No Game No Life, Vol. 9

by Yuu Kamiya

  —That same moment.

  Sora and Shiro’s initial velocity as they launched out of the chair surpassed the speed of light. Or so it seemed to everyone, their act that meant abandoning the game giving no one time to process it. Before Sora’s image could even be reflected in the environment. So fast. Faster than anything! Holou’s clothes were repaired—no, changed to her costume for her next song—and!!

  Rrriiiiiipppshhhhrrr.

  The unnatural sound Holou’s clothes had made as they ripped was echoed by a factor of ten to the forty-fifth power.

  “““…………Huh?”””

  The clothes of the twelve maid robots, including Emir-Eins, and of both Steph and Jibril—in other words, every girl but Shiro—were shredded to smithereens, except for the important articles such as their socks and garters. A moment after their modesty was compromised, each of the maids individually witnessed a gross spectacle—

  “—Fear: …Eek!”

  —a writhing bundle of meat in a loincloth swaying without wind, who was admiring her bare body intently. Yes…the abomination vulgarly known as Ino Hatsuse had come for each of them. Twelve of him in total—the effect nightmarish enough to make them squeal—by which time Sora had his smartphone and Shiro had the tablet—and they were sliding under Emir-Eins’s legs! The myriad of images yielded by burst mode in storage, they dashed on to their next target…!

  —All right, that’s crossing the line, you may think. Uncensored low-angle close-ups? That’s straight from the red card to suspension from F*FA. And yet! —Nay. I say nay! No red card will be presented here. No ref’s whistle will blow! Why, you ask?!

  “M-Masters?! Th-this mysterious light—what composes it?!”

  “I don’t even know where to start, but—why am I naked?!”

  Yes. Jibril had inquired about (and Steph had ignored) the light drifting about the girls—the light that just barely concealed their privates from every angle! Mysterious Light, with its ever-so-dependable non-euclidean geometry, decided to grace us with their presence! Conversely, this likely wouldn’t make the cut using Pixelation. But with our friend Mysterious Light, we’re in the clear for broadcast! Therefore, this content is definitively safe and wholesome!! QED!!

  …Thus, here lay Sora and Shiro’s challenge: There were at least 3.2 seconds until the end of the seventh round, which they would inevitably lose, and another 8 seconds until the start of the eighth round, for a total of 11.2 seconds! They had this very limited span of time to determine the angles and compositions that wouldn’t include Ino in the frame! And they had to capture at least one bust shot of each of these fourteen individuals, all before returning to their seat…

  Could they do it? Sora and Shiro looked at each other. What a silly question! Could they thread their camera shutters through the eyes of an endlessly towering series of needles and reach the elusory porno beyond? Let’s see what happens. “ ” will get it done!!

  ……

  “A-all right… Now for round eight. We totally got this, but still, let’s get…goinggg… Hff…”

  “…I-it’s their…first move… And an…effect strike, too… Egh, fff…”

  …Exactly 11.2 seconds. Sora and Shiro were back at the table, panting, faces full of accomplishment. Still, their hands were getting right to that eighth round as they declared victory.

  “—Command: Effect strike, top priority. Execute.”

  “Wha…? My good unit, what are you saying—?!”

  The bureaucratic voice of Emir-Eins gave Einzig no time to question Sora and Shiro. Rather, all the Ex Machinas except Einzig glared at him with overbearing pressure.

  “Spieler… Is this what you meant when you spoke of a compromise on winning the next round?”

  Sora merely grinned at Einzig’s belated realization.

  Indeed—why had they chosen this effect? Well, yeah… For the porno, duh. But there’s nothing like making your hobbies useful, is there? Even if it means you need to raise the difficulty a little. Even if it means you need to bring out Ino—look how useful it is.

  “Vote: Consensus of twelve units. Effect strike, top priority. Eliminate undesirable observation subject X permanently. Destroy. Kill.”

  “Attention, all units! This is a trap! There is no need to counter this effect! We shall only—”

  “Warning: Viewing of this unit’s body by an agent other than Master deemed unacceptable. If Einzig views this unit’s body, then unit will destroy sensors of Einzig. Consensus of twelve units. Final advisory: Effect strike, top priority. Command. Now.”

  Einzig’s reasoned arguments did not reach the maids. While Emir-Eins’s tone remained bureaucratic, her words were clearly lacking any calm— Okay, she was pissed.

  To stoke the shame of the maid robots and cause them to make the first blunder—Sora had considered this quite the gamble. I mean, first, you had to wonder whether Ex Machinas even had shame. But to be stared at lovingly by those crude hunks of sinew that would chase you down anywhere, those twelve loinclothed apparitions making poses, with a special emphasis on the boobs. Even if you were a machine, as long as you had a heart… No, even if you didn’t have a heart! The providence that even flowers wilt and fall—would have to make them think thus, he assumed. Yes.

  —No matter what, this must be eliminated!!

  But…it seemed it wasn’t such a gamble after all. It seemed they clearly had shame, and what’s more, they even denied Einzig permission to view their bodies, even when redacted by our friend Mysterious Light. And so they placidly went on:

  “Vote: Unanimous. Einzig will be stripped of authority. This unit will assume temporary authority. ”

  It was the collective opinion—no, the determination—of the Ex Machinas who moved to eject the muscle installation rejected by the will of the universe.

  “Noooooooo! Attention, all units! You must cease this at once! Exercise sound judgment! Nooooo!!”

  Einzig’s protestations were futile as his hand took the piece unhesitatingly to the first square that shone. Then—effects took effect as the female Ex Machinas imagined them, which meant…uh…

  …Well…yeah… The twelve images of Ino had been murdered, literally, in ways that it would not be pleasant to describe. Sora was just barely able to get Shiro to focus on the board so that she wouldn’t see it. Emir-Eins murmured:

  “Witticism: Don’t worry. It’s harmless.”

  Her nude body was drenched in blood—or rather, something closely resembling it. Definitely not real blood. After a moment’s delay, our friend Mysterious Light was relieved of duty by the return of the maid costumes. Einzig started.

  “All units! Are your thoughts functioning normally?! Would you trade our victory for something so insignificant as your nude forms?!”

  Sora and Shiro, honestly pretty freaked out, were secretly grateful for Einzig’s cry, but—

  “Directive: All units to Einzig. Self-destruct. Explode. Dummy. Jerk… Aus.”

  Even if they were machines, it was a grave sin to refer to the bare bodies of maidens as insignificant, for which Emir-Eins, speaking on behalf of them all, advised him politely to fuck off and die. But, ah…the sinners know not their sin…

  “But why?! All may behold my nude body as much as they—”

  As Einzig began to strip, he suddenly disappeared from Sora’s and Shiro’s vision.

  “Eulogy: Player Einzig failed unexpectedly. Regrettable. This unit will inherit current game. No impact on continuity.”

  Emir-Eins replaced Einzig in the seat as if she’d been there all along.

  …W-well. The opponent was, after all, Ex Machina—the whole cluster. It didn’t matter which unit was moving the pieces. It didn’t impinge on the rules… But anyway. Again, it had eluded their vision, but presumably, Einzig had been kicked by Emir-Eins again. It appeared this time he had not been stuck into the wall so much as smashed into it to form a crater. Sora and Shiro worried about him for a moment—

  “…All u-units… W-would y
ou, accept defeat…?!”

  But Einzig’s voice, full of static, came as a relief to them.

  “Equanimity: Master provides nude photos. This unit will acquire. Ex Machina will win.”

  “It’s cool that you’re determined and all, but what the hell is that motive?!”

  Emir-Eins faced Sora as resolute as a soldier sworn to defend, and at that, Sora couldn’t help but squeak. But her next words made him a little more wary.

  “Inference: Effective impediment to Master calculated. Victory in this round feasible.”

  “……That so?”

  It was, once more, a declaration of an effect strike. They’d already done one, and things were looking grim enough for them for it, yet they were up for another. This could mean one of two things: Either they had a plan they believed in completely, or they were ready to resign themselves to defeat. Regardless, if it was Emir-Eins talking, that worried both Sora and Shiro.

  —Emir-Eins. Among Ex Machina, who were in general hard to grasp, she was the one unit Sora still had not managed to read. She didn’t advance on Sora, nor did she withdraw from him. She seemed consistently neutral or, perhaps, an observer. Her peculiarity combined with this trait made her feel alien even among these eerily foreign machines. A smile formed on her perfect doll face. Her voice echoed out like the strings of a harp:

  “Fact: Master is a virgin.”

  “Yeah, that’s right! What, you got a problem?!”

  She relieved Sora and made him shout in surrender. And followed up—with words that resonated deep within his core.

  “Corollaries: Master is terrified of females. But his interest levels are very high. Verified by severe agitation upon approach. Also, preferences of Master in appearance and attributes identified with high precision.”

  With every word she spoke, he thought, Shit.

  And with every additional word: Shit, shit.

  As the blood drained from his face: Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

  His face taut, Sora thought, I underestimated them! Are they really gonna pull the worst move?!

  He repressed his anxiety and kept his hands moving.

  But Emir-Eins moved her piece like the flow of a river as soon as she saw the square glow. And struck her effect strike while elucidating the evident and ineluctable truth—namely.

  “Conclusion: Application of numerous hotties will result in Master’s defeat…by rendering him unable to continue.”

  Can’t game when you’re getting sexed up by mad chicks, can you?!

  …………Say what?

  That’s what everyone but Emir-Eins and Sora would have liked to ask as they stared, dumbfounded. Sora confirmed that outlines resembling those of numerous animal-girls were forming around him.

  “Damn, they got me!! Shiro, you’ll have to hold out alone until you can erase this with the next effect strike!!” Sora wailed piteously.

  “…B-Brother…! Is that really…enough…to KO you…?!”

  Shiro interjected, seeming to speak for everyone.

  You call yourself one half of the greatest gamer in the world? And you’re okay with this?!

  Everyone’s stares asked him as much, but he retaliated internally—How can you blame me?! Oh, I see how it is. You’re gonna fault me for being a virgin? Is it that grave of a sin?! If there were a man who could observe Zhuang Zhou’s exhortation to be “clear mirror, still water” in the presence of sexy ladies, he’d already be in nirvana! There is no way for me to continue through this!

  As Sora dedicated himself to the next stratagem, surrounding him…

  “Mr. Producerrr! You worked soooo hard today! ”

  “Excuse me, I, uh! I just came out of the showerrr… ”

  “I want you to train me more! Drill it in…please. ”

  …the effects Emir-Eins imagined took form.

  “Certainty: Desire of idol producer. Interference from requests for ‘midnight lessons.’ Delay. Very effective.”

  There were now forty-eight animal girls almost fighting one another to get it on with Sora. Ambitious idols.

  .

  ……Hmph…

  “Ahhh, what garbage. I shouldn’t have let you get me worked up… Damn, though, you really scared me there. Shiro, back to the game.”

  “…Mm… Yeah… I guess, that’s how it is…”

  Sora snickered before turning his attention to the game again. Everyone but Shiro raised their voices in alarm.

  “M-Master?! D-do you feel ill? D-do you need a rest?!”

  “You—you cannot possibly be Sora…! Who are you—?!”

  “You’d chew me out either way, wouldn’t you?! What d’you want me to do?!”

  Jibril’s voice quavered as Steph’s doubt crystallized. Sora howled.

  Yeah, that’s right. You got the right idea. But the wrong scenario. This shit is disgusting as all hell!

  “I am a dedicated master of idol production. You’re proposing that I give ‘midnight lessons’? You believe that I will lay a hand on the idols I raise?”

  Yes—Emir-Eins had struck precisely the wrong nerve. Sora fixed his eyes on this wench who had affronted his pride as he bellowed with indignation—

  “You take me for the scum of the earth who will stoop to such base perversions? Think again, Ex Machina!!”

  —seeming to rile the very air into a divine storm that would blow them all away. They squeaked.

  Sure, they were just playing at being producers. But that’s just how Sora and Shiro were when it came to playing at anything.

  —They took it more seriously than the real thing!

  Now that everyone had recalled that, or learned it, Sora clenched his piece and balled up his fist—

  “No need to sleep with me! I’ll produce the hell out of each and every one of you! Come get some!”

  —and he slammed it down onto the shining square. The crash of the effect strike resounded throughout the backstage area with the maids’ bewilderment. And—

  “Hey, everyoooone! Are you having a good tiiiiiime?!”

  —the cheers of the forty-eight animal-idols crashed over the stage. With colorful explosive smoke, the forty-eight Werebeast idols had been shifted out. The whole audience—no, even Holou—froze for a moment at their abrupt appearance. But they segued right into a dance routine behind Holou. They were the backup dancers. The crowd roared as they realized they had just been visited by the crème de la crème of beautiful idols en masse—

  “Excuse me! Um, that just now! You could have used that to restore my clothes, couldn’t you? Couldn’t you?!”

  —and Steph roared as she was reminded that our friend Mysterious Light was working overtime while she and Jibril were still naked. No one cared. In spite of her nudity, Jibril was watching Sora and Shiro play. But as it should happen, Emir-Eins, who faced them, was showing quite the same feelings on her face.

  —Shock. Distress. Doubt. Ever deeper.

  “Perhaps you wonder why we bothered to take the idols you brought and make them backup dancers.”

  Sora explicated her feelings in her stead, his hands never pausing all the while. The Energy Gauge had already maxed out with all that had followed Holou’s wardrobe destruction. Plus, Emir-Eins’s two bad moves had by this point all but assured Sora and Shiro’s victory in this round. So why? Why had they returned a bad move when they’d had no need to so disadvantage themselves? And also—

  “And how can you still lose? You just can’t get that, is what your face is telling me… Am I right?”

  “Acknowledgment: …Failure to comprehend…!”

  The randomly positioned effect strikes—bad moves—by the nature of the game grew more fatal the closer it came to the endgame. Sora’s blunder was enough to compensate for both bad moves Emir-Eins had made and put him on the losing end. But—in a flash, the momentum of the game shifted back to Sora and Shiro. Yes—even after that bad move.

  Emir-Eins groaned with perplexity. Sora and Shiro had surpassed Ex Machina.

  —C
hess. The textbook example of a finite, zero-sum, two-player game with perfect information. But the introduction of the randomly flashing squares made this a game with imperfect information. This made the complexity of the calculation recede to the limit—of perfectly imperfect play.

  When could you strike? You couldn’t tell that much exactly.

  Where should you strike? You couldn’t say the risk until the square actually flashed.

  When would you strike? The risk of having the squares you would strike known was no small matter.

  Would you really strike? Or would you make them think so and use it against them?

  And so the 10120 possible games of chess came to approach infinity. But the real problem sure as hell wasn’t that. Sora smirked.

  “So far we’ve played eight rounds, over seven hundred moves. And you still can’t successfully analyze the patterns of our play…or rather!”

  How far had he managed to read into the psychology of machines? He spoke to mark the heart-pounding challenge he’d set for himself, as a gamer and as a person—thus.

  “The more you analyze us, the more powerful we get… That’s what you don’t understand, and that’s the real problem, right?”

  …For an instant, less than a moment, tantamount to nothingness—Emir-Eins’s hand perceptibly…stopped. It proved that all the units, even Einzig in the wall, had frozen. It proved that Sora had met the challenge—and he went on imagining what they were thinking.

  Right. So the indeterminate nature of this game makes it maximally difficult to calculate. But in that case… Given that Sora and Shiro were under the same conditions, they were just as screwed in trying to calculate it. When a race was capable of analyzing and adapting to anything—growing infinitely—how could it be—? How could they keep losing round after round and have their every adaptation foiled?!

  That’s what they were thinking, right? Sora snapped his piece down.

  “It’s ’cos that’s the kind of race Ex Machina is. And we’re not under the same conditions.”

  Yes, he went ahead and said those words that made Emir-Eins and all the maids stare together. He said them. He was able to say them. He knew they’d analyze his joy, but he didn’t care. Inside his heart—Sora yelled, Pwned! and gestured obnoxiously with his fists. Later he would brag to Shiro. He would keep bragging even if she told him to shut up already. Shiro, perhaps having already inferred Sora’s determination, given her unenthusiastic expression—