Log Horizon - Volume 9 - Chapter 3.2

2 
Come to think of it, that was completely natural. 
When he visualized its shape on a map, it was clear that Japan was an island nation. It might be close to the eastern coast of the continent, but there was an ocean in between. That kept it insulated from other regions. 
On top of that, Japan was the only area under the jurisdiction of the Japanese server. 
In terms of the world map, the North American server managed Canada as well as the United States, and the European server covered more than ten countries. Unlike those, the range Japan’s server managed was incredibly small. In addition, if Leonardo remembered correctly, Japan was a country with very few immigrants. Maybe the eruptions of racism he’d seen in North America had been comparatively less common there. 
Or, no, was there a more fundamental reason? 
Leonardo asked a question, looking for confirmation: 
“Is that because of the new patch? Was there some sort of new element that maintains public order in there?” 
“No, as far as I know, it’s nothing to do with the new patch. It’s probably because Japan is full of fanboys, hermits, and nervous types.” 
“Wait, really?” 
KR lay down on the cool rock, shutting his eyes halfway. He looked completely relaxed. 
Gazing at him, Leonardo fell into contemplation. 
That must have been the peculiar Japanese “modesty” he’d heard about. 
He’d always thought it was cool, and here he’d been given a demonstration of its greatness once again. Not only had they developed cup ramen and the rotary engine, they were managing to maintain order under circumstances like these. He would have expected no less from the country of Zen Buddhism and the samurai code. 
“So Japan’s peaceful, huh…? I’m jealous.” 
“No, it’s not all that.” 
“Hmm?” 
“Japan… Well, no, it’s called Yamato here, but…” 
Equine muzzle snuffling, KR drew a deep breath. 
“Japan was in tatters when the transference happened, too. It was confused, and the depression was worse than the confusion. Talk about being desolated and down in the dumps. From the general mood, the future looked pitch-black. That day, I think there were about thirty thousand Japanese players logged in, and…” 
Thirty thousand. That was a larger number than he’d expected. 
Considering the area of that island country, it seemed like it would be overcrowded. 
“Well, all thirty thousand of them got depressed all at once. Some players just crouched down and couldn’t really move anymore. Some got desperate and tried to kill themselves. Then there were a certain number who started player killing, without a thought for anyone else. However, there were heroes who didn’t think despairing forever was a good plan. In both eastern and western Japan, at that.” 
“Does an island that tiny even have an east and west?” 
“It’s not a matter of area. It’s about population.” 
When he put it that way, it made sense. 
The “size of the world” Leonardo and other modern humans felt was technically a network, the connections between people. 
The only world a lone person could sense was the scenery in front of them. No matter how wide the world was, there was a limit to the range you could explore—and use—on your own. 
In that case, the total size of the world was proportional to the number of observers. You could say that the world you were able to sense was dependent on your number of companions and the people with whom you shared information. 
“Not that population alone is enough. Anyway, from what I’ve seen all over the place, the more people there are, the bigger the fights get.” 
“Conflicts, huh?” 
“That’s right. Although it hasn’t heated up all that far yet. Eastern Yamato has banded together around a town called Akiba. It governs itself; all the guilds in Akiba participate. The top eleven guilds have formed something called the Round Table Council and are working together in a neighborly way. At this point, their representative is a player named Krusty. A good-looking guy, that one. They’ve probably got about fourteen thousand participating members.” 
KR broke off for a moment and glanced at Leonardo. 
When Leonardo nodded, encouraging him to go on, he continued matter-of-factly, “Meanwhile, the West is centered around a city called Minami. That one’s more radical. All the western Adventurers have been absorbed by a single guild called Plant Hwyaden. Plant Hwyaden claims to have done away with discrimination between Adventurers and established a fair and just society. Officially, they’ve got about twelve thousand participants.” 
“Those are some bold strokes.” 
“They had to be. They needed to state their ideals boldly to get the confusion under control. You understand that, right?” 
“So it was like a presidential election.” 
“That’s about the size of it.” 
“The leader in the West is powerful, and they managed to handle the circumstances skillfully. So the East is a republic? I get the impression there’s a faction struggle going on. Is that right?” 
“No, well, I guess you could call it that. It seems to me that ‘republic’ isn’t a word they’re real familiar with in Japan. Either way, those two are both working to get back to the real world, but they’re rivals.” 

Something about KR’s words felt strange to Leonardo. 
“Are they? They’re not fighting with each other—they’re rivals?” 
“They’re both Japanese organizations. They don’t have any particularly hard feelings toward each other. I’m not very confident, but I think that’s true for everybody except Indicus. I couldn’t tell you what it’ll be like in the future, though.” 
“Then why are they rivals at all? If they’re working toward the same goal, couldn’t they just integrate? The Plant Hwyaden guild could participate in that eastern council. Or, no, all the eastern guilds could participate in Plant Hwyaden and act as administrative staff.” 
At Leonardo’s words, KR smiled faintly. 
“An excellent idea, but it ain’t that easy. There are too many people. More than five hundred thousand…” 
“Five hundred thousand?! But you just said there were thirty thousand Adventurers in Japan!” 
“That five hundred thousand includes the People of the Earth. They’ve got their own circumstances and organizations. In the first place, due to past history, Yamato’s People of the Earth are split between the East and the West. Akiba and Minami’s rivalry is being influenced by the social structure of the People of the Earth.” 
“Why would you bother with them? They’re just NPCs. C’mon, KR. You know they’re not human, right?” 
“……” 
Leonardo realized that KR was gazing at him with eyes as cold as glass beads. 
Under that gaze, Leonardo abruptly felt ashamed. He didn’t understand why it had happened, but he felt as if KR was feeling contempt for him, as if he thought he were a slow little kid. 
“Leonardo. You’d better hurry up and adjust.” 
“Huh? Uh…” 
“Without information support, modern humans are just an undisciplined mob. My personal preferences aside, humans are all about numbers. Our true power first appears when we form groups. Groups are societies that have some sort of lifestyle and technological support. If you think back to life on Earth, you’ll understand. Most people wouldn’t even have been able to win a fight with a stray dog, right? Leonardo…I’m not bragging about it, but I’d even lose to a stray cat. We’re fragile, but because we banded together, we managed to conquer the world. It wasn’t our knowledge. After all, early humans weren’t even really able to write… It was society. It’s because we banded together and made a system out of it.” 
KR spoke fluently, as if giving a lecture from a podium. 
“Knowledge, society, and information are a trinity. In order to create a society, you need to exchange information, and the surplus heat from that exchange generates knowledge. Put another way, if humans didn’t build societies, there would be no need to exchange information, and the civilizations we got would probably have been low-level. That’s clear from a look at history, isn’t it? Information exchange is a weapon. Now that we modern human Adventurers have lost the Web, we’re suddenly back in the Stone Age. We’re being divided, fragmented, here in this other world. Are you aware of that, Leonardo? Can you borrow somebody else’s wisdom at this point?” 
A sharp pang ran through Leonardo’s chest. 
KR was right. 
There were no computers or Internet here. Forget those; they didn’t even have phones or a postal system. They had telechats, of course. Telechats had been part of the game system, and they had survived. However, this wasteland was on the Chinese server. None of Leonardo’s old friends were here. In order to place telechats, you needed a live friend list, but his entire list was dark and silent. Telechats wouldn’t connect unless you were on the same server. 
Leonardo remembered the anxiety and hopelessness he’d felt when it seemed as if he’d meet his end in Tekeli—that loneliness. 
If he’d had access to a solutions wiki, he probably would have searched for a way to get out of Tekeli. Or, no, even before that, he might have searched for dangerous information and then steered clear of the place to begin with. Even if he’d been unlucky enough to fall into that trap in Tekeli, if he’d had bulletin boards and e-mail, he could have called for help. 
But what had actually happened? 
He’d been on the verge of starving to death alone. 
It was true that Adventurers had rare combat abilities. In terms of their old world, they were in the same position as wolves and panthers. There was no doubting their superiority as living creatures. However, his individual skills hadn’t been enough to let him tear his way out of a single ruins trap. Not only that, in this world, there were all sorts of beings whose strength was higher than Adventurers’. Most of the party monsters encountered in dungeons were sturdier and had greater attack abilities than aboveground monsters. After all, they’d been designed on the assumption that parties of six Adventurers would be fighting them. 
If Leonardo was ten levels above them, he might be able to win, but he didn’t have a chance against a party monster on his level. Similarly, raid monsters were designed to be tackled by twenty-four Adventurers of the same level, or by even bigger groups. 
Dragons, giants, behemoths, land worms—there were all sorts of enormous, terrifying monsters here, and unless Adventurers banded together, they couldn’t display their abilities. Not in a world without online support. 
“What I’m saying is that the People of the Earth aren’t like that. Sure, they may be NPCs… At least to you, Leonardo. But so what? They’re the residents of this world, and they’ve spread their roots much farther than we have. They have their own society. Compared with the electronic network back on Earth, it might be clumsy, but even so, in their own way, they’ve built a society.” 
“They…have?” 
“Yep. From things that have been used since medieval times, like post horses, messengers and rumors, spies and bureaucrats. They even have a magical information network that uses crystal balls, transmission tubes, and lightning spirits. They aren’t Adventurers, but they’re not idiots and morons, either. And—bonus—they’ve got more than ten times our numbers.” 
“Still, that doesn’t mean…” 
Even if that was true, People of the Earth were People of the Earth. 
Wasn’t it nonsense to compare them to Adventurers? So what if they had ten times the players’ numbers? Leonardo was confident that he could conquer this village all by himself if he felt like it. It didn’t matter if there were two or three hundred villagers. Even Thekkek’s strongest member was only around level 30. Leonardo couldn’t imagine losing to somebody like that. 
“Of course, I see what you’re getting at.” KR nodded sagely. “I could dominate this village myself. But what would you do then? Would you become village chief? What would you do if you got hungry? Would you defeat a monster and eat its meat? Would you seriously do something that tiresome? You want to eat wheat, right? You want seasonings, too. For those, in the end, you’d have to associate with the producers, wouldn’t you? Do you think Adventurers could provide all that on their own? For example, even Chefs rely on People of the Earth markets for their ingredients. Even if you took meat from your prey, if you wanted grain, you’d have to buy stuff grown by the locals. If we’re going to have a certain standard of living, we can’t avoid getting involved with the People of the Earth. In the end, that’s where the road forks.” 
“Where the road forks?” 
“I mean we can’t just think about ourselves, as individuals or as a group. It’s the same with worsening public order, and with the enmity between guilds. If we want to solve our own problems, our only choice is to solve the problems around us. All of them, People of the Earth included. We can say they’ve got nothing to do with us and toss them aside, but in the end, that would royally screw up our own lives, too.” 
KR’s words hurt Leonardo. 
That was exactly what he’d seen in Big Apple, on the North American server. 
In a mildly disgusted voice, KR concluded his lecture: 
“In other words, do we and the People of the Earth acknowledge one another, or do we use each other? It doesn’t matter how we do it, but there’s nothing we can do but live with them. As long as we treat them like NPCs, no matter what kinds of guilds we have, even if we’re Adventurers, we’ll have an end-of-the-century conqueror’s legend here, and then society will collapse. The end. That’s all.”