by Yuu Kamiya
“Moreover…you betrayed and deceived the man you loved.”
.
Einzig’s hands—those of all of Ex Machina—stopped for an instant. Sora talked on unperturbed, his own hands still moving wildly.
“The man wanted to end the Great War without a single sacrifice. You defied his will… You killed many. Over half the Flügel. Probably others, too. Including, of all people—yourselves.”
Ex Machina played on silently, but with trembling hands, wandering eyes. Showing clear emotion—confusion mixed with agitation. At Sora’s words? Or at their inability to dominate him and Shiro?
“As for what went through your head when the War ended… It’s beyond my imagination.”
Anyway, it’s so…ironic, Sora and Shiro both thought. The hearts of humans were so illogical that they formed logic to invent mathematics. The cores of these machines were so logical that they marveled at illogic to invent the “heart.” A race of machines, of transcendent computers that would laugh at oracle machines, and where they ended up—was the same as humans. So, yes…it was crap. The will of Ex Machina, which Sora and Shiro had realized on the moon. The meaning of the machines with hearts… The trouble that kept them waiting desperately for their unrequited love for six thousand years, on till the brink of their demise… What weighed upon those with hearts was always simple and full of crap—
—Sincere. And sacred, and full of crap… Yes…
“…Regret? Guilt? Frustration?”
Probably all of them, and probably none of them, Sora thought. These were troubles from the “heart”…which meant that they would be illogical, indivisible, and abstract. If, despite this, he were to sum them up in one phrase, it would surely be this:
“…I guess you just wanted to see him one more time.”
Then, they appeared before Sora. When he’d vanquished Holou—an Old Deus—without killing her.
“So you thought, next time. When you find the one with whom you can do what you couldn’t then.”
Then, probably, they must have…
“You waited, thinking, next time, when there’s a man who can defeat a god without killing, it must be him.”
Sora’s conjecture mixed with speculation was confirmed by the wavering in their eyes.
Even if they knew the man was dead, and that no matter how much another man might resemble him, he wasn’t the same person. Even if they knew that Sora was not the Spieler the Preier loved… Even if they knew that they themselves were not the Preier the Spieler loved—and even if they knew it was not they who loved the Spieler… Still…
These machines with “hearts,” who were capable of telling lies… They were something to be reckoned with, Sora thought. That they would lie even to themselves… Did they really need to resemble people that much…?
Sora put a stop to that train of thought.
—That was why…he had to push them away.
“And then? Those machines with their lovesick brains on full throttle? What did they say then?”
He suppressed his aching heart into silence and laid down the law.
“Like, thank you for trapping us and forcing us to reproduce; merci for averting the extinction of our race and the checkmate of the world; thx for caring about our broken hearts; go ahead and use us as you see fit?”
—He had to push them away!!
“Why you gotta pose and cover your ‘heart’ like that?! What kind of way to act is that for fully automated alternative sexualities on legs such as yourselves?!”
Yes—after sneering to the boundary of the sneer zone, Sora gave a good Ha! and yelled.
“D00ds! Let me know—what’s in Ex Machina’s ‘heart’?!”
It was an obvious provocation, a ruse—everyone could see that. But whether they’d judged that it was impossible to lay bare all of “ ”’s hand in this round, or whether they’d judged that they held the upper hand when it came to processing speed in worst response—
—No…
“Very well… Let us inform you… Let us answer your query, Nachfolger—!!”
Such rational reasons, such logic…were surely not what they had in mind. Eyes seething with rage, Einzig slammed down an effect strike and roared to the “Successor” as their environment transformed to match his words…
“We gouged Artosh of his ether and ended the War—and what was left—?!”
—Nothing! The venue provided this answer by becoming hollow—white as a sheet. As if to say that neither heaven nor earth, nor any law could signify aught. The audience, Sora and Shiro, everyone floated in space as the song echoed on.
“…There were the Ten Covenants. And the Ixseeds. And—your will.”
—This world was left. With a peaceful smile, Sora returned an effect strike that painted the blank canvas psychedelically. Pieces towered over the hazy distant horizon as sixteen seeds flew this way and that over this world. While they looked down upon the expanse, floating, the crowd cheered on.
“Yes, there was still the world that had trampled our will!! And divested us of our love—!!”
That itself was the symbol of their penitence. Their feelings, their love had been lent to them only to be taken back, wailed the move of the machines, which erased all sixteen seeds that traversed the psychedelic planet, all the pieces on the horizon.
“That’s why you said, next time, next time, and made those feelings into a will to surpass to your successors.”
From person to person, and across races, Sora’s move brought back the vanished seeds and Immanity. They came together, formed nations, and covered the world. It was as if the War had just ended and the world that lay spread out beneath them was reforming.
“And we remained, a comical heap of scrap, having betrayed that will, deceiving ourselves and sleeping, with dreams never to be realized…!”
Neither their feelings nor their will had succeeded them. Their eyes asked what they signified, holders of a love not theirs, sleepers waiting for one who did not love them. Translucent gazes, countless in that back room, reflecting those they had killed or let die.
“Grk! Sh-Shiro! I can’t refute that they’re comical! Just look at this creep!”
“…Don’t give up, don’t give up…! If you, lose an argument…we’re, done for…”
None of this stopped Sora and Shiro from clowning around.
The scene changed dizzyingly. The effects blazed atrociously. They read each other too deeply to lead the other on. It had become a game of who could read further and respond faster—exactly the preferred field of Ex Machina. Yet, Ex Machina… Actually, Sora and Shiro themselves were blown away even more: The two of them were neck and neck— No, even slightly ahead of Ex Machina.
Sora trusted his intuition and played off guesses even he didn’t understand. Shiro accelerated her calculation and worked in conventions that rationalized his inventions.
A synthesis of deduction and induction. A fusion of feeling and reason. No trick would work on Ex Machina twice. They uncovered every first time. It was their indeterminateness that gave them that ever-so-slight edge over Ex Machina’s processing power. Ex Machina reeled.
“…But anyway!! That’s just ’cos you’re trash!! What sort of man blames external factors for his own failures?!”
“…A-and, uh…! How do you know, they’re…‘never to be realized,’ huh…?!”
Sora and Shiro’s follow-up banter as they oozed cold sweat made Ex Machina’s processes slow down.
“Do you mean they may be? Ah… Then let us realize them…!!”
The scene kept changing, as the Ex Machina wished. They wished for the Spieler, ideally. But they showed their feelings for which they had lied to themselves that they could meet him again.
“Do you mean that all the workings of our ‘heart’ had meaning—that we may be redeemed—?!”
Yes… In sum, that was all it was. Such crap… So sacred, this wish. They’d refused reproduction, accepted extinction, advanced on Sora. To ask Sora—that is
, the Spieler—would he accept them…? They’d deceived him, betrayed him, played him for a fool, killed and been killed and finally let die. Could they still live in this world? Could he forgive them? It had nothing to do with logic.
They were just…drowning in remorse. It was the wish of machines who no longer knew what to do— No, of their hearts: Show us the way.
And that was why Sora pushed them away with a smile. It wasn’t something to ask him. It wasn’t even something to ask the Spieler.
“Hell if I know… That’s a question you have to answer, isn’t it?”
Sora looked, and the Ex Machinas did, too…at what their furor of effects had produced. It was what they…the machines with hearts themselves…had created—this very world. This world where everything was decided by games—Disboard lay beneath them. On the stage, an Old Deus was singing and dancing. A Flügel was flitting through the sky as an Immanity danced gracefully. Amidst a flashing flurry, a multiracial audience went wild over idols of various races. All their faces had the same…smile.
“Did it have meaning? …You’ve gotta find it, right?”
“…Are you, redeemed…? You’ve gotta…redeem, yourself…”
Even Sora and Shiro as they spoke, even the Ex Machinas reflected in their eyes had the same face. The Ex Machinas realized that, at some point, the two with whom they burned in competition had made them glow.
—Yes. In this world…you could laugh it off.
“All you can do is be what you want, become what you want.”
“…We’re, hopeful…for your…hope. ”
—’Cos you couldn’t change. You had to compromise and walk.
“So. Hey. Just for your reference…our personal opinion is—”
“…It’s not a bad world… That’s…what…we think…at least.”
These were the very ones who had made such massive sacrifices in order to create this world. And the man probably hadn’t died at peace. He must have gone with plenty of regret and frustration. Sora and Shiro had no place to say anything to him or those who were crushed with guilt after him. But they could only tell Ex Machina what they’d first thought when they landed in this world. With gratitude. Indeed:
“Next time. This time. We’re gonna win. That’s what this world makes us think.”
The chessboard, after announcing Sora and Shiro’s seventh victory, halted as if broken. And upon the triumphant stage poured an afterglow of hot applause…
“So! That’s what we think, but, Ex Machina—what about you?”
Having given everything, Sora and Shiro basked in the same afterglow with tired smiles. The extreme concentration had fried their brains, and their bodies were heavy as if rusted through…but even aside from that.
…If there were a fourteenth round…they wouldn’t win. Of this they were sure. And for that reason, the depth of the enjoyment in Sora’s and Shiro’s smiles only furthered.
—Next time, you could beat us…don’t you think?
Their faces seemed to say as much, causing Einzig and the Ex Machinas to close their eyes and laugh…out loud…
ONE-TURN END
Elkia Royal Castle: the throne room. It had been a quick ten days since it was warped into a concert venue. But now it was as if it had all been a dream—its former state had been restored as good as new. The throne was back to what, according to Steph, was its proper position, steeped in fine tradition. Also in their proper positions—
“Hmm… You think the turn’s about over yet?”
“…Soon… Maybe…three more, days…?”
—fiddling with their tablet, sat the king and queen of Elkia, Sora and Shiro, who both groaned.
…The turn should be wrapping up… The other players should be about done. They thought back to the turn they’d skipped, which could hardly be called a break…
They’d had nothing to do. They’d dedicated the turn to producing Holou. And yet, things got even crazier than expected due to an astonishing guest: Ex Machina. But as soon as the game had ended…Ex Machina had gone away somewhere without a word. Of course. It wasn’t as if they’d made them pledge to be their allies. They’d made them pledge to abandon their love, and reproduce so they would not perish. That was all. They could go where they wanted. They could come back as an enemy if they wanted. They were free.
—But that’s kinda cool, too. Sora and Shiro smiled to themselves. If Ex Machina were to come back of their own will and challenge “ ” properly…they’d welcome them.
Still, they were left here with fine fruits of Ex Machina’s power.
“…Soraaa… Shirooo… The merch is about to sell out…”
A tired-looking freight girl arrived in the throne room— Ahem. Steph in working clothes. Sora looked her in the eye as he responded promptly.
“Heh, fear not. The eighteenth printing should be here soon! Sell those suckers!”
That’s right—Holou’s show had been such a legendary success, merch was flying off the shelves. Though it did have to be said—
“…All we have are block prints and books of block prints of Holou… Can we not do more?” Steph lamented.
Elkia didn’t currently have the technology to create anything impressive. In fact, they’d gone to rather unreasonable lengths just to make these pinups and albums. Specifically, they’d photographed Holou with their phones, had Jibril make blocks with magic, and began mass-producing the printed prototypes they’d had the Academy research, which artists then colored… In other words, this shit was the culmination of otherworldly technology, magic, and abuse of state power. Steph was appalled by this senseless commercialization of untold artifice and labor, but even so, she had to wonder:
“I would love to hear Holou’s songs more… Won’t you sell them?”
Yes… Steph, who had fallen deeply for Holou’s song, wanted—rather, everyone wanted more than anything else—to hear her sing again. Elkia was already gaga over the picture albums. Not that Elkia had audio recording technology or media. But surely Jibril could help out the Kingdom of Elkia—
“Mmm… You think so, huh? Everyone thinks so. I think so.”
Surely the Commonwealth of Elkia could do it. Sora nodded to Steph’s suggestion.
“Of course we’ll sell them. If just for the chance to crush the idol agencies of the Eastern Union. ”
“…P-pardon…?”
Sora’s inordinately evil smile made Steph take a step back, but he and Shiro stood from the throne and raved on.
“The Shrine Maiden attended the performance. Surely you don’t think that was by chance?”
“…We invited, lots of big shots, from the Eastern Union… Especially…those involved…with the idol industry…”
“? For what purpose?” Steph asked the siblings as they wandered aimlessly. And then…
“Heh, heh-heh-heh, don’t you see? Very well—we shall tell you!”
Sora and Shiro clicked their heels and revealed their scheme—!
“Holou’s concert drew an audience of thousands. But! Her reputation has spread throughout the Commonwealth!!”
“…Words, spread like lightning… Picture albums…sell like hotcakes…!”
“But guess what! No one’s got the video or audio! I mean, we don’t know how to manufacture them!”
No true business professional would miss a chance to grab some cash. So—!
“All the businesses in Eastern Union who refused to give us equipment will come pounding on the door to pick up the audio!”
“Oh! So then you’ll make good with those who—”
“But we’ll say no!! Buzz off! Get lost! We’ll humbly decline and slam the door in their faces—!!”
“…We’ll tell them, come back yesterday…and belly laugh…and sneer…and point!”
Steph thought she had it figured out, until Sora and Shiro filled the castle with their screams of how wrong she was. Sora carried on theatrically, frivolously, leaving Steph in a daze.
“Whaaat? I mean, like, th
ink about it, trying to suck up to the big guys; Bl4nk Productions is, like, sooo out of their league! You guys totally shafted Holou, and now she’s ours! And then when you see she’s hit the big time, you act all nice and stuff? Oh my God!! That’s suuuper bitchy! You’re, like, sooo pathetic, y’know?? ”
Nothing could be more pathetic than Sora’s rendition of a stereotypical teen’s vernacular. Shiro and Steph had the impulse to inform him of this, but instead they waited for his conclusion. He sat back down on the throne, crossed his legs, and arrogantly divulged his conclusion.
“I mean…if you signed an exclusivity contract with Bl4nk Productions, we might consider it.”
“…But would anyone really accept such conditions?”
No matter how much revenue it might rake in, it couldn’t be worth cutting off all their other contracts just for Holou, Steph argued, but Sora declared:
“Sure they will. ’Cos Bl4nk Productions is gonna be the biggest idol agency in the Commonwealth.”
The song of the Sirens, the craft of the Elves, the technology of another world: a whole new kind of music! Under the powerful hand of “ ”, the unifiers of the races and Holou’s producers!! At least some of the industry big shots they invited would have to think this. And frankly, they only cared about some of them. That is to say—! O producers in whose souls ambition reigns supreme! If you be a producer whose soul burns to raise your idols to greater heights—
—you must switch your allegiance to Bl4nk Productions!!
“Assemble, comrades, under the banner of Bl4nk Productions, with your animal-girls!!”
Sora looked to the sky, opened his arms, and called out for his compatriots, the heroes, to join him.
“…All the Eastern Union’s…idols…suits…and producers…are ours…!”
And with a huff, Shiro took her place—on his lap—to hammer the point home.
They were going to gobble up the Eastern Union’s agencies. Their talent. Their market. They were going to devour it all. Tariffs? Cancel that shit! Tax breaks, special exemptions up the wazoo! You’ll see what happens when you cross Bl4nk Productions. Your body will remember the price you paid for opposing the government!