No Game No Life - Volume 6 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 
1 + 1 = DEATHLESS 
A cavern far removed from the new village indicated on the map given to Couron. In this ramshackle hideout, those who’d held the reins of the evacuation to the very end, supposedly giving their lives—179 “ghosts,” including Riku and Schwi—surrounded a round table. Looking them over one by one, Riku, the head of these ghosts, slowly declared: 
“We’re done waiting for the War to end someday—for a future that will never come.” 
Before the stupefied assemblage, Riku continued his speech, which grew increasingly impassioned. 
“Are we going to spend our lives scampering to survive in this shit world, praying for the War to end? Praying to whom? ” 
As if vomiting out all the things he’d always wanted to say but never could… 
“Those destroyers who call themselves gods?! The asses in the heavens who can’t stop them?! Enduring and enduring this shithole of a world— and then ?! What do we do then?! ” 
Brandishing his hand furiously, Riku howled as if pounding out his feelings. 
“I understand that the bastards are fighting for the throne of the One True God. But no matter who ekes out some bullshit victory among these bloodthirsty pricks, can we expect we’ll be any better off than the shit we’re in right now—huh?!” 
Then Riku lowered his voice precipitously and announced in a voice devoid of temperature: 
“It’s time we admitted it. In this world…hope exists—not.” 
 . 
They’d all sensed it. But the fact that admitting it would break their hearts made the ghosts hang their heads. As their faces grew pensive, he resolved himself. So — 
“All we can do is create it with our own hands.” 
At Riku’s powerful assertion, their gazes lifted. 
“There’s one chance. A truly warped-in-the-brain, questionably sane, common-sense-defying fool’s venture.” 
It was a seat-of-the-pants plan at which even he could only smirk. 
“We are ghosts—noted and noticed by no one.” 
Riku looked at the girl standing beside him… 
“We are ghosts—but unseen, we carry the will of those who came before us.” 
…at the red eyes that told him they still could . 
“That is the proof of our existence —that the world still exists .” 
Riku once more steeled his resolve and tightened his expression. 
“Let us cast aside our pretense of wisdom. We humans are fools.” 
—And he said it. 
“Therefore—we shall fight .” 
They would fight. Not run, but fight. 
One hundred and seventy-seven gazes locked on Riku, who had undeniably made this assertion, and he smiled thinly. 
“Yes, we shall fight. Every enemy looming over us, no matter who they are, by our own power—that is, our foolishness. Deceiving all, outstripping all, like ghosts. Like the weak. We’ll devise every kind of plot, with no regard for shame or reputation. Fanned by cowardice. Extolled as base. Celebrated as the lowest of the low—!!” 
—And then— 
“And that’s how we’ll win.” 
—Yes, they could lay claim to one and only one victory. 
“A victory built of endless defeats, piled one atop another, converted into meaningful losses and canceled out .” 
In the silence that followed, everyone—including Riku—pictured them . The opponents Riku said they’d face, those things that had countless times consigned people, whole civilizations, to nothingness. Those things that on a whim could turn mountains into craters, sea into land, shatter the very planet. Titters pervaded the room. Everyone was so shocked, they couldn’t help but laugh, and Riku laughed, too. 
“Yes, we shall challenge them —and emerge victorious. It’s so foolish, so preposterous, you can only laugh, right?” 
Indeed. How could one help but laugh? —And that… 
“That is the proof we are human. The proof of our folly. The final culmination…of our existence.” 
With these words, Riku surveyed the faces of the 177 and assured them: 
“—The conclusion of the Great War. That is the victory we shall claim.” 
……The eternal War among the gods. They would end it. As mere humans. Hearing Riku’s assertion, the 177—no, even Schwi beside him—widened their eyes. 
“Well, as for the conditions for victory… Even looking at it generously, they’re tough enough to make you dizzy, but…” 
But Riku faced them with the smile of a child who’d successfully pulled off a prank…and remembered. 
—When he was a child, he’d thought the world simpler. That there was no contest you couldn’t win, that hard work would be rewarded, that anything was possible. What he’d believed as a child, still foolish and ignorant, seeing the world through cloudless eyes— 
“This world… All along, it’s just been a simple game.” 
All along… It wasn’t wrong. 
“It’s just been the gods enjoying a game for the Suniaster, playing vale tudo as they like.” 
Riku thought, It is simple, isn’t it? 
“That being the case, all we have to do is create the rules we want to play by .” 
With that, Riku fiddled with a chess piece in his hand and turned to Schwi. The Ex Machina had said she wanted to know the secret Riku’s heart revealed. Then here’s your answer , Riku thought, and seeing Schwi nod, he grinned boldly—and laid out his rules. 
“One: No one may kill.” 
—The premise: that to kill another was to die oneself. The heart of it: he didn’t want to kill anyone . 
“Two: No one may die.” 
—The premise: that to let another die was to die oneself. The heart of it: he didn’t want to let anyone die . 
“Three: No one must know.” 
—The premise: that discovery meant death. 
“Four: All means are fair.” 
—The heart of it: it wasn’t cheating if you didn’t get caught . 
“Five: We don’t give a shit for their rules.” 
—The premise: that they were doomed on an even playing field. The heart of it: a fight to the death is for dumb shits . 
“Six: Any act that deviates from the above shall constitute loss.” 
—The premise: that inconsistent rules were meaningless. 
—The heart of it: any victory violating these rules was meaningless. 
So Riku would play by his own rules … His heart having dictated the terms, Riku once more surveyed the 177 gathered around the table. 
“We are ghosts. We won’t kill anyone—not other races, not the Old Dei. No one will know we exist. We will simply lead the front by the nose to end this war.” 
Emotional rules, tantamount to a child’s tantrum. But at the same time, if mere humans were to end the Great War, there was no other Way. 
“It hardly bears mentioning, but if we fail, we’ll be wiped out. Our backup plan…? W ell, it probably doesn’t exist. ‘Hey, some talking monkeys are directing the course of the War’—if they notice, we’re dead.” 
So basically… Riku summed it up. 
“Win or lose. All or nothing. When our chips are in, it’ll be too late to back out.” 
Then Riku showed a glimpse of his true self, which no one there had seen before. 
“Our enemy is the gods, those forces that scorch heaven and earth, those manifestations of despair. Our odds are infinitesimal. Since doing everything in secret is one of the conditions for victory, even if we win, there won’t be any memories or records, and there won’t be any songs about our exploits. We’re ghosts, and ghosts don’t sing. Still, if by some stroke of luck—” 
This impulse to write off an insane world as a “game” and take it on… The huge smile stretched across his face— 
“If somehow we do manage to succeed in this game…if we win —” 
—served as affirmation. 
“Don’t you think we’ll be able to brag to ourselves that we led the most awesome lives before we die?” 
…… And so. 
“That’s the game. Stay only if you want to play.” 
Having put it all out there, Riku closed his eyes and waited for them to leave. Silently, he chuckled. Fools hardy enough to play this game would be hard to come by , he thought. The people Riku had selected, without exception, were possessed of superior intellect and skill, having faced death any number of times and survived just as often. From the perspective of other races, they were mere dirt and dust, unworthy of touching. But among the dirt and dust, these motes stood above in ability—and that very fact was what made Riku laugh inwardly. 
Surely none would stay. It was insane. One fool was enough. That was that. It couldn’t be helped. In the worst case, he and Schwi would go it alone—show them all. It would mean the difference of odds beyond the void and odds past the quiet reaches of nirvana. 
…To be completely honest, he could hardly think of any strategies he and Schwi could pull off by themselves. But still— 
…… 
Kept company by these thoughts, Riku counted out a full ten minutes, then opened his eyes. 
“……Uh, let me be honest here, all right?” 
Surrounded by 177 faces (in other words, there’d been no deserters ) all looking perplexed and seemingly wondering, Just how long are you gonna keep your eyes closed? Riku couldn’t help but remark— 
“I thought you guys were a little smarter than that.” 
Riku’s 177 “ghosts” chuckled at this, and each said their piece: 
“Come on, General. Don’t misread the first move. How we gonna win at this rate?” 
“Riku, you think anyone with any brains…would still be living in this world?” 
“Questionably sane? What do you think could be less sane than the world we live in?” 
“The wise would choose death over this world. The wiser would choose not to be born…” 
“Look at us, the ones who survived to be here… Riku, we’re the ones you chose, you little bastard.” 
That’s just how it is. Everyone laughed and nodded. 
“Doesn’t that make us the appointed representatives of the fools?” 
Riku grinned—and laughed. Yeah, it was exactly as they said. 
Humans were foolish. Because they were foolish, they honed their wit and wisdom so as not to be done in by their foolishness. They’d survived this long… In a world not worth living in, they’d survived despite it. The ones who’d staked all their wit, wisdom, and artifice to accomplish it. 
If not the proud fools—the great weak—what would you call them? 
“We were born to this world with no purpose.” 
“We’ve survived eating dirt for nothing.” 
“But now we’ll die significant and awesome. What more could we ask for?” 
“Is there any greater freedom, Boss?” 
“In your hands, we’ll strike a stunning pose to the end. We’re ready to live—tell us how, General.” 
Riku lowered his face as if scoffing from his very core, but… 
“…Every one of you guys is a crazy son of a bitch. It’s good to know. So…” 
Muttering sincerely, he spread out the map. For five years—no, even longer—they’d revised it so humanity could survive. The game board . Woven of countless corpses, the game board fell under the scrutiny of 179 ghosts (including Riku and Schwi), and Riku prepared to unfold his concrete plans… 
“Come. Let the game begin.” 
“— Achéte .” 
They all answered in unison with the usual response, but Riku corrected them. 
“…That word is banned from now on. Our moves won’t be dictated by convention, but by the rules to which we have assented.” 
And so…yes. 
“It’s…‘ Aschent .’” 
Thus began the quiet maneuverings of those who did not exist. Bereft of a future, of hope, despairing even of despair, they’d finally grown tired of being fed up. Waiting no longer but seeking, the ghost ship of 179 set sail… 

 

 
“…Riku, I really…don’t understand…the ‘heart’…after all…” 
Schwi muttered this after the meeting while playing a card game with Riku at the entrance to their hideout. Schwi had seen it. Everyone in that room had touched Riku’s “heart” and resonated with it. All but one. Her. Schwi looked down. Her isolating inability to understand aggrieving her fiercely, she continued. 
“…The probabilities of…success, of your plans…are all…less than one percent…” 
Not to mention the probability that they would all survive, which was logically equivalent to ze— 
“Mmm. Look, Schwi.” 
Riku cut her thoughts short. 
“You’re talking about probability? Is this pretty much it?” 
Lacking the mathematical prowess of an Ex Machina, Riku interpreted Schwi’s attitude with his own spin and asked: 
“You roll a die, and the probability of a six is one in six. You roll it two times in a row, and the probability goes from one in six to one in thirty-six—percentages are beyond me, but that’s pretty much how you’re figuring it?” 
“……Y-yes…so……” 
Schwi was certain she’d never underestimated Riku. Unable to hide her surprise at his ability to unpack Ex Machina extrapolations so easily, she tried to explain the probability of— 
“Then let me teach you something useful. The way you’re calculating that—is wrong.” 
—She froze. 
“When you roll a die, the probability of a six is one in six. But that methodology doesn’t apply in this game .” 
The reason being … Riku chuckled as he shuffled the cards. 
“If it’s six we win, and if it’s not we lose. So—it’s one in two.” 
—That was absurd. But it was accurate that perspective and condi tions were important factors in probability. All or nothing —calculating it from Riku’s point of view, even this absurdity was logically consistent. 
“…………” 
An Ex Machina—Schwi of all Ex Machinas—being outreasoned by a human. And by emotions. While Schwi’s thoughts tripped at the shock of it, Riku went on. 
“And here’s your second mistake. If a die can come up six once, then it can come up six ten thousand times in a row…so I definitely think your calculation is wrong.” 
“…No…accounting, for variables…if you roll it, ten thousand times, the distribution error converges…” 
Strictly speaking, the probability that a die would come up six was not one in six. There were many variables. But the more that trials were undergone, the more the probability would converge, making it, on the contrary, easier to calculate. Which would make the result just as— This was Schwi’s argument, but Riku grinned broadly. 
“Can you account for everything? Even what you don’t know and have no way of predicting? For example—” 
Yes, for example , Riku thought. 
“—even if we slip in a die that only comes up six ?” 
She couldn’t. At least, not the first time. But if it continued, she would detect an abnormality and identify the cause of the error— Having thought this far, Schwi froze. At last—Riku’s words and strategy came together for her. No one must know. No one must even notice. What this actually meant . What he planned . 
“… Deliberate manipulation , of the variables…inconspicuous—within the range of error…” 
They would keep them predictable— deliberate variables . There could be no greater impediment to mathematical calculation. Riku nodded, seeing that she’d caught on. 
“This is what you call cheating. Fun, huh?” 
Even so, she still couldn’t fully grasp it. Probability theory wouldn’t explain this game. That much she’d understood. But be that as it may, how—? 
“…How can you…treat the lowest-probability outcome…as the expected value ?” 
Schwi posed her question, her gaze boring into Riku, who paused to consider it. Hmm. He could say anything—like, because we can’t keep going unless we have faith? Like, because we don’t need any evidence to believe, to have hope? 
But Riku decided that those weren’t the kinds of answers Schwi was looking for. Looking out their hideout at a world transforming into a planet of death, Riku gave his reply. 
“Schwi, the probability of humanity having survived in this world…what’s the percentage?” 
“…………I have understood.” 
Riku’s ironic quip earned Schwi’s acknowledgment. Probability was a matter of statistics. Confronted by results, with a “miracle,” all calculations went out the window. Then, paradoxically— 
“…If you perform…‘miracles’…probability theory, itself, becomes a false…justification.” 
Riku grinned and nodded at Schwi’s assessment. 
“To put it your way, we’re gonna operate as a computational singularity. All kinds of expectations, strategies, calculations… With just a little manipulation, we’ll lay them all to waste and make them converge in the direction we want.” 
Even as he said this, Riku thought, But it’s impossible to predict everything… His own words came right back at him . He knew this. But if he could pull it off…now that would be a divine feat, wouldn’t it? Then all the more reason… Riku’s smile deepened. 
“Ain’t it amusing? We’re gonna take the doings of those pompous pricks in the heavens and bring them down with simple, human handiwork . If everything works out—don’t you think that’ll be the sweetest irony?” 
Listening to Riku’s naïve fantasy—watching those clear, dark eyes of his—Schwi finally…got it. 
This was it. What she’d seen the first time she met Riku . She could finally identify it conclusively. It was the “source of the heart”—the “soul.” That quality in which she had taken an illogical interest, which she had come to admire. That which one who was only what she was required to be—an “adapter” such as herself—lacked. That which inspired wishing, standing, struggling, and seeking what they wanted to be… Ideals . 
“And, anyway…fundamentally, probability is all a bunch of empty theory, you know?” 
She had indeed been refuted, but hearing it described as “empty theory” left Schwi floundering. 
“Here’s the proof—Question: What’s the probability I’ll propose to you?” 
Unable to grasp the purpose of the question, Schwi ran some rough numbers. 
“………? Cannot identify purpose of query… I estimate…approximately zero.” 
“See, you were wrong —marry me, Schwi.” 
Riku proffered a small ring to the stunned Ex Machina. 
“There’s no such thing as zero in probability. No one can say we don’t have any chance of winning this game, right?” 
Schwi looked up with eyes round as could be at Riku holding out the delicate ring and gave her answer. 
“…Cannot understand… Request denied.” 
 
Prone on the cold ground, Riku—virgin, nineteen—drowned in tears. 
“Hee, hee-hee, eh-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee…” 
His all-out proposal, sliced down with a single stroke. The end of the world had arrived a bit early. Come on, Riku… Why don’t you just forget about it? Silly old world… A twit who messes up the first move is gonna make all kinds of mistakes and lose anyway. Who gives a crap already? To hell with humans and the world. Ahh…Couron, I’m exhausted…ah-ha-ha, hee-hee, ee-hee-hee-hee. 
“…Riku, I request…an explanation…” 
“Well, you know…I’m sorry, I got carried away. I’m just a damn virgin… Please don’t rub salt in my—” 
Riku rolled laughing on the ground as if broken. 
“…Denied… Please…explain.” Schwi came across unnaturally inexpressive given the topic. “…‘Marriage’—a contract formed between mating pairs of humans…” 
As if pulling her reference information from a dictionary (and not even appropriately) she projected: 
“…You have evaluated my utility…and wish to lock me, for exclusive use?” 
“Noooo! I just want to be by your side forever!” 
“…Why? I’m by your side…right now.” 
“That’s not what I mean… Look, see, as a life partner!” 
“…Partner—One who accompanies. Ally. Or—spouse…?” 
“Yes! That one, that one! As a spouse!” 
But as Riku nodded desperately, Schwi remained impassive. 
“…Spouse… Husband, wife. I am an Ex Machina. I am incapable of reproduction.” 
“That doesn’t matter!!” 
“…Incapable of…the reproductive act… Riku, you’ll be a virgin…forever…?” 
 . 
“That doesn’t matter!!” 
“…A momentary…delay…” 
“Ahh, come ooon… I don’t caaaare… Detaiiils!!” 
Despite Riku’s disruptive wailing, Schwi went on, now unnaturally deadpan, even for her. 
“…An interracial…marriage, would be…unprecedented.” 
“Then we’ll be the first! The pioneers—go us! Yahoo, goddamn it!!” 
His shrieks now positively desperate, Riku pounced with cryptic conviction. If he backed down now, he’d lose. He was convinced of this despite any evidence supporting his position. But as if overwhelmed by the force he was emitting, Schwi’s expression gradually crumbled. 
“…I can’t… Because—” 
“……Schwi?” 
Schwi was bewildered, confused, and for some reason—sad. Responding to her trembling voice, Riku, concerned, called her name. He didn’t understand… 
But hearing him say her name like that landed the coup de grâce on Schwi’s mental processing, which spit out errors one after the other. Her thoughts broke down at an accelerating clip—failures and conflicts and inconsistencies multiplying to infinity. Logical inconsistencies and conflicts in an endless loop. But a sentiment greater than that logic began overwriting her restrictions. 
“…Because…I—” 
As she opened her mouth to speak, Schwi’s logic, her protocols, screamed: Don’t say it! But the error —which she could identify as nothing else—howled: Say it. Turmoil the likes of which an Ex Machina was never designed to experience. Prioritize logic or the error? But in her mind, video of her initial encounter with Riku kept looping. The associated errors—undefined errors such as “fear” and “guilt”—collided. 
And Schwi’s thoughts betrayed her as, with a trembling voice— 
“…Because, I’m the one…who destroyed…your homeland…” 
—they…prioritized the error. 
 
Twelve years earlier in a rare circumstance, Ex Machina had engaged in a large-scale conflict. The enemy was one of the three Rulers of Dragonia—Aranleif the Ultimate and his seven Followers. The forces on the Ex Machina side were organized as a mittel-cluster of eight überclusters, including the Quelle. Each cluster contained 437 units, totaling 3,496. A full fourth of Ex Machina’s resources had been dedicated to this truly epic battle. The result of the conflict: a strategic victory for Ex Machina. The losses on each side were as follows: 
Enemy: Aranleif the Ultimate and 7 Followers terminated. 
Friendly: 1,468 units lost (42 percent of dedicated troops). Forces effectively devastated. 
Almost all the losses were attributable to Aranleif the Ultimate’s dying blow—his ultimate roar, which cost him his life—his Far Cry. Zero-point-zero-zero-seven seconds after the Far Cry of the Ultimate One was initiated, approximately 20 percent of the Ex Machinas involved in the conflict were vaporized . Zero-point-zero-one-eight seconds later, the Prüfer made a quick judgment based on the information from the Seher: No armament capable of adequate defense against Ultimate Far Cry could be found in the Ex Machina arsenal. They transmitted the results of their analysis to the Befehler and estimated the damage that would occur in the 0.4 seconds it would take for the Zeichner to develop a new armament. Estimated damage: 90 percent casualty rate. Strategically equivalent to annihilation, it would spell defeat. However, one Prüfer proposed not blocking the Far Cry—but deflecting it. Ex Machina possessed an armament capable of bending the orientation of energy: Org. 2807—Umweg. They estimated that deploying multiple instances of this armament would mitigate the damage an additional 20 percent. The proposal was immediately approved by the Befehler. The Far Cry’s trajectory was bent, and it skewed off far beyond the battlefield. The Ex Machina losses—severe as they were—fell short of “devastation.” The Prüfer that formulated this proposal deemed it necessary to reanalyze the deflected Far Cry based on the damage. She investigated some ruins far from ground zero that appeared to have been the lair of a pack of beasts called humans. And then— 
“…… ? ” 
The Prüfer detected a young human clutching a tiled board, glaring at her. Hostility radiated in the human’s eyes, but—he simply turned his back and left. 
To the Prüfer—the unit tasked with analyzing the situation—his actions were inexplicable. Though in a dire situation, the human assessed the enemy calmly and dispassionately. And it chose to live. This clearly did not correspond with the instincts of a beast. The gaze it had leveled at the Prüfer held neither fear nor emptiness, but a bottomless—deeper than the Far Cry of the Ultimate One—heat. The Prüfer produced an error— Astonishment . The child had been convinced he could win— just not yet . Hypothesis: Could that have been something Ex Machina lacked—heart, or life? Something enabling conclusion without evidence, bestowing certainty beyond calculation? 
The Prüfer determined that humans—particularly this specimen— required further analysis. 
However, her subsequent study generated an abundance of errors, necessitating that she be disconnected—and discarded. Übercluster 207: Prüfer 4f57t9—Üc207Pr4f57t9. 
The unit later renamed by that same specimen. 
Schwi. 
 
“…Now, after that…can you still…say those things?” 
After Schwi’s confession, she found herself unable to meet his gaze, just mumbling shakily, her face down. 
— Error — Error — Error — Error — Error — Error — Error — Error — 
The same old chain of errors raged through her mind. 
— Interrogative: Why did unit speak? Action lacks rational or irrational gains. 
— Rational answer: Benefit—None. Cost—Loss of observation subject due to hostility. 
— Irrational answer: Benefit—None. Cost—Riku won’t, like me…anymore? 
Cost? Being disliked? Previously cited consequence? Error, error, error… 
“…Schwi, you know—” 
At the sound of Riku’s voice, Schwi noted that her shoulders jumped to an extent that surprised even her. 
The storm of errors shouted at high decibels: Flee . 
— Flee? Why? 
The storm of errors answered at the same pitch: Because I’m scared . 
Scared. Afraid. No such concepts existed in Ex Machina. Yet she couldn’t deny the errors. She was looking down now. Why? Because—to look—at Riku’s face—was so scary — These were just a sampling of the new errors swirling in the maelstrom of her mind. 
“…I knew. Just vaguely, but…” 
His words silenced the errors all at once as her thoughts converged on just one question: 
“…How…?” 
“Hmm… It’s embarrassing to say, but I first sensed something was funny—” 
Riku bashfully scratched his head. 
“—when we met the first time and wondered, How does she know I’m a virgin? ” 
“ ? .” 
Riku chuckled as Schwi apparently froze. 
“Well, there were other things, too—like how you said you’d ‘confirmed’ I had a heart, how you took for granted that my heart was the reason humans had survived in this world, how you were waiting for me somewhere far away from the village, how Game Number One is chess… So, yeah.” 
Schwi could only stare as Riku sheepishly smiled as if to say: Your defenses aren’t as good as they look, are they? At a loss for words, her thoughts awash with errors, spinning idly, she nevertheless managed to spit out a question: 
“…If that’s the case…then…why…?” 
“Hmm… Why? Ha-ha, I don’t know.” 
Riku laughed as if genuinely uncertain. 
“Maybe because I’d already taken all that into account when I fell in love with you.” 
 . 
“…You’ll forget, the past…?” 
“No. You ended up destroying my homeland… That is confirmed as the past.” 
His words brought Schwi to the verge of collapsing under the weight of a pain she shouldn’t have been able to experience, but— 
“Mmm… Well, I guess I just really am an idiot. ’Cos, see, I see it this way, too.” Whether trying to hide his embarrassment or sincerely self-recriminating, he scratched his head. “If we denied the past—that you destroyed my homeland—we wouldn’t have met, would we?” 
“ ? ……!” 
She felt suffocated. A machine with no respiratory organs. 
“What happened, happened. No matter how you try to twist it, it’s not gonna change anything. That’s not what humans are about.” 
Riku slowly walked up to her, knelt— 
“We gnash our teeth at what happened, cry, wail…then say, ‘next time, next time,’ and move on. But…” 
—and touched her cheek with his hand, gently cupping her chin, lifting it up— 
“…that’s why…you got interested in me, right?” 
—and there he was, smiling like a child. Seeing her frightened expression reflected deep in Riku’s eyes, Schwi herself was shocked. Riku continued quietly, as if to soothe her. 
“I’ll never deny the past.” 
 . 
“Your past, your present by my side, your future, which I want to share… I love them all.” 
 . 
“And your guilt? Just throw it away, whoosh . Unfortunately, humans—well, maybe just I’m an idiot. In any case, we don’t have room to look anywhere but now. Waiting for tomorrow, hoping for next time. Taking the past into account, you know.” 
So … Riku took Schwi’s left hand— 
“If you’ll be there for me, I’ll be able to want to keep going in this world.” 
—gently placed the ring on her finger— 
“If you’ll be there for me, I’ll make it through, my heart whole.” 
—showed it to her, its stone red, just like her eyes. 
“If you’ll be there for me, I’ll never lose my smile again.” 
And then, as if somehow vexed— 
“So please. If you don’t hate me—” 
“I don’t…hate you—! That’s not true, at all—” 
—Riku held out his hand to Schwi as she shook her head as if to cut him off, and he made a wish. Then … 
“Will you ignore all logic…and walk the same path as me? As my wife.” 
… 
……Suddenly, Schwi noticed. At some point, the error storm that had been cluttering her thoughts had stopped. 
“……I see…” 
Ex Machina was a race of adapters. If required, they could rebuild themselves as needed. When an unknown function was added— But a tear running down her cheek made her realize. The storm of errors. The logical inconsistencies had finally been processed together under a single designation: feelings . 
“…Riku.” 
“Uh-huh.” 
“…I’m literally…just as you see…not worthy of you—but.” 
“I think you’re way too good for a moron like me, personally.” 
Riku smirked, but Schwi, overwhelmed by feelings she still didn’t know how to properly express, sank to her knees and with a damp voice squeezed out: 
“…Let me stay, by your side—forever and ever and ever…” 
 
“…Look at this. I ended up having to peep all the way to the end… You stupid brother, you…” 
Outside the entrance to the hideout, Couron gave a begrudging sigh. Having set out early after learning its location, she’d chanced across their exchange, spying on them the whole time. 
I mean, what could I do? I missed the timing for my entrance. 
Watching from the shadows as Riku stroked the back of the still-sobbing Schwi, Couron remembered: The day Riku, having outlived his village, was taken in by the grown-ups in Couron’s— 
 …… 
“Hello, hellooo… I’m talking to youuu! What’s wrooong?” 
Their reasoning had been that while Riku had thus far refrained from speaking to anyone, maybe Couron, being the same age, would have some luck. The once-hopeful adults covered their faces. There’s nothing wrong . He’s just a survivor from a village that was destroyed. 
“Okaaay, if you have something you want to say, Big Sister will listen! ? Come on, come on—let’s hear it! ? ” 
As Couron tickled him, Riku opened his mouth for a single word: 
“…Dork.” 
“Eh-heeeh, Big Sister isn’t gonna get hurt by words in an age like this! Yeah, yeah, now you can’t use the excuse you can’t talk anymore, riiight? I wonder what happeeened?” 
Riku mumbled, little by little. A light had come from the south. His village had burned. He’d pushed aside the charcoal that had been his parents and headed east— 
“Didn’t you look for survivors? Why’d you go east if the light came from the south?” 
Ignoring the gasps of the grown-ups, Riku kept answering flatly. 
—Even if there’d been survivors, he couldn’t heal them. If any had been sound enough to walk, they’d have evacuated, just like him. 
—He’d gone east because that was the wasteland…where black ash doesn’t pile up. 
—Farther east, there was supposed to be a river. If he got that far, he figured he could survive… 
While the grown-ups were speechless at his remarkable composure for a child, Couron asked: 
“…What did you want to do after you made it out?” 
“…Win next time… To do that, I had to survive…” 
— Next time …he’d said next time . And—he was talking about winning. The adults were dumbfounded, but Couron rubbed her cheek against his and yelped. 
“Ohhhh myyyy! This kid, he’s gotta be my brotherrr!” 
Couron had noticed. His eyes when he’d said Win next time —those bottomless eyes. But then it occurred to her. She couldn’t leave him alone. She had to be by his side. She’d decided then to keep Riku from flying out of control, from rushing to his death…but really… 
 …… 
“I knew…a big sister wasn’t what he needed for that. He needed someone who’d walk the same path .” 
He, Riku, would go far. Far, far away—somewhere she’d never be able to keep up… 
…But even so…for now… 
 
“How long are you gonna let Schwi cry?! You useless excuse for a husbaaaaand!!” 
Suddenly, someone popped out of the shadows, driving her fist into his abdomen. Riku groaned. 
What just happened? he wondered, and as he lifted his head, there loomed Couron, beaming: 
“Anyway, as your big sister, let me congratulate you on your marriage! ? ” 
Hmm, gimme a minute here. Riku held his gut and got up. 
“Couron—uh, sorry… How’d you…? I mean, why are you here?” 
“Huh? I came to visit your hideout. You had a bit of an atmosphere going—so I had to peek, right?” 
Couron said that without an ounce of shame, her face asking, What other choice did I have? 
His so-called sister… How the hell—? But Riku just scratched his head. 
“Uh, so, I guess I can’t keep hiding it from you—” 
“Oh, I know Schwi isn’t human . That’s what you mean, right?” 
…… 
 What? 
“H—wait… Wha—? When did you…?” 
“ The first time you brought her to the village. When I hugged her, she totally didn’t feel like a human.” 
Couron cast shade at him like, How could you think I didn’t know? 
Then Schwi remembered and understood. 
The feeling she’d had that day Couron asked her what attracted her to Riku. 
She… Couron must have been trying to ask her this: 
— What attracted you to Riku? 
And that was why she’d felt that strange tension. 
“…If you knew, why didn’t you say anything?” 
If Couron had known she wasn’t human from their first meeting, then what was the point of all that fuss about him being a pedophile? Shouldn’t she have said, “He’s brought another race into the village”—been on guard, given a warning—? Riku was flabbergasted, but Couron smiled casually—just like a real sister. 
“After all, she’s the one you chose, isn’t she?” 
“ ? .” 
“There was something going on at the beginning, right? Riku, when you first brought Schwi home, you were so tense, you seemed like you were gonna snap any minute… So I tried to play along …” 
That made sense. If she’d read that far into it—if she was gonna keep up the charade—that was all she could do. More than that, though, it was all motivated by her faith in him. 
“But look—it all worked out so fast, didn’t it?! And now I’ll have suuuch a cute little sister!! Come on, it doesn’t really matter whether she’s human or not, does it?! You know, Schwi, humans have a tradition that says when you get married you have to kiss the fam—” 

“No, we don’t! Don’t listen to her, Schwi—stay away!” 
“Oh, hey, Riku! Now that you’ve brought us new family, at least have a wedding, will you?!” 
“Couron, I appreciate the sentiment, but we don’t exi—” 
—That was what he started to say, but he stopped short when he noticed the seriousness of Couron’s expression. 
Neither Riku nor Couron had anyone else they could call family. Not…anymore. And on top of that, Riku and Schwi were supposed to be dead. So… 
“I’ll be the go-between, so let’s make it official, all right? How about a wedding with just us three?” 
Unexpectedly, Schwi jumped in. 
“…Yes…” 
She looked up at Riku and muttered: 
“I want us to be…officially married…” 
 …… 
It was simple. Hardly a ceremony. They exchanged their vows, the three of them wrote their names on a document, and it was over. Normally, they’d have gathered the whole village—but Riku and Schwi were “dead.” And so , Couron insisted they’d do it then and there. 
“Riku, do you swear to walk together with Schwi, support her, love her, and survive as husband and wife?” 
Riku chuckled to himself. What a fitting vow for this age, for that village. A liturgy that, every time the village hosted a wedding, forced him to lower his eyes. But now…… 
“Sure. I do.” 
“Come on, Riku! You say achéte —” 
“Sorry, we just abolished that. Now it’s aschent .” 
Puffing out her cheeks, Couron groused. 
“You certainly get on when I’m not around. Can’t say it sits well…” 
“Heyyy, officiator. Aren’t your personal asides a bit much?” 
Glaring at her brother as he heckled her as if from the audience, Couron cleared her throat. She turned to Schwi and prompted her vow. 
“Schwi. Do you swear to walk together with Riku, support him, love him, and survi—” 
“…I do…” 
An answer quicker than immediate. Couron’s shoulders slumped at the persistent disregard for form—but Schwi continued. 
“…Riku gave me a meaning, a reason to have been born…a heart. I swear by him—I’ll never let him die…I’ll survive, and stay with him…to the end… Aschent… ” 
 . 
Mm-hmmm. Couron glanced at Riku and saw something precious. She never thought the day would come—that she’d see her little brother blush. 
“Now, continuing, Schwi. Do you swear to be Riku’s—‘beautiful bride’?” 
“…Beautiful…bride…?” 
Riku sighed, Here it comes , while Schwi gaped at the undefined term, but… 
“To never make Riku sad. To never take the smile…from this boy who lost it for so long…” 
Schwi silently and seriously contemplated Couron’s question. 
“…Can you?” 
 . 
Honestly, she wasn’t confident. She didn’t know how she could—but she answered anyway. 
“…I do… I swear I’ll be…his…‘beautiful bride’…” 
… Okay. Couron nodded broadly once, as if relieved, and then— 
“Oh, also…it’s a requirement that you be a beautiful bride in bed, too, you know? Totally skilled in—” 
She doubled down on the teasing, but… 
“Uh, Couron. Schwi can’t do that kind of stuff. See, it’s a race—” 
Hearing her brother’s explanation, Couron’s face fell with regret. She’d just been trying to lighten the mood, but she’d put her foot in her mouth. That was when Schwi raised her hand. 
“…If I understand, the structure…I can modify my hardware ? I can make, a ‘hole.’” 
“You—what?!” 
“Oh my! ? Aren’t you lucky, Riku! Congratulations on losing—” 
“…So, Couron…please show me, your reproductive—” 
 The world is absurd , thought Riku as his brain rattled from the fist launched into his cheek. 
“—What? Why’d you punch me?” 
“’Cos all you have to do is stay a virgin forever! Now then…” 
Couron retrieved the stone she routinely wore at her hip. 
“That done, we just have to carve our names into this, and you’ll be officially married.” She knew what Riku was thinking before he even said anything. “You two supposedly don’t exist, so we can’t leave documentation, right? This stone is a precious heirloom from my grandfather. We can just decorate over the area where we engrave our names, right?” 
So no one would be able to see it. She was a clever one, Riku observed in silent admiration. He’d been right—he could entrust everyone to Couron. The reason being that the stone was already engraved with Couron’s full name . Neither Riku nor Schwi had a family name. So her true intent— 
“…This will make you husband and wife. And my official brother and sister.” 
She said this with an expression that was a mixture of delight and melancholy. Smirking, both Riku and Schwi each took blade in hand, inscribing Couron’s family name after their own, though the combination sounded a bit funny… After the stone had been fully engraved, Couron in particular seemed dazzled by it, and she put it away as if it was truly precious. Then, with an expression more sisterly than if she’d been their real sister: 
“…Hey, Riku. Schwi.” 
She wanted to stop them but couldn’t. She understood that, and forced a smile despite that. 
“I don’t know what you’ll…you’ll all be doing from here on. You’re no longer part of this world, but…” 
She embraced them both. Her brother and sister. 
“I know…that I have a precious brother and an adorable sister. So please… I’m begging you…” 
“—I don’t want to lose any more family. Don’t go crazy…” 
They couldn’t see her face, but responding to her trembling whisper, her siblings nodded. 
“Sure. No one will die. No one can die. Because this is one game—we’re gonna win.” 
“…Leave it, to us…Sister…” 
 
 …… 
At the round table surrounded by ghosts, their leader spread his hands over the board. 
“We do not exist. 
“We kill none, and we do not die. We exploit all means at our disposal to direct the course of the War. With information, with scheming, with sheer guile… There are rules and conditions for victory, so this is clearly a game… 
“And all will be decided on this map—this board. As such…let us select our pieces.” 
Summoning the gazes of the ghosts to himself, their leader produced a white piece. 
“This is us.” 
A white king. 
“The weakest piece. The piece that can never become anything. But the most important. If this is taken, the game is over.” 
He placed it off the map—correction, the board—at the edge of the table and continued. 
“We are the king. But at the same time—we are ghosts.” 
Those who did not exist. Who must not exist. And who were therefore invisible. 
“We are nowhere, and we are everywhere. We manipulate everything from beyond the board.” 
And then, producing several more pieces—all white— 
“We shall not take a single piece, and yet we will win the game. Therefore, all races—are white.” 
With this, the piece displayed—a white pawn— 
“This—is Werebeast.” 
On the board, he placed the white pawn in the territory belonging to Werebeast. 
……— 
 
Three Werebeasts roamed the forest, keeping low, searching for prey. In this world, this age, securing food was not easy, even for Werebeasts. First off, there were hardly any worthwhile animals left. What’s more, there were few other races they could hunt without risk. Sharpening their senses, they followed a scent—and at last found a stray to take. 
It was a human. Not a very tasty animal, but it would at least appease their hunger. They coordinated their attack in voices only Werebeast could hear. Even against a human, they couldn’t be careless. They surrounded it and pounced as one, sinking their fangs in— 
“ ? ?!” 
—nothing, for at the very last moment, they leaped back. 
“You Werebeasts are sharp. If you wanna eat me, go right ahead—but I promise you I taste bad .” 
“…Who the hell are you?” 
The three Werebeasts interrogated the thing that resembled a human and spoke in the Werebeast tongue , making no attempt to conceal their wariness. It reeked, this thing that had ingested a heavy dose of poison and answered flawlessly in their native language. 
“You know that forest you’re camped in? To the west, by the bay…? The Dwarves are planning a bomb test there.” 
“—The hell are you talking about?” 
Simultaneously, all three were sizing up the thing with every sense available to them, from the beat of his heart to the sound of the blood coursing through his veins. 
His body temperature was abnormal as was his heart rate, both owing to the poison. His pupils— 
“If you don’t believe me, go check out this point on the map. You, you’re a bloodbreaker , right? You should be able to slip into a Dwarven facility no sweat and find out what they’re doing. Let me just give you a tip…” 
—Signs of lying—none. Just as they reached this conclusion, the human delivered the punch line. 
“They call it the E-bomb, and it can even kill an Old Deus—a weapon of mass destruction .” 
“““—?!””” 
Once more, they checked his heartbeat, his pupils, the flow in his capillaries—he…wasn’t lying?! 
“Go look. Steal it away somewhere or destroy their records and equipment. But be sure you don’t try to destroy the weapon itself, all right? ’Cos in that moment, there’s a chance you might blow everything away—I mean the whole western half of the continent of Lucia.” 
With that, the mysterious thing , having said his piece, casually strode away. 
 …… 
“—Schwi, anything?” 
“…No…it’s okay…” 
In response to Riku’s query, Schwi used the spirit compass—or pretended to need it—to scan for signs of life. As soon as it was confirmed that no one was there, the ghosts infiltrated the Dwarven facility. 
“Seriously, though…please don’t ask me to ‘chat’ with crackpots capable of shit like this again, General.” 
The ghost formerly known as Alei took in his surroundings and gasped. The steel structure, formerly a Dwarven facility, had been rent and warped by claws. Blows pockmarked the ground as deep as a man was tall, but even so— 
“I’ll make you do it as many times as I have to. You’re the only one who can speak Werebeast perfectly. The serum worked, didn’t it?” 
“That it did. I got off with just two days of spasms.” 
The ghost returned Riku’s chide with an ironic smile. 
There’d been nothing to it. With a little strategic “application” of the map Ivan had left behind, they’d slipped into the wreckage of the Dwarven battleship that had blown away their village and exchanged a few “communiqués.” All that was left after that was to leak the news to Werebeast—that their home had been designated a bomb-testing site . 
“Just how many of those ‘bloodbreaks’ did they come with? Busting it up this good…were there really no casualties, General?” 
“Nope, no casualties. I don’t see any blood… Those Werebeasts, they’re cagey.” 
The literally inhuman senses of Werebeasts were capable of deducing the number of Dwarves in the facility from a distance. 
Then they just had to raid it with enough bloodbreakers. 
The Dwarves weren’t stupid, either. They couldn’t carelessly employ magic next to a bomb capable of wiping out everything. So if a bunch of bloodbreaking Werebeasts turned up? What choice did they have but to run? 
And the Werebeasts weren’t stupid, either. The fleeing Dwarves couldn’t be as high a priority as— 
“Looks like the E-bomb’s gone, General. Either the Werebeasts or the Dwarves must’ve taken it.” 
“The Werebeasts. Who else could leave footprints on steel floors and walls?” 
They must have dragged it out by force. But better than anyone, Werebeast intuition would have sensed the danger of that bomb. So the best they could have done was snuff it out and then—run. 
“That’s why I’m telling you. This is a game.” 
Under the right conditions, any given race was helpless against another. That was why the battles continued. 
“But the Dwarves aren’t gonna abandon this place. We have fifteen minutes to move. We’ll collect our information and disappear. Ghosts—” 
“Exist nowhere— aschent —” 
As the ghosts dispersed to dig up intel, Schwi asked: 
“…Is this…what you call…promoting…a piece?” 
“We haven’t gone that far. Still…” 
The reason he’d assigned Werebeast the pawn— It was because a pawn, advanced deep into enemy territory, could be promoted to a queen . Still , Riku snickered. 
“Even a pawn can take a bishop. That’s all it is.” 
 
 …… 
Once more, at the round table surrounded by ghosts, their leader spread his hands over the board. 
And he produced—a white rook. 
“This—is Elf.” 
With that, the rook was placed on the board. The coordinates— the Elven capital. 
 …… 
 
The Elven capital. A mansion at its outskirts. The Elf who’d just returned, Nina Clive— 
“—?! …Who’s there?” 
—sensing the presence of an intruder, immediately cast spells of detection and illumination, and put up her guard. Deep in the fringe’s darkness, as if melting into the shadows, a figure in a robe sat at a table. Covered in rags and pelt, with a fur robe and a hood low over its eyes, this shade spoke. 
“…How do you do? I’m afraid I’ve made myself at home.” 
Despite the shadow’s fluent Elven and sociable air, the Elf quickly wove an attack spell—but did not fire. This was due to the results of the second rite she’d simultaneously deployed—an analysis spell. 
— Identification impossible: identity unknown … The shade sneered. You must be surprised. Though her visitor might well disguise his appearance, the Elf could not have foreseen that magic would be unable even to reveal his true form. Thus, she had to ask: 
“May I inquire who you are?” 
She couldn’t make any rash moves against an unknown adversary. The shadow smiled. 
“Let me introduce myself simply as a ghost. And I’ll also volunteer that I am neither your enemy nor your friend.” 
Of course, the Elf used her magic to determine the veracity of his words—but the ghost already knew what that would yield. 
That he was a ghost was false , and the rest was true —that’s what her magic would tell her. It is indeed the case that I’m neither your friend nor enemy . The ghost smiled thinly. 
“Your circumstances must be quite pressing to invite yourself into another’s home, I presume?” asked the Elf, unable to grasp his purpose. 
Most pressing indeed. Otherwise—would a mere human dare sneak into the city of Elf? 
“—I was hoping we could play a simple game.” 
“…Come again?” 
“The chips we shall bet are information … If you win, I shall provide mine, and if you lose, I shall receive yours.” 
Nina remained wary, but the ghost sneered to himself and said that was fine. The Elf called Nina Clive was a keen thinker and the finest mage of her generation. 
It was for that very reason he’d chosen her as his contact. Her visitor voiced her concerns for her before she’d even had a chance to formulate them. 
“Chips without collateral—like unverified information—don’t make much of a wager, you say?” 
“ ? Yes, I suppose I do.” 
Nina treaded lightly, fearing that her visitor might have read her mind —naturally. A keen thinker, when faced with an unknown opponent, will consider the worst possible scenario first. In this case—a race above her own. But she was also too clever to humbly withdraw. Three possibilities still coexisted: that he was of a higher, a lower, or the same race. Given this, the ghost smirked, thinking— She’ll definitely accept the game . 
“Then let me offer you one on the house . I shall prove to you that the game’s stakes, regardless of veracity, hinge on information you cannot afford to ignore.” 
Yes, at the mere mention of this term…she would definitely play the game. 
“‘ Áka Si Anse has been discovered by Dwarf.’ …What would you say to that?” 
“ ? ?!” 
The ghost couldn’t sense it, but she must’ve used her magic to check for a lie again… But it was futile . 
“…Are you convinced? It is not a matter of whether the information is valid. As the conceptual originator and rite compiler of Áka Si Anse, surely you have the pull to verify the fine points yourself—am I correct?” 
The Elf feigned composure, but her thoughts were panicked. The ghost saw that clear as day. 
—Áka Si Anse, the “Devoid Zeroth Guard,” was such a vital secret that even the identity of its conceptual originator was kept under wraps. The names of those involved in its development had been recorded in code, even on documents that were themselves confidential—such as that handful of documents that Schwi had found abandoned in the basement of the ruined Elven metropolis. In the Elf’s eyes, not privy to this detail, the ghost must have appeared positively omniscient. Yes, regardless of his identity— rash moves against him would clearly be ill advised . 
“…… ? ” 
Though undetectable to a human, the Elf must have been employing multiple spells to check what he was saying—but it was futile. There was no falsehood to find. The information had indeed been leaked. Indeed, by none other than the ghost himself… 
“…Very well. Whoever you are, I see I shall have to deal with you.” 
With that, she squared off against the ghost and folded her hands. 
“Now, as for the game—as you mentioned chips, I suppose you have in mind a card game?” 
“No, speed chess. That should make it easy for both of us to see that there is no cheating, yes?” 
The Elf considered the chessboard on the table. 
“—Very well, then let us begin.” 
“All right, but first…” The ghost’s tone was mocking. 
“ …would you mind terribly putting that piece back? White makes the opening move. My apologies.” 
“ ? Oh, excuse me. I am afraid I am not very well-versed in the game.” 
Putting on airs while clucking to herself, He caught me , her expression warped ever-so-slightly. Her ruse, probably covered with her full might—an octa-cast—had been seen through. The Elf called Nina wondered—was testing her enigmatic guest too risky? She returned her piece to the board, undoubtedly intending— 
“Then, as for my chip… The conceptual originator of Áka Si Anse is actually—” 
“Not you. I have that information.” 
—to test him with a bluff. As the Elf cursed inwardly, her opponent’s next statement— 
“As well as the information that that’s a lie , and the information that you’d use magic to convince me of it.” 
—made her visibly blanche. 
“Now, will that satisfy your prodding as to whether lies will work on me? Can we begin the game?” 
Merrily taunting her, the ghost could see her thoughts clearly, wholly without need of magic. Her expression broadcast— Who in blazes is this fellow? 
It made the ghost—Riku—smirk. 
As long as he knew her race, there was nothing to it. Riku was human. He couldn’t detect magic. He’d been unable to sense that the piece had been moved. But he could predict what the sharpest wit and finest mage in a generation of Elves would do when presented with a prearranged chessboard by a stranger. So. He’d refrained from mentioning which piece had been tampered with and disinclined her from using a spell to make him believe her. 
It had been a bluff, of course, but it didn’t look that way to her—it couldn’t. He was bluffing a lot— and if he flubbed even one, it would be over . The notion of walking such a tightrope…to her, it was inconceivable. The human weakness that demanded such things? …Inconceivable. And thus her inevitable conclusion— 
She could not detect a hint of magic, such as a disguise, from the ghost. Neither could she tell if he was lying. That required magic that not even she—an octa-caster unparalleled in the present, legendary by measure of the past—could pierce. With such might at his disposal, she would be helpless to resist her guest in any case. He’d even seized the upper hand in their psychological battle, allowing her a glimpse of information she could not ignore. That he was neither enemy nor friend… She had no choice but to trust those words and try to extract his information. Just as the ghost had said, she could verify it after the fact herself. But having collected her thoughts to this point, suddenly— 
“You can decide for yourself the information you wish to wager. Should it be deemed that said information holds no value, though, an alternate demand may be made. How is that?” 
—she found herself at risk of being forced to disclose secrets that were too compromising. The ghost’s tone gave the impression he’d been waiting for her to catch up, and the Elf clucked. 
Why had Riku targeted this Elf? She was the compiler of Áka Si Anse, thought to be Elf’s ultimate weapon, and possessed vast knowledge. Further, she was an exceedingly accomplished mage with a sharp wit—an outstanding intellect. That was why he had chosen her—because that’s all she had . Intellect underscored by the power to destroy everything if it fell short. Versus intellect honed to walk the tightrope of human frailty and foolishness. For her to contend with humans—with the weakest—on intellect was a futile endeavor. All of which led to her current predicament. 
“In other words—if I demand your identity…” 
“Then I shall demand that you wager information that is exceedingly inconvenient for you.” 
Yes , thought the Elf. In the end, that was what he was after. She should abandon optimism and assume the enemy would reveal all her lies. Then she should draw out whatever information she could, using it to ferret out the identity and purpose of this so-called ghost. 
“Very well, let us begin the game. Neither friend nor foe, I posit that you mean no harm .” 
Riku cackled to himself at these words. He knew it. Because she had an outstanding intellect. Because she was strong. Because she was proud… 
For all these reasons— she was easy to read . She was easy to lead. And smiling as if he did, in fact, see through everything, Riku gestured with this hand. 
“In that case, let us declare an affirmation. In the tradition of ghosts, to begin the game, will you repeat after me?” 
This. 
“— Aschent …” 
 …… 
“…With that, first, regarding the intel you so kindly provided… 
“…I will demand you furnish me with details of how the Dwarves came to know of Áka Si Anse and proof, if possible.” 
“That chip was a gift … I’ll provide what you request, no wager required.” 
So saying, he held out the sound stone that had recorded the communication from the crashed Dwarven battleship. Riku couldn’t wager information that would give him away, and that was why it was on the house… 
“Let me offer you…something better…” 
And he flicked a more attractive hook and bait before her. 
“I shall wager the reason Dwarf learned of Áka Si Anse and yet decided that it was of no consequence .” 
“ ? They—what?” 
Áka Si Anse had been classified as being inconsequential . There were only three conceivable things that could mean: They had underestimated it; they had a means to defend against it; or, of all things— 
“—Yes, of all things.” 
After waiting for the Elf called Nina to reach that point—Riku said it. He was reading her mind—that was the illusion he meant to deepen. So she responded again: 
“…I demand your information about that. Which you say you know. ” 
She’d come back with a bluff, not specifying what “of all things” was—but Riku laughed. 
“I know…of the weapon Dwarf believes to be at least as powerful as Áka Si Anse.” 
Such was Riku’s rebuttal. Finding it the very “of all things” she dreaded, the Elf ground her teeth. 
But…you fell for such a childish trick again . Riku chuckled to himself. If her ultimate weapon had been deemed “inconsequential,” the possible reasons for such an assessment were limited. But she didn’t realize the significance of her phrasing—“information about that.” If she, convinced as she was that there could be no defense, was asking him for detailed information about something… 
…by process of elimination, “of all things” could only mean an even greater weapon. 
She was enraged. Her thoughts were being read somehow. The finest mage of her generation, acclaimed for her sharp wit, was being toyed with in a battle of wits. It wounded her pride—and gradually robbed her of her ability to think calmly… 
Riku formed an opinion of her then: You half-assed half-wit . Had her strength been unconditional, she would have struck him dead the moment she encountered him. If your power’s so half-assed you need to prod your enemy to decide whether you can—don’t boast of wit. If you can’t boast of folly and weakness , then when that half-assed power is stifled— 
—you may try to contend with humans on intellect alone, but you won’t stand a chance. 
“I honor your pride as one who has taken a magical system lost to the Flügel and woven from it a new form you feel surpasses the original. Should you defeat me, I shall tell you the details. What do you wager?” 
With a sigh, Riku recited the information the ghosts and Schwi had collected, maintaining his composure all the while. The Elf called Nina bit her nails and racked her brains. 
“—How about the number of Áka Si Anse units currently available for deployment and information on the carriers upon which they can be mounted?” 
“Your quick understanding delights me. You live up to your reputation as the most sharp-witted of Elves.” 
A weapon that surpassed Áka Si Anse. Its very existence was a startling piece of information. To reveal the details—she understood that he could hardly agree but for a considerable price. 
What a dangerous gamble that would be. Riku could only imagine. Still, utilizing the advantage he’d already seized—and making a point of using it to shake her as well—he asked: 
“By the way, could you tell me exactly what will happen to you if the fact that you leaked this information came to light?” 
“…I’ll be convicted of treason on grounds of leaking critical national secrets and executed without so much as a summary trial, I imagine.” 
The Elf glared at Riku, interpreting his question (the answer to which struck her as obvious) as an attempt to steal her concentration from the game. But Riku gaped inwardly, Wooow , shocked by this revelation beyond his expectations. The thing was, the details of Áka Si Anse were a complete mystery to him . He knew the name and developers…and the Dwarves’ reaction to the line of bullshit he’d tossed to them about a “weapon of mass destruction.” But now—her reaction finally started bringing the bigger picture into focus. Defiantly, the Elf went even farther, feeding him nice information. 
“Despite that, all of my—all of Elf’s—spirit has gone into making Áka Si Anse the most powerful rite of spirit-breaking . If it’s true those grubby moles have built something beyond it, I will sacrifice my life to obtain your information…” 
—Well, whaddaya know? It seemed Áka Si Anse was something called a rite of spirit-breaking. Positively rolling with laughter in his mind, Riku pulled himself together. 
“Well, then—shall we begin the game?” 
 
Their chess match consisted of twelve games. The Elf won five, lost four, and drew three. In the end, she took the win. So Riku provided her with all of the information she wanted— correction: the information he wanted to give her while obtaining much of the information he wanted . But the Elf, supported by the table, put her head in her hands and groaned. 
“Detonate the ether of deactivated Old Dei…? Those filthy moles, they’re unhinged…” 
Meanwhile, Riku, lowering his face, couldn’t help but think, Who are you to talk? 
Keeping up the pretense that he knew what Áka Si Anse was, he’d collated the intel she’d revealed to arrive at the rite’s principle. 
(The one who’d come up with a way to make a Phantasma self-destruct calls someone else unhinged—it’s not even funny.) 
This world has reached a point where everyone and anyone in it is insane. Complaining to himself as he rose to slip past the head-clutching Elf— 
“Hold it, you.” 
—Riku was brought up short. 
“By now, I’ve no inclination to pry into who you are or how you came upon such information. And until I verify it, I can only treat it as suspect.” 
“That’s fine. A wise decision.” 
“But there’s just one thing.” 
Sharp eyes. Were it not for “certain circumstances,” even Riku’s poker face would most certainly have buckled. Facing her visitor with a look to kill sharpened like a knife, the Elf made her point. 
“There were moments in our matches when you moved as if trying to lose — Let me ask you just one more time.” 
Depending on his answer, regardless of who he might be, she would attack unconditionally with every means of injury known to her. Even if it might sail back on her, her gaze indicated she was prepared to do so. 
“—Are you an enemy? Are you a friend?” 
But unfortunately… 
“This marks my second time informing you that I am neither your enemy nor your friend, but…” Riku smiled. To him at this point, a look as murderous as hers was less than a gentle breeze. To those who lived hand in hand with death, a look to kill was nothing more than an adorable little wish. “…if this answer fails to satisfy you, I shall add this.” 
Having lived through the aforementioned adversity, Riku spoke from his “heart.” 
“I wish for as few of you to die as possible.” 
 . 
“…All right, Mr. Ghost. So you mean to ask me and no one else what I will do with this information.” 
She must once more have checked his truthfulness, using all eight threads of her magic. 
There could be no falsehood, for these were Riku’s true feelings. That being the case, even if she could not grasp his purpose, even if he was neither friend nor foe… 
“—I’ll just conclude that you bear us no ill will. Which is exactly what you want , yes?” 
So with a smirk, the Elf called Nina—no… 
“—By the waaaay.” 
Suddenly, she changed her tone—no, her very personality— 
“I know a few things, Mr. Ghooost…that even you do not knooow.” 
As if an entirely different person, the Elf— 
“Nina Clive is an alias. My real naaame…” 
—confided with a soft smile that suggested the warmth of a hearth: 
“…Why, it’s Think Nirvalen! ? ” 
And she tittered, hee-hee . 
“This is my truuue seeelf. Did you see through my aaact?” 
At Nina’s—no, Think Nirvalen’s—playful grin, unleashed seamlessly as if by an entirely different person, Riku kept his face down but answered with a chuckle: 
“Yes, I did.” 
“……” 
“Did you ever hear me call you Nina?” 
The documents written in code down to the developers and the conceptual originator. So thorough that doubting the veracity of the names—was only natural. But now that Riku had learned the principle of Áka Si Anse, it made even more intuitive sense. 
Think Nirvalen wasn’t stupid enough to publish such an insane scheme under her real name. 
“Hee-hee… If I may speak plainlyyy, right nooow, why, my insides are boiliiing!” 
The greatest mage among Elf—who had also fancied herself an actress—laughed in annoyance. Having failed even once to rattle him, Think seethed, but Riku— 
“Sorry, but acting is a ghost’s stock-in-trade… I know what it looks like.” 
—Yes. 
“ That’s why you were the one I chose.” 
The final reason he’d settled on Think was this: She would cover up her contact with the ghost completely, dig up the proof of his information, and then—lead Elf on the most appropriate course. As Riku took his leave, Think did not look at him. 
“By the way, Mr. Ghost…have you heard what they saaay? That Elves never forgive and never forgeeet?” 
“Yes, I’ve heard that a number of times. They say they’ll take out their grudges even if it takes scores of generations.” 
Think giggled softly like a flower. 
“I shall humbly accept the informatiooon and your wish that we not diiie… but that asiiide …” 
Smiling, Think Nirvalen turned a specter’s glare on Riku’s back. 
“I shall find out who you are, Mr. Ghost—and steal ahead and kill you. Why, I promise I wiiill. To think you played with meee , of all Elves, in the palm of your hand… Why, I’ll make you regret iiit— For the rumor that Elves never forget a grudge…originates with none other—than the Nirvalen familyyy! ? ” 
—Hmm. 
“I admit this is the first I’ve heard of this, and I already regret provoking a rather troublesome opponent.” 
With these words, Riku took his leave, and Think watched him the entire way, wearing a smile that could kill… 
 
“…Riku—hurry! Drink…this…!” 
In a shack some distance from Think’s mansion, Schwi desperately rushed to cure Riku, who writhed in agony, feeling as though he might lose his consciousness and his life any moment. The hallucinatory feeling that someone had poured molten iron into all his blood vessels prevented him from even screaming. No, maybe it’s not a hallucination. He laughed to himself. Pretending to be a ghost before Elf, the race with the highest magical aptitude of them all—and, of all Elves, their very finest mage. Under normal circumstances, the spirits in his body would have been, and he’d have been laid bare in a blink. So what could he do? It was simple. Become unidentifiable. 
“We have to, get the dead spirits out, fast…or you’ll die, Riku!” 
Schwi fed Riku her decontamination fluid, the Ex Machina equivalent of blood, and squealed. 
Yes, he could just ingest the black ash, intentionally contaminating himself with dead spirits. Broken spirits—dead spirits upsetting his own, inside and out, devouring him, destroying him. Even the finest of mages would be unable to identify a body beset by spiritual contamination. One with a fine wit would have been that much harder pressed to imagine it—such a suicidal act . 
“…Riku…you liar! You said…one hour…it was over two…!” 
Riku had swallowed and coated himself with a barely nonlethal dose of black ash, as calculated by Schwi. But she’d calculated its lethality—assuming one hour. Riku’s body, ravaged by dead spirits for over two, was being mercilessly corroded, destroyed. If he wasn’t decontaminated fast, just as Schwi had said, it would kill him, but— 
“What could I…do …? That bitch…was tougher…than I thought…” 
Riku struggled to reply. He hadn’t thought it possible that someone could be better at chess than Schwi. Think Nirvalen might not be able to beat her, but she’d put up a good fight. He thought back sardonically, “Trying to lose”? How nice of her— What an overestimation. He’d gotten the information he needed, but otherwise, he’d fought for real and lost . It was all thanks to his successful bluffing. One wrong step, and he’d have been dead— 
“…Rikuuu…! Just a little, more…so—! Hold on…!” 
If Schwi’s decontamination failed… In any case, it didn’t look like he’d have to wait long. 
At the very least, his skin would probably never be the same. He’d seen many times how people ended up when they came into direct contact with the ash. Burned and befouled, those scars—were for life. However many more years he might live, however things might go, Riku would spend the rest of his life wrapped in bandages. It wasn’t just on the surface. His innards must have been likewise affected. The only idiot Riku had ever heard of who’d orally ingested a large dose of black ash was himself. A historical first in idiocy. If his skin looked like this, one could expect his organs were charred and necrotized. He’d probably never be able to eat a proper meal again. At least he hadn’t taken it in nasally. His cardiopulmonary functions should have been fine. 
Unless the dead spirits had gotten into his blood, but— 
“…Riku…you said, no one will die…no one shall die…!” 
Schwi was still fighting desperately to decontaminate him. Yet , Riku thought… 
It had been worth it. He’d uncovered the secrets of Elf’s “Áka Si Anse”—and even how it was to be implemented—from what Think had let slip. “Carriers upon which they can be mounted.” Meanwhile, he’d discovered Dwarf’s “E-bomb” from the strategic map Ivan had given his life for. Now finally, in cooperation with the ghosts lurking in each territory, he could accomplish their first objective . To lead the front away from where the humans lived. And then… Riku laughed to himself. The final move almost seemed within reach—but. 
“Hey, Schwi…how much longer…you think I’ve got to live?” 
The point of his question had been whether or not he could make it to that last move, but Schwi turned on him atypically—with a glare full of rage. 
“…You shall not, die… You shall…live, until I…die…Riku!” 
“—Huh… Hey, how long do…Ex Machinas live?” 
“…There are, approximately, eight hundred and ninety-two years…left, in my service life…” 
This answer, despite his being assailed by pain that made it feel as if his whole body might crumble, made Riku smile. 
“Ha-ha—guess I’ll have to grit my teeth, huh…” 
This really…isn’t the place…for me to kick the bucket…anyhow… 
 
 …… 
Once more as his ghosts surrounded the round table, their leader spread his hands over the board. Most of the races’ pieces had already been situated, with over ten arrayed. 
Now—this time he produced the white queen— 
“This is Flügel.” 
And with that, he placed the queen on the board. The coordinates—Avant Heim. 
The queen. The strongest piece. The ghosts raised an eyebrow at his assignment of it—not to Phantasma or Old Deus—but Flügel. 
“…Because, they’re strong?” 
The ghosts’ leader just chuckled. 
“There is that, but it’s because they don’t grow.” 
No one was sure what he really meant, but then one of the ghosts commented on the fact that the board had been set with white pieces only. 
“But look—you’ve made them all white. They’re all on our side?” 
“That’s right. We shall win…without taking a single piece. We have no enemies.” 
“Hey, but then how will you know that we’ve won?” 
Hearing this, the head of the ghosts smugly displayed—the black king. 
“If we get this guy…we win.” 
“…You say we’re gonna win without taking a single piece—but then we do have to kill someone?” 
With this question, the ghosts bathed their leader with puzzled stares. However, seemingly suppressing a grin, he held out the black king… 
“Did you not hear me? The rules are absolute. No one will die. Because the black king—” 
…and emphatically slamming it onto the board, he declared: 
“—is this guy.” 
Of all the ghosts assembled there, only their leader—with his conviction—smiled. 
 ……