CHAPTER 4
1 ÷ 2 = HELPLESS
The ghosts, scattered throughout the world, had been quietly orchestrating the War from behind the scenes for close to a year. Today, sitting in their hideout and playing chess across the table from Schwi, Riku once more studied the strategy board…
Just as expected , Elf had brought Fairy to their side. They’d increased their contacts with Dragonias who could combat Dwarf’s airships, uniting against the common hypothetical enemy of Dwarf with an “Elven Alliance.”
Meanwhile, Dwarf had built on their healthy relationship with Gigant by bringing a number of Phantasmas to their side. Certain ghostly whisperings that the Elves had created a “Phantasma killer” had resulted in the explosive birth of a rock-solid “Dwarven Alliance.”
But there was no forgetting the most powerful force of all, over on the next continent, which included the Flügel: the camp of Artosh.
With these two alliances concealing their own weapons of mass destruction, even his almighty lordship Artosh—hand clenched and shaking furiously behind his back—could not afford to make any hasty moves against either of these “Unions,” and the front ground to a standstill. Demonia relocated to profit from the struggle that kept the big players busy, while Werebeast, wary of the E-bomb, moved to the archipelago to the west. The world was on a hair trigger, bracing for Armageddon with nothing left for the combatants to do but stare one another down!!
This was the state of the board that our smart little ridiculous bozos had worked so hard to construct. The continent of Lucia, comically, had left Immanity “home alone” for the first time. The setup was perfect, the plot ripe for a once-in-a-lifetime showdown… All that was left was the endgame.
……
“Hey, Schwi, I asked you before if there was a god of games, right?”
“…Uh-huh…”
“You said a concept becomes an Old Deus when the activation conditions are satisfied… What activation conditions?”
“…Acquisition of ether…strength of feelings, prayers…cannot produce strict definition… Flow…? ”
When he’d asked before, she’d said there was no ether and therefore no such god, but—
“Well, actually, if I said I’ve seen the god of games —would you believe me?”
“…What you believe…I’ll believe…”
Moving a piece with a serious expression, Schwi continued.
“…Riku, you overturn…all my projections… If you say, there is one, then there is … If you say, the sky isn’t red, it’s not red…I won’t give it, a second thought…”
.
Ahhhhhh, daaaaaamn!
“Whoa, make sure you share that line with somebody! My wife is so, so into meeeee!!”
“…That…aside…”
Her face looked slightly flushed, but it wasn’t just his imagination. Schwi announced timidly:
“…Checkmate.”
“—Come on, god of gaaames… Let me win at least ooonce…”
Schwi gave a little smile as Riku, grinning, tore at his hair.
“Ummm, pardon the interruption while you’re having a conversation more embarrassing to listen to than to have, but do you mind?” asked Couron, diffidently popping in.
“Oh, great timing, Couron,” said Riku. “Wait, wait, did you—?”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the yums, but aren’t you the one who called me here? Can I make my report now?”
Couron flipped through her papers on the state of the village—no, of humanity—and began.
“I can’t believe it…but just like you said, there haven’t been any more sightings of other races.”
Couron, ignorant of the reason, furrowed her brow at Riku as he laughed, as if to say, Shocking! and went on.
“…And so we lit beacons and sent out scouts and found a number of villages in the northern part of Lucia. It won’t be easy to integrate them, since their combined population totals almost eight thousand, with the village we—”
“Relax, Couron. Pretty soon, we’ll be able to live wherever we want without fearing death.”
“……”
Couron’s fists trembled at Riku’s flippant response, his attention seemingly more focused on his chess match with Schwi.
“Everything’s going fine. Schwi and I just have to pull off the last move— and we win .”
“…Come on, stop joking around, Riku… Do you realize the shape you’re in…?”
Couron had been struggling to bear her feelings without showing them—but Riku’s attitude pushed her beyond her limit.
“ I can’t even believe you’re still alive in that state!! If you make a long trip like that, you’re gonna die!”
Despite Couron’s tearful outburst, Riku grinned.
“I ain’t gonna die. I still gotta live another eight hundred and ninety-one years.”
“—Look, Riku, I’m begging you. Quit fooling around and take a good hard look at yourself—!”
Given his big sister’s heartfelt plea, Riku had no choice but to concede and do a self-inventory. First—he was covered in bandages. The burns on his skin from the dead spirits had never healed after all. His entire body’s skin was contaminated, but it was what it was. Then there were his internal organs… Schwi had saved them from necrosis—just barely—so they were all right, more or less. He’d never been able to take what one would think of as a meal since then, but he could handle soup at least. The dead spirits had gotten into his blood a little bit, so there was some damage to his bones and respiratory tract, but it wasn’t too bad.
“Otherwise…I’m down one arm, and my vision’s been impaired— Well, I guess I’m blind in one eye. No big deal.”
“—It’s a helluva big deal! You—!”
“The other ghosts are like this or worse.”
Couron started to argue, but Riku’s icy voice stopped her short.
“…It’s a miracle that no one’s died, but we’ve all been beaten to a pulp.”
To a pulp. Literally, just as he said, they’d been beaten to a pulp. It was true that not a single crewmember of the ghost ship, 179 strong, had died—
—yet. It was just a question of yet . Guzzling poison, contamination by spirits, lost limbs… The ghosts cooked up any means they could to deceive other races. From tossing away a left arm for the sake of one trick, to eating the flesh of a corpse to hoodwink a Demonia, to willfully submitting to a Dhampir to lead them on, they’d exploited every asset at their disposal—
—every one but their lives… So Riku pleaded:
“Just one more move, Couron. Look the other way. Then the War will end, and I’ll—”
— Finally be able to forgive myself —is what he started to say, but he swallowed it.
“In that case, at least tell me…”
Couron looked down, shaking.
“I still can’t believe you manipulated the other races—even the Old Dei—to get them all off Lucia. I do think it’s amazing…but end the War? Even after all that, I still can’t believe this!!”
“……”
“If you want me to look the other way, then tell me! Or do you not trust me—your own sister?!”
……
As Riku and Schwi exchanged glances, Couron’s heartbroken tears stained the ground one after another.
“…Couron, if I didn’t trust you— If it wasn’t you, there’s no one I could entrust with everyone.”
“Then why—?”
“You know, right? What the gods are fighting over?”
Thrown for a moment by Riku’s sudden change of subject, Couron answered. “…The throne of the One True God, isn’t it? They say…”
“Yes. The throne of the One True God—specifically, an artifact called the Suniaster, apparently.”
Relating what Schwi had told him in the ruins of the Elven city, Riku stood.
“Old Dei—are born of the planet.”
By wishes or by prayers, they obtained “ether” and were born. That’s what Schwi had told him.
“But too many were born . The Suniaster is a ‘conceptual device’ instituted by the Old Dei in order to determine a single god—a single being with magical power on a level capable of creating races.”
“……”
“But for the Old Dei to create a device able to encompass the power of all the Old Dei is impossible , right?”
“ ? Well, yeah. ’Cos that—”
Though this was her first time hearing all of this, Couron understood immediately and bluntly broke it down.
“—would mean using the power of ten to create the power of eleven…right?”
“I knew it, Couron. You got it right. Yes, it’s a story so asinine, one can only marvel.”
It should have been self-evident: One True God would rule over everything, including the Old Dei. If you supposed that there were ten Old Dei who pooled all their power, it would only equal ten. But the Suniaster—was supposed to produce power that would bring all ten to heel. But it was fundamentally insufficient. It was impossible.
“So, here’s what you can do…”
His eyes alight with a notion unfathomably fatuous, Riku spelled it out.
“If there are ten gods, you just kill nine, which leaves you the One True God—right?”
Yes, summarizing what Schwi had told him that day boiled down to this: They’d destroy the ether of all the other Old Dei and absorb the power generated. In this way, they’d boost their own strength to obtain the power necessary to manifest the Suniaster. But as it happened, there were as many Old Dei as there were wishes. Even if you slaughtered the big guys, you’d still have to worry about some upstart surpassing you. So if you just conquered the throne of the One True God—the Suniaster—there you were, the only god.
“That’s the truth behind this ridiculous Great War.”
……
“That’s…idiotic— You’re saying that’s why we’ve endured this whole waaar—?!”
Couron shook with rage, shouting as if spitting in his eye.
“Couron…watch your mouth. That’s an insult to idiots. ’Cos, you know—”
Speaking languidly, Riku touched the map, the board, and said disgustedly:
“—you can manifest the Suniaster even without any of that.”
“ ? Huh?”
Ignoring Couron’s blank look, Riku toyed with the black king in his palm.
“Hey, Couron, did I mention what gives birth to the Old Dei?”
“—The planet, right?”
“Yes, the spirit corridors. The source of all things. The stream of all life: the planet itself.”
Schwi picked up where he left off.
“…Their creations…the races…are also created, through the Old Dei’s ether…through spirit corridors.”
“Yeah…so you know?”
With a sigh, Riku came back to the same thought he’d had that day—the day he’d heard this story in the Elven ruins. What had occurred to him before anything else, when Schwi had told him the cause of the gods’ strife and the story of the Suniaster… How could no one have noticed something this obvious? He uttered a conclusion so self-evident it had surprised even Schwi.
“ All the Old Dei on the planet in total —couldn’t be as powerful as their source, if you give it any thought.”
Couron’s eyes opened wide. So… Black king in hand, Riku turned the map—the board—and put it right in the middle . With that, he bluntly announced their, the ghosts’, victory conditions. That is—their final move.
“If you destroy the planet, the Suniaster will manifest itself.”
—…
Ignoring Couron’s stupefaction, Riku and Schwi pointed to the floor and continued.
“If you pierce the core of the planet— the source of the spirit corridors —the power discharged will surpass that of all the Old Deus.”
“…The manifestation will occur, in 10 -46 seconds…destruction, power discharge, manifestation, and then…”
“Right there—we seize the Suniaster and rebuild the world…”
Riku and Schwi announced simultaneously to the still dumbfounded Couron:
““…Checkmate.””
“B-but that—where are you going to get the power to impale—?”
By the time Couron had recovered enough from her trance to stammer this, the strategic map on the wall jumped out at her.
—It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!!
“ You’re going to make them do it themselves?! You’re not aiming for a deadlock— but an all-out collision of all the factions ?!”
Riku gave a giddy, thin smile at Couron’s shriek.
“Artosh’s camp and the Unions— aren’t deadlocked .”
“—Huh?”
Mutually assured destruction—a deadlock based on the assurance of the destruction of both parties if one made a move—only worked when there was an option not to make a move .
“Their objective is the Suniaster—is death—so the spark’s gonna go off soon no matter what.”
It meant a battle of a scale never seen before in the eternal Great War—
—It meant Armageddon. As Couron blanched at the image, Riku spoke.
“But the firepower— won’t be aimed at anyone .”
Once more, Couron was at a loss for words.
“On the stage we’ve designated for the final battle, Schwi and I are installing Umwege—devices that will bend the orientation of the blast so all the force will point straight down. Yes, just like a telescope lens.”
According to all the information they’d gathered on the weapons that would be used in this confrontation (which the ghosts had staked everything but their lives to collect), as quantified and number-crunched by Schwi, the number of Umwege they’d need to achieve convergence—was thirty-two.
“The goons will pierce the planet themselves , the spirit corridors will be destroyed, the Suniaster will manifest itself, and once we snatch it—we win. And one of the main reasons no one’s gonna die is because, when it’s all over, I have something I want to ask those gods…”
Riku’s face beamed with an enormously ironic smile. One might even have called it sadistic.
“‘Hey, hey, how’s it feel—you know?”
For real. The eternal Great War was coming to a close, for real. At the hands of Riku and Schwi, her wonderful brother and sister, and fewer than two hundred others. Moreover—it would be accomplished without killing anyone. To do that, just creating the situation… He could have wanted to slaughter the gods and their creations— No, if he was normal, he must’ve wanted to. Her brother had lost his skin, his viscera, an eye, an arm, but despite all that, he still smiled impudently. Couron shivered. To end the War without killing anyone —to accomplish that, he’d done all this—
“…So, Couron, please. Look the other way just a little longer. And take care of everyone.”
But even as Riku grinned boldly, it was already becoming painful for him to breathe, though only Schwi noticed.
“…Riku… Go to sleep…”
“…I can’t… We’ve got to go install the Umwege right away…”
Schwi nursed Riku as he squirmed on the bed. Though Riku had put on a brave face for Couron, everything she’d said had been true.
The spiritual burns spreading across his skin from the dead spirits alone would invite significant long-term health problems. As if that wasn’t enough, having taken them into his organs, Riku couldn’t absorb nutrients adequately. No human could be expected to recover from that… That he’d survived at all was abnormal.
“…It’s all right…your projections are, never, wrong. The attacks won’t start, right away…”
“……But…”
“…You can rest…a little… You can do it… Just a day.”
My wife is crazy calm as usual. Riku chuckled to himself, but—
“…I guess…then we’ll go to install them tomorrow, and today I’ll concentrate on getting better.”
“…Mm.”
“Hey, Schwi… Sorry for always dragging you down.”
“…You’re lying down… You can’t drag me.”
Riku let out a laugh, but even that sent pain searing through his body.
“Then let me ask one more thing. Today I’m gonna sleep and work on recovering—so can you hold my hand?”
She understood the request was intended to help him bear the pain. At the same time, Schwi now understood that he was warning her not to try going by herself.
“…Mm. I’ll stay, holding your hand. Don’t worry… Rest… Riku.”
.
“Hey, Schwi.”
Presumably unable to sleep, Riku spoke up again.
“…Mm.”
“…Thank you. I’d never have been able to do this without you.”
“…It’s not…over yet.”
“That’s true…but I’d never even have been able to make it this far without you.”
— So. Riku closed his eyes.
“Thank you for coming for me…and also…” As if he was dozing off, Riku’s breath softened as he mumbled, “I really love you…and I always…will…”
…Just what agonies had the corrosion of Riku’s spirits ravaged him with? Despite them, Schwi’s hand holding his was enough to allow his breath to descend into the peaceful solace of sleep.
Schwi sat thinking to herself. She…liked Riku. But her definition of the feeling known as “love” was still incomplete. It was deeply frustrating to her not to be able to answer his words. Even so, she knew what she had to do. She couldn’t let Riku die. Riku had to live another 891 years. If he got the Suniaster, that could be reality .
So.
“……I’m sorry…Riku… I’ll be…right back.”
For now—she let go of his hand.
Twenty-four installed. Another eight Umweg stations, and it would be done. Schwi once more came to the same conclusion—she’d been right not to bring Riku. She was operating covertly on the site of the final battle, where the greatest forces in the world were currently arrayed. She had detected opponents on several occasions already who would end the game if they caught her, and each time, she’d done everything in her power to hide. Be that as it may, if they by some chance noticed, Riku’s presence would have increased the probability of instantaneous death significantly.
…It’s all right… I just have to install…eight more, and I’ll come back… Riku, wait for me…
Once that was over, she was prepared to endure however much scolding came of it. She couldn’t let Riku die. Eight more—finding next coordinates—
“Oh my? I was just drifting about—and such an unexpected find presents itself at my feet! ? ”
Schwi turned to the voice suddenly above her. Prismatic hair and amber eyes. Wings woven of light, and the signature of Flügel—a geometric halo. Referencing data— Schwi suppressed the voice in her heart saying this could not be worse and looked at the Flügel’s serene face.
“—Good day, scrap heap. Have you decided to take a walk by yourself today?”
Flügel—Close Number: Jibril…
She never thought the day would come when she, an Ex Machina, would be telling herself to calm down. Attacking an Ex Machina was a sort of taboo. Act like just a machine, just a counterattacker—
“ Question: Does Flügel have a task involving Ex Machina?”
Activating language circuits long gone idle, she barely managed to act the part. But seemingly oblivious, Jibril continued.
“I do! ? It seems Ex Machina heads are—my, my, my!!—now as valuable as Dragonia heads—Rarity Five! ? ”
Bending her body as if vexed, Jibril went on.
“You see, following the defeat of Aranleif, even those in Avant Heim have reached a consensus that it shall be taboo to lay hands upon Ex Machina, whereby the rarity of their heads has soared and soared, to the point that they are now platinum!”
“ Warning: Validity of consensus confirmed. Hostility to unit will result in significant consequences.”
At her words, though, Jibril hiked up the corners of her mouth in reply.
“From a single Prüfer, you say? ? ”
Had she managed to keep her panic off her face? That was all Schwi worried about, but Jibril continued without regard.
“I have confirmed no sign of Ex Machina in a one-hundred-meter radius! ? Which raises the terribly interesting question of just why a single unit of Ex Machina, which normally operates in clusters, would be operating alone. ? Also,” Jibril continued with a devilish smile, “as an isolated unit should be unable to perform your race’s famous copycatting, I take this to be a bonne occasion chance to seize a super-rare, merveilleuse tête . Might I be correct? ? ”
Schwi considered once again, without saying it…that this was the worst. Finding herself discovered by, of all races, the most outlandish—and of those most outlandish, the wildest and most overpowered of them all—she could only conclude that Riku had been right when he’d said that probability was nonsense.
To think that the very first card she’d draw would be the joker, the “old maid.”
“Now—I’ll be chopping through your neck, so please don’t move. ? There is no use resisting, so your cooperation will make this go more smoothly for the both of us. It’s not as if Ex Machina have a concept of death, after—”
“……I refuse…”
“…—Pardon? Did I mishear you?”
— Death — The word suddenly motivated Schwi’s mouth. Riku’s Rule 2: None may die—so she couldn’t die. What’s more, the fear that death inspired—that she’d never see Riku again —denied the request.
“…I don’t want, to die…I can’t—die…”
As Jibril’s eyes stretched ever wider, Schwi continued.
“…Unit…disconnected… Scrap… No value, as Ex Machina.”
—So.
“…I beg you… Please, look the other way…”
But Schwi didn’t realize she’d made the worst possible choice. She did not adequately grasp what hovered before her—the wildest member of an already outlandish race.
“What…a machine that fears death?! Not only that, but an Ex Machina begging ?! And further, you say you are disconnected—a defective item?! R-R-R-Rarity Five doesn’t begin to cover this!”
“…… ? ”
“Geh-heh, gweh-heh-heh-heh-heeeeh… E-everyone will be so envious, the duels will be endless!!”
Watching Jibril drool while radiating a lethal hostility, Schwi had to admit failure. Diplomacy was something Riku could have pulled off. She shouldn’t have let go of his hand—but.
“…Final, warning…”
“Yes, please proceed as you like. Though the outcome will remain the same. ? ”
Schwi’s eyes locked on Jibril, who materialized a sword woven of light and looked prepared to set upon her anytime.
“…I don’t want, to die… I can’t die… If you’re, still, going to kill me…”
Little by little…Schwi murmured as resolution:
Analysis of respective forces:
Enemy: Flügel Jibril. Capacity unknown—estimated double average Flügel.
Friendly: Ex Machina Prüfer. Power level less than 32 percent output of Kämpfer (dedicated combat unit).
In addition, friendly unit lacks Ex Machina’s greatest weapon, cluster—supporting units. Armaments available are limited due to disconnection: 47 of 27,451. Probability of success: nonexistent.
Nevertheless, Riku’s words came back to her:
There’s no such thing as zero when it comes to probability.
“ Laden: Launching code 1673B743E1F255, script E— Lösen —”
Loosing all the armaments she could at once, Schwi declared:
“—All armaments…forces, tactics, strategies online… Initiating supplication for life with maximum output.”
“Oh my! I understand that Ex Machina is a race that analyzes and imitates the factors by which it is damaged—”
In response to Schwi’s declaration of war, Jibril replied with an expression that seemed to deride the gods themselves.
“—but did one of your kind ever die of laughter ? Now that is a new one on me! ? ”
Interrupt—short-term battle—only possible victory , Schwi concluded. She discharged all the armaments she’d prepped at once, compressing spirits into an ultra-enriched particle. A spirit particle so dense, any reasonable living thing—even an Elf—would die instantly on contact.
“—Over-Boost—!”
Schwi volatilized it—and in that instant, she disappeared from Jibril’s vision. Ultra-enriched spirits, given directionality and volatilized for ultra-rapid acceleration. The volatilized spirits coughed out blue masses of dead spirits, sowing pollution in their wake—as they shattered the bounds of physics. That was how Ex Machina, a race incapable of utilizing magic, managed to use “magic” through the brute-force employment of technology. Though Schwi moved at speeds approaching teleportation—still.
“…Surely you don’t really think that’s enough to escape me?”
Jibril scoffed, having shifted past distance itself to cut her off. As if mocking, toying with her, Jibril brought down her mountain-cleaving blade of light, but… Internally, Schwi answered her assailant’s question:
— Why would I?
“—Asyut-Armor—!”
As the unblockable blade of light cleaved toward her, Schwi volatilized the ultra-enriched spirits that had just produced her acceleration—meaning she hyper-charged a force beyond physics without directionality , producing an “offensive barrier.” Killing the ultra-enriched spirits en masse—turning them into dead spirits—she unleashed a blue, spherical particle membrane. That moment, the shock and energy exploded into the earth.
It would have been enough force to wipe out a small city, but—
“How inconsiderate… With a weapon that spews dead spirits, the environmental standards of this machine are rather questionable…”
Asyut-Armor, Schwi’s barrier that annihilated most living things through shock and acute dead spirit pollution—Jibril shrugged it off by covering her face with a grimace as if brushing away so much dust. Schwi silently concluded that it was just as she’d projected. Whatever Flügel might have been, as magic woven by Artosh, a Flügel could not have the maintenance of her substantiation poisoned by the obstacle to magic that were dead spirits—!
“Still, do you think this will be enough to ? what’s this?”
Jibril was confused to find that, beyond the shock membrane of blue light that she’d just pierced, Schwi wasn’t there. Once more, Schwi inwardly answered her opponent’s query:
— Why would I be?
At the same instant she’d launched Asyut-Armor, Schwi had used Over-Boost again to gain some distance, and now she had her sights locked.
For an individual Ex Machina to destroy a Flügel was all but impossible. The probability was astronomically low—and even if by some miracle she succeeded, it would violate the Rules Riku had laid down. Victory in a short-term battle. There was only one route: escape.
“— Lösen: Enderpokryphen—!”
A weapon loathsome to Schwi who, by employing it in one of Ex Machina’s conflicts, had robbed Riku of his home. The greatest force in Schwi’s arsenal, which replicated the Far Cry of Aranleif the Ultimate, fired at Jibril. A storm of dead spirits to defile the world vented as light erupted from her muzzle. Jibril stared into the radiance barreling toward her and was seared—
.
Schwi made a silent apology to Riku. He’d have to revise the map again.
The single blast of Enderpokryphen, at the same instant it landed on Jibril, rewrote the terrain. The blast of blue light ripped up the landscape’s crust, instantly vaporizing it, the reddened earth gas it became forming a small-scale tsunami, and the ultrahot sediment—reaching temperatures in the thousands of degrees—sailed in a blink to the stratosphere… A direct hit of that magnitude, sufficient to alter the shape of the planet, would leave not even a Dragonia unscathed. But Schwi was under no illusions that this would be sufficient to put down her adversary .
“—Einweg—!”
At the precise moment she confirmed the hit, Schwi launched her last armament. A “space crusher” designed by Ex Machina to counter the shifting abilities of races such as Flügel and Elf. Just as its name suggested, the smashed space would create a unidirectional hole enveloping Schwi’s body, closing behind her.
If she leaped to a distance outside the Flügel’s detection range, even Jibril should have been unable to pursue her. But the farthest distance Schwi could leap using Einweg was one hundred kilometers—the same distance in which Jibril had claimed to be clear of Ex Machina, so it was impossible to predict Jibril’s scanning range. Schwi would have to engage her again when she arri—
“Oh myyy! Where do you think you’re going?”
Schwi’s mind froze. In the time before the smashed space closed—0.000046 seconds, not even a fraction of a second—Jibril had extended a hand, prying open the wormhole with brute force to peek inside. Hell’s voice rang out of a mask of a face plastered with a smile…
“If your intent was escape, a more prudent move would have been to use the light and dust to obscure my vision rather than attempt a long-distance leap… Oh, or, could it be—?”
Seeing the space she’d rent torn open once more by an even greater force allowed Schwi to define a feeling previously unknown to her, as she transitioned from her firing position to a posterior-plant.
“Did you expect your little attack would injure me?”
Definition: This is a nightmare.
It can’t be. It can’t, it can’t, it is impossible! Granted, Enderpokryphen is an imperfect reproduction of the power of Aranleif’s Far Cry. It reproduces only 43.7 percent—per the Zeichner’s report. But the Ultimate One was one of the Rulers, the three greatest of all Dragonias. A Far Cry unleashed by such an individual at the cost of his life—even 43 percent—
“…Ahh…look… What part of this was worth it…?”
The whole battle had started because she’d wanted the head of the Ex Machina operating as a solo unit. Given the machine’s singular behavior, Jibril’s desire for the head had swelled—until it became a Heavenly Smite. The Flügel bemoaned the fact that even she had no idea what it had all been about— but her instincts had screamed that the machine was an enemy she had to destroy . Looking back at it objectively, though—was that really true?
“…I failed to secure her head, blew away every bit of her, and on top of that, look at me…”
Considering her diminutive, cherubic appearance, Jibril heaved a deep sigh. She’d gained nothing, lost all her power, and wouldn’t be able to move properly for at least five years—that was her prize.
“Hff… I suppose I shall at least report to Elder Azril that there was a strange Ex Machina… I hope even that mush-head will be able to grasp the significance of the creature making me employ my Heavenly Smite…”
But… Considering her childish appearance again, Jibril muttered pensively:
“If I engage my elder in this state…I can hardly see her letting me go…”
Little Jibril unenthusiastically flapped her wings into the distant sky.
—Small. The glint of the silver ring was too small to attract her notice…
The game was over. Schwi had died. Receiving the ghost’s report, it was all Riku could do to put on a brave face and return to his room. At the table, across from an empty chair, he went through the motions of the game of chess he’d played so many times with Schwi. Alone. Just as he had once upon a faraway time, when he was a child. The game he could never win— Moving the pieces, he looked at the empty seat in front of him. His sanity suspect, he saw just what he’d seen back then: The boy with the bold grin. The presence Schwi had promised to believe in without question. The god of games.
“Hey… Why can’t I ever win…?”
The boy would never answer, but Riku still asked.
“I thought that this time I’d beat the odds…with Schwi—with everyone. I thought I could win.”
—Rule 2: No one may die.
—Rule 6: Any act which deviates from the above shall constitute loss.
“Why can’t I ever—win…!”
Yes, the minute they broke the rules, the game was over—and they’d lost . What was worse was that it was Schwi—
“What…am I missing…? Tell me, please—! Come on, you’re there, aren’t you?!”
The sight would have convinced anyone who might have been watching to think that he’d finally lost his marbles. Riku screaming at nothing. At the boy sitting across from him—the god of games. The boy didn’t answer. By all appearances, he simply…dropped his smile and lowered his face.
“Come on, all right… Can’t I win just once? If not—
“Then why—? Why did you give me a ‘heaaart’?!”
The “heart” Schwi’d admired and had opened for him. It now meant nothing to him as his body ached. All he could do was scream.
“I don’t know what damn god created humans! But if we’re gonna live in this world just to lose and lose and lose some more and get the shit kicked out of us and lose everything and do it again—then why do we have hearts?! Answer me!!”
He screamed as if grappling with his crippled body—
“Come on, I know you’re there! I don’t know who you are, but answer me—I’m begging you……!”
No answer. Not that he’d expected one to begin with, but he was spent. Dejected, raving indiscriminately, he leaned heavily on the back of his chair and gazed at the strategy map.
Vaguely, he put the pieces together. They’d succeeded in pitting all the races against one another and laying the groundwork for the conflict of Camp Artosh versus Everyone Else. But it was as he’d anticipated all along—one side would definitely launch the first strike.
If it was to be the Union, there would be a deadlock until the Elven Alliance and the Dwarven Alliance could figure out how to neutralize their rivals’ trump cards, Áka Si Anse and the E-bomb. All-out assault would commence in ten years at the latest, and Artosh’s forces would probably lose. Then Dwarf and Elf would spring straight back at each other—until every damn body was dead.
And if Artosh’s side struck first? Right now, the Artosh camp had the upper hand—because of the Godly Smite. But the Union wouldn’t form their lines so as to be annihilated by a single Smite. Then, once Artosh had used up his power and was temporarily weakened, they’d turn the power of Avant Heim against him. That was the Union’s goal.
However powerful Avant Heim might have been, Áka Si Anse would kill any Phantasma, and the E-bomb would kill any Old Deus. There was no victory to be had for Artosh in a preemptive attack.
—Was what the Union had been led to believe , but that wasn’t reality. Artosh’s Godly Smite was of such a scale that it would trigger the collective firepower of every faction . So the result—both for Camp Artosh and the Union—would be mutual destruction. In the end, Artosh’s forces were unlikely to win by attacking preemptively. At the outside, ten years—before the War went into sudden death.
Ten years. Yes, ten years. One hundred and seventy-nine ghosts had staked everything, thrown away everything but their lives—and he had lost Schwi—to gain, at most, a deadlock of just ten years. That was when Riku could have sworn he heard a voice.
— Ten years of peace. Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that pretty good?
“……”
— Mere humans managing to arrest the war of gods for ten years?
“……”
— That’s plenty. It’s more than enough. It’s an amazing feat.
Don’t you think that’s worthy of being called vic—
“—…Are you messing with me?”
Was this someone’s voice or the excuses in his heart? Riku didn’t care. He howled as if intent on ripping open his throat:
“Humans waged everything! I lost Schwi! Just ten years of some temporary sham peace is worthy of being called victory?! And what then ?! We’ll be back to the world of cowering in fear of death! Are you dreaming, asshole?!! That’s not even a goddamn draw! What makes you think the scales are anywhere close to even?”
……
Silence was the sole reply, and the boy Riku’d seen up until a moment ago was gone…
“…Ha-ha, I’m really beyond hope now…”
That being the case—there was no more need to act tough. So he chuckled and acknowledged it: Yeah, it’s true. I hurt all over. Contaminated by dead spirits, my skin’s in constant agony. I can’t even remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep. Just drinking water makes my throat burn. My vision’s so cloudy, it makes me worry that if I let my guard down, I’ll go totally blind.
Yeah, it’s true. I admit it… I’ve lost—again. This life in which I’ve never won even once—I’m sick of it. I thought that if I had Schwi I’d be able to endure this world. If I could talk to Schwi, see her face, hold her hand…I could even forget this misery.
Riku recalled Schwi’s words:
…You shall not, die…you shall…live, until I…die…
Yeah, come to think of it…now that Schwi had died, couldn’t he? Just fall back into this chair, let go, and drift away…as if to sleep…yeah…
……
“—Spieler Riku.”
Just as his consciousness was fading—seemingly about to carry his soul down with it—a voice called him back. At the nostalgic—somehow mechanical—sound he’d never heard before, he turned slowly. However it had gotten in, however long it had waited…there stood a cloaked figure in shadows.
“……Who are you?”
He didn’t ask “What are you?” He didn’t have to. The thing visible through the opening in the robe spoke for itself. It was the body of a machine—not Schwi, but an Ex Machina.
“…I have no name, but you can call me as I am called: Einzig.”
Riku cautiously attempted to inquire what it wan—
“—The will of Preier Schwi is my mission.”
The Ex Machina man who’d cut him off, Einzig, extended his palm while saying this. Taking what was offered……Riku stiffened in a daze. A small, metal ring. Dirty and deformed—but unmistakably Schwi’s—
“—Spieler Riku, you have not yet lost.”
“…I…what?”
To the still-reeling Riku, Enzig the Ex Machina calmly announced:
“The Rules specified by the Spieler do not imply that tools may not be broken .”
Impulsively, Riku swung a fist to bash that face. This guy had some balls calling his wife—Schwi—a tool . Ex Machina or whatever, he didn’t give a damn, this bastard was—!! As he clenched his fist in mid-swing—the texture of the token inside it froze him. Einzig had said his mission was the will of the Preier. The ring he’d delivered to Riku spoke to that eloquently.
— Believe it. If he just believed…
“If I believe that…then Schwi’s failure doesn’t constitute a loss… Is that what you mean?”
…………Don’t mess with me. Riku turned his eyes down and fell silent. Einzig responded:
“—Message: ‘ Check …Riku…please take care, of the rest—’ —End of message.”
“…Is that all?”
“ ? Yes.”
Smirking and raising his eyes, Riku glimpsed the boy sitting in the empty chair again, mouthing: The game isn’t over yet.
“Ha-ha… Goddamn, Schwi… How can you do this to me…?”
The words came out in a cackle, as if Riku had been holding something in, and he turned his gaze to the ceiling.
Ah, you never did really understand the “heart,” Schwi. How would you admire a piece of shit like me…?
…Of all things, you’re gonna make me do this —was what Riku almost whined, but he just barely managed to swallow it. Instead, clutching the ring, he chanted the incantation he’d long since forgotten.
If it was Schwi’s will…Schwi’s wish from the “heart”… If she’d determined this was the only way to turn around their predicament—as her husband, Riku’s only choice was to have faith…even if it was painful enough to break him.
Because Schwi, in burdening him with this wish, must have hated herself even more.
For her sake, he’d do it, take what Schwi had broken and—for the finale, just one last time—lock it up tight.
, — Crnk.
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