by Yuu Kamiya
This was it. The mechanism behind the gamer running away with the top global ranking for so many games.
…
This game, played without time control, extended over six hours. The adrenaline and dopamine secreted by their brains made them forget they’d been up for five days straight, swept away their fatigue, and pulled their concentration up to its limits. Six hours—yet the battle felt as if it actually took days. Finally, the decisive moment came. The emotionless voice echoing from the speaker.
“Checkmate.”
The siblings—won.
“ “” ”
After a long silence…
“ “Hhfffffff………” ”
They exhaled all their breath. It spoke to a match such as to make them forget to breathe. When they were finally done, they laughed.
“…Wow… It’s been so long…since I played a game this hard…”
“Ha-ha, it’s the first time I’ve even seen you think a game was hard.”
“…Wow… Brother, is the opponent…really human?”
“Yeah, there’s no mistaking it. I could see him hesitating when you didn’t take his bait, getting slightly confused when the traps he’d laid didn’t go off. It’s a human for sure—either that or a monster.”
“…I wonder what he’s like.”
The sister who had shut out a program that had shut out the grandmasters was becoming interested in an opponent.
“Well, it could actually be a grandmaster? Programs are precise, but people are complex.”
“…I see… In that case… Next, I wanna…play shogi, with the Ryu-oh…”
“I wonder if the Ryu-oh is open to playing online. Well, we’ll give it some thought!”
As they conversed, grinning with the feeling of satisfaction produced by endorphins after a match, it happened again.
—Bink! The sound of another e-mail notification.
“Must be our opponent just now? Come on, open it up.”
“…Okay, okay.”
And—what the e-mail said. It was just this.
“Marvelous. With skills like that, surely you must find it hard to live in this world?”
All it took was one line. And their psyches—dropped to the freezing point. Behind the two who had just unleashed a raging battle toward the LED display: inorganic light. The sounds of the fans of PCs and game equipment. Countless wires wriggling across the floor, scattered trash, strewn-off clothes. A space hidden from the sense of time, stopped by the curtains blocking out the sun. Isolated from the world—sixteen tatami mats’ worth of cramped space. That was their world—all of it.
—Bitter memories bounded over the backs of their brains. The brother who had been born no good and so was too good at reading people’s words and motives. The sister who had been born too smart and, because of that and her pure white hair and red eyes, had no one who understood her.—The siblings who had been abandoned, even by their parents, then left alone in this world, and who finally closed their hearts. To a past that not even the most generous interpretation could recall as happy—no, a present. The sister looked down in silence. The brother pounded his anger onto the keyboard at the one who had made his sister look down.
“Thanks for your goddamn concern. Who the hell are you?”
The reply came almost immediately.
—Or was it even a reply? An e-mail ignoring the question came.
“What do you think of this world? Is it fun? Is it easy to live in?”
Reading this, he forgot even to be angry and met eyes with his sister. There was nothing they needed to confirm. They knew the answer.
—That it was the most fail kind of game ever.
…A stupid game with no clear rules or goal. Seven billion players all taking their turns whenever they wanted. Penalized if you won too much.—The sister who, thanks to being too smart, was alone and bullied with no one to understand her. Penalized if you lost too much.—The brother who kept failing and getting yelled at by his teachers and parents, yet kept smiling. No right to pass.—The bullying that only got worse if she was silent. If she spoke too much, she’d be hated for crossing a line.—He’d be hated for seeing through to people’s true motives. No way to tell the goal, see the stats, or even identify the genre. Even if you followed rules that were set out, you’d be punished—and worst of all: those who just ignored the rules stood at the top in smug mode—. Compared to this life that failed, any other game—was just too easy.
“Tsk—asshole.”
Sora patted the head of his young sister, who was still looking down.
—The two who had just displayed a godlike performance were nowhere to be found. The two that were left were downcast—downtrodden—some of the lowest weaklings in society. Nowhere to go, cast out by the world—that’s all. The irritation brought the fatigue back in a rush. As the brother moved the cursor to the Start button to turn off the computer for the first time in a while, he heard: Bink!—another e-mail notification entering his ear. His hand proceeded to Shut Down regardless.
—But his sister stopped him.
“What if there was a world where everything was decided by simple games—”
The two read this suspiciously, but with imagination and longing they couldn’t conceal.
“What if there was a world on a board where the goal and rules were clear? What would you think?”
They looked back at each other, grinned in self-deprecation, and nodded. The brother put his hands on the keyboard. So that’s where he was going with this.
“Yeah, if there’s such a world, we sure were born in the wrong one.”
—He echoed the words of the initial e-mail. And hit Send.
—For a moment.
Faint static rippled across the computer screen. At the same time, everything in the room stopped with a thud as if the breaker had been tripped. Except for one thing—the screen that showed the e-mail. And—
“Wha-what?!”
“…?”
A sound as if the house was creaking, a sound as if electricity was snapping. The brother looked around in a panic as the sister spaced out clueless as what to what was happening. The static grew stronger regardless of them—and finally took over like the snow on an untuned TV. And then, from the speakers—no. Unmistakably from the screen. This time it wasn’t text—a voice came back.
“I agree. You certainly were born in the wrong world.”
As not only the screen, but now the whole room was taken over by the static. Suddenly, white arms grew out.
“Wha—?!”
“…Ee—”
The limbs extended from the screen and grabbed the siblings’ arms. They were pulled in with power too strong to fight. Into the screen—.
“Then I’ll let you be born again—into the world you should have been!”
—…And then—.
Everything turned white. It was because he’d opened his eyes—it was the light of the sun. He knew this by a burning sensation on his retinas that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And, finally, the brother realized something from the sight that entered his pupils as they started to adjust to the light. He was—high in the sky.
“Wwaaaah?!”
His cramped little room had become, all of a sudden, a wide and sweeping vista.
—But his scream was not because of the strangeness of the landscape that entered his eyes. Sora’s brain was accelerating to grasp the situation, almost enough to fry his brain circuits, and that was why he was screaming.
“WhatWhat the helllll?!”
—No matter how you looked at it, no matter how many times. In the sky was a floating island. No matter how many times he second-guessed his eyes and head, out at the limits of his vision, flying through the sky, was a dragon. The giant chess pieces visible deep in the mountains beyond the horizon were giant enough to throw off perspective. It belonged in a game—a fantasy landscape. This was clearly not a landscape from the Earth he knew. But more important, most important. From the clo
uds sweeping out under his eyes, he realized that the feeling of weightlessness was because he was falling. That they were unmistakably in the middle of a skydive with no parachute. Taking all this in, and turning his shriek to—
“Oh, I’m about to die.”
—conviction took the brother all of three seconds. But then his tragic conviction was broken through by a voice ringing out resoundingly beside him.
“Welcome to my world!”
Before the grand and strange landscape, a falling boy spread his arms wide and beamed.
“This is the utopia you’ve dreamed of, Disboard, the ‘world on a board’! A world where everything is decided by simple games! That’s right—even people’s lives and countries’ borders!”
She was maybe ten seconds behind Sora. Shiro, seeming to have finally grasped the situation, opened her eyes wide and grabbed on to her brother, looking as if about to cry.
“Wh-wh-who—are you—?”
Shiro raised a cry of protest, with all her strength, yet as if whispering. But the boy went on smiling happily and said:
“Me? Well, I live over there.”
As he said it, he pointed to a giant chess piece beyond the horizon, such as Sora had seen.
“I suppose if I were to put it in the terms of your world—I’m God, I guess!”
He said this with a cute charm, sticking his index finger to his cheek, the self-described god.
—But what difference did that make now?
“Whatever, hey, what are we supposed to do?! The ground’s coming—aghhhh, Shiro!”
“…~~~~~!”
Drawing Shiro’s hands into his chest, Sora put himself beneath her, though the gesture was questionably meaningful. Shiro shrieked into Sora’s body with a muted cry. Meanwhile, the boy who claimed to be a god told them jauntily:
“I hope to see you again. Probably not too long in the future.”
—With that, their lights went out.
…
“Ugh…ughhh…”
The feeling of soil. The scent of flowers—when he came to, Sora was lying on the ground. He groaned and got up.
“—Wha-what just happened…?”
—A dream? Sora thought so, but didn’t say it.
“…Ughh…what a weird dream.”
Sora’s sister woke up after him and groaned.
—Aw, Sister. After I made a point of not saying it. You didn’t have to go and set the “It wasn’t a dream” flag. With these thoughts, he stood up, but, no matter how he tried to pretend he didn’t notice, under his feet was soil. An unfamiliar sky soared overhead, and—
“Gaaaah!”
Sora realized that he was standing at the edge of a cliff and stepped back in a panic.
—Looking over the panorama from the cliff.
An unbelievable landscape spread out before them.
…No, that’s not it. Let me rephrase that. There was an island in the sky. A dragon. And giant chess pieces beyond the mountains on the horizon. So it was the same weird landscape they had seen while falling. So it—wasn’t a dream.
“Hey, little sister.”
“…Hnh?”
The siblings spoke as they looked out with vacant eyes.
“I’ve often thought that life was an impossible game, a game for masochists. But this…”
“…Yeah…”
They spoke in unison.
“ “It’s finally bugged out… What…the hell? This game is epic fail…” ”
And then—they lost consciousness once more.
—Have you heard a rumor that goes like this?—
They say that people who are just too good at games will one day get an e-mail. The body contains—just a few words and a URL. And, if you click the link, a certain game will start. If you beat the gamethey say you disappear from this world. And then—
An urban legend of being invited to another world.
…Do you believe it?
CHAPTER 1
BEGINNER
—Once upon a time, there was a time still longer ago. When the Old Deus race fought with their relations and creations for the title of One True God. With that, the battle continued so long as to make one faint. There was no ground not stained by blood, no sky not filled by screams. All thinking things hated each other, and to destroy their enemies they murdered and slaughtered without mercy. Elves mobilized from their little villages, honing their magic, hunting their foes. Dragonias followed their instincts, giving themselves over to butchery, and Werebeasts devoured their prey like animals. The earth was laid to waste and swallowed in dusk, and yet still fell deeper into the darkness of the war of the gods. The “Devil” emerged as a mutation of the Phantasma, and monsters of the Devil’s breed swarmed across the land. In this world, sprawling royalty, floods of beauties, and heroes, most of all, did not exist. Immanity was of no consequence. The people built nations, formed cabals, staking everything merely to survive. There are still no heroic tales for the bard to sing—so blood-drenched was this time. Long before this land and sea and sky—came to be called Disboard…But, even upon this chaos of war that was thought to be never-ending, the curtain dropped. The land, the sea, the sky—the planet itself. Everything was haggard, worn-out entirely, and the struggle toward mutual destruction could not be sustained any further. And, thus—the god who had the most strength left sat on the throne of the One True God. The god who had never once intervened in the war. A god who had stayed an observer.
The god who sat on the throne of the One True God looked around at the state of the earth. And spoke to all things that wandered its surface.
—O ye who expend your might and force and arms and mortality, building a tower of the dead, and yet call yourselves wise, prove me this: What shall set you apart from the witless beasts?
Every race spoke up to prove its own wisdom. But every word rang hollow before the wasted world. In the end, not a creature could give the God a response that answered. The God spoke.
—On this heaven and earth, all bodily injury and plunder shall be forbidden.
His words became a covenant, and an absolute and immutable rule of the world. And, thus, from that day, combat vanished from the world. But each of the thinking things spoke up to the God: that, though combat vanished, conflict remained. And so the God said, very well.
—O sixteen seeds that claim yourselves wise, ye Ixseeds:
expend ye your reason and wit and talent and wealth,
building a tower of wisdom to prove yourselves wise.
The God drew out sixteen playing pieces—and smiled mischievously. And thus were born the Ten Covenants, and thus ended the world of war. So it came to pass that all quarrels should be settled by games.
The new One True God had a name—Tet. He who was once known as the god of play…
On the continent of Lucia, in the Kingdom of Elkia—the capital, Elkia. The continent that swept northeast with the Equator at its south, and there was a small city in a small country at the western tip. No trace was left of the age of myth, when the kingdom had reigned over half the continent. Now, all that was left was one last city—the capital, a tiny city-state.
—To be more exact: It was the last bastion of Immanity.
In the city, a bit beyond the downtown area, in the suburbs, was a single building housing a tavern and an inn, just the sort that might show up in an RPG. Two girls sat on opposite sides of a table, surrounded by spectators, playing a game. One was a redhead who looked in her midteens, with a manner and an accoutrement suggesting high breeding. And the other—. She was probably about the same age as the redhead, yet her mien and attire suggested someone quite a bit older. Wrapped in a black veil and cape as if for a funeral—the girl with black hair. The game they were playing…appeared to be poker. Their expressions contrasted sharply: The redhead was a mask of seriousness, perhaps from tension. Meanwhile, the black-haired girl seemed unconcerned, with an expressionless face as if dead. The reason was clear to see—piled high in front of the black-h
aired girl and low in front of the redhead: coins. The obvious interpretation—the redhead was losing hopelessly.
“…Can you hurry up?”
“Qu-quiet, you. I’m thinking, don’t you see!”
—In the tavern, the crowd jeered crudely, intoxicated even so early in the day. The redhead’s face knit further in frustration. But, in any case—it seemed that some excitement was being had.
……. Outside the tavern where the game was being held: A young girl wearing a hood sat at a table on the terrace and peered in through the window.
“…Some excitement… What’s this?”
“Huh? Don’t you know; are you folks from another country—wait, there are no more other human countries.”
At the table next to the girl peering through the window sat another pair sitting around a table playing a game. A young man wearing a hood like the young girl’s and a middle-aged man with facial hair and a beer belly. The young man answered.
“Oh, you know… We came from out in the sticks; we don’t really know much about what’s been going on in the city.”
As it should happen, the game they were playing was the same as the one inside…poker.
—But they were using bottle caps. The middle-aged man replied dubiously to the youth.
“You’re saying there is country left in the territory Immanity still owns… You must be some kind of hermit.”
“Ha-ha, something like that. So, what’s all this about?”
The youth dodged the topic and drew an answer from the fuzzy man.
“Right now, Elkia is having a grand gambling tournament to decide the next monarch.”
While still watching what was happening inside, the hooded girl questioned further.
“…To decide the next…monarch?”
“Indeed. According to the will of the late king.”
«The crown of the next monarch we bequeath not upon our royal bloodline, but upon the greatest gambler among humans.»
The fuzzy man spoke on while stacking his bottle caps.
“You know, Immanity lost everything in the play for dominion, and now all that’s left is Elkia, and Elkia has nothing left but her capital—it’s too late to worry about appearances.”