No Game No Life, Vol. 9

by Yuu Kamiya

  “…We have a…job… And it’s a…producer job…!”

  Answering with an exaggerated no, the man who was supposed to be king, at least nominally—Sora—took out his phone. And smashed one more task into his packed schedule.

  —Procure perfect walking stage effect equipment.

  Sora paused from typing, chuckled, and added one more thing.

  “Yeah… I guess I gotta do the maintenance while I’m at it… Though whether I can is up to them.”

  The light left behind by the screen on which he added it was the last trace they left on the moon.

  —Make the wish of the Ex Machinas come true…

  It is time. Take all the rage you have suppressed—and unleash it!!

  “NGRAHHH!! How you have seen fit to trouble us, maid robots and Einzig!”

  As soon as they shifted to the throne room, Sora’s bellowing shook the castle.

  “Sorry, but it’s our turn now, forever! By the law that all things change, that all is flux, we have come, Einzig!! To announce your return to dust— Hey, is Steph dead?!”

  Abruptly, a sight that should not exist in this world, that of a murder scene, turned his bellowing to a shriek.

  “—Whatever, that doesn’t matter!! Come on, Einzig—”

  “Did you just say my life doesn’t matter?!”

  The corpse splayed out on the ground was so incensed by her treatment, she roared back from the fiery pit of hell.

  …Well, actually, it had been obvious she was breathing, but…

  “Don’t you worry— Actually, it doesn’t!! But don’t you see this is an emergency situation?! Don’t you, you know, stress a little?!”

  Steph squeaked out a cry of resignation.

  “Nah. I mean, it’s Azril, y’know? We’re more like, God, we were smart not to be here.”

  “…That’s why…Brother said…you should…stay out, of the castle…Steph.”

  “My elder is stubborn in normal circumstances. It was self-evident that circumstances involving Ex Machina would get those fools excited.”

  Sora and Shiro and Jibril demonstrated that they’d grasped the situation at once—or rather, predicted it in advance.

  …One should, after all, heed people’s warnings. Even Sora’s. This was the realization Steph came to as she looked heavenward, and no one cared.

  “Oh, Spieler!! At last you have come to us of your own accord!” The old piece of trash wriggled and danced toward Sora and crowed delightedly. “We shall not let you down! For we are not the machines we once were. All units!”

  “Don’t. First—I’ve got something I wanna ask all you guys.” Sora stopped the Ex Machinas as they were about to rewrite the scenery and asked, “You say you’re sure I’m your ‘Spieler’ or whatever. How do you prove that?”

  “I already— Ah, yes. I shall say it as many times as I must: My ‘heart’—”

  “Can you prove it? Can you prove that the Spieler and I are the same guy? So that I’m convinced. So that Shiro’s convinced. So that you guys are convinced, of course, and so that even third parties like Steph and Jibril are convinced. Conclusively, one hundred percent. Can you?” Sora was serious as he disregarded Einzig.

  “Hmm… No, that is impossible. But it is not necessary! For it is certain.” Einzig himself was sincere—as he wrote it off.

  Proof of selfhood was fundamentally impossible, even for someone else. Therefore, Ex Machina could not prove that Sora and the Spieler were the same. Likewise, Sora could not prove that he and the Spieler were not the same.

  Yes. Normally, that is.

  “You’re wrong. Because I can prove conclusively—I’m not.”

  The hushed gazes of Einzig and all the Ex Machinas—not just their eyes, but all their sensors—focused on Sora. Faced with machines that could uncover any lie, Sora merely sneered: Perfect. For there was no lie, no bluff, not even any rhetorical trick in his words. It was just a fact. He could prove it. So that Shiro was convinced. So that Ex Machina was convinced. So that he was convinced, of course, and so that even third parties like Steph and Jibril were convinced. Conclusively, 100 percent. For real.

  This was known, and this was why—Sora crookedly chiseled out a smile—it would be enough: Now what he said, whatever he said—

  —whatever he demanded—they’d have to swallow it.

  “Come—let the game begin.”

  It was back in his hands. Sora flashed them a grin bold and grand. “We decide the game. The rules. The wagers. It’s all us.” This was what they got. “Shiro and I are one team. All you guys are the other. And by the way, you don’t have any choice in the matter.” Making no effort to conceal his personal grudge, Sora stuck it to them deliberately. “If we win, you’re gonna release your hardware lock! Plus! You’re going to abandon your annoyingly faithful wish never to make babies except with so-and-so! You’re gonna reproduce independently and not go extinct! That’s what you’re gonna pledge!!”

  “……Hmm. And what do we gain if we win?”

  For us to abandon the feelings that have brewed within us for six thousand years—what is the consideration you offer to equate to this? Thus, Einzig’s eyes narrowed at Sora, who flashed into a blush and squirmed—

  “Well, first, as a bonus…I’ll let you take…n-nude photos of me. ”

  “I see. Very well, we accept. Let us proceed with the game.”

  “Request: Regarding ownership of bonus. This unit asserts ownership.”

  “They will accept that?! Then why must this take so long?!”

  Steph shrieked at the instantaneous answers of the deplorable scrap heaps. But Sora and Einzig both knew—both presumed something else. The nude photos of Sora, just as he said, were just a bonus. He didn’t even have to bet them. He didn’t even have to put down anything.

  “Also, during the game—I’ll prove to you, conclusively, that I am not the Spieler.”

  Because this was the headliner.

  “If I can’t, or if you refute it, it’ll be our loss unconditionally—”

  “—and here’s the special prize: Whoever refutes it first—gets to make babies with me immediately.”

  ……

  “Heh…heh-heh… A test of who is fit for the Spieler, is it? A bold challenge laid down by love!”

  “Truism: This unit asserts ownership of special prize. All denials rejected. Dismissed.”

  Seemed the headliner exceeded their expectations…their presumption. Everyone stared aghast as the temperature in the room seemed to rise. But Sora and Shiro alone knew. If Ex Machina lost, they’d lose their love. For them to take on that risk—mere nude photos and determination of a partner for reproduction would never be enough.

  If, just as Sora said, it wasn’t him and he could prove it, reproduction didn’t even matter anymore. It threatened all their hope.

  “So, with that, it’s time for us to tell you the game.”

  Steph, Jibril…even Einzig listened up. In what kind of game could one possibly defeat computers that learned and adapted infinitely, that became stronger without bound—that left oracle machines behind?

  —What kind of game could defeat these monsters?

  While feeling the gazes raining down upon him, Sora named it—blithely.

  “—It’s chess! Hey, it’s not like you didn’t see that coming, right?”

  “…Any gamer…knows…if they get you…you gotta, get even…”

  …

  ……?

  Sora could see the question marks forming above everyone’s heads.

  “C’mon, don’t look like that. We’re not playing just any old chess. ”

  Sora, with Shiro in tow, spun about. He was getting a kick out of all this.

  “Game’s five days from now, at the same time as Holou’s second concert! Meanwhile, you get to make and promote the game and set up the stage and equipment!”

  “…Work for us…tools… Perfect stage equipment…for the win…!”

  Thus, tossing aside the concerns
of all, Sora boomed:

  “Things are gonna get busy around here! ’Cos this is gonna be the sickest show ever!!”

  CHAPTER 3

  ORACLE MAKER

  Five days later, the long-hung placard that read CLOSED FOR BUSINESS was finally taken down. Now a new placard was hung from the spire, just as stately as the first:

  CONCERT VENUE

  “Oh… The throne of the Kingdom of Elkia, steeped in fine tradition. The throne room…”

  What Steph saw as she lamented was a magnificent stage beyond compare to that used previously. It was outfitted with countless gadgets and lights, courtesy of Ex Machina, and had perfect acoustics. However, the throne had been removed on the grounds that This is just the right height for a stage. Additionally, the walls had been broken down because We need more capacity. Not a trace was left of the traditional visage of the throne room that had been passed down for ages. Steph could not help but weep, and rubbing it in—

  “…I really want to know! What are all these people doing here?!”

  Thousands of people gathered before the trespassing stage, waiting for the show to start. Steph’s piteous query was answered from behind.

  “Sure, there mighta been some casual passersby when we did it on the balcony, but this is indoors, man.”

  Steph, who had peeked out from backstage, turned back. Down past the short stairs, there was a table at which a man was seated, on whose lap, in turn, a girl was fixed. It was Sora and Shiro, looking smug as ever.

  “…Everyone here came here—they’re all our cherished true-blue dumbasses, ya know?”

  “…I fear for the fate of our country…”

  Steph gazed with melancholy at the poor, brainwashed masses. Sighing, she went on down the stairs.

  She headed for where the sources of the evil were seated, facing off across the table. On one side, Sora and Shiro, the producers of this travesty, Jibril behind them. On the other side, Einzig, the manufacturer of this travesty, Emir-Eins and eleven other maid robots behind him. With Steph stood a fairly uniform line of victims:

  “…O Sora, O Shiro. I ask you once and I ask you again: Why must Holou take part in this inscrutable parade?”

  The pouty-faced god waited in costume for her entrance, apparently none too happy about the arbitrary manner in which she had been spun about.

  “Hmm… You really hate it that much? I think it looks good on you!”

  “…The idol, aura…is bursting…from you…!”

  “I lack basis upon which to estimate my wrath! Thus, I beseech you!”

  Holou growled at Sora and Shiro, after asking them the same question over and over again, only to get nonanswers each time. But Sora, with a very rare smile—

  “Don’t worry, Holou… You’ll find the answer within yourself. Didn’t I tell you?”

  —one that appeared pure and free of ulterior motives—stroked Holou’s head as he told her:

  “We dunno what’s gonna happen, either. So it’s about time for your entrance. Knock ’em dead!”

  “…Holou… Kick ass. Take names… We’re rooting…for you!”

  “—I comprehend not… I comprehend naught… I know not what it is ye want from Holou…”

  Sora and Shiro saw Holou off as she obediently headed for the stairs, albeit grumbling. They got back to the situation at hand, facing Einzig and the Ex Machinas once more.

  “All right, then—shall we begin our game as well?”

  In other words, they faced the chessboard on the table and confirmed what was about to go down. This game was the answer to everything—why they’d created this stage, why Holou was heading onto it, why everyone was here. A brief word for now.

  “Well, ya know—the rules prohibit the use of magic or ‘deployments’ other than those specified as part of the game,” Sora added, reminding Jibril to pay very close attention. “Other than that… Ah, you know the rules, right?”

  No one contradicted Sora’s smart-assed assertion. Which was all very natural, considering the Ex Machinas and Jibril had built the game together based on the rules specified by Sora and Shiro. Everyone there knew the rules better than anyone. It was basically just chess. Basically being the key word.

  There was one thing everyone was wondering about, including Jibril and Steph: No matter how you looked at it, this game overwhelmingly disfavored Sora and Shiro. But they themselves did not seem concerned as they apparently took the silence for assent—

  “All right, the wagers… Starting with who’s ready to pay up…”

  “…Ready… Get set… Let’s go…!”

  Sora and Shiro raised their hands, confirming the wagers and prompting the pledge.

  “Acknowledgment: If lose, then: Release hardware lock. Abandon love. Reproduce independently. Avert extinction.”

  “I vow to emerge victorious with the bonus and the special prize in my hands. You may look forward to it, Spieler.”

  Emir-Eins, Einzig, and all the Ex Machinas followed their lead.

  A tone sounded to indicate that the show was starting, and Holou ran up the stairs onto the stage. There was a moment of silence that felt unnaturally long…and finally, the music blared. Several shouts clamored forth so as not to be drowned out:

  “—Aschente—!!”

  The music was played back by Shiro’s phone and amplified by Ex Machina’s speakers. Holou stepped out on the stage amidst the deafening intro to hear—

  “Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

  —an explosion of enthusiasm from the darkened seats such as to make it hard to hear the music.

  .

  For a moment, Holou’s mind went blank. It was a moment by human standards, but more like an eternity of stillness to an Old Deus. Her thoughts were frozen on one word: Enigma.

  Last time, Holou just followed Sora and Shiro’s vague instructions without understanding. But amidst the enthusiasm here, in the audience, Holou felt a wish for something more. This hypothesis gave rise to a theory: They expected something from her. It was there that her thoughts stopped.

  What did they expect?

  She hadn’t even determined clearly what expectation was… Truly, what? What was this that made her supposedly insubstantial body shake?

  It made her wheeze silently.

  Anxiety, fear, tension.

  Feelings no god should have swirled within her. Her hands gripped the mic of their own accord and trembled. Her divine eyes swam in search of salvation, not even conscious of it. Then, among the screaming faces in the dark, she saw someone familiar. She saw someone she knew.

  Host…?

  Those eyes, they did expect something. They were her friend’s. Her comrade’s. The Shrine Maiden’s.

  “…H-Holou is Holou! N-now…Holou shall sing and dance, and so forth!”

  Holou still didn’t know what she was supposed to do. But. Still. Regardless! At the very least, she was almost sure of this!

  —Holou’s host desireth not—for Holou to drown in questions!!

  Holou set forth that hypothesis and awkwardly introduced herself. And she moved her mouth and body as she’d been taught.

  While Holou was starting to awkwardly sing and dance, backstage, Sora, Shiro, and Einzig were wildly moving their hands. Einzig was moving two hands, guided by the parallel thought of the entire Ex Machina cluster. Sora and Shiro were moving four hands, their thinking remarkably in tandem. Both were taking their turns at blazing speed as they moved pieces without a moment of confusion.

  It was basically just chess. With a few special rules. Such as—not taking turns.

  “…Wh-what is happening…? J-Jibril, who is leading?”

  “…I believe my masters are slightly behind… Wait. Now they have— No…a ploy…?”

  The moves flashed about on the board so fast, the two squealed in their attempts to follow it. High-speed chess. Average four moves a second. Sora and Shiro played their moves back and forth without having to talk about it. It seemed that the fact that they were competing with
Ex Machina like this was enough to astonish Steph and Jibril, but…

  …Don’t get excited about this. There was no special meaning in that rule. It’s just how it ended up because they wanted to make it like a rhythm game. Whence also—

  “…So any moves not in time with the beat are invalid, are they? A mere constraint?”

  Just as Einzig suggested, this, too, had no special meaning.

  Yes—a rhythm game. A music game.

  —Waves of light crashed through the board in sync with the song Holou sang onstage. You had to smack down the pieces in sync with the rhythm, or your move would be invalid—and the piece would go back.

  “No shit. You expect us to let you move as fast as sound or light?”

  “…But…we, too, were…always perfect…on rhythm…games…”

  For “ ” and Ex Machina alone, this was a mere speed control.

  Holou’s set list contained thirteen songs, which meant the chess match should have thirteen rounds. No turns. No stalemate. Whoever brought things to a stalemate lost. This made Holou’s show and the game sync up. So yeah—that was pretty much all there was to the rules described thus far.

  None of that included the special rule. The really special rule was—well, look at that. Steph and Jibril nervously looked up at the meter floating in the air.

  It was goofy-looking, with an Emir-Eins chibi on it: the Energy Gauge.

  It represented the level of excitement, delight, and satisfaction among the audience as measured by the Ex Machina Seher and Prüfer. To put it a bit more bluntly, it showed how much this concert was rocking—and it was gradually sliding down at the moment. There’d been no particular effects. It was just Holou awkwardly singing and dancing. This could not be expected to rock.

  So let’s take stock: Sora and Shiro had three win conditions. One, they had to win at least seven rounds of chess. Two, they had to prove that Sora was not the Spieler. And three, they had to make the concert a success—which meant they couldn’t let the Energy Gauge run out. The Ex Machinas, on the other hand, would win if they prevented any one of these.