War Games

by Nikita Thorn

  The grass spot they had just vacated started to crackle as it caught on fire. Seiki knew his decision inevitably released Shousei from the lockhold, and just as he had expected, the man took this opportunity to free himself. He pushed Seiki off him before he had completely caught his balance. As they both scrambled to their feet, Seiki steadied his grip on the unsheathed Kohagane dagger in preparation for an attack. Shousei, his white kimono now smeared with dirt and soot, gave a snort as he drew his curved sword.

  The man studied Seiki for a split second, an unreadable expression still on his face, before scoffing and turning his attention toward his real enemy.

  “You wretched thief!” cried the man. “Come out!”

  Smoke was still rising from the small patch of grass that was burning from the explosion. From somewhere further away, Mitsue’s voice said, “It’s too late, Shousei. We’ve found it. We’ve found your father’s treasure. There’s nothing you can do now but enjoy the final show.”

  Sword in hand, Shousei sprinted after the thief, disappearing behind the cloud of smoke. Seiki wasted no more time as he ran back to where he was, swooping down to pick up his items from the ground as he looked for his unit member.

  Genta, with one injured leg and his wrists still bound, was crawling away from the spreading fire. Deathly pale, coughing from inhaling the ashes, the man was hanging on to a meager amount of health. Seiki himself, after having traded his health for energy with Blood Rush, did not have much to spare either. He quickly grabbed Genta’s shoulders and spent the rest of his energy Sliding back across the instance boundary.

  A familiar notification greeted him:

  Quest completed: The Missing Connection [Level Unknown]. 49,810 XP gained.

  Seiki did not remember accepting the quest in the first place, but at the moment he could not really bring himself to care. The air was refreshingly cold as soon as they crossed over into the instance, and the second the old beggar’s campfire came within sight, Seiki let go of everything and let himself drop to the ground.

  The night breeze in his private training area, free from dizzying poison, smoke and chaos, was welcomingly sweet. It was over, he knew, judging from the fire outside that was rapidly dying down in a pile of ashes. Taking a deep breath, Seiki allowed himself a moment for his heart rate to slow down as he promised himself he was finally going to get himself that long-overdue glass of water to cure his imagined thirst.

  Beside him, Genta was still ashen, his face covered in beads of sweat, breathing heavily. But his health was now slowly recovering.

  “That… was nasty,” said Seiki. Like always, as the adrenaline slowly left him, exhaustion started to take over his body. He re-equipped his weapons and bags, and drew his Kohagane to cut the rope around Genta’s wrists.

  “Thank you, Chief.” The man heaved a deep but faint sigh.

  Outside the instance, a wind lifted, scattering the ashes and returning the ledge to its previous state of calm as if nothing had happened. Again, Seiki had a feeling that perhaps he had been much too invested. It had been an ability quest, he realized now, and he had never heard of anyone failing ability quests before.

  “Could you really have died out there?” Seiki turned to Genta, who had propped himself up into a sitting position beside him. “They wouldn’t have really killed you, right? I mean… not like that.”

  “I don’t know, Chief. I thought… I really thought…” Genta shuddered at the memory.

  “Sorry. Never mind,” said Seiki, not wanting to force him to relive the experience. “I’ll get you a healing potion.” Out of direct danger, like players, troops’ health would eventually automatically replenish, but he thought Genta deserved something better than that after all he just went through. Turning toward the beggar’s campfire, he shouted, “Healing potion, please.”

  You do not have a slot that can store consumables. Any consumable purchased must be immediately used. Are you sure you want to spend 2 War Coins to purchase Healing Potions for your unit?

  Seiki confirmed, but nothing instantly happened. After a moment, from afar, the old beggar shouted back in annoyance, “The potion’s not going to deliver itself.”

  Shaking his head, Seiki got to his feet and walked over to the old man, who was still sitting casually at the same spot, poking his dim fire with a long stick.

  “I can see why people prefer Captain Sakurai,” Seiki said with a tired chuckle.

  “Then maybe you should have gone to him.” The beggar rummaged around in his rucksack beside him before tossing Seiki a single ceramic bottle.

  “Shouldn’t I get four?”

  “Bah, how many men do you have alive right now? Dead soldiers have no use for potions. What, you think Sakurai’s going to give you a better deal?” The old man snorted. “I can’t believe they put him in charge of supplies. Supplies, of all things. If I remember correctly, the boy couldn’t count to save his life.”

  Captain Sakurai, Seiki recalled, was a middle-aged man. “Okay, hold that thought for a sec?” Running back toward Genta, Seiki thrust the potion into his unit member’s hand, before returning to the old beggar by his campfire.

  The old man seemed mildly amused as Seiki studied him. The gray rags he was wearing were thin and torn, and his white hair held up in a messy bun, but his arms were indeed strong and muscular.

  “Did you… use to be in the Army?” Seiki asked.

  The beggar laughed. “Does that surprise you? And to save you the trouble of asking, yes, I know all of them, young man. Some all too well,” he said. “Including your Master Tsujihara.”

  Seiki nearly jumped, as he had not been expecting to hear the old swordsman’s name spoken of so casually.

  “What do you know about him?”

  The man shrugged but offered no answer.

  “And Captain Okamoto?” Seiki said carefully, wondering if the man was indeed part of this unlabeled quest.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “So… you know what happened to them.”

  “Dead.”

  Seiki grimaced.

  “What? Got a problem with that? Dead men are dead.”

  Seiki decided there was no use arguing with an NPC about his blatant lack of respect. “So, how are you related to all this?”

  A smile suddenly spread across the old man’s face, revealing a toothy grin. “What do you think?” He was finally resorting to his old strategy, perhaps as a cue that he was done with the subject.

  “Never mind,” Seiki said, his mind making further connections as he glanced once more at the gorge. “They put you here, they put the private instance right here, where I can switch out my formations, right at where the bridge used to be. So…”

  A thought occurred to him then and he unfolded the map he had gotten from Shousei. The parchment showed detailed illustrations of the area around, carefully drawn with very fine brush lines, with different fill patterns indicating different terrain.

  “Shousei had this map on him, and he ambushed me right outside the instance.” Seiki slowly scanned the piece of parchment. The ledge was clearly visible in the middle, next to the deep ravine. Connecting both sides were two slim lines that denoted the hanging bridge, marked ‘Ketsui Bridge’.

  Crouching down beside the dim fire for extra illumination, Seiki traced the map further right, where he could discern a triangular dab of ink that designated the cave entrance. Beyond that was a series of dotted lines that continued into the mountain. “So this is the cave.” His heart started beating faster as things started falling into place. “And these are tunnels, where I’ll find Okamoto.”

  Seiki watched the beggar again, hoping for some acknowledgement. “So everything leads right here. This is how it’s designed. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

  The old man raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you think?”

  “Yes,” Seiki said. “And now that Shousei has appeared, I think I’m going to have to find a way over to that cave, find Okamo
to, kill the demon agent, then fight Shousei before he kills Okamoto. And that completes the quest chain.” Again, he was just going off a hunch, and he looked at the old man for a hint if he was on the right track.

  As to be expected, the beggar neither confirmed nor denied, but let out a chuckle. “With that amount of health?” he said. “I’m sure whatever you’re planning to fight will be able to kill you with a flick of their finger.” He laughed, really flicking his finger in the air. “Just like this. I’m not who I used to be, but I’m pretty sure that in this state, even I could easily end your puny little life.”

  Seiki sighed but decided to say nothing. His health was hovering at a very low percentage, although he had forgotten about it from the effect of Strength of Will and the combination of relief and excitement, but all he needed to do was wait.

  The beggar picked up a stick from the ground beside the fire. On it was a small skewered fish. “Consider this your lucky day. Doesn’t work if you have shadow wounds, mind you.” The man held it up.

  Confused, and slightly suspicious, Seiki slowly reached out for the skewer, wondering what this was about, but the old man seemed to have every intention to give it to him.

  “Uh… thanks,” Seiki said uncertainly. “That’s generous of you.”

  Inspecting the slightly-burnt fish, he saw that it was labeled Simple Grilled Ayu with Red Thistles and Bittergrass [Level 1 Food], one serving of which would be just about enough to restore his health.

  “There’s fish in the ravine,” said the beggar with a shrug, pointing to nothing in particular. “And these herbs grow around here.”

  “Right.” Seiki observed the evidence of burnt leaf stuffed in the fish’s stomach. “Red thistles?” He wondered why he had a feeling he should be picking that particular herb.

  “That’s it for charity,” said the beggar. “If you want more, you’re going to have to make it yourself. The recipe is going to cost you a few of them shiny bronze coins.” He smiled again, twirling another physical War Coin between his fingers.

  That finally clued Seiki in on what it was. The recipe the beggar was offering was a variation of the most common recipe that dropped off Wilderness monsters, so that players who chose to concentrate solely on War Games could pick up basic Cooking skills here without having to go out the East Gate.

  It made perfect sense now. The availability of health-replenishing food also confirmed that part of the instance was to serve as a safe zone for him to tackle the challenge.

  “The recipe can wait, but thanks. I’ve got more important stuff to handle right now.” Seiki ran back toward Genta. Having taken the potion, his health had now filled. The arrow had faded away, as well as blood stains on his uniform.

  “You all right now?”

  “Thank you, Chief,” said Genta quietly.

  Seiki patted him on the back. “You did good back there.”

  Genta let out a shaky sigh and kept his head low. “I’m sorry, Chief. I didn’t—”

  “No,” Seiki crouched down beside him. “No, listen. Sometimes…” He was suddenly not quite sure how to word it, or what exactly he was trying to say. “Sometimes it’s good enough just to stay alive,” he finally said. “So thank you.”

  Genta looked up at him. “Chief.”

  Seiki was certain the man did not completely grasp his meaning, but a look of relief washed over his face.

  “The rest should be back soon,” Seiki said. “So whatever you wanted to tell Rumi, you can tell her yourself.”

  “Chief.” Genta’s eyes started to brim with tears. “I… I-”

  Seiki opened his mouth, but was at a loss for words. “Uh, okay.” He quickly sprang to his feet. The gratitude was certainly flattering, but he was not sure he actually deserved it, at least not to that degree. “Get some rest for now, all right? While I figure out how to get over to that cave.”

  “Yes, Chief,” said Genta.

  “We’re going to the cave?” said Saburo.

  The boy had reappeared, sitting on the ground not too far away with a slight grimace. “Those men were nasty.” He was most likely referring to Kojiro’s unit, which was the last thing he saw before he died. “Now where did they go?” He looked around, his hand going for his short iron sword.

  “The Chief took care of them good,” said Genta, his cheerful demeanor starting to return. “Killed their leader.”

  “Oh,” said Saburo in slight surprise. “Well, I’m sure he was a dishonorable man who completely deserved it. Shame on him for daring to wear Shinshioka’s colors and bringing disgrace to the city.”

  Genta nodded in agreement.

  Seiki had to laugh at their utter devotion. “You realize you’re all programmed to say what I want to hear, right?”

  Saburo frowned. “What do you mean, Chief?”

  “Never mind,” Seiki said, wondering what Ippei’s unit said to him, or if they said anything at all. “Since you’re back, it must be forty-five minutes, and I should really let my friends know I’m not dead.”

  Using the post paper kit he had gotten from Aina, Seiki scribbled a short message to Ippei to say he was in no danger. And after quickly stepping out of the instance to send it off on a bird, he turned his attention back to the gorge.

  “Last quest tonight,” he promised himself as he eyed the Renkan Mountain Range that loomed up before him.

  Saburo eagerly leapt to his feet. “We’re going there, Chief? Let’s kill some more demons.”

  “Yes,” said Seiki, glad for the boy’s simple and endless enthusiasm, which was always strangely contagious. “It’s time to finally end this.” Whatever it was that lay waiting for him on the other side, Seiki felt he was ready for it.

  Saburo scratched his head. “But the traitor person burned down the bridge,” he said. “How are we going to get across?”

  “Well,” said Seiki, letting out a soft chuckle as he realized everything was connected after all. “I think they’ve just given me the exact ability to do that.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The bottom of the ravine was cool and moist, and smelled very much like fresh rain under the thin canopy of maples on both sides of the stream. The waxing moon had reached the zenith of the sky, and the white water splashed through the rocks on its hurried course northward, a moving ribbon of mercury. Smooth rocks collected in large beds on the banks, round, damp, and gleaming like giant multi-colored pearls, but slightly dull and tinted bluish under the blanket of night…

  All of that, Seiki would have appreciated much more had he not just freshly survived an eighty foot fall.

  “That’s not it?” He picked himself up from the cold ground, unconsciously flexing his left-hand fingers, even when they were perfectly free from numbing sensations.

  After deciding to tackle the jump, he had eaten to replenish his health, as well as practiced Sliding back and forth across the ledge several times to gauge the energy use. With his new ability Blood Rush, he now had nearly twice the energy available, and Seiki had been quite certain that he could use the same method he had used dozens of time to jump across the roofs of Nezumi Temple to make it across the gap.

  The main problem was that he had never attempted a jump that far before. And once he was in the air, he realized—perhaps a little too late—that Slide quickly lost speed when there was no ground underneath him for more than a second. Luckily, he had been prudent enough to charge up his Crimsonfire Tekko beforehand. Using it to stop his fall right as the pebbled ground rushed up against him, he managed to avoid Kojiro’s fate of a death at the bottom of the gorge.

  Looking up above him, he could see the tiny figures of Genta and Saburo waving in panic out of concern, but their shouts were drowned out by the sound of rushing water.

  “Maybe it’s how you release energy?” Seiki wondered.

  Thinking back, he thought he had done it pretty well, having gotten up to his max speed with Slide right before the edge of the grass ledge and cancelling the
move at the last second. Still, he had been more than several feet short of the opposite cliff. He also did not recall seeing the wooden posts that used to hold up the hanging bridge on the other side, which meant once he managed to get there, finding something to grab hold of would be its own challenge.

  To make sure that it would not turn out to be as simple as climbing, he scanned for possible handholds at the bottom of the cliff directly beneath the cave, but the rock face as far as he could see was straight and smooth. None of the trees were climbable, and after a quick attempt just to make sure, he concluded that it was not the solution.

  “Or maybe you can still spend energy once you’re already in the air.” Seiki studied his surroundings for a way back toward the grass ledge. The gorge continued north for a foreseeable distance, but since the old beggar mentioned fishing in the ravine, there must be a sensible way to get down here and up again.

  As to be expected, walking a little downstream, he soon found a section where the water broke over a cluster of shallow rocks that formed a nearly perfect bridge under the surface. Seiki was drenched to the waist by the time he reached the other side, but after his recent encounters with fire, the cold water was not exactly unwelcomed.

  His suspicion regarding an intended path was correct. Directly after the crossing, he found a large boulder jutting out of the side of the cliff. A natural step cut into its surface. Climbing onto it brought into view a rocky shelf a few feet above to the right, hidden behind lush green vines, which then led to even higher ledges, all about the same distances apart.

  Unlike trees, the cliff was meant to be manageable by those even without climbing skills, and Seiki easily made his way upward. Halfway up, he stopped to study the opposite cliff for clues, like a ledge he could land on if he tried jumping from a different angle. But all he could see was a near-vertical wall with no possible foothold. Near the top, the cliff angled outward into a thin triangular shelf in front of the cave, making it impossible to approach it from below.