by Yuu Kamiya
“…‘We are Ex Machina. We will adapt to anything in existence’…”
—repeated Einzig’s statement, word for word. And then they both stopped their hands and thought: They were speaking the truth. Ex Machina had been an opponent they weren’t even sure “ ” could beat. But then they found in this fearsome race an opening to exploit—a flaw. A critical defect they couldn’t have counted on under normal conditions.
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. THREE VICTORIES.
The chessboard called the game, and Sora told them:
“…You can’t adapt to something that doesn’t exist, can you…?”
The sound of the end of Holou’s eighth song echoed as they waited for the next to start. A brief interim. Ex Machina’s silence seemed to ask what Sora meant, to which he and Shiro replied:
“Well, seeee, if you guys lived up to your reputation, we figured even we together would have trouble beating you.”
“…………But nooo… Ex Machina…you guys, are too strong…”
They went slack as if melting, so as to get what rest they could.
“—If you’d managed to kill the great Artosh, there’s no way you’d draw against just me.”
Yes, the same misgiving had been hounding Sora ever since that first battle he’d undergone alone. Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he spelled it out for everyone, his tone and expression equally languid.
—The words, however, bewildered Jibril more than anyone.
“You can’t do it, Ex Machina. You weren’t the ones who killed Artosh—someone else did, right?”
CHAPTER 4
THE GAME OF LIFE
Five days prior, in the Elkia Royal Castle’s throne room, Azril inquired as to how they had managed to kill her lord. The strongest of the gods. The god of war.
“Unknown— No. Correction… We probably did not kill Artosh.” Unperturbed by the swelling malice of the first Flügel, Einzig answered…and went on. “Let me correct myself. It would be a theoretical impossibility for Artosh to be slain—for his being to be destroyed.”
Thus, Einzig laid out the hypothesis from over six thousand years ago. The hypothesis formulated by Ex Machina in the face of the god of war. Addressing the question: What is a god? What is ether? A concept that has gained an identity. A law with will. Something that could not exist; something that should not exist. So they had verified this absurdity as the concept of strength. And the conclusion of their hypothesis—was this.
—A god is a god for that they are a god. This tautology defined the god. It defined ether. And thus, before the very concept of strength—magnitudes of strength were of no bearing at all. Ex Machina adapted infinitely, grew stronger limitlessly…so that at last they could become the relative strongest. Even so, it was a theoretical impossibility for them to transcend strength itself…to surpass the absolute strongest.
“For this reason, while it was quite a feat…we destroyed only that ether which existed physically. However—” By that they could suspend the manifestation of the concept, temporarily deactivate it, they inferred. “—It is unknown even how we were able to achieve that… We should never have been able to overpower strength itself.”
Then how had they destroyed the ether of the god of war? Unfortunately, such records had been effectively lost.
—Against the strongest, who changed causation, law, and nature every second, 701 machines had applied an algorithm to combat the unknown and simply adapted in desperation. They had operated on the unknown, which even they could not envisage, much less understand—leaving it unknown. As the logical errors stacked sky-high, they let them stack and operated in the abstract. Incorporating even illogical operations, they had adapted faster and faster, approaching units of one-infinitieth of a second…
Thus, twenty-eight units, including Einzig, had managed to escape with mere critical damage. Their memories and thoughts were broken; the meaning of it all had been lost; even the timeline itself wasn’t clear. However…observing the reformation of the world…they just managed to infer…it appeared they had succeeded in destroying the ether… And so—Einzig looked straight at Azril and answered.
“I cannot answer how we defeated him. But if you ask how we destroyed him, that I will answer: We have not destroyed him. An entity that does not exist can never truly be destroyed.”
Concepts did not exist. They only changed, expanded, and shifted in definition…or grew stale. As long as the fantasy of ultimate strength remained, the concept would never die.
“…Therefore, this is what I speculate.”
If the concept—the idea, the sentiment, the life ever remained—
“Thus, if the Spieler revisits us, could it not be that Artosh will, too?”
Azril’s objection was that the One True God and the Suniaster invited no new gods. The ether of the god of war could never reactivate. But.
“I do not mean that Artosh himself will resurge. The Spieler himself is now Sora.”
Einzig was strangely…sure of this. Somewhere in his broken memories, in those of the end of the god of war, the evidence for this must be there—
“…‘The strongest’ will return under a different name, in a different guise… That is what I mean.”
The air backstage creaked with the extreme concentration, punctuated by the pitter-patter of pieces and filled with the rising tide of the show’s climax. There was the music and the cheers leading to the close of the eleventh song…and then:
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. FIVE VICTORIES.
“Pwned! That makes us 5–6! Two more and we’ll hand it to you!”
“…B-Brother… Please… Let me, rest… I-I’m so, tired…”
The chessboard called the match, and Sora and Shiro celebrated, their voices smudged darkly with fatigue. Thirteen songs. Thirteen rounds. It meant they’d have to win both the rounds remaining. Ex Machina used all its sensors to analyze their voices and found that they were absolutely confident.
……
“All right, Steph! Here’s the final intermission. Go kill it, okay?”
“…The Energy Gauge has been full for a while. Five minutes—”
“D00d, these last two songs are gonna be a nonstop climax straight to the end, y’know?!”
“…If, anything…you should be, killing it…even harder than…before…”
“That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it?! Just what sort of humiliation do you—hwnk?!”
“I take it that you set out this thick, angular costume in the effect strike in preparation for this moment! ”
“Yes, Jibril! Go, Mazingo Steeeph!!”
“…It’s like…how we say ‘Zeeed’…but it’s like…how we say, ze…for emphasis.”
“What am I supposed to—? Hey, that’s heavy! It’s so heavy! What is this, iron?!”
“Mm? Guess I imagined it a little too vividly… Well, don’t worry about it. Go, Steeeeeph!!”
This racket quite aside, Einzig and the rest were thinking silently. Sora had said—You can’t adapt to something that doesn’t exist. Those two were abnormally strong. It reminded them of what they had said to Azril that day. Something that doesn’t exist… A concept. A god that they didn’t know how they had defeated. That Sora had said they hadn’t even themselves defeated. An absolute strength that would go over their heads no matter how relatively stronger they adapted to be. They’d expected it to revisit, under a different name, in a different guise. What if it was “ ”?
—What if the confluence of the Spieler and the mysterious girl constituted that very strength—?
“…It may be as the Spieler said… We cannot prevail…”
Whether it be at chess or in the concert. But—what of it? The statements that Sora was the Spieler and that Sora had become the strongest were entirely compatible! Sora would lose if he could not prove that he was not the Spieler, and was it not impossible to prove one’s selfhood—?
“That cannot be the case! Am I not right? O Spieler—!”
“—I ask all units! Could such a one deserve to lay his love before the Spieler?!”
“““Negative! Negative! Negative acknowledgment!!”””
The roar of Einzig’s soul was met fiercely by the shared thoughts of all the units!
“I command all units: Reveal the path to victory! Eliminate all obstacles! Use any means necessary! Execute the task!!”
And just as processes flew through the cluster at time-stopping speed…
“…Acknowledgment… Motivation low. However, choices limited. Executing task.”
…Emir-Eins grumbled and walked onto the stage.
The unit who, while remaining connected to the cluster, did not share her thoughts. Whose purposes for that reason were a mystery even to Ex Machina. Emir-Eins stopped, next to the woman who stood utterly immobilized by her iron costume, hrmmm-ing in agony—or rather—
“Report: This unit will take MC role. Master…join.”
—Emir-Eins stopped and spoke as if she was unaware of anyone except Sora.
“Confirmation: No rule prohibits any player, including this unit, from coming onstage. No violation.”
…True, thought Einzig. Sora and Shiro narrowed their eyes. But what would come of it? No—in the first place—
“Us? Onstage? Ha-haaa! Are you trying to murder us from the astral plane?! Rejecteeed!!”
“…Crowd… Eyes… Many, people? …Chatter, chatter, shiver, shiver…!”
Indeed, it was preposterous to suggest that Sora and Shiro could join her. They’d already started shivering just imagining it.
“Notification: Essentially, victory is required. Simple. Victory itself is simple. Can bring into effect at any time. All too easy.”
What?
Everyone—Einzig and the other units, Sora and Shiro—stared hard at Emir-Eins, trying to figure out what she really meant. But she merely continued on, her words reluctant and therefore very convincing.
“Choice: Membership rejected. Acceptable. Then unit will win. Outcome equivalent.”
Even Sora couldn’t read what Emir-Eins was after. For that reason, he assumed the worst—and decided he should be where he could stop her. He accepted as long as he could be with Shiro, but he worried about his own judgment. The one who had first requested that he join—was Emir-Eins.
…Could he stop her? No. Before that…
““Vvvvvvvvvvvv……””
Amidst the countless gazes of the bustling crowd, drenched in the spotlight, Sora and Shiro vibrated like civilized people’s phones in the middle of the stage, worrying about the first problem.
…Could they…even move at all…?!
As the frequency of their oscillation approached the kilohertz range, they racked their brains—and then froze. Something had appeared on the stage with a loud thump. Sora and Shiro, and everyone in the venue, found their eyes and breath stolen…as quiet as if they had forgotten time.
It was a girl as beautiful as a narcissus, that “flower amid snow.” Her dress layered as elaborately as a white rose…iris eyes peeking from beneath her veil. Her modestly lowered face like porcelain, she walked slowly to the sound of a music box— Or rather…it was Emir-Eins, for some reason all decked out in a wedding dress. Anyway, the audience was enchanted and Sora and Shiro were pretty freaked out as she sidled up to him. After a deep obeisance, she spoke her first words:
“Manifest: This unit is Emir-Eins. Wife of Master—Sora.”
…
……Pardon?
After the silence of the venue adopted the qualities of a freaked-out silence, these were her second words:
“Apology: This unit regrets enforcing attendance at farce to mark infidelity of Master.”
…
……WTF?
All members of the audience of the admitted farce froze.
Then—creaaak. All eyes turned toward Sora, automatically confirmed as husband by his self-proclaimed wife. Their stares were practically stabbing him to death as they seemed to ask, The hell is this? Sora could only weep and answer in his heart, I’m sorry, I have no idea. The alleged husband, looking as if he would pass out were it not for the hand of Shiro barely holding him on this plane of being, did not seem to notice the mysterious images moving on the back of the stage. Emir-Eins placidly produced something like a letter and began to read it out loud.
“Reading: It started so fast. Master fainted upon dramatic meeting with unit. Unit astonished.”
—Yeah, it started fast, all right. Fast enough to say, Slow the hell down. The phone rang out of nowhere, and then the castle got destroyed… Whoever heard of a start like that? But Sora had fainted upon the whispers of love from Assbot Einzig, and it wasn’t dramatic—more like dire.
…Thus, Sora thought…dreamily, as if his consciousness would fade away at any moment. Paying no particular attention to Emir-Eins’s long, long spiel, he gazed at the video in the back, feeling somehow that it reminded him of something…
What it showed…appeared to be when Sora had woken up. It had been trimmed to show him and Emir-Eins gazing into each other’s eyes—with Shiro cut out of the frame. Next would come the footage of Sora applying the nickname “Emir-Eins.” A mass of effects gave a somewhat convincing impression that they were lovers laughing together—with Shiro cut out of the frame. Next…the time he handed her the tablet and checked for static…it probably was? The effects and decorations got even thicker to the point that it looked totally as if they were holding hands and he wasn’t even sure anymore. But anyway, indeed—Shiro was out at the corner of the frame, out of focus. Meanwhile, as for Emir-Eins’s reading—
“Reading: Master took the ring finger of this unit and swore undying love. This unit accepted.”
—was starting to get a little threatening.
“Reading: Bride and groom status established. This unit currently recognizes herself as standing at pinnacle of happiness. Report.”
And so they had been bound, as it was reported to Sora.
Meanwhile, Sora…was finally starting to get what was going on. Ah, the machete editing of those scam trailers that make a shitty movie look kind of like something decent. Such peripheral complaints aside, he had consistently had the feeling that this video reminded him of something, and he’d finally figured out what it was. It was this video he’d bumped into on a video sharing site uploaded by some goddamn normies who forgot to set it to private. Yes. The utterly banal data of a newlywed couple…on how they met. In light of this, it was plain to see what was going on as Emir-Eins read from a sheet in a wedding dress.
“Reading: Mother and father…not present…”
But the question was why it was going on—
“Declaration: But this unit…will be—happy…!”
Apparently overcome with emotion then, Emir-Eins put away her paper. As a pall of silence descended on the venue, Sora stirred up the courage of a lifetime and asked:
“Hey…isn’t the reception supposed to come after the ceremony? Not that I would know…”
Sora hadn’t been married, nor had he had a girlfriend, nor did he have any friends who would invite him to their weddings. But from what he knew in theory—this seemed to be a wedding reception, and it seemed to be happening awfully fast.
“…? Conflict: Ceremony complete.”
Emir-Eins looked at him vacantly, cocking her head to the side.
This video was her doing. It wasn’t even on the level of a scam trailer. This was a straight-up hoax. Now it was showing Sora and Emir-Eins happily exchanging rings someplace he’d never seen. Shiro wasn’t even there anymore. This didn’t even vaguely remind him of anything that had
happened. But.
“Admission: To win in this way was a last resort. This unit failed to live up to Master’s challenge.”
Remorsefully, Emir-Eins went on. Still. Fluttering her dress, turning her head.
“Inevitability: Still, Master will lose with this move. This unit will win.”
Her smiling victory declaration…
…burned Sora now, too late, with panic, and he howled inside. He’d blown it—what the hell had he been doing, standing there slack-jawed, letting all this crazy shit mess with his head?! There was no way Ex Machina—least of all, this chick—would do something for no reason! He was done lolling about. His brain was going into overdrive.
Emir-Eins didn’t care. She went on placidly with a little smile.
“Premise: If Ex Machina proves that Master is Spieler, then Ex Machina wins.”
…Yeah…that was true. Technically, what they’d said was that Ex Machina would win if they could refute Sora’s proof…but on the other hand! Even if they didn’t refute it—if they provided a proof that Sora couldn’t refute, it would be the same thing! That shouldn’t be possible…but was it, actually? Did this series of events bear on it?! Sora shivered as Emir-Eins smiled and announced…her unshakable proof—
“Fact: Master—selected this unit for his wife.”
……
…Wha…?
What…the hell?!!
“Logic: Reproduction possible only with Spieler. Selection of this unit as Master’s wife is equivalent to self-recognition as Spieler. Master defined self as Spieler. Irrefutable argument. Was zu beweisen war.”