by Yuu Kamiya
A bell jingled.
In place of the girl who’d disappeared, they were teleported to a grassy knoll overlooking the sea. A pleasant voice rang out, clear as a bell, accompanied by the sound of wooden sandals.
“…Phew… ’Tis been forty-nine days since last I had a body… Scarce do I recall it being so heavy…”
From behind Sora and the others…came a figure with two large tails, clad in Japanese-style garb, swaying into view… The golden fox.
I’d rather not get old… The Shrine Maiden seemed to smirk. Sora and Shiro inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Mmmm-hmm!!! Looks like we win—amirite?!”
“…I’m so…tired… I wanna, get in bed…and sleep…”
Meanwhile, they stretched theatrically and showed off their fatigue.
That same moment—
Whoosh, the last two dice disappeared from each of their chests. Now back to ages 18 and 11, respectively, Sora and Shiro looked to the sky, where, presumably, the final space lay forty-four moves ahead.
Fake Steph must’ve made the right demand. The landmass rumbled, swayed, and crumbled… Clearly, the game was over.
“Well… Considering we tasted defeat, I guess we can’t say we kicked ass… Sigh, I missed a bunch of things, didn’t I?”
“…It’s not…your fault… I made…a lot of mistakes…too…”
Sora and Shiro were sullen as they reviewed their results, grieving their loss. Eventually, they would sulk off to bed and talk about it tomorrow.
“Heh-heh! Well now, you two, you’ve made it through all their traps, even hers—”
But the Shrine Maiden butted in with a merciless—
“And yet you’ve forgotten all about mine? Poor me! ”
—and wicked laugh, which grabbed their attention.
Expressionless, emotionless, lifeless as ever, the Old Deus sat atop her giant inkpot floating in the air, but—
“…Why did ye not seek thine own victory…?”
“…………”
Sora and Shiro frowned dubiously in unison. There was the Old Deus, much the same but somehow different. Her words, formerly etched directly into their brains, now reverberated in their ears. Her presence, before a menacing tidal wave, now seemed like a mere stage setting, surreal.
As if she’d quit being a god.
“…Why did ye not seek thine own benefit…?”
Even her tone seemed somehow different—childish. But Sora didn’t seem to get what she was asking.
“Sorry, I’m not following. We won, right?”
They had sought their own benefit and thus won. They had gained the advantage. There was no doubt in Sora’s mind. But the Old Deus’s expression shifted, and she held her head as she lamented.
“…Why did ye not take it from me? Why did ye not permit me to die…?”
“…Uhhh… ’Cos, I mean, look… This is a game, right?”
Sora checked, as if unsure for a moment, and took a breath.
“Why the hell would we kill such an epic gamer?! It’s, like, 10/10, would play again!! Besides, if we let you die, that’d be a huge-ass weight on our conscience! No way we’d be able to handle that!”
“…It wouldn’t be, fun… We’d feel really bad… Plus, we’re totally chicken…”
“You bet your life without a second thought, and you’re chicken… Quite an amusing joke!”
Though the Shrine Maiden teased him, Sora turned and yelled, his expression dead serious:
“For real, man!! I can’t take it anymore! I’m just gonna say it, all right?!”
He’d been planning to tell Jibril later, but instead he clutched his head and shouted:
“You guys! Listen to Tet just a liiittle bit more, at least!! I can’t even freakin’ believe how you’re just leaving him out like this!! Sure, he might be an obnoxious little bitch, but when you get this far, you gotta shed a tear of sympathy for the li’l guy!! The Tenth of the Ten Covenants. C’mon, guys!! Repeat after me!!”
—Let’s all have fun together.
“What’d happen if you killed each other?! I’m starting to think I’m the one who’s messed up, so lemme ask you somethin’!”
Sora recalled what they’d seen when they played Jibril: That world that bounced between taking to being taken, killing to being killed, hatred and despair alone repeating in an unlimited cycle; a world Sora’s old world could have devolved into with one false step—
“—Is that shit really so goddamn fun?!”
…Silence. Then…
“…I understand it not— I understand it not, I understand it not, I understand it not, I understand it not, I understand it not, I understand it not!”
Each time the Old Deus whispered as if about to clutch her head, the game board broke further and the rumbling grew more intense. At last, her voice shaking—
“If that be so, then indeed— What is it to believe—?”
“—? It’s to doubt, right?”
Sora answered her blankly and without hesitation. It’s all kinda fuzzy…but didn’t we just prove that when you can trust someone once you know they’re gonna betray you? Sora looked confused.
At last, the Old Deus gritted her teeth and shouted tearfully, very much like a child throwing a tantrum.
“If that be so— Then answer me this!!”
The crumbling of the board reached their feet.
“Whydid my host betray me? Answer, ye lowly beings!!!”
As if her shriek was the last straw, everything broke down, with just one person offering a parting thought.
“Well then, do take care of my troublesome friend here. If I’m to borrow a phrase from you—,” said the Shrine Maiden, smirking devilishly like a fox, and just then…
“—This is where it gets real. How exciting! ”
…something black swallowed Sora and Shiro up.
The island of Kannagari, capital of the Eastern Union. Deep in the basement of the Chinkai Tandai District. Plum and Ino versus Fiel and Chlammy—the epic game that had unfolded inside and outside virtual reality had ended. The difference between winner and loser was laid out cruelly, as clearly as in a diagram.
On one hand, the winners were wreathed in joy.
“Tell meee, how does it feeel? Tell meee, how does it feel knowing you couldn’t pull off a single spelll? ”
“Heh, heh-heh-heh, ha-ha-ha-ha! I, Ino Hatsuse, look back on my life without a smidgeon of regret!”
Ino looked completely satisfied as Plum flitted through the air and riled up their opponents.
Ino wouldn’t be able to do it again now that he had a physical body—that NPC massacre for which he’d utilized his bloodbreak. He gave himself over to the glorious sense of achievement, experiencing such rapture that he would hardly mind if he were to keel over at that very moment.
Plum, for his part, had used his incorporeal form to send off a barrage of magic without regard to the attenuation of his soul. He’d bombarded Fiel with the full force of the true form of Dhampir, shutting her down—and not only that, he’d plunged her into manifold layers of waking dreams and made a perfect fool of her. He was beside himself with glee.
On the other hand, the losers were cloaked in despair.
“…I lost to a mosquito… I lost, I looost… Hee-hee— Just kill me.”
“…Pant, pant— Fi… There was nothing you could do… After all, they cheated…!”
Fiel mumbled and let out a hollow laugh as Chlammy panted and consoled her.
It would have been futile to expect Chlammy alone to compete with Ino in physical prowess, let alone with his bloodbreak. Meanwhile, Fiel had pushed her magic to the limit—no, beyond the limit. She’d resorted to a multilayer rite that incorporated a seal rite… She’d used her trump card, the seventh rite, and now the gem in her forehead was muddied, clouded darker than ever before.
And despite this, she’d failed to surpass Plum even once. Hence, compared to the dullness of her eyes, her gem looked crystal clear.
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“…Why, if I’d known it would be like this, I’d rather have been born a flower… Chlammy? If you see me in the next life, don’t put me in a vase… Please nurture me in a bed full of natural fertilizer…”
“Hey, what do you mean? Where are you going, Fi? Fi!!”
The scene was divided between joy and despair, light and darkness. Steph’s face was drawn as she watched this deciding moment, this literal split between light and darkness. But at this time, she still didn’t know that this was better than what was to come. Thus—it all happened at once, bringing about chaos mingled with light and dark.
“?! …Huh? Wha…? Where—am I?”
Like a muddied stream, Steph’s mind flooded with memories from the past forty-two days. As she was thrown into confusion by her contradicting memories from having been in two places at once, the shrieks of two others rang out with far more urgency.
“Ghuhh?! Wh-what is this blood—? I-I’m not ready to die! I retract my previous statement!”
“Eeeee!! I-it buuurns! I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dyiiing!! My queen! Blood, blood, I beg you!!!”
Apparently, Ino and Plum had also returned to normal at the same time Steph regained her memory. They had a physical tab to pay. Ino retched up blood and started begging for his life. Plum flew to Steph’s side, descending on Laila’s wrist as she slept in her bowl. And then
“…It seems my masters have prevailed after all— Oh?”
Jibril’s passionate comment as she casually shifted in had suddenly turned into a puzzled head tilt as she took in the spectacle. Steph was shouting ironically, having remembered the game and the unending fear and abuse she had suffered at Sora’s and Shiro’s hands. Plum looked on the verge of evaporating as Laila was refusing his sudden demand for blood, Fiel was chanting Die! Die! as Ino was convulsing deep in a sea of blood, while Chlammy, too exhausted to move to help him, wailed…
Hmm.
“You all seem to have thoroughly enjoyed yourself, given your smiling faces! ”
“I wouldn’t call this look on my face a ‘smile’!!!” Steph insisted before suddenly asking, “…Wait… Jibril, where did you come from?”
“The Shrine. Ah yes, and Miss Izuna is on her way as well, but more importantly—” Jibril gestured casually, and they were able to view the scene outside.
It appeared to be a cataclysm. The spiraling sugoroku board, a carbon copy of the planet created in the firmament, seeming to reach into space itself. Now it was breaking, crumbling, collapsing under the power of gravity as if the natural order was being restored. Measuring over 350 ten-kilometer squares across, these were better considered landmasses than rocks. If even one were to fall into the ocean, it would cause a massive tidal wave, and if one touched down on a city, the damage would be catastrophic. The landscape crumbled and began melting away, as if it had never existed…
…but.
“…Where are Sora and Shiro? …And the Shrine Maiden…?” Steph had finished the game, and as the game board crumbled…her memories had flooded in, her physical body restored.
“Would it be accurate to say the game has concluded? Where are my masters…?” whispered Jibril.
But suddenly, amidst the deluge of memories, Steph recalled what the other Steph had been compelled to wish for at the final space.
Return the ether possessed by the Shrine Maiden to the Old Deus.
…That was it. That was all. She’d been compelled to wish it. Steph didn’t know what it meant, but it appeared that things had ended with no one dead, without a single sacrifice…
“—The game’s not over yet, is it?”
“…Pardon?”
Looking at the black specks far out on the crumbling board, Steph murmured:
“Because…that girl…the Old Deus…still hasn’t smiled.”
CHAPTER 4
WHO ARE YOU?
It couldn’t have lasted for more than a moment. But in that moment, Sora and Shiro were stormed with hundreds of millions of memories. Unfathomable time, beyond human understanding except as eternal. Foggy, like a dream, as if about to doze off—they saw it.
Once upon a time, there was a girl who was all alone. It was an ancient, ancient time, before the world had taken shape, so long ago it would make your head spin. The girl was a god. But she didn’t know what a god was or why one should be born. And she had no one, nothing to answer her.
The world still lacked any intelligence. The girl had been born to ask “why” on behalf of those who lacked consciousness. Doubting everything—even her ether—the girl took up her pen and kept asking: What is it to be? What is the world? Who was she who asked? Yet, however many questions she had, there was no one to ask. However many hypotheses she formed, there was nothing to respond. Amidst time perpetual, the lonely philosopher girl went on asking “why” about everything. And because she was alone in the world, she did not know just how lonely she was.
She vaguely sought someone to talk to. She created five small mechanical cubes. There were units for observation, analysis, validation, and adaptation, and a fifth to oversee and command them. It was her attempt at creating intelligence in this yet insensible world. Independent agents of reason, her wish for someone to talk to—someone to answer her infinite questions. But the mechanical wits—asked their own questions in turn.
—What am I? What art thou? What is a question?
The machines had intelligence but lacked something the girl possessed. Something she did not even know she had, because she was alone. For this reason, in that primordial world, that girl who was the first to have a “heart” despaired. She neither knew what hope was, nor did she understand it. And so, at the end of the more than ageless silence, the girl at last thought of a single means—a method to answer those questions that bubbled up infinitely within her. The lonely god, having come to doubt the truth of her very existence, at last came—
—to deny herself and gouge herself of her ether.
At least she had found one answer: She had existed. She held that close to her, the answer obtained at the cost of her death.
But that day, she was denied even that answer.
On a remote hill in what would come to be called the Eastern Union. Its scarlet moon set as if on a stage, the sky wreathed in night. The girl’s question went unheeded by a young golden fox who seemed to be on her last breath. That fox doubted everything in the world: the Ten Covenants, the One True God, convention, destiny, all of it. The fox concluded that convention was unassailable and forced a despairing grin, to which the lonely girl who was supposed to die, her ether still dormant—
—asked, Why?
The dormant girl inferred that she’d failed to die. She’d denied herself, gouged her ether with all her might—and yet, it hadn’t disappeared but had only come loose. She’d merely rendered herself temporarily inert. Too lethargic to recognize her own despair, the girl asked again—
“Answer me. How dost thou deem convention unassailable?”
—as if blaming the one who had roused her from deep, dreamy sleep.
When the golden fox answered that history itself was the basis for her conclusion, the girl then asked how she had determined that the fallacy of composition, the part implying the whole, was valid.
When the golden fox replied that no basis was needed for something as self-explanatory as “the strong ravage the weak,” the girl then asked what weak meant and how the fox could prove that the supposed obvious needed no proof.
The fruitless argument went on and on, until—for some reason—the moribund fox smiled. She boldly stood up and asked:
“—This is all quite ridiculous. What’s your name?”
The girl thought—and answered: Unknown. She explained that the “you” the fox referred to and the “self” who should respond were both open to question. She told of her ether, her infinite questioning, and her self-denial at its end—everything. And finally, she concluded that she’d never even given thought to a name.
“Ah
, so we’re comrades in namelessness. Never mind then. So—”
The young golden fox’s smile deepened. The despair was gone.
“—you want me to prove it?”
All there was—
“You want me to prove that conventions exist to be broken, that everyone, even the One True God, is assailable… That one can break convention after convention to infinity to change the world, remaking it with one’s own hands?”
—was one rising fervently to reshape the world. But the girl didn’t care either way. She just wanted to sleep. Proof can always be disproved, the girl told her, but the golden fox looked mightily displeased.
“You get me started and now that? You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”
The girl tried to ask Why, but the fox boldly and arrogantly interrupted her with a grand declaration:
She’d unite all the races and build a convention by which no one would be sacrificed, use it to vanquish the One True God—and take his throne.
“So—let’s: Aschente.”
?
Though the fox raised her hand, the girl responded with only silence. She had been quasi-inactive through everything, through the end of the War and the binding of the Ten Covenants. Even now, she denied herself, so this could not be more than a shallow, transitory reactivation. She would likely return to quasi-inactivity any moment now and certainly had no power to speak of as an Old Deus. She dozed, the past and future—even the present—obscure to her…
“Say it after me. We’re going to play a little game.”
Nevertheless, the fox continued.
“You beat me, you get this body. I’ll be your host till I die.”
And then, once all of the fox’s grand schemes reached fruition, the frail creature remarked she wouldn’t need it, so—
“—Once I have the throne of the One True God, I’ll pass it to you, so help yourself.”