No Game No Life, Vol. 1

by Yuu Kamiya

  —“ ” doesn’t lose…—

  When the two stood there as if to prove this, without surprise at their victory, what was she supposed to say? But—with no inkling of the conflict within Steph, Sora spoke playfully.

  “—Does this do it for you?”

  “……Uh?”

  “Now no one’s gonna call your grandfather—the old king, a fool, right?”

  “Oh…”

  “If, without anyone’s backing, we, the strongest of the humans, became the monarch—that means he was wise.”

  “…Now, Elkia…won’t die; aren’t… you glad…Steph?”

  Searching for words, at a loss. She did think back to all the things they’d done to her. But the result more than made up for it all. Dew droplets welled up in her eyes as she decided to admit it out loud.

  “Thank you…I’m so—grateful to you…ooh—”

  Choking up a bit, Steph wondered if she was clearly understandable. But Shiro stretched up and patted her on the head. It was not possible any longer for Stephanie Dola to hold back the tears.

  —And with that.

  “……Hey.”

  Chlammy’s mumble fell out and was erased by the cheers roaring through the castle. But, in the ears of Sora, Shiro, and Steph alone, it rang cold.

  “Just tell me… What earthly kind of trick did you use?”

  With these cold, low words, Chlammy pierced Sora with a scowl, and continued.

  “Yes, it’s true. I accepted the help of the Elves. As the only way for humans to survive. And now you’ve ruined it. Answer me, whose spies are you? Certainly you don’t mean to tell me that a mere human was able to defeat elven magic!”

  From her perspective, he was a loathsome enemy who had sold out Immanity. As Chlammy interrogated Sora with eyes full of hate, Steph swallowed—but the siblings.

  “I do, and, actually, I did.”

  “…You got a problem?”

  The cheers roaring through the castle subsided as Sora walked back toward Chlammy.

  “You know, I did mean it when I said that your plan wasn’t bad, and if you could prove your story was true about getting Elven help for the sake of Immanity, I could have even stepped down.”

  “Then why—!”

  “But I don’t like the way you think.”

  Sora looked down at Chlammy with a scornful gaze that was no act.

  “If it’s ‘We’re gonna use the Elves and claw our way up,’ that’s one thing, but when you’re saying, ‘We can’t even survive without the protection of the great Elves,’ that seemed just a little too pathetic, and it kinda pissed me off.”

  “—Hasn’t that been proven? The limits of Immanity, by history, by the present we’re in!”

  While Chlammy looked at him as if to imply, How can you talk when I know you cheated, too?

  “Those are the limits of those dudes who made history; they sure ain’t our limits…”

  With these nasty words, he smiled.

  “Humans have their own way of doing things. Like, yeah—the way we won because you always believed that we were cheating to the end.”

  Now swallowing, looking back at the match, Chlammy. She’d been totally wrapped up in uncovering the ruse they were using, but what if. What if there had never been any ruse in the first place—?

  “That…can’t be… A mere human—couldn’t possibly…compete with magic.”

  “If that’s what you think, that’s fine; that’s your limit.”

  And Sora squinted.

  “Whether the opponent be elven or a god, the word ‘lose’ isn’t in Blank’s dictionary.”

  With that—as if to signify that her pride had been sullied—Sora took hold of Chlammy’s chin and peeled off the black veil. Then looking straight into her eyes, Sora for the first time showed faint anger lurking in his own—and he spoke.

  “Don’t—underestimate humans like that.”

  ……Those words hushed everyone in the castle. They echoed and spread, as if soaking into their hearts. As if to rend the chains that bound them as inadequate humans. As if piercing an epoch of darkness with a single ray of light.

  —As if lighting the lamp of a quiet hope in their hearts.

  —Then, a word fell from Chlammy’s mouth as well.

  “Wuh”

  “…Wuh?”

  “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

  “Whoa! What the hell?!”

  Suddenly, Chlammy dropped to the floor and started wailing. Sora, not knowing what to do, took a step back in surprise—and who could blame him.

  “Waaaah, you’re so stupid; I hate you! Don’t you know…how hard, hic, it—it was to make contracts so I could get the Elves and then trash them… I-I-I-I-I wasn’t underestimating anything; I was serious! Waaah…”

  As Chlammy spilled out big tears, open her mouth wide, and bawled, everyone was astonished. Whether it was the reaction from the load on her being removed, or whether that was her real personality—in any case, it seemed it was universally agreed in every world that there’s nothing you can do about crying children.

  “…Brother…made a girl…cry…”

  “Hey, wait, it’s my fault?!”

  “Waaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh…stupid…jerk…just diiie…”

  The crowd who until just recently had been roaring in victory. Now just looked distantly at Chlammy as she hurled insults between childish sobs

  CHAPTER 4

  GRANDMASTER

  Chlammy wailed, Stupid jerk, I hate you, I’ll never give in; I’ll show everyone about you—etc., to the end, and left as if running away.

  “Good grief… What’s gonna happen when humans themselves start underestimating humans…”

  At Sora’s words of vexation, the castle once again was enveloped in acclamation.

  —A victory too complete to question. A victory that showed everyone the promise of the humans’ new monarch, unmistakably. Cheers thundered throughout the Great Hall and carried forward the steps of the elderly official with crown in hand.

  “Well, then—your name is Sora, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Will you accept the crown of the Kingdom of Elkia?”

  But Sora announced back decisively.

  “No.”

  And, bringing his sister close, he said with a smile:

  “Together, we are Blank—we two are the monarch.”

  This had been mentioned during the chess match as well. The crowd raised their voices higher—celebrating the birth of a new king and a little queen.

  —But.

  “—Unfortunately, that is not possible.”

  “—Huh?”

  The cheers halted at the official’s words.

  “Wha? Uh, why not?”

  “The Ten Covenants stipulate that ‘an agent plenipotentiary’ be established. There cannot be two.”

  The buzzing hall, the siblings looking at each other. Sora pondered fretfully, scratched his head, furrowed his brow…and spoke.

  “…I see. Uh, so, we’ll split roles and have me take this on, yeah?”

  “……Ng.”

  Setting down his sister, who groaned minutely, Sora turned back to face the official.

  “Then we’ll resume—ahem. I hereby crown Sora the 205th monarch of the Kingdom of Elkia—if any among you object, speak now! If not, your silence shall—”

  —But someone who could not hold her peace interrupted, raising her hand.

  “…Mm.”

  Long white hair. A girl through whose bangs peeped ruby-red eyes—but seriously.

  “Uh, Shiro?”

  “…I have an objection.”

  “Umm, pardon, my sister? Whatever do you speak of?”

  “…If you become king…you can build a harem.”

  “What?”

  Though Sora answered as if he didn’t believe his ears, still Shiro scrunched her face as if about to cry and spoke.

  “…And then you won
’t……need…me.”

  Paying no attention to the bewildered audience, flustered to an improbable degree, Sora spoke.

  “Hey! Heyheyhey, wait wait that’s ridiculous! You and I, together we’re one team, right! It’s just for form’s sake; I’ll be the king technically, but it’s not like—”

  “…But you’ll be—the king… I’ll be just there. It can be only one…so—”

  After she smudged off her tears with her arm, there were no more tears.

  “…It’ll be—me.”

  In the sister’s unemotional eyes dwelled a clear will to fight. As they pierced her brother with a declaration of war—

  “Huh?”

  Sora, on the other end of that stare, changed his own expression.

  “Hey now… Imouto yo. It’s rare to hear you tell jokes; how’s the weather in hell?”

  Grinning with his usual frivolous attitude. But with a clear hostility in his tone of voice.

  “See what happens if a thousand-ships-level beauty like you becomes queen. You’re too innocent. You might get taken in by some sweet-talking bum—your brother can’t let you be queen.”

  Though Sora faced Shiro spewing the ultimate doting-brother lines. Contrary to his words that suggested almost-smothering love, there was no hint of a smile in his eyes.

  “…No, Brother, you can’t be king—that’s final.”

  “—Bring it on, then. ’Cos your brother’s not gonna let you be king. And that’s final.”

  Two gazes, facing each other, clashing. The gazes of the two who had overcome even Elven cheating to attain the human race’s most powerful title. They weren’t the gazes of the intimate siblings, nor those of the two-in-one gamer “ .” They were the gazes of long rivals, and their wills looked firm enough to draw sparks…

  “Eh, well… In that case, shall I take it that you two wish to settle this with a final match?”

  It must have required considerable courage to come between them. To the official, checking with them apologetically.

  “Sure, I’m ready.”

  “…That’s fine.”

  Without hesitation. And without looking away, they laid down the gauntlet.

  “I’m not gonna go easy on you, my sister. Today’s the day you’re goin’ down.”

  “…Worry about yourself…Brother… Today, I’m serious.”

  ……

  —And so. Three days passed.

  In the center of the hall, among the scattered remains of countless games played back-to-back without sleep or rest. The siblings lay sprawled on the floor.

  “…Hey…why don’t…you give up already?”

  “…Why don’t you…just resign.”

  The countless games that had begun under the condition of two consecutive wins for victory. Totaled—five hundred: 158 wins, 158 losses, 184 draws.

  —The tragedy was that, never mind in this place, even back in their old world. While “ ” had risen to the status of an urban legend—no one knew the match records between the two. Aside from their collective name as “ .” The two game-loving siblings, as a matter of the most natural course. Played each other. And their records were—

  —3,526,744 games, 1,170,080 wins, 1,170,080 losses, 1,186,584 draws

  …To this day, neither had ever gotten ahead or behind once. The people in the castle had no way of knowing this tragic fact as they waited for the coronation. But by now they’d long since gone home.

  —Then come back, then all gone home again. As they tried to predict when would be a good time, gradually, fewer and fewer people came at all. The castle staff lay sprawled across the Great Hall—even the presiding official, with crown in hand, and Steph, who each were just barely holding on to consciousness, were already well into the land of hallucinations. Every now and then, the old official would grin creepily and then return to a normal expression. Meanwhile, Steph reached out at air with a blank smile, saying, “Oh, a butterfly.”

  —So, what should the next game be… As Sora thought about it in his hazy head. A question popped up and stayed his hand.

  “Hey… Why does the monarch have to be one person?”

  “…What?”

  To these words, the official and Steph responded, brought back from la-la land. To articulate his concern, Sora took out his phone. And read out his notes on the Ten Covenants once more.

  “The Seventh of the Ten Covenants: ‘For conflicts between groups, an agent plenipotentiary shall be established’…”

  This was a rule that directed groups—i.e., countries and races—each to designate a representative for conflicts between them.

  —But. Sora, having pronounced it carefully, meditatively. Made sure there was no contradiction. Between the words he’d reread and pronounced and the conclusion he’d reached. Muttering.

  “—Does it actually say anywhere it has to be an individual?”

  “ “ “” ” ”

  —And, thus the legendary struggle, of which the bards would later sing of as the “Nightmare Three Days,” came to a close. But, it being an inordinately long story, let us pass over it in this account…

  …….

  “…Hey, is this really okay?”

  “Sure it is. Since times of yore, monarchs who have clad themselves in ostentatious garb have generally done so to hide their baseness within, to inflate their public image and aggrandize themselves. A monarch should be a model for the people, an ideal to emulate—reverence should be won by deeds.”

  “…So…full of it…”

  “Yeah, okay, to be honest, I just feel the most comfortable like this.”

  “Hh… Fine, as you wish. But at least do something about your hair.”

  The capital city, Elkia—the grand square in front of the castle. Coming out onto the castle veranda, the sweeping plaza reminds one of Piazza San Marco in Venice. Now this square was filled with a throng of countless people. How many thousands—how many tens of thousands of people were there. Yearning to hear the words of their new king, the crowd spilled out of the square into the streets extending from it. It was an expression of their loss of hope in the previous king, scorned as the fool king. An expression of their need for a thread of hope for Immanity, left standing in a pit of despair. An expression that they sought from the siblings, who had taken down an Elven spy—taken down magic—head-on. On the castle veranda, where gathered the gazes, pregnant with expectation, of the entire human race—two figures stepped out. A young man and a girl. A young man in jeans and a T-shirt that read “I ♥ PPL.” With dark circles under his eyes. A girl with long hair white enough to make one think of snow, and white skin. Along with eyes red as jewels, and a sailor suit. Their crowns told that they were the king and the queen.

  —But. The young man had contorted the queen’s tiara and looped it onto his arm like an armband. Meanwhile, the girl had tied up her hair with the king’s crown, lifting her bangs—. Seeing them, it was easy to imagine why Steph had cried out during their changing.

  In this too-rough getup, standing before his dazed people, the young man—Sora—spoke up.

  “Uhh…mm, mmng. Umm, good day.”

  “…Brother, you’re nervous. Unusual.”

  “—Shut up. You know both of us are afraid of crowds. Normally I’m just repressing it.”

  Shiro gently took her brother’s hand, careful not to let the crowd see her do it.

  “……”

  Silently. As if to say, Then repress it again now. As if to say, Just as you always have—and you always will.

  “—My esteemed people—no, comrades of Immanity!”

  As if he had grasped his sister’s intent, the brother raised his voice with a face from which the tension had dissolved. A bullhorn attached to the veranda railing. But he bellowed with a fierce power that suggested he didn’t need it.

  “We, Immanity…under the Ten Covenants, in this world without war, have lost continually until we have been reduced to our last country, our last city—why is this?”

&nb
sp; The crowd was taken aback at the sudden question thrown at them.—Because of the old king’s mistakes.—Because we can’t use magic. Sora waited for each to come up with an answer and then continued.

  “Because the old king failed? Because we are the lowest-ranking race? Because we cannot use magic? Because our race is destined to die helplessly?!—Nay!”

  The strong denial made the air, and the masses, tremble. Making a fist and no effort to hide his emotions, Sora shouted on.

  “In the past, in the Great War of the ancient gods, the gods, the devils—the Elves, the Werebeasts, so many races struggled against each other, and we fought, and we survived! In the past, the entirety of this continent was the domain of human countries—then why is this!”

  On the basis of the history he had read through in the past few days in Steph’s library, Sora asked them.

  “Is it because we are a race skilled in violence? Is it because we are a race specializing in combat?!”

  Everyone in the audience looked at each other.

  “We have not the diverse magic of the Elf, nor the physical prowess of the Werebeast, nor the longevity of the Flügel—this being so, did our former dominion over this continent result from specialization in combat?—By no means!!”

  Yes, this was a clear fact that anyone could see. And then a question.

  —Then why?

  “We survived through combat because we were weak!

  “In all ages, in all worlds, the strong hone their fangs and the weak their wisdom! Why have we been backed into a corner—it is only because the Ten Covenants have torn out the fangs of the strong and forced them to hone their wisdom!

  “What we believed to be our exclusive property as the weak—ingenuity, strategy, tactics, the power to survive!—was obtained by the strong as well! Our wisdom was seized by the strong, and we faced the strong with the same weapons—that is what has brought us to these depths!”

  With the desperate situation laid out, the square fell silent. The gathered audience was enveloped in such emotions as dejection, despair, and discomfort. Sora looked around at them with a sigh and went on.

  “All you here, answer me, why do you hang your heads?”