by Mamare Touno
These were exceptional abilities, given to him as a dramatic background because he was a raid quest boss.
These three abilities were Lugurius’s secret, and the factors that made this battle hopelessly difficult. In Akiba, which overflowed with people, a gimmick that had made for a mere warm-up as level-90 raid content became the worst possible ability.
In particular, the combination with the mobile armor’s teleportation ability was lethal.
Lugurius could run at any time, and he could aim for a place and time when there were lots of people in Akiba. So far, the murderer had chosen to attack the town only at night, but that might not last forever. It might be because the combat time in the original quest had been night, or it might be the murderer’s own preference. It could even be coincidence.
Riezé could think of another “worst.”
It was the inability to declare the murderer who had Lugurius’s abilities as an enemy NPC. According to eyewitness testimony, the murderer was a Samurai named Enbart Nelles. In that case, he was cursed, and at the same time, he had a human mind. In other words, he had the ability to learn.
Raid quests were game content. True, they were designed to be hard enough that you’d get wiped out several times, but that was only because the administrators had made them that way, in order to let you enjoy the sense of achievement when you eventually did conquer them. Riezé knew this precisely because she belonged to the biggest raid guild on the Yamato server. There had been an invisible trust relationship, rather like the one shared by good rivals, between players who enjoyed harsh raid content and the administrators.
However, this was no longer the Elder Tales game, and Riezé and the others weren’t game characters. There was a possibility that this raid hadn’t been designed in such a way that they’d be able to conquer it eventually. On the contrary, the possibility that it hadn’t was much greater.
And wouldn’t that possibility continue to grow? Once Riezé and the others fought him once, the murderer would know their strategy. It was possible for him to attack Akiba in ways that were craftier and more lethal. The teleportation ability and Lugurius’s resentment went together far too well. The only thing Riezé could imagine beyond that union was hell.
Of course she’d thought of countermeasures. Riezé had a shot at success.
However, even so, there was no proof.
After the Catastrophe, this world had lost the reliability of a game, and there was no guarantee whatsoever that any plan would succeed. The realization made Riezé shiver. Just having put something obvious into words, inside her mind, made her feel as if an ice-demon had suddenly seized her spine. Riezé shuddered with chills that wouldn’t stop.
Neither the title of operation commander nor the pride of being training unit captain did her any good.
On the contrary: They only made her terror all the greater. With those titles, Riezé could make mistakes that would take others’ lives along with her.
Her knees had gone oddly weak. She scolded them and kept moving.
It was a terrible thing. Riezé finally knew the terror that came with the responsibility of involving other people in her decisions. She thought of the silver-haired princess, wondering if she’d known that terror since she was born. The thought that she’d dashed into the lords’ conference and ridden on a griffin with Krusty when she knew that terror gave Riezé a feeling that was close to awe.
That princess was really something.
…As was Krusty. And Shiroe. And the eleven guild masters. And Akatsuki.
What a terrifying thing it was to try to change matters, even though there was no guarantee of success.
She was ashamed of herself for having made fun of it, calling it a middle schooler’s journal. She’d just looked down on them from a place she’d assumed was safe and spouted her ever-so-valuable opinions.
Riezé was embarrassed by her own ugliness. However, for that very reason, she couldn’t turn back.
There were nine ways the strategy she’d prepared could end. She’d explained this to everyone as “taking the proper steps as the occasion demands,” but not having been able to narrow it down to one way was proof that she was an incompetent strategist.
Still, even so…it was better than losing.
“We’re here!”
The steel door—which Kyouko had opened by practically breaking it down—led to empty, moonlit space. What spread below them were broken concrete beams, evergreen treetops that half-covered their field of vision, and, far below them, Akiba’s station-front plaza.
This place, where the wind roared, was the fifteenth floor of the guild center, the obsidian fortress that was Akiba’s pride. It was the shattered top floor of a former high-rise building that seemed to have been smashed by a blow from a giant.
“Be careful, Riezé.”
The wind, which was freezing cold because it was perfectly clear, billowed Riezé’s mantle, trying to snatch it away. Instantly, Riezé stiffened, but Kyouko grabbed her belt firmly, and the two of them hid themselves in the shadow of a pillar.
Opening their telechat menus again, Riezé and Kyouko plunged into the midst of yet another battle.
4
In that same guild center, in a room somewhere underground, a different sort of battle was approaching its conclusion.
The combination of faded indigo wallpaper and dim, indirect lighting made the room feel like the ocean floor at night. Remembering the labyrinth she’d come through to reach this reception room, Raynesia gulped. This was not polite behavior for a princess, but endless timidity welled up inside her, and she couldn’t help it.
She’d met with all kinds of aristocrats before.
She’d always thought it was a pain in the neck, but she’d never felt this uneasy. For the first time, she realized what it was like to be swallowed up by a mood, rather than by the content of the conversation. It felt as if she was about to be engulfed in an eerie atmosphere completely unlike the awe she felt with her grandfather Sergiad or with Krusty-the-menace.
She concentrated on relaxing the hands that were clutching a handkerchief in her lap.
If she wasn’t careful, it felt as if she might cling to even that thin cloth.
A warm hand gently touched her shoulder. It was Henrietta, one of Akiba’s most accomplished ladies. At the reassuring touch, Raynesia almost turned around involuntarily and thanked her, but through sheer willpower, she forced herself to refrain.
Right now, she had to prioritize her conversation with Kinjo, the man sitting on the sofa opposite hers.
The young leader of the Kunie clan was smiling the faintest possible smile. He seemed so at ease, it was tempting to believe that the meek expression with which he’d apologized to her at Water Maple Manor had been just her imagination.
It wasn’t fearless. It wasn’t taunting, either.
Raynesia was convinced that this was this man’s natural expression. He might have been pretending to be demure during their previous meeting. Elissa was always pointing the same thing out to Raynesia, and Raynesia didn’t feel like calling him on it, but even so, she braced herself again.
“You’re certain you want us to interrupt the magic channels from the magic circle?”
“Yes,” Raynesia answered.
They’d been repeating this exchange ever since she arrived at this subterranean mansion, the Kunie clan’s headquarters in Akiba. Kinjo had already accepted her request and given his agreement. His black-coated Kunie attendants had gone to initiate the interruption.
This question was probably the final confirmation.
“If we stop the supply of magic, the magic circle that serves as the city’s defense will also lose its abilities. It will take decades to bring it back into operation.”
His gaze was questioning. Raynesia nodded firmly.
“Yes. I understand.”
“The guard system that protects Akiba will stop.”
“Yes, it will.”
“The city will be defenseless.”
“Yes.”
Raynesia answered without hesitation.
Was she uncertain? —Absolutely.
Of course she was. Even in this moment, when she was feigning calm, she was very close to bursting into tears from regret and fear.
Why me? she thought.
And also: Why is this happening?
If she could have run, she would have, no matter what apologies she had to make.
That was obvious. Only natural.
But she’d made up her mind. She’d resolved to make this request.
When she thought back now, she understood what Kinjo had done to her that day.
This young man had come to leave the decision in her hands. He’d set the whole burden down at Raynesia’s feet and gone home… Probably wearing this same faint smile. No doubt it had been premeditated.
Coward, Raynesia thought. Don’t toy with me. This failure had been caused by the Kunie clan. Why shouldn’t they make the decision and bear the responsibility? She thought that the Kunie clan, and no one else, should resolve the incident immediately and pay for the damages.
If no such convenient resolution method existed, as the person in charge, Kinjo could at least have stopped the magic circle on his own. Then, if the citizens of Akiba saw it as a problem, they could throw rocks at him… That was what she thought.
However, come to think of it, that was exactly what Raynesia had been thinking of doing.
When Raynesia had learned of this incident, she’d thought of contacting her grandfather, Duke Sergiad. She’d also considered begging Krusty in tears. Wouldn’t that have been forcing all the responsibility for the decision onto them? She couldn’t say she’d never done anything like that. In fact, up until now, that was practically all she’d done.
Kinjo was exactly like Raynesia.
And the girl in black had flown off into the town.
At the time, Raynesia had thought:
Oh, how convenient.
Of course, if notable Adventurers got wind of this incident, there was danger of a serious confrontation between the People of the Earth and the Adventurers. As a daughter of the Cowen family, and as a noble of Yamato, she absolutely had to prevent that. However, on the other hand, when she hung her head in the usual way, the Adventurer girl had leapt into the incident on her own, and an inkling of a solution had conveniently appeared. Not only that, but she’d eavesdropped, and the situation had progressed without Raynesia having to make a decision.
It was true that, for a moment, she’d thought that way.
That was what had made her see it: The responsibility Kinjo had shifted onto Raynesia was the responsibility Raynesia had constantly shifted onto those around her, from the time she was born until now. The irritation she felt regarding the young man in front of her was the exact emotion Raynesia should have turned on herself.
Of course she’d discussed this issue with Riezé and Henrietta. Through them, the matter had been reported to the Round Table Council as well. However, Raynesia was the one who’d made the decision. She couldn’t just pass the responsibility Kinjo had foisted onto her on to the Round Table Council. The fact that she hadn’t liked having it done to her wasn’t the only reason.
No matter how you tried to gloss it over, Kinjo was a Person of the Earth, and so was Raynesia. They couldn’t very well just shift things onto the Adventurers, could they?
Adventurers and People of the Earth were different beings.
In blunt terms, People of the Earth were weaker than Adventurers. However, precisely because that was the case, there was a line they couldn’t yield. If they left everything to others, saying it was because they were weak, it would be admitting that they weren’t simply weaker but inferior as well. In that case, they’d never be able to join hands. They wouldn’t be able to be friends.
Elissa’s words rose again in her ears.
Dropping all pretenses, Raynesia glared at Kinjo.
“This incident wasn’t solely the Kunie clan’s mistake. The fault lies with all People of the Earth. We blundered in being unable to provide sufficient defense. We must admit that, clearly and plainly. As that is the case, I have decided that cutting off the supply of magic is the best policy we can implement at this time.”
“……”
“We must do what we can in order to apologize to the Adventurers. This time, that means stopping the magic circle.”
“It may cause a greater nuisance.”
On having this pointed out to her, Raynesia didn’t know what to say.
Of course. As an individual, she didn’t have the power to bear responsibility for all the consequences that might arise from this incident. Was there anyone or anything that could bear that responsibility? The responsibility for a decision that used a great number of irreplaceable human lives as the wager? Raynesia silently murmured the word gods. It was a cheerless, lonely word.
Still, nobles were people who bore unbearable responsibilities.
Even if it meant their crucifixion, nobles showed courage.
Raynesia had learned this from the grandfather she respected.
Just like faith in the gods, this teaching had no physical form, but inside Raynesia, it was a truth with a solid feel to it. Moving her head as though it needed oiling, Raynesia nodded a few times. It was an unbecoming gesture.
“There’s no need to worry.”
As if to encourage Raynesia, Henrietta spoke from behind her. She wore a cape over the uniform that marked her as a senior envoy of the Round Table Council, and she spoke in a clear voice.
“The Round Table is already aware of this incident. Please assume that you have our consent with regard to stopping the magic circle.”
“You have patrons in the Round Table Council, then.”
“They aren’t a patron. They are simply cooperating in efforts to bring the situation under control, as fellow residents of Akiba. I presume ‘fellow residents’ includes the Kunie clan as well. Am I mistaken?”
“Is that Lord Shiroe’s rhetoric?”
Henrietta’s voice stiffened. “No.”
Raynesia didn’t know what the exchange meant, but she glared at Kinjo the whole time, determined not to yield a single step.
“…Understood. No matter what the cause of this incident was, it’s true that the Kunie clan failed in its defense. We have left a blot on our proud, centuries-old history of defense and the administration of the magic circle. We were distracted by the natural disaster that has come from the continent, and we have consistently underestimated the threat of the West. The blame for these sins lies entirely with me.”
“…Master Kinjo?”
The young man in front of Raynesia spoke with his head bowed, but Raynesia wasn’t able to understand most of what he said. The words were enigmatic, and they gave her a premonition of something, but the greater part of it slipped through her fingers.
This man… The Kunie clan… They’re different from the People of the Earth somehow…
“It’s just as you say. I expect we must also do what it is in our power to do. Not rejection, but a new step. I apologize for testing you earlier. I will place us in your debt with regard to this matter, Lady Raynesia.”
When he raised his head, Kinjo wore a solemn expression. It was something Raynesia had never seen before. However, shifting into that enigmatic smile, he bluffed, “That said, I would like to repay that debt to someone else.”
Apparently Kinjo had tested her.
Raynesia finally came to that realization. That previous meeting had been a test Kinjo had set her. She understood this, although she didn’t know its objective or the results. That was a terribly troublesome thing. Even though she truly wasn’t suited to it, this Kinjo and the mind-reading menace and that white devil with glasses were all scheming to make her shoulder heavy burdens.
“It appears everything is ready.”
A young member of the clan whispered in Kinjo’s ear, and he informed Raynesia as well.
To answer him, for
the first time, Raynesia looked up at Henrietta, over her shoulder. Shaking her honey-colored hair, the intelligent woman with glasses wore a distinctive expression, as though she was gazing off into the distance. She murmured a few words in a small voice.
“In ten…five… Understood. In one minute.”
On seeing Henrietta—who’d probably just awakened from a telechat—nod, Raynesia spoke in a firm voice.
“All right. Then consider this my formal request: Please interrupt the magic supply circuits to the magic circle that defends Akiba.”
One minute later, a ripple like a small sigh from a giant spread through the town of Akiba.
The absolutely invincible guard system had shut down.
5
“Ten meters…five meters… Engage!”
A sweet voice echoed over the road.
Akatsuki dodged the gigantic stone figure that abruptly appeared as if she’d known it was coming. The golem, which looked like a locomotive made of gray granite, swung down a stout arm that was roughly the size of a car.
Apparently even the murderer didn’t decide he was able to take that attack: He evaded magnificently. Although the golem’s attack was penetrating and had a wide range, it wasn’t all that fast; dodging it was easy.
However, Akatsuki had included that in her calculations.
As the murderer evaded the golem’s attack, she aimed for his side: Fatal Ambush. This technique, which was crowned with the term “ambush,” had a long activation time, or “charge time.” It was hard to hit a fast opponent with this particular special attack skill. She activated the attack from his blind spot in a combination that used the golem as a screen.
Her reward for having struck home with a difficult attack came in the form of damage to the murderer.
The sword guard howled with rage, and Akatsuki twisted away, evading a blizzard. A slight evasion of a few dozen centimeters. It really wasn’t enough to dodge the blizzard range attack, and what covered for her, as expected, was the golem. Akatsuki lasted through the cold air by ducking into its giant shadow.