by Yuu Kamiya
It had been because they couldn’t trust her to betray them. That…should be something to be proud of. To delight in. But seeing the gamers before her, she felt a little jealous. A little…just a little mad she couldn’t play.
In-game, Ino smirked at Steph’s words. Well, now. Sora’s final message had been honest and true.
“I knew you’d all betray us. Love you guys!”
It implied that, without a single sacrifice, he’d trust them all to the end—and take down the God. Now Ino felt he had glimpsed what it was the Holy Shrine Maiden had seen in those two that he himself couldn’t. What she had chosen to believe in.
“…But that still leaves some questions…”
Such as, of course, what the Shrine Maiden’s plot was. No, what the true purpose of this game was. There were so many riddles. Ino took on the most inexplicable one of all.
Why had Sora and Shiro worked with the fake? They could conclude that Sora and Shiro knew she was fake from the moment the game began, and yet—
“Would they truly give their dice to a fake of unknown provenance and uncertain faith…?”
Ino thought back to twenty-three days earlier. In the bath, Sora and Shiro had handed the fake Steph their dice without compunction. We’re all in the same boat, he’d even said. An act that could hardly be more dangerous… Why would he do such a—?
“E-excuse me… Mr. Ino?”
“Yes? Whatever is the matter, Miss Stephanie?” he responded with unprecedented cheer as Steph’s voice echoed from outside the game. Steph, as if somehow uncomfortable with the goings-on, inquired quite sheepishly:
“W-well, if I may… To punch Sora while sitting on his face… I just think it just seems a tad inappropriate! I—I mean, this is just my opinion, mind you?! Oh—oh-ho-ho…”
She spoke with such courage as Ino continuously pummeled the Sora NPC. Every punch shook the ground. The road cracked; it was turning into a crater. With no regard for his dwindling Love Power, Ino went on filling the air with thuds:
“Miss Stephanie, have you ever heard the phrase ‘two separate issues’?”
Sure that this was the very moment for which this VR machine had been born, Ino gave the smile of the century.
“Uhhh, well! Y-you know, they say the more two people fight, the closer they are…”
“In thaaat case, everyone must have been the best of friends during the Great Warrr. ”
Plum, likewise outside of the game, responded to Steph’s desperate attempt to patch over the situation.
“U-ummm— And Sora himself said something about how, you know, with enough stupidity, you’ll end up a genius!”
“So…,” Steph continued. “If you hate each other enough, then perhaps you’ll end up the best of friends! Perhaps that’s how just about anything works, don’t you think?!”
As the thud of Ino’s fists continued filling the air—
“I—i-i—in the first place, didn’t you all betray one another?!”
—her words stopped him, made him think.
“Sora said it himself! He trusted you to betray him!!”
00b: —Among the die-bearers is one traitor whose memory hath not been collected.
…One traitor. Not one fake or one liar—one traitor. Sora had indeed said so—I knew you’d all betray us. If that was how just about anything worked—if there was no greater faith than that knowledge—
“Could it be—? Could it truly be, O Holy Shrine Maiden? Could it be—it’s…?”
The words hit Ino. The words Sora hadn’t said, back when the game had just begun, as he had trolled him.
Who really gives a shit who’s the traitor?
So Sora had implied. Now Ino could see why. Who was the traitor? Ino himself. They all were. Everyone had betrayed everyone. Everyone knew they’d all betray one another. Then the Old Deus bothered to identify “one traitor” in the rules. Just who on earth—
—was the “traitor” the rule referred to?
It was expected that they’d all betray one another. But then, if someone they didn’t think would betray them did—
…There it was—the answer.
……
Forty-two days since the start of the game: the 306th space. On the stone-paved road west of the Elkian domain’s capital echoed the sound of hooves and wheels. Sora smirked with Shiro on his lap as the carriage they’d obtained in Elroble jostled them. Another sign passed by with exactly the same words he’d become so accustomed to seeing—
—Select one of the seven souls held by the Old Deus to be killed, whereupon thou shalt be transported to the final space.
This Task, which had repeated for six spaces— No. Rather, this Task, which surely repeated from the 301st space all the way to the end, had been written with who knew what intent, concentrated by who knew what means. In fact…when you got down to it, it was just a cheesy play on words. Sora chuckled.
—Let’s go over the rules.
03: The result of the roll of the dice shall be determined randomly, whereafter ONE of the dice used shall be lost.
10: Each TASK shall be transcribed upon a sign, and these signs shall be placed upon the spaces of the board in random order.
The roll of the dice was random, according to Shiro’s random number analysis.
Yet the order of the Tasks was arbitrary, not random.
01: The seven are granted ten DICE that apportion their TIME OF SUBSTANCE.
06: Each player hath the right to create fifty TASKS at the start of the game.
The dice were granted to seven.
Yet, the Tasks were written by players.
Now, there were three rules only the Old Deus could have set. First—the leader alone would be saved but wouldn’t gain anything. Second—the one with the Shrine Maiden would maintain the lead. Third—this traitor rule. Yes, in this game into which the Shrine Maiden had coerced or tricked the Old Deus, there was a traitor such as none of them could have conceivably allowed—one whose memory had not been lost. From the fact that these rules had made it through, what could one infer—rather, conclude? Let’s run it down.
Who had written these Tasks, and how had they been lined up?
“That one’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?”
As Sora snarked, the carriage rolled on—to the 307th space. After the load screen, they found themselves at their destination—and there she was. As Steph and Sora (Shiro in his arms), climbed down from the carriage, they saw her just ahead of them. She looked back without reaction, without a flinch, just there. Who was she?
“It has to be you. Player 7, the nameless God.”
Yes. She who held a dried-up brush against her cheek, sitting atop an inkpot about her own height, floating in the air, in the guise of a young girl. Her steel-colored eyes now looked back at them and reflected not a thing in the world. There she was, her presence filled with an intimidating air as if a cataclysm were drawing near. And yet…despite all this, Sora felt her entire being seemed illusive—hollow. Like some sort of prop or doll. Sora dared to continue speaking as if to provoke her.
“This Task requires someone like you—not a die-bearer, but always in the lead—who can move anywhere and anyone but is still a player.”
Pretty cheap trick for a god.
“You wrote it, and you put them all at the end while calling it arbitrary. What other possibility is there?”
Just as he was sneering, the Task sounded.
—Select one of the seven souls held by the Old Deus to be killed, whereupon thou shalt be transported to the final space.
—All right, let’s go with this answer. Sora smiled more deeply.
“If someone finishes normally, probably, almost certainly—this chick’s dead.”
The game had been started under duress; therefore, that would be the logical result. And even suppose they were to finish and make a demand to avert that. What kind of demand would work? They’d had their memories collected before the start of the game, so they had no way of knowing. But if Sora and Shir
o hadn’t allowed that—a sacrifice—then it was simple: They just had to not think logically.
“Whoever knows what demand will prevent the Old Deus from dying is the one who has to finish the game.”
“…S-so you’re saying…you know?” Steph asked from behind, but Sora just cocked his head and looked back at her, his smile carved into his face like a crevasse:
“Not me. You’re the one who knows.”
Sora’s portentous words weighed on Steph. No, rather, on the one whose memory had not been collected, the one who knew what to demand—
“That’s your cue, Traitor… Or should we call you Fake?”
“…………Par…don?”
The one who looked like Steph stepped back, her face wrenched with fear and confusion.
“—It’s you. You’re gonna fulfill this Task and make it to the goal.”
Sora stepped forward as if chasing Steph, almost commanding her. And Steph, seemingly uncomprehending, gave a parched cry:
“Y-you’re asking me to name someone—to kill them…a-and finish?!”
“Not someone. The one who won’t die if she releases them.”
—Now for the final answer. Sora grinned. Release one of the seven souls held by the Old Deus? Which seven souls? One would think it would be the seven die-bearers’. Their bodies had been divided among the dice, and their souls lived on under the protection of the Old Deus. If she released them, they’d die. However! Steph was a fake! And the Old Deus was a player?! And, wait, what about the Shrine Maiden?! Ah, just which seven souls did she mean?! Goodness, who to sacrifice—?!
…Should we at least pretend to worry about it like that? Sora and Shiro sneered to each other.
One would say the question was: Who should die?
They would say the answer was: No one, dumbass.
If they weren’t going to sacrifice anyone, then they didn’t have time to worry about it.
“You just need to cancel out the existing sacrifice—bring back the one who’s already died.”
Yes. The Old Deus had even gone so far as to shove in that rule that the leader be spared to protect her. She carried her body with her always. This one’s body hadn’t been divided into dice—and the soul could, therefore, be released without leading to death.
One who was already dead and thus could die no more. One who was invisible to Sora and his companions but had disappeared with the Old Deus at the start of the game.
One undoubtedly at the side of the Old Deus who floated aloof. One of the seven—the seventh.
“You can just say ‘the Shrine Maiden.’”
Reaching his conclusion, Shiro looked at Sora as if to say, Of course, while Pseudo-Steph looked dazed. No one spoke, except for Sora, who amped things up.
“And thus! The Shrine Maiden’s soul returns to her body, and we’ve revoked one sacrifice!”
As if dancing, as if singing, he gestured to the traitor.
“You shall be transported to the final space, and— Congratulations!! You are the winner!! Take your victory lap, savor the taste of success, bathe in champagne on the podium, and make your demand—!”
He froze—then said it.
It was the third rule only the Old Deus could have made, the demand that could be known only by the fake Steph—one whose memories and actions had been tampered with.
“…The demand only you, the traitor, could know: the demand to keep the Old Deus alive! ”
. Confusion and bewilderment left a silence. The traitor shook her head and gave the obvious answer.
“I—I don’t know…what you’re…talking about… F-first of all—you’re saying, I’m a fake…?”
Yes. Sora and Shiro themselves knew the fake would not know herself for one. Then she must be the clone, created with the authorization of Steph herself. That made it all the clearer: She’d do Steph’s will—Sora and Shiro’s will. She’d betray them. So Sora calmly stuck it to her.
“—D00d. You remember depositing those Tasks? If there are only 350 spaces, and we’ve got Tasks only the Old Deus could’ve written—where are yours? Can you tell us what I said before we left Elkia? Where’s Laila? Where’s the letter, the instructions we gave you?”
Of course she couldn’t answer. But Steph could have.
“……L-let’s just suppose you’re right… Hypothetically, mind you!”
She tried to argue.
“I-if I get to the goal and say the Old Deus’s demand, won’t that mean the Old Deus wins?! Sh-she could be demanding all of our lives, everything we wagered! In the worst case, everything—”
“Nah. Thing is…it doesn’t mean she wins.”
Sora cut her off. Look at the rules:
13: The die-bearer who first reacheth the goal shall be the VICTOR, whereupon the game shall end.
14: The Old Deus shall be bound to fulfill the demands of the VICTOR to the full extent of her authority and power.
The full extent of her authority—didn’t impinge on their rights.
“…That’s right. Simply put, you, the traitor, are the victor. Didn’t I tell you?”
If someone who would never betray them were to actually betray them—
“You’d betray me, Shiro, Jibril, Plum, Ino, Izuna—even yourself. You’d betray everyone’s betrayal.”
The demands of the Old Deus—the Race Pieces, the Shrine Maiden’s life, everything. Without letting her have any of it, they’d just…make it through, without sacrificing anyone.
That was all they’d sought when they began the game—for everyone to make it.
“You’re even gonna betray the Old Deus’s faith that we’d never let the traitor make it to the goal! ”
……
There was a long silence but for the howling of the wind and the overwhelming presence of the Old Deus, who remained disinterested in everything, her expression vague. This all went on for who knows how long, until the downcast girl who looked like Steph whispered, “Sora… Shiro… Am I…a fake?”
Her voice trembled as she asked, but Sora and Shiro replied with aplomb:
“…Yeah… I mean… Look—”
“It’s not like we ever had any intention of letting Steph play.”
The real Steph would be in the Eastern Union by now, with Laila. Just imagining the faces of those sorry bastards made Sora smirk.
“In that case… Who am I…?”
Still downcast, “she” cried out:
“Am I just a pawn?! A puppet?! What will happen to me once the game is over?!”
She shook, letting out the weakness she hadn’t shown even in the battle with Jibril.
“—Did you rely on me to win the game…?”
Sora had declared that there would be no sacrifices, and if there were to be any, then they’d all go down. Steph had been impressed, and that had been why she’d desperately repressed her fear all this time.
“Did you think…since she’s a fake…it’s fine if she disappears…?”
But as she shouted her resentment, Sora merely said:
“Uhhh, uhhh, um, th-that’s— It’s not, uh, whaaa?! Sh-Shiro, help!”
“…Brother… Whenever, a girl cries…you…lose, your cool… Dumb virgin.”
He was truly at a loss for what to do. Shiro glared at Sora as he panicked. It seemed he wanted to say it really wasn’t like that, but Steph was still looking at him with tears in her eyes.
“…You won’t, disappear… You won’t, die… Don’t worry.”
Following Shiro’s pronouncement, Sora took several deep breaths, cleared his throat, and continued:
“Uhhh, let me repeat myself. We’re not gonna sacrifice anyone.”
For starters—why had she been excluded from the list of souls held by the Old Deus?
“…The Old Deus doesn’t have the soul of Stephanie Dola. According to the Ten Covenants, you wouldn’t have been made without Steph’s permission. And look! Me, Shiro, and Steph wouldn’t agree to toss out a fake once the game was done! C’mon.”
<
br /> So, you know, they’d presumably dump her memories from this game into Steph outside or something…
“Uhhh, how do I say this…? Look… Steph wouldn’t betray us… So—”
Sora averted his gaze just slightly and grumpily, bashfully, explained.
“—as long as you’re a traitor, we can’t call you Steph.”
In exchange, Shiro gave a thumbs-up and added:
“…We’ll see you…on the outside…! Say… ‘I’m home.’”
“Yeah… Right, and then—we’ll respond with your name, ’kay?”
……Heh. Heh-heh.
She broke out in giggles.
The traitor who was apparently not Steph took a step toward the Old Deus, her limbs trembling ever so slightly—as were Sora and Shiro, who couldn’t keep themselves from giggling. Even she who was apparently not Steph could see why. Sora and Shiro themselves had no proof that they were definitely right. In fact, they’d made a lot of mistakes in this game, for instance with Jibril.
What if she made it to the goal but she didn’t make the right demand? What if she chose the Shrine Maiden and the Shrine Maiden died? What if, after the game ended—she disappeared after all? And what indeed if the Old Deus had set it up so they all lost?
Countless anxieties rushing through her head, the traitor…raised her lips into a smile. She trusted them. She had been selected as the traitor because they trusted she’d never betray them. That must have been why they’d entrusted everything to her on the last move, trusted her to betray them. Look at what they’d done for Jibril, all for the sake of preventing any sacrifices. Everyone would be smiling at the end of the game…so the traitor made her decision.
She looked straight at the Old Deus—and named the soul to be released.
“The…Shrine Maiden!”
Then, with a whoosh, the entire landscape slid. But in that moment, the face of the Old Deus, cold and emotionless as always…somehow…looked like that of a child…about to burst into tears.