No Game No Life, Vol. 8

by Yuu Kamiya

  In other words: Gimme meat, fish, rice, and essential amino acids. The two of them pleaded for their lives as their eyes began clouding over like those of a fish out of water.

  “Y-you can’t eat meat now! It’ll make it worse!! I’ll boil this, so be sure you drink it!”

  Immediately, Steph searched for materials for a fire.

  “It’s a medicinal herb that’ll restore your strength! Once you’ve had some, we might have a bit of smoked meat—”

  —left over, she was about to say as she rummaged through her bag, but then stopped. She looked around, then muttered, “…? If eckgrass is growing here—are we near Elkia?”

  Shiro pulled out the tablet with an unsteady hand and opened the Old Deus’s game board map—in other words, a reproduction of the land itself.

  “…Brother… In two spaces…there’s the edge…of Elroble…a city…!”

  Shiro’s eyes, in which faint hope had been restored, made Sora think. Elroble. Formerly of the Eastern Union, now of Elkia, a gateway for overland trade—a city of merchants. There they might…

  “…They might have a real carriage and some food there… But it’s twenty kilometers…”

  Sora and Shiro wrung out the last of their courage and stood up. Though they walked as unsteadily as newborn gazelles, nevertheless—

  “L-let’s think positive! It might be over in twenty kilometers…!”

  “…I hope…this’ll be, our last spurt…”

  As they rebuked their spirits that threatened to break at any moment—no, that had long since broken and were now a cobbled-together mess—Sora and Shiro managed to make at least a show of composure.

  “…Last? By the way, could I have a word with you?”

  Steph spoke so suspiciously, and suddenly, Sora’s eyes were agleam. As a flash of light raced through his already-graying brain cells, Sora cried out.

  That means—!

  “What?! You’ll take five of the dice and carry us on your back?!”

  So we won’t have to walk at all!

  “…A, goddess…! …She’s a…goddess…Brother!”

  “H-huh?! Even with five dice, I’ll still only be nine years— Hey, listen to me!”

  It might sound unreasonable to ask Steph, age 9, to carry two toddlers aged 1.8 and 1.1, but you never know until you try, now do you?! They threw their dice at her and clambered up her back, but she shook them off and shouted, “Sh-Shiro! That ‘ritual’ of which you spoke… You did it, yes?!”

  The ritual of roll manipulation, the rigging of random numbers. On that sixth roll, Shiro had first rolled three dice of eleven, one at a time—to come up one, one, and one. Then she’d mumbled, “Random number analysis complete.” Then she’d rolled the rest to bring up her desired result: eleven.

  “Why would you roll eleven?”

  Why not roll sixty-six so they could go straight to the goal? Why eleven? Steph wondered, but Sora and Shiro…stared blankly.

  “…Huh? ’Cos, we can’t, do that…right…?”

  “Like… We hacked the numbers so we wouldn’t get there, y’know?”

  They answered as if stating the obvious, and now Steph was dazed.

  “Well, never mind that! Why don’t we play rock-paper-scissors?”

  Dismissing Steph’s discomfiture, Sora moved on—back to what was important: not wanting to walk.

  “The loser has to take five of the dice and walk to space 307 carrying the winners, without rest or sleep—so let’s do it! Ready, go! Aschente!”

  “…Agreeed… Aschente…”

  “Why, certainly! Aschen— Wait a minute! You’ll kill me!!”

  Space 307 was ten spaces, or one hundred kilometers, away. Without rest or sleep, that would kill even an unencumbered adult.

  “Besides, you’re assuming I shall carry you, aren’t you?! Why would I do such a thing?!”

  Let’s imagine this scene with sound effects; basically, Sora and Shiro’s grinning faces were filling the whole screen with their evil laughter, HEH-HEH-HEH.

  Their smiles made it so clear they were plotting something, Steph’s suspicion turned to conviction. She sighed, perhaps figuring they were teasing her.

  “Sigh… You’ve got the strength to make jokes, have you…? Then about that roll—”

  But.

  “Jokes? What’re you talking about?”

  Suddenly, Sora’s voice shed its clowning. The voice of the toddler seemed to look down on the nine-year-old Steph…but that voice, seemingly rumbling from the bowels of the earth, and those eyes—froze her.

  “We’re gonna lose this Old Deus game. Intentionally. Okay?”

  .

  “…We’re…what…?”

  “Best-case scenario: one person dies. Worst-case: everyone dies. If you don’t want that—I’ll say this just one more time.”

  Now Sora’s vibe—no, everything about him was different. As Steph stood stunned, he wrapped it up and cornered her.

  “—We’ll play rock-paper-scissors. Accept it. If you don’t, someone will die.”

  His words were imperative. He conveyed this without giving Steph time or space to think. Whatever they were plotting, they wouldn’t give her the opportunity to devise countermeasures, the right to choose, the right to refuse—none of that. He added mockingly:

  “Don’t worry. If you somehow win—either Shiro or I will die. It’s only fair, right? ”

  And then—

  “…”

  Sora went quiet and waited as Steph merely shook.

  “I don’t…understand… What’s the point of doing that?!”

  Steph’s outcry was quite natural. What purpose did this game serve? It was like Russian roulette with no prize. All that would come of it was someone’s death. If the only prize was survival, then you might as well not play in the first place.

  Therefore—clap.

  “Yeah! There is no point. So let’s not do that. ”

  Sora dropped the vibe he’d been giving as if it had been fake all along—which it was. His expression changed from that of a devil to that of a smiling, carefree child. Scratch that—

  “……”

  —a damn brat you really wished you could punch. He continued as if trying to escape Steph’s stern glare and broke out in a cold sweat.

  “W-well! Still!! If I did actually do that, you wouldn’t be able to refuse… Right?

  “…Well, yes… I suppose… Siiiiigh…”

  Steph’s eyes narrowed even further, but she looked a bit relieved to learn it was a joke and sighed.

  Unfortunately…, Sora thought, and he went on to crush that sense of relief.

  “That’s what happened to the Old Deus. Let’s say it happened to the Shrine Maiden—what then?”

  Yes. That was the only way everything would make sense. In other words:

  “I tell you for a fact. The Old Deus is playing us under duress.”

  That alone would explain it. Nothing else. Why the game made it possible for the Old Deus to lose; why there were so many rules that served Sora and Shiro; why a god, of all beings, would stake everything against such lowly creatures. We’ll grant that all the participants—Sora and Shiro, Plum, Jibril, the Shrine Maiden, Ino, Izuna—had to stake what only they could, but even so.

  That explained it all. Except one thing.

  “Now, if you don’t wanna die or don’t want someone else to die, accept the game.”

  Let’s say the game began with a threat like this. Sora smirked.

  “If the one being threatened—that is, the Old Deus—were to lose… what would you normally expect to happen?” he asked, to which Steph didn’t reply, as it was unnecessary. Quite unnecessary. One would expect—the Old Deus would die. And that was the issue. To spell it out:

  “The issue is: Why are we playing a pointless game?”

  Why had the Old Deus been forced to play Russian roulette with no prize? Sora and Shiro, for their part, had no mind to sacrifice anyone—but.

  14: The Old Deus s
hall be bound to fulfill the demands of the VICTOR to the full extent of her authority and power.

  The “victor” could supposedly demand anything, but only to the extent of the Old Deus’s authority—and how far did that go? If someone had coerced the Old Deus to start this game, it was doubtful whether the Old Deus could even fulfill the demand Don’t die. Even if they did attain divine power, what were they supposed to do with it? If they sacrificed someone, they’d have lost anyway—and who wanted that kind of power in the first place?

  “Yeah. The real question isn’t why the Old Deus accepted this game.”

  Sora plopped onto the ground cross-legged.

  “—The question is what we demanded.”

  Since their memories had been collected before the start of the game, they had no evidence by which to determine that. Except…the memory of one of their number hadn’t been collected—the traitor’s.

  Even so… Sora and Shiro exchanged looks.

  “If we didn’t intend to sacrifice anyone, then what did we figure the correct move would be?”

  Even without their memories, it was easy to figure that out. They grinned.

  If they thought about it logically, they would die. So that just meant they had to not think logically.

  “—In other words, don’t win logically. No finish line for us. ”

  Steph seemed miffed, presumably because she didn’t like how Sora was beating around the bush.

  “Anyway, just kidding about the ten spaces. Let’s play rock-paper-scissors for who’s gonna carry Shiro two spaces.”

  With that, Sora took one look at the utterly exhausted Shiro, raised his hand along with Steph, and the two shouted in tandem:

  Aschente.

  And thus, ah…how inevitable is fate.

  “Well, now you also see why it’s not a prisoner’s dilemma, right?”

  As humans breathe. As rivers flow, as the wind blows. Like providence, like nature itself, Steph had of course lost the bout, and now Shiro—though not just her—

  “Are you…?! Talking about…why you set me up?! I don’t see, why, why anything, really…!”

  Sora rode on Shiro’s back, and she on Steph’s. Per the Covenants, Steph walked the plain with both siblings in tow.

  …At least they hadn’t said she couldn’t rest. She should be fine. Let’s move on.

  “When we first suggested playing rock-paper-scissors, you figured we must be plotting something, right?”

  “I did, I did! And that was why I let my guard down the second time! Pant, pant…”

  “We were plotting something, both of us. And you saw through it and refused the game… Everyone’s got their own plan.”

  Yes—everyone had their own plans, their own intents, their own objectives. Naturally.

  “That means the Old Deus—is the detective, too… Right?”

  Sora thought back to the prisoner’s dilemma.

  A detective offers Prisoners A and B a plea bargain.

  I. If they both keep silent, both serve two years.

  II. If one confesses, he will go free while the other serves ten.

  III. However, if they both confess, both serve five.

  If the prisoners trust each other and keep silent, each achieves a better outcome: two years. But if they both pursue their own benefit, they will invariably serve five years. If one betrays the other, he goes free while the other serves ten. This means that the option to keep silent is effectively nonexistent. One must confess, betting on the possibility the other will keep silent. In doing so, one avoids the worst-case scenario of ten years, while allowing for the best-case scenario of freedom.

  So yeah. This was a pretty standard example of a prisoner’s dilemma… But there was one thing keeping this scenario from being an actual dilemma—the detective.

  If the detective had his own plan, then this wasn’t a dilemma.

  “It’s just a game where the prisoners and the detective are all players.”

  If we go by this example. Sora sneered:

  “You gotta ask, why did the detective bring this plea bargain to begin with?”

  The idea of the prisoner’s dilemma was that neither of the prisoners had any choice but to confess. So how was it that this unlikely result was presented with the bait of “freedom”? No—why, after all, was the detective so desperate to make them confess? If you could read the detective’s plan, you could see the hole in it. In this case—

  “The detective has no intention of letting you go free. The plan is to make you both confess and get to know each other better in the slammer.”

  If they could read into it, the prisoners had no need to defend each other. No need to arrange things, no need to remember arranging things. The detective’s desperation laid the scenario bare. Indeed, there was only one person in trouble here: the detective, who couldn’t get them to confess. They only had to seek their own benefit and betray each other—to work together toward victory.

  “You always see it in the TV shows in our old world, when they use the prisoner’s dilemma.”

  It was always when there was a huge new crime about to be committed. The detective wanted to extract confessions from the suspects in custody to prevent it.

  “The one who’s in a bind is the detective, and the ones with the upper hand are the prisoners.”

  Yes. In fact…

  The detective had no way to win unless the prisoners undid themselves.

  “The correct strategy to beat this game, this smart-ass spouting off about how it’s a prisoner’s dilemma, is to have unwavering faith—that everyone’s gonna stab each other in the back.”

  That’s right—we need you to betray us. Sora snickered. Especially Plum and Chlammy and their group, all of whom must be ready to blow a fuse by now. From his perch on Steph’s back, he concluded:

  “So basically, it’s a game where we can win if we trust each other. Wholesome as fuck, amirite?!”

  But his words stopped Steph in her tracks.

  “…E-excuse me, but I have some unpleasant news…”

  She turned her head with a creaking sound like a poorly oiled machine, shouting.

  “I—I haven’t prepared very much in the way of betrayal!! Sh-should I start betraying you now, or—? Wait, can you even ask someone if you should betray them?!”

  Sora and Shiro chuckled at Steph as she fretted that she might blow it for them.

  “It’s not like we had any faith in Steph from the beginning… She’s been a huge burden this entire game. ”

  “…Steph would never, betray anyone… Which makes her…totally useless.”

  “…………Should I be happy about this? Or should I be depressed?”

  Sora and Shiro exchanged glances and smirked at Steph’s vivid distress.

  Steph wouldn’t betray them. She was someone whom, in the original sense, they could trust implicitly. And ironically, in this game, that was exactly the kind of person least worth trusting.

  “However, we do trust you.”

  The sudden, creepy pronouncement from her back made Steph turn—to find Sora and Shiro wearing plastered smiles.

  “We can’t trust that girl we ever called Steph—but.”

  “…We can trust…you… So…no problem…”

  There were three rules, which only the Old Deus could have made. Sora and Shiro thought of the third and leered. They looked at this girl—and assured her.

  “You’ll betray us. You’ll betray us for sure. That’s because the rules…anticipated as much! ”

  CHAPTER 3

  DISCLOSURE

  On the island of Kannagari, capital of the Eastern Union, nestled away, lay the Chinkai Tandai District. In a fifty-story CTD skyscraper, ten stories belowground, there was, contrary to public reports, a floor one story lower: the eleventh floor. The sprawling hall held a national secret of the Eastern Union, their trump card against other races: a game. It was a VR machine located deep in a vast subterranean hall—or it was supposed to be, at least. That da
rk underground chamber, which should have been filled with equipment, was now—

  “What’s thiiis? I knew you were pathetiiic, but you just go plummeting beneath my expectatiooons. ”

  —occupied by a Dhampir dancing airily. In a broken scene, a patchwork of morning and night, of heaven and earth, of here and there, Plum smiled seductively (despite being male).

  “Oh…perhaps it’s just that I’m too powerfulll? Eh-heh-hehhh, sorry about thaaat.”

  With each of his deliberate steps, the broken scene transformed boundlessly.

  “—I hear a fly buzzing about… Why, that sound is intolerable.”

  Facing Plum, Fiel’s smile grew wider and more murderous. Each time the scene changed, everything changed, down to the flowing spirits; the very spirits with which Fiel attempted to weave a rite—compile a spell—vanished like mist. It was almost like—no, it probably was exactly like—Fiel was trying to weave with threads that mocked her for thinking they were ever there.

  “If you ask me, it’s high time—we restored some silence—to this place!!” she cried in a rage as the gem in her forehead flashed. Light traced a geometric figure through her body and discharged throughout the space. It shattered Plum’s magic (which had disguised the scene), the space, the spirits, and restored the gadget-filled hall.

  A four-thread rite “omit cast.” A spell launched instantly, virtually bypassing compilation—a feat of extreme difficulty for even the finest of Elf’s mages. It was with this that Fiel smashed through the spiritual deception, while with two more threads in parallel, she rushed to compile the rite she was after.

  She was after her rite to beat the game, her rite of hacking, designed for the Eastern Union VR system. If she could just compile that one rite—and launch it once—the game would be theirs. Chlammy’s victory against Ino Hatsuse would be assured. Fiel Nirvalen, rare among Elves as a hexcaster, was putting all her resources into this parallel compilation. Despite the extreme complexity of the rite, it wrapped up in seconds, and—

  “Oh, don’t tell me, don’t tell me… You’re going easy on meee?!”