by Kasugamaru
Whoo, I’m excited! My stats are as prepared as humanly possible after that series of perfectly-executed mini-games. It’s all down to player skill now. Come on, my dear slave Kuroi, it’s life or death! And for this occasion, I’ve got my specially prepared VR headset... Which I’ll just toss to the side! Not using that. Veteran DDR players only use keyboard and mouse.
Snacks, drinks, manga, and light novels cover my desk, obviously. My monitor’s chroma and brightness levels are by default set to low so they’re gentler on the eyes. I’m totally ready for a marathon play session. Also, every in-game sound is muted, except for environment noises, which I have set to very loud. Considering what we’re going up against, this is all very important.
You see, this game’s pursuit of realism is inherently flawed. A war event takes upwards of half a day. Depending on the war situation, taking whole days can be an incredibly common occurrence. I’ve even heard tales of some events taking up to a week, half of which was just spent marching through mountains. That, like, belongs in a different game—or a different form of entertainment entirely. It’s basically just a travel simulator at that point. And of course, saving after logging out during the event is disabled. There was never a pause button, but now even force-closing the game causes your save data to be automatically wiped as the game plays that infamous chime.
But it’s DDR. That’s just how it is. The devs are clearly out for blood... the blood of our social lives, that is. In the commercials a famous voice actress idol proclaims with her perfect smile, “On this super realistic battlefield, even a moment’s hesitation can be your downfall!” But the tryhard levels since the beta make me think there was some darkness behind that smile. Some serious anger there.
But I’m a grizzled veteran. I have no openings! After all, tomorrow’s the start of a three-day weekend. Everything’s loaded, so it’s time for battle! Oh, shoot. Where’s my hand sweat towel? And, uh, my plastic bottle?
-Sorcerer Odysson I-
The attack was sudden. I ran and hid, but there’s nothing I can do now. What a pathetic end. Fitting for an excommunicated sorcerer, one might say.
The army of monsters that appeared—creatures that normally live deep in the forest like goblins, sherboa, mad apes, militant rabbits, poisonous rats—came bursting forth from the trees. Damn it all! The garrison is pathetic, too. In the end, they are simply cast-offs from the capital. Those bastards rush us. It is a bloodbath.
These beasts aren’t here to feed. It must be the work of magic. Maybe the yellow-eyes cast Fear, or the long-ears cast Madness. Either way, this is bad news. They kill everyone in their path. They even kill their fellow monsters. No mercy for their fellow species. Frightening stuff.
Death. Death. Death is everywhere. Everyone is dying. No buildings will be left after this. Even this grain storehouse, which was made specifically to house our tariffs, will be rubble by tomorrow.
“Hic... Hic...”
“Why is this happening?”
“Mommy, Daddy...”
“Don’t—Don’t cry! You have to be quiet...” There are a lot of women among the people in here. Oh God. This is going to be a tragic end. Might as well get closer to the armored door. That way, I’ll die faster. I won’t have to hear the children scream. And perhaps my body will stall the attackers long enough to save a life. Or, at least, extend their lives by a little.
Some footsteps bring me out of my thoughts. The footsteps of death.
“Yeek!”
“Mmph!” Come on. They’re still so young. See how they pitifully try to hold their breath, bravely stifle their screams, and cling to themselves and those around them desperately. Some try to keep their eyes open, while others shut them tightly, tears streaming down their cheeks. Their faces are stiff, their teeth grit.
From the other side of the wall comes low breathing. And then, oh dear, the sound of something slicing into the armored door.
“Ahhh! They’re eating away at the door!”
“Ahhhhhh! Noooooooo!”
“G-Get something to make a barrier—Guh?!” The door bursts open and a middle-aged man crumples to the ground. At the entrance, rays of afternoon sun haloing its back, stands a sherboa, a boar monster. Its pig snout snorts rapidly. It must have trampled on a poisonous rat, for under its hooves is a giant purple creature, bubbles of blood spewing from its corpse. A miasma of entrails and shit fills the air and makes my eyes burn.
Everyone is paralyzed as the cursed monster eyes us—appraises us. Drool drips from its lips. Damn it. I can sense its maddening bloodlust zeroing in on the women. You dare to gorge yourself on women in front of me, Odysson?
“Not on my watch, you piece of shit.” I bring forth flames—magical flames. Without any tools it is just a spark, really, but as long as it scares the creature off, what does it matter?
“Even death has an order to it. Use your damn brains.” I stand and block the way. Though imperfect, I’m a thirty-year-old adult man. I have to do at least this much. You might mock me and say it’s nothing, but still, I hold my ground. I want to run and cry so badly, but still, I stand my ground. God has long abandoned us, but the least I can do is give the kids some faith in an old man, God damn it!
“Bring it, you beast freak... Yeep!” Blood spatters—the sherboa’s blood. Squeals of anger and pain—these, too, are the sherboa’s.
What? What’s going on?
Before my eyes stands a raven-haired girl. In her hands there is a giant, three-pronged hoe. Burlap sacks are bound to her stomach and back, and the sherboa is under her feet. To be precise, she is stabbing it with her hoe. The sharp bits are biting into the ground.
Did she drop from a ceiling beam or something? Perhaps she had been lying in wait here, long before we barricaded ourselves inside the storehouse. And then, spotting the perfect chance, she dropped in for the kill. The heavy bags strapped to her must have been to increase her damage upon impact. A very prepared strike.
A loud cracking sound resonates. Using her entire body, the girl pulls the hoe down and breaks the sherboa’s neck. The handle breaks from the momentum and the girl pitches forward onto the ground, staining her clothes and face a muddy red. She quickly jumps up and looks at the beast. Her gaze is cool. I can sense no excitement in her.
The stillness is filled with death. The girl is the only one who can move. She looks around and picks up a big rock. Then she approaches the sherboa’s corpse, adjusts the angle of its jaw, and pounds the rock against it. Over and over, she hammers at it. She throws a few kicks, as well. Finally, she grabs it and twists, ripping the great tusk free.
-DDR Stream Part 3-
Sherboa’s giant tusk acquired! Whew, that worked out pretty well. It was worth staking out that door and waiting for it to open. My eyes were busy reading manga. This is a good sign, though. Usually when you lock yourself in the storehouse, it’s a poisonous rat or goblin that comes knocking. It’s really rare for a sherboa to show up instead. Although it’s more like a sherboa to come bursting through the wall.
And my reward for this battle is its giant tusk. As a first-strike bonus, it comes with a special effect! Yay! I can carry it with me and it’ll increase my strength with its strange power. Depending on the route, there are even some really useful applications for it later on. Honestly, it might even give me magic. That was a really rare random event! Nice! Now, time to get to work.
This is the part where I remember that DDR is an action RPG and there’s a time limit. I’m pretty sure I’m right about this. How do I know, you ask? Well, this hypocritical battle is a famous part of the Frontier.
So, which “hero” will show up first this time?
04 The Priest Delights In The Girl’s Dance / Magic Blessings In DDR
God descends,
Behind me,
Surveys the battlefield and my enemies,
and gives the perfect orders.
-Father Felipo I-
God is dead. Or gone. Or perhaps never existed in the first place.
Even if one accepts that there are vestiges of human history that can be mistaken as miracles, they are the results of our ancestors’ hard work and labor—certainly not holy works of God. Human reality is a path of suffering with no savior in sight. Yet with this in mind, I still continue to practice as a priest.
But what is this I see before me? This raven-haired girl fighting. Such strength. Such speed. In the blink of an eye she takes down three goblins. With the piece of ripped cloth in her left hand she distracts them, dances around her victim, and then smashes down with the ax in her right hand. Poisonous rat and sword rabbit alike are lost in her wiles before she lops off their heads.
Such brilliance. Such awe-inspiring skill. This girl exceeds the bounds of humanity. In terms of mere physical strength and mastery of the human body, perhaps some knights might be her equal. But they wouldn’t fight like her. No, they would not.
Look! The way she dodged that claw swipe. It’s as if she has eyes on the back of her head. Goodness, can she see the future? She just jumped back as if predicting that surprise attack!
And then there’s her offense. With the least amount of effort she inflicts the greatest damage. Every swing of her ax finds a neck. Heads upon heads roll, with nary a war cry.
It’s as if she’s possessed by God. A human, victorious in battle? Such a tale is heard only in dreams.
“What is it, priest? Did you spot the banner of the reinforcements?”
“Why, Lord Willow!” I forgot all about the excuse I made to climb the bell tower. I cannot bear to witness the bleak, pathetic scene my church, now turned into an evacuation center, has become. Then again, considering the distance between us and the fort, there is no possibility of reinforcements arriving in time to matter.
“Unfortunately, I cannot see any dust clouds that might signal the approach of horses.”
“I see... Then what about survivors?”
“Judging from how the monsters have turned to infighting, I believe the fields and groves are a lost cause. If anyone is out there, I’d guess they are in the administrative ward or the storage facility.”
“The administrative ward was attacked by a troll. There’s no saving them.” In other words, they became bait to draw away the monsters so that we might survive. My lord’s chiseled features cloud over at the thought. It must have been quite a decision to make. What a terrible position to be in. He’s only here to escape the battle for succession among his famous military family, after all. That’s an abandonment of his legal rights—a desertion of his orthodox life. And yet expectations of his family name and abilities haunt him like a duty. How paltry and noble a man with more obligations than rights.
The opposite is just a bag of rottenness. Many, many of this type have adorned the royal palace, both in the past and the present. All of them are, and will continue to be, submerged in presumptuous sentiment.
“Priest, how long will the warding circle you constructed last?”
“Until tomorrow morning at best. The stench is just too strong.”
“I see... Then we must flee before the night ends. I shall create an escape route for us. You lead the commoners and injured out.”
“My Lord, I cannot.”
“I apologize, but I must insist.”
“No, you see, it would appear that we are saved.” He gives me a puzzled look, and I do not blame him. His mouth and eyes widen in a slightly foolish fashion. How would he react to something even more unexpected?
“Please, see it for yourself. It is a miracle.” Oh, the hand I’m using to point is trembling. How hilariously shameful. A failure of a priest like myself, who never offered a prayer in his life, is now struck by faith. I’m even crying! I’m like a little boy. Me, Felipo Valkie Millennium!
But even so... My word, how beautiful it is, this girl’s game of death—her dance of evil’s destruction. She slays the monsters with grace, banishing the nightmares with every flip of her raven hair. Flashes of her white blade strike down the demons, brilliantly smashing the despair of humanity.
“Ah, that girl? The one with the black hair?”
“You know her? Where is she from?”
“I don’t know the details. I only spoke to her once.”
“Did you at least get her name?”
“Kuroi.” Wonderful. Even the sound of it brimmed with exaltation.
“Oh, no! She’s lost her weapon! We must help—”
“I think you need not worry, my Lord.”
“G-Goodness!” She glances at her ax, stuck in the corpse of a sherboa, with no sign of panic or remorse. There is a flutter of the cloth in her left hand and a hatchet appears in her right. She cleaves through the swarm of poisonous rats and readies herself for the next kill. A mad ape snatches her cloth away, but this doesn’t faze her. She turns around, a small spear in her left hand. When she picked it up I have no idea, but she instantly drives it into her opponent. Then hurls it, ending the life of another monster that was crawling up on the rubble. Next, a dagger held in reverse, she rushes a sword rabbit.
This must be magic—magic that produces weapons from empty space. This magic has no relation to the classic elements of fire, water, wind, earth, and thunder. It’s proof that this girl is special. Clear, undeniable evidence that she is a chosen being.
Ha!
Which means that there exists a being who loves her above others and has granted her their favor.
Heh heh... What fortune. Yes, what fortune! The existence of God has been proven, before my very eyes! With dazzling persuasiveness!
-DDR Stream Part 4-
Hmm... Mmm? Can humans use the spell Accept Blade? I’d understand if I was an elf or a vampire, but... it’s such a rare job skill. Is this a hidden event? Whoa, I forgot about the chat while streaming! Bad streamer, bad streamer! Strike a gallant pose (never show the face, though)!
Anyway.
So, Kuroi can use magic huh? This is quite the bizarre turn of events. Learning magic in DDR is no easy feat, and its uses are heavily limited. For humans, especially, it’s a masochistic endeavor.
First, there’s the fact that what elements you can use is restricted depending on your race. Elves use water and wind, while vampires use earth and thunder. For some reason, humans are limited to only using fire magic. Not only that, but the balance is completely off. If you focus on offensive magic, humans are trapped between two insurmountable walls known as elves and vampires. Humans are supposed to be second when it comes to magic, too.
The reason for this is the existence of “Guardian Gods.” All magic is a gift bestowed by Guardian Gods in the world of DDR. For elves it’s the Dragon God, and for vampires it’s the Demon God. Each race is blessed with divine, godly powers. But humans don’t have a Guardian God. What the hell is that?
It’s for this reason that their magic is weak, they receive no help from familiars, fall sick easily, and are generally short-lived. In this world humans are reduced to a depressingly weak race. Yup, that’s DDR for you.
That’s not to say that playing as elves or vampires is a cakewalk, either. They have their own difficulties. For example, it’s really tough to appease a Guardian God. Seriously tough. Not only are they unreasonable, but they often make their followers run endless errands for no reward, send them on quests with no preparation, demand mysterious tributes—the list goes on. And despite all of this, the power of their blessings aren’t stable, so it’s a generally stressful affair. Plus, if you manage to piss one off, they’ll curse you into oblivion. Sometimes they even step onto the mortal plane to kill their transgressors personally.
Remember the sherboa’s giant tusk that dropped for me? I was actually planning to offer it to the Demon God. The plan was to ally myself with the vampires and snag a tiny bit of their blessings for myself. I really wanted thunder magic. I never imagined the blessing would materialize as Accept magic, though. Summoning magic is really rare.
Which god even accepts this tusk as a tribute, then? Skipping the ritual a
nd randomly materializing its power on its own just screams Demon God to me. It’s the peak of wildness. The Dragon God is really particular about order and rituals... Huh? What do you mean, Devil God? Man, I’ve never seen anything like this on the wiki. Wow! Should I start a thread and investigate this? Oh, but, it’s my policy to not look up outside info while streaming...!
05 The Little Girl Greets The Heroine’s Swinging Sword / Religion In DDR
I have no past.
My body, my name, it was all determined by a consciousness greater than mine before placing me on this mortal plane.
-Sira I-
My dad is an adventurer. I love him lots and lots.
But one day, he went out as a bodyguard for a caravan of merchants and never came back. One of his fellow adventurers told me they were attacked by a giant swarm of monsters. He told me it was because of the war. They wouldn’t have gotten involved if not for the war.
The war. The endless war between the yellow-eyed vampires and the white-eared elves. Apparently both races are strong, so they incite monsters to attack their enemies. To them, it’s just a minor irritation because they’re so strong, that they don’t think much of it.
That’s why I’m all alone now.
That’s why I had to come to the Frontier to work. Today, a lot of monsters attacked. A nice old man helped me escape. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. I ran into a church, which ended up surrounded by monsters. I thought I was done for.
“There’s no need to worry anymore, everyone!” the slightly overweight priest smiles. But the look in his eyes isn’t the usual glazed-over and distant one. Real, tingling joy flows from them. I’ve never seen him like this before.