Game’s End Part 1

by Mamare Touno

  A notification from his friend list made this clear whenever a call came in, but Minori always began her telechats this way. It was probably her well-mannered nature showing through. It was completely different from the energetic way Touya started his conversations: “Hey, mister, it’s me!”

  “Good evening. Have you finished training over there?”

  “Yes!”

  Minori’s voice was cheerful, although her reports had been gloomy for the past few days. Shiroe guessed that they must have gotten over a wall.

  Minori and the others were at a training camp, attempting to explore a dungeon for beginners. That said, in this case, “for beginners” didn’t mean “easy to conquer.” Quite the opposite, in fact: It was a difficult dungeon that gave beginners a rough welcome.

  In other words, it meant that all the obstacles beginners needed to overcome were crammed into one place.

  Corridors that intersected in three dimensions. Rooms that could be looked down into. Open stairwells. Monsters that appeared regularly in patrolling groups. Nearly inexhaustible hordes of undead.

  This was a strong citadel, and it thwarted brute-force captures that relied on class abilities. In particular, since undead monsters welled up endlessly due to malicious underground energy, if players broke through without thinking first, they’d probably be tormented by infinite enemy reinforcements.

  “Did you make any progress on your capture?”

  “Yes! I’ll report it now. During today’s invasion, we went in at seven thirty in the morning. We spent about seven hours exploring, then withdrew at fifteen hundred. During that time, we went to the end of the right-hand corridor route and vanquished a Burning Dead in the smelting furnace!”

  “Whoa, that’s amazing!”

  If Shiroe’s memory served him right, the levels of Burning Dead varied between 23 and 25. That was about the same as the average level of Minori’s group. Defeating a monster that was almost on their level—with five people, no less—would have been one thing in the former Elder Tales, but in the current setup, it wouldn’t be easy even for a veteran party.

  Compatibility with the enemy monster had probably come into it, too, but he thought they must have fought extremely well. Considering how depressed she’d sounded up until the other day, it had to have been a brilliant achievement.

  “Yes, sir!”

  He could understand the cheer in Minori’s voice now: It was a huge victory.

  Even though she’d sounded so discouraged the day before yesterday.

  Shiroe felt something warm fill his heart.

  Since yesterday, he’d felt emotionally cornered. The ominous premonition within the Spirit Theory. The creepiness he’d sensed in the history of this world, a feeling even he couldn’t explain. These had become a pressure he couldn’t talk about, and it sat heavily in his chest.

  It could probably have been called uneasiness. A feeling of anxiety, as if he couldn’t do anything, didn’t know anything. …And yet the situation was being swept along with irresistible force. Shiroe had been fighting that premonition all alone.

  However, on hearing the voice of this young, brave companion, a Log Horizon member, he felt that darkness dispersing as though blown by a light-infused wind.

  That was the blessing of comrades.

  If he’d put it into words, it would have sounded trite, but that was what Shiroe felt.

  “How was everyone?”

  “They’re fine!”

  “Not that.”

  Shiroe asked her again, laughing a little. Minori seemed to be in very high spirits tonight. Her speech was as courteous as always, of course, but when she answered instantly in a voice this lively, in addition to giving Shiroe a bit of trouble, it made him happy.

  “Hm?”

  He could almost see Minori tilting her head to one side, politely, on the other end of the telechat.

  “How did everyone do? How did you pull off the capture?”

  “Oh, well, you see, Touya was the vanguard; he kept the enemies together and drew them to him. That was the same as before, but this time we changed our strategy. We calculated our battle locations before we started, moved between safe rooms and split the enemy into small groups.”

  That was a technique known as “pulling.” The trick to fighting back-to-back battles lay in figuring out a way to maintain the advantage of numbers. In simple terms, your chances of victory were higher if you fought one-on-one a hundred times than if you fought a hundred enemies at once.

  “We dealt with monsters that used projectile weapons first. After that, I kept an eye on the area and acted as an assistant healer. We cut down the enemy’s combat power with concentrated victories as we fought. …Um, does that make sense?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  Minori’s strategy had been correct.

  She was observing the basics Shiroe had taught her.

  However, those basics weren’t the sort of things you could carry out just by having heard them. Recovery or attack? During battles, all actions acquired a priority. Who decided the order of priority, and how? How were these decisions shared?

  He could understand why Minori would be worried that he hadn’t understood her explanation—she probably couldn’t wait to know whether what she was talking about was getting through or not.

  We defeated individual enemies while watching the area.

  Said out loud, that was all it was, but just how many detailed tricks and processes had they needed in order to make that happen? They’d have to grasp the layout of the surrounding area, and the distances at which they could provide support for each other. All members would need to know the ranges of attack spells and recovery spells by heart. They would also need to understand and train to cover for other party members whenever one of them got into trouble.

  When Minori was in trouble, Serara would provide backup.

  When Rundelhaus was in trouble, Minori would use a damage interception spell.

  When Isuzu was in trouble, Serara would cast Instant Recovery while Isuzu fell back. The teamwork of combat actions was formed by an accumulation of countless subtle team plays like these.

  Would that delicate accumulation come through in this explanation? Shiroe knew Minori’s unease stemmed from that sort of impatience as clearly as if it were his own.

  It’s all right. I know. You’re getting through. I know how trivial it is, and how important. …How many small tricks you have to accumulate in order to protect your safety and reach your goal.

  “It’s all right. You’re getting through. Everyone else played their part, too?”

  “Of course! Serara’s recovery magic is amazing, isn’t it?! She recovers HP several times faster than I can! It makes it hard to stay confident. She has lots of spell variations, too.”

  When it came to sheer recovery, a Kannagi (Minori) couldn’t compare to a Druid (Serara). Their approaches to healing allies were different, to begin with. Kannagi, Minori’s class, wasn’t a class that recovered damage. The recovery class’s unique spells intercepted damage, reducing the damage itself to zero.

  In terms of recovery performed after damage had been inflicted, Druid would win hands down.

  “As you level up, you’ll catch up in terms of spell variations.”

  “Will I? …Isuzu is really fantastic. I’m not sure whether you’d call it variations or a repertoire, but she has so many special skills it’s hard to remember them all.”

  Isuzu was a Bard, he remembered. In that case, it was no wonder her special skills had so much variation. In fact, it wouldn’t do for Minori to compare the two of them: Having a wide variety of special skills was what set Bards apart. Shiroe chuckled.

  “Touya worked hard, too. He held the enemy right on the spot, and he’s learned how to keep from using big moves… Shiroe? Oh, honestly! Are you laughing?!”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing. I mean it,” Shiroe answered, laughing a little.

  On the other end of the telechat, Minori’s voice
was also laughing a bit shyly, so it was probably okay.

  “Everyone calls Rundelhaus ‘Rudy.’ Sorcerers really are amazing, aren’t they?”

  “He’s unaffiliated, isn’t he?”

  “That’s right. He’s handsome, but…a bit silly. He’s also really stubborn and uncool but fun. He’s friends with Isuzu, and he uses incredible magic. On top of that, he won’t give an inch until he’s defeated the enemy. I think he might be the most dedicated member of our group.”

  Handsome and silly and uncool and fun and dedicated?

  What Minori had said didn’t make much sense, but somehow he understood that he must be a likable guy.

  Minori went on to report several other things. That they’d fought with Skeletons. That they’d kept them from pursuing them.

  About Touya’s brave combat. Serara’s devotion. Isuzu’s perseverance. Rundelhaus’s daring. …And just a little bit about what Minori herself had done.

  Shiroe nodded in response to everything her happy, lively voice said.

  The party members laughing at a dumb joke Touya had told, and Isuzu with the tip of her nose all black. The way Serara was head-over-heels for Nyanta, as usual. How Nyanta completely failed to notice it. How when Rundelhaus ate sandwiches, he politely used both hands, for some reason. She made him feel almost as if he’d been there in person.

  Time flies when you’re having fun.

  After reminding Minori to avoid putting her life in danger, Shiroe ended the telechat. Since Naotsugu and Nyanta were there, he thought it would be all right, but he didn’t feel like taking risks yet.

  In the quiet room, after the telechat had ended, it felt as if he could still hear Minori’s bright, happy voice.

  There was something terribly strange about this world. At this point, he couldn’t tell anyone that there were risks to dying, but he’d probably have to someday.

  Still, even so, they had to get by in this world, and when he listened to Minori’s cheerful voice, it felt as if that would be possible.

  5

  Sparks crackled and danced.

  These were the mountains at the center of Zantleaf.

  An open space cleared in the forest. It was the base camp from which Isuzu and the rest were working to capture Forest Ragranda.

  Isuzu and Rundelhaus sat by the fire.

  There had been more people up until a short while ago, but the others had all gone back to the tents in twos and threes.

  They were a week into their invasion. Today was the last day of their first expedition, and they planned to return to the group camp at the abandoned school after noon tomorrow. That meant they’d only be going into the dungeon briefly tomorrow morning.

  Isuzu and the others had gotten good at working together, and they’d sat around the fire a little earlier, drinking after-dinner Black Rose Tea with honey. As they cleaned their weapons and armor, they’d chatted with each other. The conversation had wandered, but it had been fun. Nyanta had patted Serara’s head, and Minori had stealthily made a telechat to somebody yet again.

  Isuzu had taken her lute out of her pack and strummed it. The lute was a stringed instrument from medieval Europe. It was shaped like a cross between a guitar and a Japanese biwa, and it fit perfectly in Isuzu’s too-skinny arms.

  The lute’s tones were flatter than those of a guitar, but there was something elegant about its sound, and it lent an atmosphere of supreme luxury to the camp. Apparently, lutes were a typical portable instrument in this other world. When you strummed it gently—not with a pick, but with your fingertips—the tremulous notes unique to string instruments flowed out.

  Wow… Lutes aren’t bad at all, are they…?

  She’d taken part in the conversation up until a moment ago, and that had been fun as well, but, Isuzu thought, she really did need music.

  Just strumming the strings this way filled her heart with nostalgia and yearning until it nearly overflowed.

  Isuzu liked music. She liked instruments in general.

  She was a perfectly ordinary country high school girl, and her “like” didn’t mean she had a passion for them, or that she was determined to make a living with them in the future. Conversely, though, precisely because of this, the feeling was simple and sincere.

  If she had to say one way or the other, she thought, Oh, it feels wonderful to have an instrument in my hands. I never want to stop playing. She’d felt this way since she was in elementary school.

  “You’re quite elegant, Miss Isuzu.”

  “Nn. Well, I am a Bard, technically.”

  Isuzu raised her eyes, smiling.

  Now that everyone had gone, Isuzu and Rundelhaus were the only ones left near the fire.

  She didn’t have any particular score in mind; she just strummed chords.

  Isuzu had never touched a lute before this. She seemed to remember reading an article in a music magazine that had said it was a European instrument that was the ancestor of the guitar, and that it had been used in the Middle Ages…but until she came to this world, she’d never played one. The basics are the same as a guitar or violin, though.

  At Isuzu’s house, they had a guitar and a cheap wood bass, but no violin.

  What had given her the most trouble was the fact that the lute had fifteen strings.

  Even so, in two months, she’d learned how to play chords. Single-note melodies weren’t a problem, either.

  Tin cup in hand, Rundelhaus listened quietly to this session, which couldn’t even be called a performance. His gaze didn’t make Isuzu uncomfortable, and he didn’t interrupt.

  The music was like waves that rolled in and receded, over and over.

  She hadn’t been playing with a clear song in mind in the first place, so the performance wandered here and there, meandering off on detour after detour. Pop songs Isuzu knew from the old world appeared unexpectedly, then disappeared back into the sea of chords. Classical melodies and the sort of children’s songs that were printed in textbooks surfaced, then dissolved.

  There wasn’t any real need for her to stop, but she’d reached a good place for it, so she struck a chord and rested for a bit. Seeming impressed, Rundelhaus began to clap.

  “Oh, quit. It wasn’t anything that great.”

  “No, it was good. It was as if the notes spilled out and melted into the air.”

  Isuzu thought that might have been the case, in a literal sense.

  Still, if the sound of the lute had been that pleasant, it was probably due more to the situation than to anything Isuzu herself had done.

  In a forest on a night of twinkling stars, seated by a fire, with a slightly cool mountain wind that still held the scents of summer. Under those circumstances, any instrument was bound to sound heavenly.

  Isuzu was about to say so, but Rundelhaus’s eyes held nothing but genuine admiration. It didn’t seem right to find fault with that emotion. “Thank you,” Isuzu said, briefly, and let the matter rest.

  After that, they returned to idle chitchat.

  From time to time, she strummed the lute she held in her arms, as if she was playing with it.

  The droplets of sound floated up into the night air, and it made her happy.

  “What do you usually eat, Rudy?”

  “Toasted sandwiches, or toasted sandwiches, or toasted sandwiches.”

  “So, just toasted sandwiches. Do you mean the ones with fish eggs?”

  “That’s right, Miss Isuzu.”

  These were sold from a mobile shop on the grounds of the train station in Akiba, run by a guild called Ray Parker (abbreviated on menus as RP.jr). They were a small guild, but they prominently displayed the super-popular menu item Mentaiko Toasted Sandwich, and they were making a killing with it. The secret of its popularity was probably the delicious bread they were rumored to bake six times a day.

  Isuzu liked them, too; they had items like Mentaiko Potato Salad that focused on ingredients that cost less than meat-based dishes, and they were good at business.

  “Those real
ly are good, aren’t they?”

  “Mm-hm. The way the fish eggs pop is superb.”

  For a while, they talked enthusiastically about food.

  As far as drinks went, they both liked the Black Rose Tea that was currently all the rage in Akiba.

  Crush Sherbet—made by adding a little honey and lemon juice to water, then having the spirits freeze it—was also delicious. When you wanted a bit of a feast, the breaded pork cutlets from Kitchen Buu were the best.

  Isuzu felt unusually talkative.

  She knew that she was a plain girl, and she had very few memories of ever having talked with a boy for this long.

  Was it because the boy was Rundelhaus?

  She took another look at the young man. His eyelashes were long, he was good-looking, and he had the face of an Anglo-Saxon model. In other words, he looked like a prince, and if he’d come to the country school Isuzu attended, there would have been such an uproar that it would have been impossible to hold classes for a week.

  However, even when she looked at that face, Isuzu didn’t feel the least bit romantic.

  “Hmmmm,” Isuzu murmured.

  That’s it! A golden retriever!!

  The big, smart, handsome dog that seemed linked to the English aristocracy—Rundelhaus bore a strong resemblance to that sort of canine. His intelligence, elegance, and arrogance fit, too. The way his eyes tilted down at the outer corners, the way he was really kind of dumb when you got to know him, and his friendliness toward people all matched perfectly.

  Isuzu’s mind had placed Rundelhaus solidly in the spot meant for golden retrievers.

  I see… That’s why Rudy isn’t the least bit scary.

  Isuzu loved dogs, and she thought they loved her back.

  Being with Rundelhaus felt exactly like taking care of a big dog. That was why she didn’t get nervous, Isuzu thought, and she felt oddly satisfied with the answer.

  The conversation turned to regular lodgings. Isuzu slept at her guild house, but Rundelhaus didn’t belong to a guild.

  “Fu-fuuuhn. I always stay in the royal suite on the second floor of Siden’s Tavern.”