In the Land of Leadale - Volume 8 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Determining the Root Cause, a Capture, an Interrogation and a Breakthrough Strategy

In a reserved room of a certain tavern in Felskeilo’s capital, two men collapsed on the table in despair.

“Damn, how’d it come to this…?”

“His Majesty was furious, and it only got worse from there…”

“Don’t drag me here out of nowhere and start sulking. It’s not like you had no idea what would happen!”

Across from Shining Saber and Cohral, a resentful Cayna sat with her arms folded.

Several days had passed since the tourney ended in total disaster. The city decided to throw together a last-minute festival to ease the spectators’ disappointment.

Shining Saber and Cohral had just finished cleaning up their mess and dragged Cayna to this tavern. It was one of the capital’s most high-end establishments and a popular choice among adventurers looking to celebrate after a big job. Royal and aristocratic patrons visiting incognito, as well as the successful merchants who frequented the restaurant, were evidence of its fame. Elineh would have fit right in but preferred more modest fare.

Similarly, Shining Saber’s last visit to this establishment had entailed a wild celebration of his promotion to knight captain—this was only his second time here. Cohral was a midlevel adventurer but still preferred to go elsewhere for the sake of his purse strings.

“To think this is how I’d end up here…,” Shining Saber grumbled.

“Quit it! I can see your eyes glazing over!” Cayna chided.

“This couldn’t get any worse. The tourney was a grade-A disaster, so rumors are spreading like wildfire,” Cohral added.

“I’ve heard a few whispers, too. Let’s see…,” Cayna began.

“Stop! Don’t you dare say it!” he cried.

“Oh, you mean the Black Silver Knight and the Supreme Swordsman?”

““GWAAAAAAAAGH?!””

These figures at the center of fresh rumors in the capital were the monikers Shining Saber and Cohral had earned after going berserk (?) in the tourney. Those names made the duo grip their heads and writhe in paralyzed agony.

“Now you’ve gotten a taste of my pain, right?” said Cayna.

“Y-yeah…”

“So much it hurts…”

The Silver Ring Witch moniker had reached far and wide back in the day. It was Cayna’s alias of sorts, and it was even added to her stats as a title once her reputation spread among the player community. Shining Saber and Cohral were similarly the talk of the town, although Felskeilo’s current population didn’t hold a candle to the number of players during the Game Era.

The system within Cayna’s soul failed to update the men’s profiles with their new monikers. She checked just to be sure, but there was no mistake. That said, it would’ve worked only if the system counted normal citizens as players. Cayna had no deliberate control over this, so alas, she could do nothing more than stand by and observe these developments.

“Where’s the Supreme part come from anyway…?” Cohral muttered as his shoulders slumped.

“Hmm…,” Cayna mused with crossed arms. “If I had to guess, it has something to do with your sword.”

Cohral wielded the Holy Warrior Soul Valhalla. The blade shone silver, but apparently it had appeared pure white to spectators during the tourney. And thus, the Supreme Swordsman was born. The weapon was already a hot topic in the Adventurers Guild, and rumors claimed it had produced a powerful gale.

Plus, Cayna had given the Sycophant Sword Runberserk to Shining Saber. This blade, an inky black color, contrasted against Shining Saber’s silver scales, earning him the moniker the Black Silver Knight. His knights happened to take a liking to it; Shining Saber, on the other hand, did not appreciate the shift from “Captain” to “O Great Black Silver Knight.”

“You two sure had a fun little swordfight,” said Cayna.

“Y-you’ve got it all wrong. It was more like everyone was invisible except Cohral.”

“S-same for me. I felt like I had to fight Shining Saber no matter what… I guess you could call it a sense of duty?” Cohral fumbled as he recalled the chaos.

“Actually, yeah. That sounds about right, huh?” Shining Saber agreed.

“Umm, I don’t get it. You mean your subconscious forced you or something?”

“Not sure,” Cohral admitted.

“It’s like my naked sword was in my hand, then suddenly I was fightin’ Cohral. Everything was nuts, and I had no idea what was going on. Now that I think about it, no real knight would attack without checking his surroundings first.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I also shouldn’t have rushed into the heat of battle without any thought for my comrades,” said Cohral. “Later on, everyone said I went crazy as soon as our fight began…”

“You both congratulated each other, though.”

“What else were we supposed to say?!” Shining Saber exclaimed.

“It was a desperate attempt to break the tension…”

Cohral and Shining Saber had fallen to pieces once the match finally ended, and Opus had knocked them down a peg.

Unable to simply brush off the incident, Cohral had groveled before his comrades, while Shining Saber had been visibly uncomfortable without his trusted subordinates by his side. Not that his fellow knights could have stayed there with him, as they’d been tasked with evacuating everyone—in no small part because of Shining Saber himself.

“At any rate, I’m not sure how one swordfight could’ve created such a massive storm,” Cayna mused.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Shining Saber. I think you already know this, but I’m the one who caught that bandit leader a little while ago…”

“Oh yeah, I heard a few details. You handed him over to the Helshper knights, right?”

“That guy was a player,” Cayna revealed.

“What?!” Cohral cried in abject shock.

Shining Saber face-palmed. “Seriously…?”

“Let’s ignore the fact he was a player for a second,” Cayna went on. “He and I had a pretty intense battle, but even we didn’t kick up a whirlwind like that. I doubt that happened just because you’re both players.”

“The poor guy had to go against you?” said Shining Saber. “Tough break.”

“He hadn’t yet realized that I’m a Limit Breaker,” she replied wryly.

“Yeah, no one would know you’re a tank just by looking at you,” Cohral said with a shrug.

“Think either of your weapons had anything to do with it?” Shining Saber asked.

“I had my magic staff, and he used a Hungry Like the Wolf Sword. The staff is basically the same as a Valhalla, while the sword is a gag weapon, so I doubt that’s much help to us.”

The trio began brainstorming other possible causes, but it turned out to be a hopeless endeavor. If even someone like Cayna, who knew Leadale inside and out, didn’t know the answer, their prospects were bleak.

“Magic can create storms, right?” Shining Saber asked.

“There’s Weather Manipulation, but it’s purely ceremonial,” Cayna explained. “Besides, a spell like that isn’t accurate enough to target the Battle Arena. If you used it in the capital, we’d have a disaster of epic proportions on our hands.”

Ceremonial Magic could be cast by several people over a wide area. Only those who possessed the skill could invoke it, of course, and they had to stay in place when casting it. Furthermore, the effects lasted for over a day. Someone with near-infinite MP like Cayna could likely handle the spell herself, but it wouldn’t serve any purpose.

“Guess we’re screwed…”

“Yep. Blocked on all sides…”

Shining Saber’s ale had gone tepid, but he chugged it before tossing back a handful of nuts and collapsing on the table in despair. Cohral smiled awkwardly and then polished off his own drink in a single gulp.

“So, what’s the plan? Should we keep looking for the cause?” Cayna proposed.

Shining Saber squinted at her and shook his head miserably. “If an all-powerful Skill Master can’t figure it out, there’s no point in the rest of us trying.”

“I agree. I’ll just sadly think of my new name…as penance for this mishap…,” Cohral muttered. His distant gaze stared at nothing in particular. It was as if he’d already accepted his fate and had shelved his feelings away in the back of his mind. Cayna hoped he wasn’t going to explode.

She then stood. “Opus was watching you nearby during the match, so I’ll see if he has any ideas.”

“Yeah… Thanks…”

“Greaaaat…”

The mood was turning downright grim. “Later!” Cayna called as she left the tavern.

“What do you plan to do?” asked Kee, who had remained silent thus far, as she wove aimlessly through the crowd.

Before the conversation in the tavern, she had instructed him to speak up if anything caught his attention. Since he hadn’t made a peep the entire time, Cayna had assumed he was equally clueless.

“My only real option is to look for Opus again and pick his brain about what happened.”

Opus randomly disappeared right after the tourney ended on a sour note. Cayna also had questions about the Abandoned Capital, so she sent a telepathic message to the Double Rs to capture him immediately if they spotted him. Yet even after the festival had ended, Opus was nowhere to be found. The very real chance he had two hundred years’ worth of safe houses scattered across the continent was a terrifying thought. That moron was always so damn hard to locate. According to Kee, Opus would most likely be a terrible servant who ignored Cayna’s summons.

“Where in the world is he puttering around?”

All Cayna could manage in response to Kee’s grumbling was a hollow laugh.

“Letter for youuuu!”

“Kuu?”

Out of nowhere, Kuu appeared in front of Cayna with a scrap of paper the size of a business card. Kuu wasn’t one to reveal herself in a crowd, but at some point she had discovered a way to make herself visible only to Cayna. She still typically hid in Cayna’s hair whenever they were out in public unless she had a good reason to pop out.

Kuu then handed the scrap of paper to Cayna. It read:

“The target has been apprehended.—Roxine”

“Huh? ‘Apprehended’? Who?” Cayna froze, visibly confused.

“The person you were just talking about!” Kuu answered merrily.

“What? Roxine caught Opus? How?”

His depravity aside, Opus was still a limit-breaking Skill Master. Cayna didn’t expect a level-550 maid would be able to capture him with such ease. She thought maybe Roxine could put up a good fight and slow him down, but the werecat had apparently pulled it off.

“You instructed her to capture him, did you not?”

“I didn’t think it was even a possibility, considering the level difference, but it looks like she proved me wrong.”

Cayna didn’t know whether to feel shocked or proud. She entered a back alley, checked for prying eyes, then ran up the wall to the roof. After finding an unseen nook in the shadows, Cayna teleported to the remote village.

“Did you really capture Opus?!”

Cayna returned from Felskeilo in ten seconds flat and burst through the living room door. She gaped at the sight before her.

“Mommy Cayna?”

““Lady Cayna!””

“Welcome back, Lady Cayna.”

Four people—Luka, Roxine, Roxilius, and Siren—sat around something tied to a chair. Covered in rope, it looked like a caterpillar and groaned “Mmph! Mmph!” as it wriggled in vain. The horns peeking out of its head indicated this was most likely Opus.

“Ah yes, that is indeed Master Opus,” Siren said, confirming the caterpillar’s identity.

“Uh, mind filling me in?” Cayna asked.

“I thought it best to wrap him up for now,” Roxine confessed brazenly. She was treating her creator like an inanimate object.

The atmosphere was tense. A stern-faced Roxilius raised his hand, and Cayna bade him to speak.

“Right,” he began. “First, Lady Luka distracted Sir Opus, then we took him down in an ambush.”

“Uh, that’s not what I meant by ‘filling me in.’”

Their cold-blooded tactics gave Cayna a headache.

I bet Opus is, like, super pissed right now.

“Most likely. But you asked them to capture him, so this is your problem as well, correct?”

Yeah… Guess you’re right.

Steeling herself against his inevitable wrath, Cayna was about to have Siren free Opus when the captured caterpillar deflated like a balloon. Strands of rope scattered around the chair.

“Oh,” Cayna said, surprised.

““Ah!”” Roxine and Roxilius assumed battle positions.

“My pitiful master has withered away.”

Siren dabbed her tears with her usual handkerchief, and Luka clung to Cayna.

“You’re not sorry at all!” Opus yelled.

“Goodness, you’re safe, Master. How unfortunate.”

Opus was suddenly right behind them, and Siren offered him a bright smile. He had used the skills Rope Escape and Ninjutsu to break free. A vein in his temple throbbed, and he gnashed his teeth audibly. He stomped in frustration at his maid’s attitude and then rounded on Cayna.

“What kind of deranged orders did you give your daughter and servants?!”

“Look, I’m sorry you got turned into a caterpillar, but you really shouldn’t keep so many secrets.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“The Abandoned Capital—”

“?!”

Opus fell silent and looked away as Cayna shot him a death glare.

“I knew it. You’re up to something, aren’t you? Spill it,” she demanded.

“I had to set some things in motion first! I planned to tell you later…for the most part.”

“So you were gonna leave me in the dark if those things never got in motion?”

“N-no, that’s, uh, not it. I—I had my reasons. There were a lot of politics involved, y-you know?”

“Pfft.”

“Huh?”

Watching Opus stand there frozen in a cold sweat made Cayna burst out in laughter. As far as she could tell, he’d never lost his cool like this before. It was refreshing.

“Yes, yes, good for you, pulling all those strings. You’ll tell me everything now, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“’Kay. Let’s get down to business.”

While Roxilius and Roxine took care of Luka, the rest of the group (including Siren, who had been somewhat complicit in Opus’s capture) moved their conversation to the Guardian room of Cayna’s tower. Cayna and Opus sat at a table covered with a white linen cloth that Siren had prepared for tea. Kuu was unlikely to interrupt now that she was happily munching on a cookie.

“Hey, Master,” the mural Guardian ventured, expression dubious.

“What’s up?” Cayna replied with a cup of fragrant tea in hand.

“This ain’t a lounge. You know that, right?”

“Of course. It’s an ideal conference room where we can discuss things without fear of eavesdroppers.”

Cayna’s smile seemed pure but emanated a glacial iciness that left no room for argument. The mural Guardian grimaced, then closed its eyes and mouth—see no evil, speak no evil. It had apparently chosen to stay out of this discussion.

Opus shuddered as he observed this exchange. “So, even Guardians can’t escape your iron fist? Scary.”

“Don’t be rude. We have a very normal Skill Master/Guardian relationship.”

The way Opus saw it, these two were the very image of a lowly manservant and his queen, no matter how you sliced it. Still, he had no desire to be shot down like a green pheasant and let the matter drop.

“Okay, spit it out!” Cayna pressed.

“Can you wait two seconds before threatening me?!”

Opus got the sense that escaping those ropes changed nothing. He turned to Siren for support, but she remained standing behind Cayna in silent solidarity.

His shoulders slumped. He was fully mentally checked out. “Instead of grilling me, why not just ask me like a normal person?”

“I’ve had a ton on my plate lately.”

“I feel like we had plenty of opportunities to go over the most important points.”

“The timing was just never right…”

Basically, she had forgotten and shamelessly hid the fact that it was entirely her own fault. Opus started to complain, but Siren clapped her hands, interrupting him.

“That’s quite enough, you two. Our time will be wasted if you play around as usual.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Cayna. “Thanks, Siren.”

“It is my pleasure. This is a common occurrence, after all.”

“Give me a break, Siren. Can’t you muster up at least a shred of loyalty to me?”

“Whatever do you mean, Master Opus? I am simply treating you and Lady as equals…precisely as you commanded.”

He may or may have not said something to that effect; Opus’s memory was a bit fuzzy. A single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead.

“All that clandestine string-pulling makes you the villain here, does it not? Moreover, if you and Lady Cayna are indeed equals, isn’t it only natural to share information?”

“Hmph…”

Opus was obviously dodging the issue. His orders to Siren had backfired and left him with little choice but to hem and haw.

Cayna smiled awkwardly as she listened to this conversation between master and servant. In a way, it seemed like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“Well, let’s hear it already,” she urged Opus.

“We won’t get anywhere without a topic.”

“Like I saaaaid, I wanna know about the Abandoned Capital. You already knew that!” Cayna protested, almost getting up out of her seat.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to yell over every little thing. I can hear you just fine.” Opus crossed his arms and sighed. “But where do I even start…?”

Cayna, visibly doubtful, wondered whether it was really that complicated. Opus used Oscar—Roses Scatter with Beauty to cast a gloomy sky over his head. The dark clouds threatened to unleash a downpour at any moment.

“What gives? Are you trying to freak me out?”

“Well, I think you’ll understand once you see it for yourself, but yes. You would have quickly come to the same realization if you did nothing, but I find the timing of your investigation odd.”

“My timing…? I mainly looked into the Abandoned Capital because of Sahalashade. If I dig up enough information, she might be able to deal with it on her end, too.”

“It’s been forever since I heard that name. What is this about Sahana’s pet, or whatever she is?”

Opus and Sahana fought like cats and dogs back in the day, so just speaking her name made him grimace.

“She’s her Foster Child. Sahalashade was designated the queen of Otaloquess by a goddess or something. She’s also my niece, apparently, but don’t ask me how that works.”

“The queen of Otaloquess? Your elite family tree keeps on expanding without you having to lift a finger…”

To be more precise, these “relatives” of hers were simply people in positions of power. It wasn’t like Cayna had a hand in it; this outcome was completely out of her control. If anything, no one was more baffled by the showy lineup than Cayna herself.

“Look, let’s save that for another day,” said Cayna. “My goal right now is to investigate the Abandoned Capital and how it’s hidden. There’s probably an Isolation Barrier over the former Brown Kingdom, right? Still, that thing’s defense and durability are through the roof. Also, isn’t that where all these random quest monsters have been leaking from?”

“Most likely.”

“‘Most likely’? You mean you don’t know?”

“That’s right,” Opus replied flatly.

Cayna’s jaw dropped. It was a natural reaction, since Mr. One Step Ahead had just thrown her for a loop.

“Even though I hid away in that dungeon until recently, I still went out on occasion. I didn’t really maintain that barrier, either. I’ve someone keeping an eye on the area for now, but they won’t last much longer.”

“What’s going on over there?!”

“For now, it’s protected by the strongest Isolation Barrier I can muster. And I added two or three extra layers just in case.”

“Can something like that last for two hundred years?”

“It has, so the damage to the surrounding area is minimal. Although it seems to be gradually coming apart.”

“Talk about irresponsible!”

Cayna had previously used Isolation Barriers for other purposes, and the effects weren’t semipermanent. The barrier itself had preset defense and durability. Its defense changed according to the amount of MP added beyond the actual spell, and its endurance depended entirely on the caster’s magic. You could even add keywords like No evil shall pass.

For example, what if Cayna cast an Isolation Barrier that possessed no defensive MP beyond the initial spell? Endurancewise, it could withstand even a full-on attack from Opus—though a second strike would finish the job. Of course, incessant pecking from the barrier’s occupants would eventually shatter it as well.

There were only two ways to nullify a barrier: break it or, if you were the caster, cancel it. That was why the Isolation Barriers of leftover fortresses (former guild bases) couldn’t be breached, and several remained intact.

“I called a summons to watch over the barrier,” Opus explained. “When I first set it up, the game’s service had just ended, and all Leadale’s functions—including you, me, and our sandbox—were transferred to this world. However, these random monsters that slipped in with the player avatars and active quests were a miscalculation.”

“So you sealed them inside the Brown Kingdom?”

“Right. The Brown Kingdom had already fallen into ruin, so it was a convenient choice.”

Cayna, the direct cause of the Brown Kingdom’s ruin, slumped over. This was a sore spot that had made her the butt of many a joke.

“It felt like leaving the Abandoned Capital to its own devices wouldn’t end well for this small population, so I chose several competent, skilled candidates to lead each nation. Mostly those with the Govern skill,” Opus went on.

Players used Govern to develop regions under their control. If you had it equipped while transforming village hubs into fortresses in Offline Mode, you’d earn an extra boost. Still, Govern was yet another unfortunate skill that wasn’t good for much else. There was talk that the same villages would appear online in future updates, although this never came to pass.

“Hang on—legend says a goddess chose people to lead each nation,” Cayna said, recalling what Marelle had told her the day she’d awoken in Leadale. “Don’t tell me you’re into cross-dressing… What the heck?” She eyed Opus reproachfully.

“You couldn’t pay me to do that, you fool! She addressed the public for me.”

He swiftly shut Cayna down and gestured toward Siren, standing at attention behind her. The raven-haired elf maid smiled gently and nodded briefly. Cayna stared at her with grim suspicion.

“Yes, indeed! I dyed my hair a heavenly hue, cast an effect, and wore an Angel’s Raiment, all at my master’s behest…”

“Uwagh…”

Cayna’s expression transformed into heartfelt sympathy. She got to her feet, turned to Siren, and brought her in a gentle embrace while patting her on the back. Even Kuu parted from her snack and stroked the maid’s hair. Siren herself had no idea what was going on.

Overwhelmed by Cayna’s kindness, Siren pulled a handkerchief from out of nowhere and dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

“There, there,” said Cayna. “You had a rough time of it.”

“Sniff. Lady Cayna…”

“Just think of it as a little bump in the road and put it out of your mind.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you for your compassion.”

“Hang in there, okay?”

“Okay…”

Lit up by a Stage Spotlight effect, the pair enacted a scene of an older friend comforting a young woman after a harrowing encounter with a dirty old man. Their height difference made it look more like a younger sister consoling her elder sister.

Meanwhile, Cayna, Siren, and Kuu gave Opus the stink eye.

“Wait—why are you all looking at me like that?!”

“““You’re the worst.”””

“Ngh…” Perhaps sensing he’d done something barbaric, Opus awkwardly averted his gaze.

Incidentally, an Angel’s Raiment was a rare ornamental outfit imbued with Flight Magic. Like a certain celestial maiden of legend, the enchanting, long-sleeved kimono was encircled by a glittering sash and backlit by a divine halo. The see-through top was an unfortunate drawback, however, and female players considered it part of the despised Pervy Admins’ Desire Series. Cayna knew exactly one person who could wear such an outfit with a straight face.

Siren was a beauty among beauties. Add in golden hair, an Angel’s Raiment, and a heavenly aura, and anyone could mistake her for a goddess.

Skargo had spoken of this “deity” with such passion; now that Cayna knew the truth behind this world’s legends, she felt a little bad for him. If anything, a lot of what he’d said was mere fantasy. It seemed that no man was exempt from putting certain women on a pedestal.

“At any rate, I think I’ll keep this fact to myself,” said Cayna. “Certain people might fall to pieces if their creation myth started coming apart…”

“Yes, the truth is often stranger than fiction,” quipped the demon responsible for many strange truths.

Cayna didn’t know if stomach medicine existed in this world, but she really wanted some in that moment.

From there, Opus briefly explained the time line of events after Leadale went offline. In short, there were three main points: the birth of the three nations, the imprisonment of the Event Monsters in the Abandoned Capital, and the handling of players stuck in this world.

Opus left most of the nation-rearing to Siren. She selected individuals who possessed the Govern skill from among Leadale’s inhabitants and all the Foster Children, then divided the continent into north, central, and east sectors. This was around when the three nations were tasked with watching over the Abandoned Capital together. Surprisingly, only southern Otaloquess continued to uphold this duty two centuries later.

“The king of Felskeilo told me that Otaloquess is in charge of the Abandoned Capital…,” said Cayna.

“You’ve been hobnobbing with the upper crust?” Opus sneered. “I’d always thought nobles were the bane of your existence.”

“Unlike in the game, they’re not all pompous jerks. Some definitely need to get off their high horses, though.”

“Could it be that they lose interest in such obligations from generation to generation?” Siren lamented with a sigh. She appeared incapable of comprehending how anyone could have performed their duties so poorly.

However, Siren (the “goddess”) was not to blame here. It was the descendants of these nation’s leaders who were pathetic for shirking their responsibilities as time went on.

“Still, two centuries is at least four generations,” said Cayna. “Kind of sloppy to forget your duties that quickly, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps the original leaders died unexpectedly?” Siren offered. “That seems like a logical explanation if they passed away before sharing their knowledge with their descendants.”

“Even if oral instruction was out of the question, they could have passed it on in different ways, like writing,” said Opus. “Honestly, did the command of a goddess mean nothing to them?”

“It’s a twisted telephone game!” Kuu shouted as she pointed to the sky and spouted nonsense. Siren deftly wiped off the crumbs around her mouth and clothes.

“A goddess does sounds pretty far-fetched,” Cayna noted.

“Perhaps I was ill-suited to such a vital role?” said Siren.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Besides Sahalashade, those who agreed to your orders were the ones with poor judgment. A power struggle is more important than duties from a goddess, right? This is why nobles are so—!”

“You’re going ballistic for completely unrelated and groundless reasons. Have you forgiven them or not?”

Opus stared tiredly at Cayna as she ranted and raved. She gripped her head in consternation.

“Even if I talk to Skargo later, how the heck do I explain this…?”

Depending on the situation, Cayna thought it might be better to enter destruction mode and transform the Abandoned Capital into a crater. Warning about something set to disappear anyway would only waste precious energy.

“Oh,” she started. “Not to change the subject, but the goddess religion and the Five Grand Dukes who serve the main gods or whatever—were those both part of your plan, too? Did you spread those ideas?”

“I didn’t know this world’s native beliefs, so I mostly just applied whatever was convenient.”

“We should keep this from Skargo, too. He’ll snap if I let it slip…”

After putting the issue of the remaining players on the back burner, the topic shifted to the Abandoned Capital.

“Who could’ve guessed our avatars would end up real?”

“Indeed,” said Siren, agreeing with Cayna. “Master Opus did not expect it, either.”

“I wonder how many there were back then…”

“They were temporarily frozen together, and I had to ignore them while I prepared my next steps.”

After forcing the Event Monsters that had invaded every corner of the continent into the Abandoned Capital via a linked space and sequestering them within a three-layer Isolation Barrier, Opus had left the city entirely under the care of a suitable summons.

“You sure like to pass the buck. Why didn’t you just round up the monsters and destroy the Abandoned Capital back then? Now it’s a giant pain.”

“You think I can fix everything in an instant? No man is an island.”

“Lady Cayna, you say Master Opus has shirked his duties, but he checked on each area afterward to ensure all was well. Many players have awakened in the last fifty years—although he has curtailed his time outside to avoid potential encounters.”

Some awakened players like Guan Yu had ventured beyond the Leadale continent, while others like humans and werecats had died of old age. More than a few had succumbed to illness or injury.

“Right,” said Cayna. “You can’t bounce back like in the game.”

“Some never learn recovery skills to begin with,” agreed Opus.

“Yep, totally. Cohral is one of ’em.”

“Others don’t use their money from the game and die destitute.”

“Apparently, that was almost Tartarus’s fate. The game’s money is invisible, so not many people think to take it.”

“That guy always has a comment ready. It wouldn’t kill him to relax more.”

Opus was referring to Tartarus’s secondary account, Exis. Tartarus himself had decent common sense, and everyone in the guild considered him the resident snark who butted into every conversation. The situation had probably stressed him out, and thus Exis was born.

“So how do we get inside the Abandoned Capital?” Cayna asked Opus.

“Say open sesame.”

“What? Seriously?”

“……”

A painful silence followed, and a chill ran down Cayna’s spine.

Unable to meet her gaze, Opus nodded quietly. “………Yeah.”

“Whaaaat?! Wait, are you dead serious right now?!”

“Yes, it’s absolutely true.”

“I doubted my own ears when I first heard it as well, but I promise it is neither a lie nor a joke,” said Siren. “He assumed the people here did not know your world’s culture.”

Apparently, this password would open a three-layer Isolation Barrier.

“What if a player comes across it?!”

“I’ve already considered that possibility and established a major road system. Players don’t leave the road often.”

“Well, you’re got a point there…”

Basic events and quests were usually held alongside the road back in the game, after all. This trend was used against them and allowed the Abandoned Capital to remain hidden. Incidentally, it was the First Skill Master Marvelia who pioneered the idea of wandering off the beaten path.

A summons still kept watch over the problematic capital itself.

“Ask the summons for more details,” Opus insisted.

“It’s your summons, right? Will it even listen to me? I’m sure everything will work out if you come along.”

“I’ve still got some minor business here. Sorry, but you’re on your own.”

“My apologies, Lady Cayna. I cannot take my eyes off my master for nary a second, so I must ask you to handle the rest.” Siren boldly whipped out a jangling metal chain.

Opus’s face twitched. The maid had evidently established herself as a bigger deterrent than Cayna, which was a terrifying prospect.

“You’ve been acting fishy ever since we reunited, Opus,” Cayna noted. “Don’t I at least deserve an explanation? Or is it something you can’t tell me?”

He had always been tight-lipped, but this was too much. He’d apparently been scheming in the background even before Cayna had awoken in this world. Figuring it was worth a shot, she asked what was going on so they could work together.

Opus looked conflicted. He fell silent for a moment before at last saying with defeat, “I’ve been quietly investigating the number of players.”

“‘The number of players’? You mean like how they’ve been dwindling for the past two hundred years?”

“No, the exact opposite. There are far more players than before. The initial headcount doesn’t even compare.”

“Why would it go up?! The game is long gone!”

“I found a large discrepancy between the number of players who disappeared when the game ended and the players who came to this world immediately afterward.”

From what Opus had investigated, there had been only a few initial arrivals. More importantly, that number skyrocketed in the following decades.

“What the heck…?”

“Well, it’s possible the game system in your soul began to stabilize. The avatars frozen in limbo between this world and the other until that point could have responded to this and dropped in rapid succession.”

Cayna had no clue how the stabilization process worked, but it was apparently responsible for the seven-year difference between Shining Saber’s arrival and Cohral’s.

“So, this cryptic system inside me is to blame?” Cayna asked.

There was no way to verify such a claim, so she couldn’t do anything about it. Others were probably still stuck in that void.

“No, your awakening has helped bring the rest here.”

“Are there really that many players? I’ve barely seen any.”

“That’s because the majority are cautious. They’re living in secret as regular people. Even Felskeilo’s capital has a hidden yet significant player population.”

“Geh?!”

Cayna’s face paled at the mention of Felskeilo. Thanks to her involvement with Skargo et al, she was a household name there. Incidentally, any player would have known exactly what Cayna was up to when she planned that little act with the white whale tower. The previous glow of a job well done suddenly turned to mortification. Furthermore, there was a chance players might raid the whale tower in search of skills. Anxious to check up on this, Cayna started getting to her feet.

Opus stopped her with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Marvelia’s massive whale tower must swallow the player first, so it would need enough space to move. The Guardian won’t do anything without your permission, either. There are also local soldiers keeping a close eye on it. And the more devoutly religious citizens would never let anyone near the object of their worship.”

“Hmm. Are you sure it’ll be okay?”

“If you’re so worried, have your Guardian contact it later.”

“Oh yeah. I can do that?”

“Sure can, Master. Maybe take a minute or two to learn about my functions, would ya?” the mural quipped with one eye open.

After a proper check, the tiny cuckoo Guardian inside the whale had angrily replied, “Don’t”—ka-thunk—“act like”—ka-thunk—“we’re pals!”

“Most of our fellow players have social anxiety. Some even rely on their servants or sponge off others, so this will be an uphill battle,” said Opus.

“I have questioned several about the situation,” added Siren, “but everyone replied, ‘People who can’t just use the chat box are scary.’”

“What, has dimension-hopping made them all skittish now?!”

One would assume a gentle-looking maid would make people more open to conversation. Maybe these shut-ins would feel more talkative with someone like Opus, whose wartime interviews had earned him a level of notoriety?

“So how do you propose we count the players? A national census?” said Cayna.

“No. Right now, I’m planning the first and last event in the sealed Brown Kingdom.”

“Bwegh!”

Opus’s confident declaration made Cayna do a spit take.

“An excellent idea, right?” he proclaimed proudly.

“Wouldn’t it be more helpful to invite Gramps and crush the monsters as a Skill Master trio?”

“That’s impossible.”

He promptly shot down Cayna’s proposed hostile takedown.

The Brown Kingdom’s capital was relatively vast; if Cayna, Opus, and Hidden Ogre infiltrated one corner, monsters could escape in the opposite direction and send their search back to square one. There was no simple answer, and it was difficult to know what sort of environment two centuries in that sealed bubble had created. The monsters might have dramatically evolved, so their best bet was to slowly trap them within a ring of players. That was Opus’s line of thinking.

“But every capital has a path to an underground dungeon, right?”

“They were destroyed early on by my master’s servant,” said Siren.

“This won’t be a worst-case scenario like with the Black Kingdom. There isn’t a Demon King lurking beneath the other six nations, after all.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Cayna nodded vacantly as she remembered a past tragedy.

At the time, the Cream Cheese guildmaster had received reports about a Demon King in the Black Kingdom capital’s underground dungeon. After goading everyone into defeating it as a test of their mettle, the guild merrily set off together in a rush of late-night excitement.

Cayna had only just become a Skill Master, something the other guild members hadn’t yet achieved; the tables soon turned on them. The Demon King’s ranged attacks wreaked so much devastation that the incident wasn’t funny even in retrospect.

However, the outrageous reach of their foe’s final attack pierced through the dungeon and straight up to the surface. As a result, every player and NPC in the Black Kingdom instantly died…and came back to life.

It wasn’t even wartime, and anyone who had died in town immediately revived or respawned. The affected players’ logs merely said Died from aftershock of attack, much to their confusion.

The amused Admins had reported the cause as “unknown,” so the midnight massacre in the Black Kingdom capital quickly became one of the game’s many enigmas—a sore point for the guild behind the incident.

“I’d rather not suffer that kind of guilt again…,” groaned Cayna.

“Weren’t you and Tartaroast the only ones who showed any real remorse?”

“Don’t remind me!”

As Cayna recalled her absurd fellow guild members (Opus included), she could only sigh. Still, their absence also struck her with melancholy.

“At any rate, will any of these wallflowers even show up to the event?”

“I would assume they’d think they’d be able to meet other players, but it’s hard to know for certain until the actual day.”

“I thought you were the great and powerful Opus.”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

A shadow seemed to fall over Opus’s wry grin, but Cayna shook this feeling off.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

“Nah, it’s nothing! Anyhow, how can I help with this event quest of yours?”

“Make sure you participate. That’s enough.”

“R-right. Gotcha.”

She enthusiastically volunteered but understood there was plenty going on behind the scenes that had nothing to do with her. At least he didn’t say she wasn’t needed. Cayna put a hand to her chest in relief.

“Me, Siren, and…my servants will suffice,” Opus told her. “First, you should do as your daughter asked.”

“How did you know about that…?”

“Snake—I mean, Kee—and I more or less exchange information. I need to know what’s going on around you.”

“What?! Kee?”

“Do not worry. I have only passed on information regarding the present quest.”

“Geez! Be more careful with people’s personal information!”

“I understand.”

Cayna imagined Kee offering a stewardly bow, but his tendency to hand out details without permission would no doubt have her jumping at shadows later.

She’d definitely make Kee confess how much he had shared with Opus, but there wasn’t really a way to punish someone inside her own head.

“Oh, what should I do about the barrier’s watchdog?”

“Your daughter’s request will grant you access, so just approach it.”

“I’ll be able to get back out, right?”

“Just don’t rattle the barrier too much.”

“Thanks for freaking me out!”

Opus’s ominous warning sent chills down Cayna’s spine, but she left the rest to him and teleported to the royal capital. After watching its Skill Master wave and leave them behind, the narrow-eyed mural let out a heavy sigh.

“Hey, mister. I heard the deets from your skeleton queen. Is my master gonna be okay?”

“I doubt even a team-up of every Limit Breaker in their heyday could rival her… Barring an unfortunate accident, that Snake will keep her safe.”

To prepare for the worst, Opus had sent the details of his quest to every tower in operation. If, for example, the monsters inside the Brown Kingdom barrier were to stampede and either scatter over a wide area or target a specific point en masse, he planned to have the Guardian Towers erect a defensive wall. To accomplish this, Hidden Ogre was currently relocating his mobile tower to Otaloquess’s southwest. Opus hoped the Dragon Palace, House of Murder and Malice, and Floating Sky Garden would be enough to encompass the Brown Kingdom’s outermost limits.

“I don’t like keepin’ secrets from my master, y’know.”

“She’s likely to complain at the eleventh hour. Everything will work out as long as the players can eliminate them all.”

“I sure hope we don’t have to make an appearance. Hey, answer me.”

“I’ll see what I can d—”

Before Opus could finish his sentence, the Guardian whisked him outside. The grumpy wall Guardian heard his screams getting softer as he fell farther down the tower, but it didn’t care.

“Hmph.”

It gazed up at the vast blue sky with a heavy heart.