon had lost HP in order to
close the gap, and hellishly cold air was seeping from him. In a mere moment,
the blizzard solidified, becoming ice, and the murderer froze his own wound,
and Akatsuki’s sword along with it.
Having lost her only weapon, Akatsuki took a hard blow from the arm the
man swung at her.

“I’m okay.”
Akatsuki got up.
The momentary carelessness had pushed her HP to death’s door. She didn’t
even have 5 percent left… But she was still alive.
Marielle had come running up to her, but even her recovery magic had little
effect. Her MP was very low.
“I’m sorry. Really… I’m sorry.”
Marielle’s strained voice hurt Akatsuki’s heart. Marielle hadn’t done a single
thing wrong. Even though this was her first raid, just because she’d been put on
a team with Akatsuki, she’d had the role of main healer pushed onto her; that
was all. Akatsuki wanted to comfort Marielle, but she couldn’t think of the right
thing to say… And so she repeated herself, putting all the feeling she had into
the words:
 “I’m okay.”
The words were a bluff, but that wasn’t all they were. They were based in her
sincere wish to reassure someone she liked. She wasn’t putting on a bold front;
Akatsuki had wanted to express her gratitude to Marielle. There was no way
even to confirm whether that short exchange had gotten the message across.
As Akatsuki broke into a run, as if to shake free of the exchange, someone flung
a short, spinning, sticklike object at her.
“Great timing. Take that with you.”
A twenty-fifth girl, who’d poked her head out of her workshop, pushed her
goggles up as she spoke to Akatsuki.
The sheath was still warm when she caught it. In Akatsuki’s hands, which
were growing numb with cold in the blizzard, heat surged from the blade, as
though it had just been born.
“…Ringing Blade Haganemushi.”
“Nope. Haganemushi—Tatara. Reforged.”
When she looked closer, the length was different. So was the grip. It was
designed for Akatsuki. More than that, the flavor text shown in the item
appraisal was different.
“I can’t…pay this much—”
“Win.”
Tatara, the Amenoma Swordsmith, spoke over Akatsuki, who looked as if she
was about to cry. It wasn’t the merchant’s usual absent, sleepy voice. It had a
strong ring to it.
“Defeat that thing with my sword.”
She pointed: Kawara of the West Wind Brigade, who’d been acting as a
guerrilla, was fighting.
Even as a mad dance of snow and ice sliced her up, even as she was smeared
with bright blood, she yelled bravely, fighting courageously. The murderer’s
primary target was Akatsuki. Even now, his eyes were turned toward her.
However, in order to protect the fallen Akatsuki from the murderer, the girl was
making fine use of her Monk skills.
“Akatsuki. You’re all set, hon.”
Marielle, who’d continued casting recovery spells on Akatsuki, nodded. It was
time.
No words were necessary now.
Like an arrow shot from a bow, Akatsuki ran across the earth in a straight line.
She sent her Shadow Lurk doubles flying for one attack. She switched her grip
on her new short sword and swung it: Accel Fang. The murderer went on the
defensive with Hail Blade Byakumaru, and the sword locked with Haganemushi
Tatara. Under a storm of iron, in which the blades grated against each other
with a tearing sound, Akatsuki blurred and vanished.
Appearing behind the murderer’s back, she launched a Venom Strike at his
head. The man deflected the poison-laced strike with the side of his head, then
forced his body in and swung his certain-kill blade at Akatsuki, who was still in
midair.
That attack could only have inflicted a fatal wound, but Akatsuki evaded it
easily, as if she had a foothold. Help had arrived.
“That weak endgame of yours is just like Shiroe’s.”
Nazuna had leapt in like a bullet.
Half-turning her body in a splendid motion that made it impossible to believe
she was still wearing tall wooden clogs, she leapt into the air. She curled up,
kicked the murderer’s blade up, then got some distance and began running
parallel to Akatsuki. Possibly because she’d felt eyes on her glamorous body,
her expression twisted, but there was no carelessness in her gaze.
“Okay. If you’re Shiroe’s junior, you’re pretty much my junior, too. I’ll pitch in
and help so Soujirou won’t worry.”
Akatsuki nodded.
The demon was chasing them down the central avenue with the force of a
tank, and when they turned, they were in a gap between buildings where the
bricks on either side seemed to press in on them. The blizzard was compressed
by the narrow space. As they scattered it with Nazuna’s barrier spell, Akatsuki
and the fox-eared beauty sprinted away.
“What’s the matter?”
At the words, which were so gentle it was hard to believe they were being
chased by a monster, Akatsuki looked up at Nazuna. She wore a smile that was
mischievous, and also kind. “Well, you’re crying,” she told her, and Akatsuki
wiped the outer corners of her eyes. She couldn’t say it was nothing. She was
happy.
Even though she’d been so close to death, even though she was still being
chased by a terrible enemy, Akatsuki no longer felt the terror of losing
something. Right now, surrounded by a crowd of friends, she was fighting her
first raid. For the first time in her life, she felt the warmth of comrades she
could stand with as equals.
Akiba’s night was a battlefield now.
It was a stage for Akatsuki, Raynesia, and the other Water Maple girls.
It was also stirring enough to renew her longing for Shiroe. Of course Akatsuki
had loved the gentle, intelligent young man she’d chosen as her liege before,
but she was confident that her feelings for him were even stronger now.
Preparing a place for someone else to belong was a noble thing. Making a place
where someone could spend their days happily was very difficult. And
Akatsuki’s liege, who’d known both the difficulty and the importance of it, was
someone worthy of her affections.
“Engage!”
At that scream, Nazuna and Akatsuki leapt up at the same time. From the
front of the narrow passage, countless arrows cloaked in electricity pierced the
murderer. Coming from an Assassin who specialized in sniping, this Assassinate
attack seemed to have inflicted damage on a completely different scale from
Akatsuki’s, whose style focused on attacking from the shadows and on the
number of attacks.
Pulling away from their pursuer, who was bellowing as if he’d gone mad,
Nazuna and Akatsuki ran through the air. Under their feet floated several thin,
pale blue slabs fifteen centimeters square. This was Nazuna’s Mystery, Celestial
Passage.
It was a skill that set the basic Kannagi spell, Purification Barrier, in open
space. The Damage Interception spell barrier was deployed as Nazuna dictated.
These paperback-sized force fields, which would have had a difficult time
stopping even the smallest attack, were a spell meant for defense and recovery
that had been converted for use in movement. They were, literally, “footholds”
generated in empty space.
They reached Akiba’s central plaza, practically tumbling into it. It would have
been safe to call this place—Akiba Station and its elevated lines, surrounded by
elevated walkways and several enormous buildings—the heart of Akiba. Having
reached the space, Akatsuki turned around in front of a jet-black building,
waiting for the murderer.
The deep breath of frigid winter air she’d drawn in burned her chest. It hurt
her lungs, but the cold air cooled Akatsuki’s head and cleared her mind.
Possibly because he’d realized Akatsuki had stopped, the murderer advanced
into the plaza slowly, his gleaming metallic armor clanking. Akatsuki’s HP was
down to 20 percent. The murderer’s was also close to that HP. The absolute
value was about a hundred times greater than Akatsuki’s, but Akatsuki leveled
her new favorite sword, preparing to engage the enemy.
She held it pointed at his face, a position she’d repeated several thousand
times, or maybe several tens of thousands of times, since the Catastrophe.
“So you’re not running anymore?”
At that question, delivered with a rictal smile, Akatsuki nodded.
“Then go ahead and—” As if to shake off the rest of the sentence—die—the
murderer closed in, bringing down Hail Blade Byakumaru, made enormous with
ice and the freezing blizzard. When they hung in Amenoma, the two weapons
had seemed to be about the same size, but now they looked as different as a
twig and a huge tree.
However, as he raised Byakumaru high, a gigantic mass attacked it from far up
in the sky, like a waterfall.
 In Akatsuki’s mind, she could see her friends, surrounding this plaza. Her
enemy detection ability sensed a wide range of people, and it told her about
them. If they got within fifty meters of the murderer, they’d instantly reverse all
the work they’d done to get here. Fifty meters was wider than the range of all
magic attack spells and recovery spells. In other words, her friends outside that
range couldn’t take part in the combat.
That had been a blind spot.
More than fifteen stories above the ground, just a little more than fifty
meters in altitude…
At the very edge of the range Akatsuki could detect, there was Riezé, using
Kyouko’s hold as a lifeline. Freezing Liner was a Sorcerer’s wide-range attack
spell designed to sweep enemies away with a stream of ice-studded water.
When used in dungeons or fields, the spell’s firing range wasn’t even twenty
meters, but it had been sent down in free fall from the top of a huge building to
strike the murderer.
The attack devoured the phenomenal cold air the murderer radiated. It used
that frigid temperature as fuel, and the instant it showered over the murderer,
he began to freeze.
“Wha—!!”
The murderer twisted his body, trying to run. However, his legs from the
knees down and the huge gauntlets that held the sword were already being
encased in a pillar of ice. The fact that he’d raised his sword to slash through
the girl in front of him also worked against him: Byakumaru was pointing
straight into the deluge of cold water that fell from the sky.
The damage itself wasn’t all that great. He probably hadn’t even lost 1
percent of his maximum HP. However, when he was trapped by this much ice, it
was hard to avoid having his movements restricted. Not liking this, the
murderer tried to teleport, then found himself aghast.
There was no way he could know it, but Raynesia, who’d returned from the
basement of the guild center, was staring fixedly at the scene.
His remaining HP was irrelevant.
 They’d led the murderer this far in order to whittle down his combat abilities,
see the cards he held, and make him fall to arrogance.
The curly-haired strategist’s tactics had used the murderer’s abilities against
him, rendering him unable to move. With light steps, Akatsuki approached him.
The first attack was a straightforward Deadly Dance. It was launched from a
low stance, as if scooping up, and was a special skill meant for close combat. It
wasn’t that powerful, but the recast time was incredibly short: just one second.
And, if you struck home with it several times in a row, it got stronger and
stronger.
The serial attacks struck at Byakumaru, which jutted out of the coffin of ice as
though to reshape it.
To begin with, Ringing Blade Haganemushi had been a high-performance
transferable raid weapon with a special ability that reduced the durability of
any weapon it struck. It was a short sword with advanced capabilities and a
weapon destruction ability that displayed its effect in hand-to-hand combat.
Haganemushi Tatara was a reforged version of Ringing Blade Haganemushi. Its
abilities weren’t fantasy-class, but even so, it was beyond comparison with
Akatsuki’s previous weapon. However, what had encouraged her wasn’t the
attack power.
Something more ephemeral, something smaller and more important, was
protecting Akatsuki.
Tatara, Swordsmith of Amenoma, retempers this just for its taciturn,
unsociable bearer. Let that too-serious girl move forward without breaking or
warping. Let it repel wicked curses and the miseries of the world. Let the person
support the blade, and the blade the person.
The flavor text written in the history, those “meaningless” words, protected
and warmed Akatsuki.
The meaning in them, and the feelings; the history, the lineage, the legends:
There wasn’t a single meaningless thing about them.
They were inside the person who read them, important from the start. They
were irreplaceable things. And precisely because they were so, a tragedy had
happened to the murderer, and Akatsuki had been saved.
The clash of crossed swords echoed powerfully in the ultramarine dawn.
With the single-mindedness of a swallow that had found a place to return to,
she dealt out more than twenty intensely focused attacks.
Even in the dawn, before the sun was visible, Akatsuki and her friends no
longer doubted their victory.
Mikakage, who came running up. Azukiko, and Henrietta, and Marielle. Riezé,
whose nose was red at the tip, possibly because she’d bumped it on something.
Raynesia, who was clinging to Kyouko, who carried her. They gathered around
the shattered cursed sword, which had been broken in front of them, and the
crumpled murderer, catching their breath.
There were no victory cheers. Instead, a relieved murmur spread, and the
girls looked at each other, smiling bashful smiles. Everyone had complained and
leaned on their friends during this difficult fight. Many girls had made a sorry
display of themselves.
Even so, this had been the Water Maple girls’ first real battle.
Their small, modest subjugation unit had completed its mission.
Their victory was the bell that announced the beginning of the Second
Catastrophe in Akiba, but more than that, it was a new blessing as they took a
step toward the future.
The girls should have been tired, but—in an epilogue only Elissa knew—they
occupied Raynesia’s guest rooms and office and partied in their pajamas late
into the afternoon.
<Log Horizon, Volume 6: Lost Child of the Dawn—The End>
 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, F​ ta.
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 F​ ta 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 “F​ ta” out there, F​ ta 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 F​ ta, all women love meat. Come to think of it, Sister Touno seems a bit
like that, too.
One day, F​ ta 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 F​ ta 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/
 Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Yen On.

To get news about the latest manga, graphic novels, and light novels from Yen
Press, along with special offers and exclusive content, sign up for the Yen Press
newsletter.

Sign Up
Or visit us at www.yenpress.com/booklink