by Mamare Touno
Raynesia suddenly became aware of another reason for the strangeness she felt:
Even with this many knights in one place, she didn’t see any servants or squires. Misa Takayama had explained to her that the unit was composed of the extreme elite, and in a unit like that, she thought the weak might only get in the way. Still, what could it mean to have so very many knights and not a single servant?
The Adventurers do seem to be free of the class system as well, but…
She understood that they were free, but when it showed up as reality, in their actions, Raynesia was taken aback by how unexpected it was, every single time.
“Right. Understood. Keep that up.”
Beyond the rocky riverbed, in an open space where the stream meandered and formed a deep pool, Krusty was bathing. He’d stripped off all armor above his waist and was toweling his sweat away.
Even as he did this, he kept muttering; he was probably using the Adventurers’ unique long-range communications spell to talk to someone. However, when he saw Misa Takayama and Raynesia’s group, he turned back slightly.
Without rushing at all, Krusty wiped down his hard body with a tightly wrung-out cloth. Misa Takayama—who must have been used to Krusty’s relaxed composure, or, perhaps it was best to simply call it “calm”—went up to him, report in hand, and began to deliver it orally, speaking rapidly.
Krusty listened, keeping his back turned to her.
He has quite an impressive build, doesn’t he…
When he’d been at the Ancient Court, dressed in elegant clothes, she hadn’t noticed it all that much. However, when she looked at his naked back like this, his body exuded an aura of overwhelming physical strength. There was a certain wild, animalistic beauty about his heavily muscled back, and in spite of herself, Raynesia stared.
What in the world am I looking at?
Raynesia shook her head, feeling daunted.
Being with Krusty always, always, threw her off.
She missed her peaceful room in Maihama. Raynesia really was a hermit, and the life she preferred was an idle, vegetative existence of eating and sleeping. Her greatest interest was basking in the sun, to the point that she was looking forward to getting old, and quickly, so that she could enjoy the life of a retiree to the fullest.
Raynesia thought that if her recent actions earned her criticism for treachery or corruption of her principles and position, there would really be no arguing with it.
“Understood. In that case, starting with the next location, we’ll increase our peripheral monitoring system…”
By the time Misa Takayama’s report ended, Krusty had also finished changing. His armor was the same as ever, but he seemed to have changed what he wore under it. His perfectly composed expression was no different from the one he’d shown at the Ancient Court of Eternal Ice, to the point that it actually annoyed her.
“What do you think of the battlefield?” Krusty asked, when he’d come up to her.
The difference in their heights meant that Raynesia was compelled to look up at him from below, and it made her feel disagreeable and dissatisfied. The way he was now, she couldn’t find a trace of either the innocent, delighted expression he’d worn in the heat of battle, or its shadow side, that fading fragility.
All that stood before her was a mind-reading menace who was so polite and unconcerned that it made her wonder whether the other things had been an illusion.
“Were you frightened?”
Raynesia, lost in thought, had been late in answering, and Krusty had spoken in a tone of teasing jest.
“Not in the least. I was sure you would protect me, Master Krusty.”
If Krusty was going to wear his palace mask, she was prepared to do the same. In any case, when it came to aristocratic turns of phrase, Raynesia’s career was far, far longer than his.
“—You seem to have grown quite popular,” Krusty added.
When Raynesia turned back, the group of Adventurers who were watching the two of them from a distance froze. The situation was incredibly awkward for Raynesia as well, so she gave them a smile and a little wave, and most of the Adventurers broke into smiles and went back to their duties.
“I don’t believe that signifies in the slightest, Master Krusty.”
Raynesia turned back to Krusty, loading her words with irritation at the fact that he’d changed the subject. Besides, since he always took this attitude, Raynesia was never sure whether she should use palace manners or Adventurer manners.
“And in any case—”
Just as Raynesia was about to take a step forward and hit him with a few more choice phrases, a howl echoed across the valley. The sound rang out from the eastern ridge, and although she could tell it was clearly far away, a cold wind blew into Raynesia’s heart.
“What was that…?”
“A Dire Wolf. Must be quite a large one. From the sound of its voice, I’d say it’s the Huge variety.”
“…Is it…the Goblin King?”
“The Goblin King isn’t on this battlefield. He isn’t likely to leave Seventh Fall. This is the Goblin General’s personal guard unit.”
“His personal guard…”
Involuntarily, Raynesia clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest. She’d seen how bravely Krusty and the others had fought the night before, and she believed in their strength. However, Raynesia herself knew nothing about combat, and that made it scary. …Not to mention the fragility she sensed in Krusty, as if he might melt away, into the battle.
She wasn’t sure whether she should ask him to be careful or urge him on.
As Raynesia hesitated, wondering what she should say to him, the Dire Wolf’s ferocious howl drifted down to them again. On hearing that voice, Krusty’s lips twisted. Completely unaware of Raynesia’s feelings, he broke into a cruel smile and murmured:
“I do believe we will leave cleaning out their nest for later. Shall we not begin by offering these Zantleaf trash as a blood sacrifice?”
3
Choushi’s long central avenue made a perfect landing strip for the griffin. Using lift, the magical beast coasted in without moving its wings at all. On its back, Shiroe lightly touched Akatsuki’s head and whispered: “Keep people clear of the area. You mustn’t let anyone near, players or monsters.”
Akatsuki nodded without saying a word.
Paying no heed to the fact that their ground speed was faster than a horse at full gallop, the two of them leapt down from the griffin, then parted ways. With movements that barely betrayed the influence of gravity, Akatsuki sprinted forward, darting like a swallow, and disappeared beyond the roofs of the stone edifices.
After confirming this, Shiroe ran toward Touya, who was waving at him.
Minori’s group of four was gathered there, desperation clear in their expressions. According to a telechat he’d received earlier, although the Ocypete had arrived, resistance from the sahuagins was preventing them from going ashore. Naotsugu’s group had relieved Minori’s party and was fielding the goblins.
Well, that’s more convenient for us, anyway.
He didn’t know whether the “magic” he was about to attempt would succeed or not. It was based in theory, and Shiroe had carried out previous repeated experiments, but it was still a gamble. …Even if it succeeded, considering what would follow, the fewer witnesses there were, the better.
The place might have been a shop, or maybe a tavern.
A young man lay in the shadows, under the wide eaves that opened onto the central avenue. The tear-stained girl who made no move to leave his side, a girl with charming freckles, was probably Isuzu.
They were surrounded by faces Shiroe knew well: Touya, who looked as if he was gritting his teeth against pain; Serara, her face worried; Minori, who seemed to be holding a sense of purpose locked away inside her.
Shiroe calmed his mind.
The temperature of the surrounding air was still high, but the inside of his head was as quiet as the sky on a winter’s night.
“Minori, invite me to your party.”
“Yes, sir.”
Minori nodded, wasting no time on questions. Neither she nor Akatsuki did at times like this, and he was grateful for it. He examined the young man who was assumedly Rundelhaus. He certainly did have an air of refined nobility about him. His body was warm and he had a pulse, but as expected, he was unconscious. On the party menu, his “Dead” status blinked.
“Miss Isuzu, wasn’t it? Keep singing Nocturne of Meditation, just like that. I’m about to cast a new spell. Don’t speak of it to anyone.”
Shiroe spoke to the new players in a tone that was almost harsh.
“If you can’t agree to that, then either give up or leave this place.”
None of the assembled players flinched at Shiroe’s words. They all nodded.
“All right. Then I’ll begin.”
Shiroe selected a special magic skill from the icon. He was going to use Mana Channeling. It was a spell unique to Enchanters, and no one really seemed to know what to use it on.
It absorbed the MP of all members of a party, averaged it, and sent it back.
Right… Yang energy is the vehicle of the spirit, whose vehicle in turn is magic. In that case…
As the chant rang out, the MP was drawn out of every member of the party, collecting in Shiroe. Shiroe’s level was far and away the highest in the group.
To Minori and the others, who hadn’t yet reached level 30, the pull of the spell he was chanting must have felt like tremendous pressure.
Minori and Touya, and even Serara, grew paler and paler. Their MP was being siphoned away. Minori and the others seemed to be struggling to endure a sense of loss, like sudden dizziness. Only Isuzu continued to hold Rundelhaus’s hand tightly, softly singing a mournful old folk ballad, although her face was pallid as well.
With his eyes half closed, Shiroe experienced the effect of the magic.
Right now, he was holding nearly all the MP that had been collected from the other members of his party. Although it was no more than a faint aura, Shiroe could feel the lingering fragrance of the others’ spirits inside him. Touya’s single-mindedness; the aura of Minori’s earnest, serious magic… These were being deployed on the field of magic Shiroe controlled.
No doubt he held MP from Serara, from Isuzu, and from Rundelhaus himself as well.
The various MP, with their subtly different flavors, were blended into primordial “spirit energy.” In accordance with Shiroe’s guidance, magical circuits took shape and formed connections with his companions.
Shiroe divided the MP equally, then redistributed it.
Ghk.
The sudden outrush of MP filled Shiroe with a feeling like anemia.
His MP was greater than that of anyone else in the party. Enchanters were magic users to begin with, and they boasted one of the highest MP volumes in all the classes. On top of that, Shiroe was level 90. Joining a party of Adventurers with levels in the low 30s and redistributing MP was the same as using Shiroe to recover the others’ MP at a stroke.
“Minori, use resurrection. Serara, cast back-to-back healing spells.”
Everything until now had been the prelude. Shiroe kept issuing orders. They didn’t have much time. They would probably have only one chance, just one word.
Rundelhaus was a Person of the Earth.
Because he wasn’t an Adventurer, he wouldn’t come back from the dead.
And Rundelhaus had died.
That meant he would not resurrect.
This was an absolute. There was no way to overrule it.
However, due to the Enchanter’s mana redistribution spell, all members’ MP had been recovered… In other words, their spirits and yang energy had been energized.
The mind’s failure to return was a phenomenon that occurred because the circuits between yang and yin energy were broken. Technically, Rundelhaus was a vegetable. In that case, all they had to do was force those connections open again.
Shiroe took the second measure out of his bag.
“From this point on, we’re racing against time.”
While the echo of his words still hung in the air, he cast Revenant Incense.
It was a medicine that granted temporary life to fallen companions or creatures, bringing them back as special monsters: zombies to be used in battle. Its power was restoration, not resurrection. The effect was short, and after three minutes, certain death would follow. For Adventurers, it meant a mandatory trip back to the temple.
However, for Rundelhaus, whose only option under the circumstances was to let his yin energy disperse, the item held another possibility.
Either way, his body would be destroyed, along with the spirit and yang energy that clung to it.
Revenant Incense was a way to forcibly connect Rundelhaus’s recharged yang energy to his body. In exchange for unavoidable death in three minutes’ time, for three minutes only…Rundelhaus would be pulled back to this world.
A false restoration…with a time limit. She must have known that.
As fat tears rolled down Isuzu’s face, her hand tightened on the NPC’s.
“Oh…”
Rundelhaus’s eyes opened, very slightly, as if he were having a dream.
Isuzu cried, holding his hand. There was no telling whether Rundelhaus was conscious or not. He’d opened his eyes, but it might have been no more than a physical, conditioned reflex.
“Rudy…?”
“Mademoiselle Isuzu… Oh. My friends. I see… I suppose…I must have died.”
Even after death, the connection that linked yin and yang energy was merely severed, and the mind remained. For Adventurers, the game screen went monochrome, and they watched their companions fighting. They didn’t know what happened for People of the Earth, but Rundelhaus seemed to understand the current situation.
He gave a tiny laugh, then spoke to them in a voice that still held no strength:
“No, no, stop… Don’t look like that. What could be more natural than to lay down one’s life in battle?”
“—Natu…ral…”
At Touya’s words, Shiroe felt a sharp pang in his chest.
A death this tremendously heavy, something that wouldn’t even be a plausible joke in the game—this was “only natural” for People of the Earth.
“Even so, I wanted to become an Adventurer. I do hope you won’t blame Mademoiselle Isuzu. It was I who begged her to allow it.”
“No, I knew, too! I’d noticed, but I didn’t do anything!”
A cry that was nearly a shriek escaped Minori. At her words, everyone abruptly understood: Even Minori, who had been conducting herself calmly until now, had privately been badly rattled.
“Ha-ha-ha! Yes, Mademoiselle Minori. Thank you. …It’s nothing to worry about.”
“No, I’m worried about it,” Shiroe broke in.
There was no time.
Shiroe thought about the magnitude of the terror of the thing he was about to attempt. It might be an enormous mistake. It was an act that could threaten the order of the world.
Even if it succeeded, there was no telling what effect the aftermath of this incident would have on the world.
In addition, he had no way to predict how the world would take this proposal.
Still, the young man in front of him who’d said his good-byes so philosophically had called himself an Adventurer.
That was no player’s nickname. It was the name of Shiroe’s companions, those who traveled this world and discovered sunrises no one had ever seen before.
If he called himself by that name, then he was a descendent of the tribe She had entrusted to him.
“No, I’m worried about it, Rundelhaus Code. I can’t have someone who gives up over a thing like this calling himself an Adventurer. It’s nowhere near enough. …What did you learn in order to end in a backwater alley like this? What did you find in that dungeon? Not strategy or tactics. Wasn’t it the determination to survive, and an unyielding spirit that would use any
means available to do it?”
“Mister Shiroe…”
“Your determination is nowhere near enough, Rundelhaus.”
“What am I supposed to do, then?! Tell me that!!”
Rundelhaus’s eyes were brimming with frustration and chagrin. Even as he said there was no help for it, his heart wasn’t entirely able to accept that, and was growing misty, was beginning to run.
And, for that very reason, Shiroe made up his mind to use the spell.
“Listen to me.”
Shiroe took out a messily written document, something he’d drawn up on the back of the griffin, and thrust it out at Rundelhaus.
“That’s…”
“It’s…a contract?”
The paper Shiroe had taken from his bag was unmistakably a contract. It was written on Fairy King Paper, which was created from the best materials Shiroe could use, and penned with Aurora’s Gaze Ink: a handmade item, the only one of its kind in the world.
“Contract— Shiroe, representative of Log Horizon, concludes the following contract with Rundelhaus Code. One: At the date and time on which Rundelhaus Code signs this document, Shiroe will accept him into the guild Log Horizon. Two: As a member of the guild Log Horizon, Rundelhaus Code will attend to his duties in a manner that befits his status and those duties. Three: Log Horizon will, based on mutual consultation and to the greatest extent possible, provide Rundelhaus with the support necessary to the successful completion of his duties. —This includes the identity of ‘Adventurer.’ Four: This contract is concluded through the agreement of both parties in a spirit of mutual respect, and, even in the event that the contract is rendered invalid, anything acquired by either party during the period of the contract will remain theirs. In conclusion, as proof of the establishment of this contract, two copies will be drawn up and signed by both parties, with one copy to be kept by each.”
He heard a gasp.
“An Adventurer—?”
“But Shiroe, that’s… That’s…!”
The development of spells that had not existed in the Elder Tales game.