by Mamare Touno
“—There are about 1.2 million characters registered on the Japanese Elder Tales server and about 100,000 active users.”
“Yeah? Yeah, that sounds about right.”
Just about everyone who played Elder Tales was familiar with that number.
“Since they released the expansion pack today, I assume more players were logged in than usual. I’d estimate that there were about thirty thousand users on the Japanese server. From the percentage of people on my friend list that are logged in, that’s probably a fairly accurate guess. If that’s true, it’s safe to assume that about thirty thousand Japanese users got dragged into this other world, and we still don’t know what’s going on with the American, European, or Chinese servers.”
Naotsugu nodded.
“In other words, there are at least thirty thousand people here—”
Shiroe intentionally avoided saying gamers.
“—but no government and no laws.”
3
Afterward, Naotsugu and Shiroe decided to go into town together. They’d tried to talk things through, but there was no getting around the fact that they had a fundamental lack of information. Right now, they needed all the information they could get. What had passed as common knowledge when they were just playing Elder Tales might not be true anymore.
Just to be on the safe side, Naotsugu and Shiroe formed a party. Parties were one of the Elder Tales communication functions: Teams formed to do battle together. Unlike guilds, they were temporary associations. As a party, they’d be able to check each other’s HP and see whether or not the other’s status was abnormal; if they were in the same zone, they could tell how far away the other was and in which direction.
The town of Akiba was a noncombat zone. The instant a player tried to do battle in Akiba—whether they were fighting another player or a non-player character—all the guards in the town would converge on them, and they’d be teleported straight into jail. If a player attacked a guard, they would be considered guilty of rebellion against the security forces and destroyed on the spot.
There were lots of characters in Elder Tales who weren’t players, such as the people who lived in the towns. The game system referred to them as non-player characters, but in the game itself, they were called People of the Earth. Most of them were either shopkeepers who sold a variety of wares or personnel in charge of guild registries and other service facilities, and if you talked to them, they’d give you information or quests to perform.
Since some of the formidable guards were over level 100, no player stood a chance in a fight against them. The town was also an area where monsters never appeared, so when Elder Tales was just a game, Akiba had been considered one of the safest zones in the world.
Outside the abandoned building, a wind like the beginning of summer—warm with a slight edge of moisture—was blowing across the town. There was the smell of damp earth, and the leaves and grasses rustled faintly as the wind stirred them. It all seemed so natural that Shiroe felt his awareness that this was a game begin to evaporate. The world his five senses showed him was overwhelmingly real, and the feeling that this was another world grew stronger while the idea that it might be virtual reality faded.
Rounding a bend in the alley, they emerged onto a wide four-lane road. On the corner, a smart building made of composite materials stood like a monolith. Akiba’s main intersection. Beyond it, the plaza in front of the train station. Every structure was either covered in vines or had already toppled and ceded its place to huge, ancient trees.
The place felt nothing like the high-tech, steel-and-glass Akihabara of the real world. The colorful signs and gaudy light-up decorations were broken, leaning drunkenly or snapped in two, and the buildings were supported by enormous ginkgoes and elms that had grown up right beside them.
The roads had nearly vanished under the soil, and while traces of asphalt could still be seen on the main streets, the backstreets were covered in damp earth, leaf mold, and jade-green moss, like trails in a nature park. A hybrid car, abandoned aeons ago, had rusted out, become overgrown with weeds, and now provided shelter for small animals.
Still, even in this pitiful state, Akiba was beautiful. It wasn’t a polished, stylized beauty, but the buildings were surrounded by all the shades of green there were, and even as ruins, they seemed full of life. Players and non-player characters had staked claims to the mixed-use buildings and moved in, and the temporary shops and stalls they’d set up lined the streets like stands at a bazaar in a warm southern country. This was Shiroe’s hometown, the Akiba he knew from Elder Tales, in the flesh.
Under ordinary circumstances in Elder Tales, the plaza in front of the station would have been an incredibly lively place, filled with players who were setting up stalls to sell their items to other players or killing time while they waited for companions to arrive so that they could leave for a quest or a battle.
Now, though, the atmosphere in the plaza was one of bewilderment, confusion, and muddled irritation. Even a quick glance showed that several hundred players had gathered there. Shiroe sensed eyes watching him from the ruined buildings that overlooked the plaza, from several narrow alleys—even from the elevated railroad tracks that had collapsed and were beyond use.
They’d probably gravitated here looking for help of some sort. Maybe they were hoping one of the administrators would suddenly appear in the plaza, give them a rundown of what had happened, and say, “That concludes the event. What did you think? Wasn’t it fantastic?”
Even the players who were clinging to that fragile hope seemed afraid to talk openly with people they didn’t know. Even here, out in the plaza, conversations were far more hushed than usual. The majority of the crowd was clustered in small groups here and there, casting wary glances at the people around them. Once in a while there was a sob or a yell from someone who’d reached their limit.
Although they might not have been consciously aware of it, everyone seemed to have realized that, under the circumstances, there was no telling what might happen. However, even then, no one was trying to do anything constructive, a fact that vaguely irritated Shiroe.
How long are these guys planning to just sit here doing nothing? Are they for real? …Whoa. Shiroe flinched and glanced away. He caught me looking.
The player’s eyes had seemed to be pleading for something, radiating misery. Shiroe didn’t consider himself all that delicate, but he certainly didn’t like having someone stare a hole in him with dull, leaden eyes.
…And besides. It’s irritating. The player crouched there, pleading. Complaining without trying to do a thing for himself. Not that he’d expected otherwise, but having several hundred players here like this—shoulders limp, heads drooping—was bound to be bad for mental health.
Shiroe himself was only able to do what he was doing because he’d gotten through the first rush of anguish before he had time to really feel it and because talking with Naotsugu had calmed him down. He was well aware that there wasn’t that much of a difference between him and the players who were just sitting here waiting for help.
That knowledge only amplified the irritation.
“Shiroe? Shiro, kiddo!” The voice belonged to a woman. Her call hadn’t been all that loud, but in the sunken, gloomy mood of the crowded square, her bright, bell-like voice stood out sharply. Shiroe whipped around as if he’d been stung, searching for the voice’s owner.
“Mari, Mari. Not so loud. Y-y-you’ll stand out.”
Shiroe tugged at Marielle’s arm.
“Standin’ out can’t be worse than blendin’ in with all these funeral goers.”
Marielle—a female player nicknamed Mari—kept talking, paying no heed to Shiroe.
“Perfect timin’. I was lookin’ for you, kiddo.”
“…You were? Um. Why?”
“Whoa. Check out the babe. Shiro, where’ve you been hiding this one, you panties perv?!”
“Naotsugu, forget the panties for now, all right?”
They were
headed away from the plaza toward an alley where they’d be a bit more sheltered from prying eyes. Not that they were planning to do anything shady; it was just hard to stomach the atmosphere in the plaza. Add the fact that Marielle was even more well-known than Shiroe, and being careful of their surroundings seemed like a good idea.
“Draggin’ me into an alley like this… You’re growin’ up, kiddo.”
“I have no intention whatsoever of doing anything like that.”
“…Aw. You got yourself a girlfriend, huh? Sniffle, sob.”
“That’s not it, either. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Oh, and this is Naotsugu.”
“This is definitely Naotsugu. I’m Shiroe’s friend… And you, miss?”
“I’m Marielle. Call me Mari or Sis. Wow! Naotsugu, hon, you sure look sharp! Are you two a stage act?”
Marielle was giggling. Shiroe gave her a hard look, trying to figure out what she’d actually meant, but he couldn’t see anything like malice in her beaming face. He was forced to conclude that she’d been serious, which left him with absolutely no idea how to respond.
Marielle, who even in this ghastly situation was somehow managing to turn her smile on both of them, was a Cleric. There were twelve classes in Elder Tales, and all players had to choose one before starting on their adventures. Cleric was one of the three Recovery classes, and it had the greatest curative powers.
Healers had high survival abilities but low attack power. They were in their element when adventuring with a party, and conversely, they weren’t good at acting alone. Since the principle of the Recovery classes was to help others, they tended to attract shy, quiet people. Marielle was the exception to the rule.
A white healer’s robe and long, wavy green hair. Elves tended to have attractive, regular features; this had been true before, too, when Elder Tales was a game. Of course, in the game world, everyone was good-looking, but even then, for some reason, certain men and women were more popular with other players than most. Elder Tales’s voice chat function had made this even more apparent than normal, and Marielle’s cheery Kansai dialect and her eagerness to help out had made her a widely recognized player. Her popularity was based on her unreserved candidness, and it was closer to that of a school idol than a girl who attracted guys right and left.
Marielle had no feminine clinginess about her, and both guys and girls adored her. Unlike Shiroe, who had acquired his many acquaintances as a natural consequence of his long gaming career, Mari was good at looking out for people and had lots of friends in the truest sense of the word. As the leader of the Crescent Moon League guild, she looked after several dozen companions, and since she was constantly holding feasts in the taverns of Akiba, she had a reputation as one of the best sources of information in Elder Tales.
“You look like you’ve been thinkin’ too hard about mean stuff, kiddo.”
“…Well, um…”
Shiroe wondered a bit uneasily whether his face really did look that sour. Under the circumstances, expressions were bound to be rather grim, but he was more worried about the phenomenon he’d noticed after the incident occurred: the one where physical characteristics from the real world were reflected in this one.
In the real world, people said Shiroe had mean eyes, and he had a bit of a complex about that. It was one of the reasons he was still waffling about making the switch from glasses to contacts. He was afraid it would make his eyes seem even more hostile.
Now that Elder Tales had become another reality, being told that he looked like he’d been “thinkin’ too hard about mean stuff” flustered him. It made him feel as though people had found out about his real-life mean eyes.
But even Mari doesn’t look quite…
He snuck a glance at Marielle, looking for changes. Her face clearly wasn’t a typical forest elf’s face.
“Well, I do sympathize. Even I feel like looking gloomy. Today’s been much too much, if you ask me. I think I might go bonkers if I quit jokin’ around.”
Bright hazel eyes. Her elfin face, which should have looked aristocratic, now had eyebrows that were a bit on the thick side and a smiling mouth that was a little too big. Even that was enough to make it seem warm, friendly, and much more like Marielle. Shiroe had never met Marielle in person, but he could tell with startling clarity that this was her.
“What’s with that look, hm? …Aha. You’re thinkin’, But she’s always like this, aren’tcha!”
Marielle poked Shiroe’s forehead with a finger.
“Normally, I joke around because I like it. What I’m doin’ now is active escapism. This is just insane, y’know. I have no idea what to do.”
“Shiro. Is this lady always like this?”
“Mm-hm. Always. Exactly like this.”
“…And this is what she’s like when she’s faking it.”
“Apparently. I can’t tell the difference, either.”
Naotsugu had been caught off guard by Marielle’s words, but he seemed to have slowly come to grips with the idea that this was just who she was. Noticing his discomfort, Marielle laughed. When Shiroe and Naotsugu looked at her, though, her laugh faltered. She gave a small sigh.
“…Well. Right… This really does beat all, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does. Should we trade information?”
“Probably we should. Now, where to start…? Ah, no, wait. It’s better to be careful, isn’t it? Let’s go back to my place. You okay with that, Naotsugu?”
Marielle was inviting them back to her guildhall. Agreeing that it would be easier to relax once they were there, the three detoured around Fleig’s Tavern and made for the guild center.
Every town had guild centers. In many cases, they were big multipurpose buildings, which housed several different facilities, and in Akiba, the building itself was set up as a zone. Several non-player characters were busily working away in the entry hall. They were guildhall employees, and they could carry out the procedures for establishing a guild if spoken to. They were also tasked with registering nonaffiliated players to guilds and with handling the paperwork for players leaving their guilds.
The building held a bank branch as well. All players had accounts at this in-game bank, which could be used to store money and valuables. Renting out guildhalls was another important role the guild center played. Guildhalls were independent midsized zones, with combined office and living spaces that ranged in size from three to ten rooms.
In Elder Tales, some zones were available for purchase and could be bought by individual players. Since anyone who purchased a zone could change the settings for that zone—restricting access so that only specified players were allowed to enter or leave, for example—many players bought small or midsized zones to use as residences. Although it was called “purchasing,” any player who wanted to buy a zone had to pay an additional one–five hundredth of the initial lump sum every month as a maintenance fee. For that reason, it wasn’t a practical proposition for any player who wasn’t fairly well off.
The concept behind guildhalls was similar: They were dedicated zones that could be purchased by guilds, and it was standard for guilds that were above a certain size to have a guildhall in the guild center. These halls could be used to store trophies and materials won in monster battles and items manufactured by the guild and as a meeting place for guild members.
No exception to the rule, the Crescent Moon League had a space in the guild center.
Shiroe and Naotsugu went up a wide staircase to the guild center’s second floor. After registering as guests in front of a big set of double doors, they entered the Crescent Moon League’s guildhall.
Inside, the guildhall had the standard shabby-office look of all the rented guildhalls in the Akiba guild center. Technically, it was only the flooring and wallpaper that made them seem “standard.” Players who purchased or rented zones were free to decorate them any way they liked. The members of the Crescent Moon League kept their guildhall spick-and-span, and they’d refurbished it to make it more com
fortable. The walls had wood paneling added, and it gave the place a warm, homey feel.
“See? We won’t be bothered here,” Marielle said and led them deeper into the guild.
4
“C’mon in. Go ahead, sit anywhere. You, too, hon. Just pick a spot.”
In a room deep inside the guildhall, Marielle threw herself onto a sofa that was buried in fluffy pink cushions and gestured for Shiroe and Naotsugu to sit.
“This is a pretty estrogen-heavy room.”
“Sure is. After all, I’m the guild master. The leader’s room should exude the leader’s dignity.”
Pink cushions. Teddy bears. A canopy bed. A tapestry with a picture of an enormous dog with its chest puffed out in a self-important way. Curtains edged with beige lace. The room looked pretty undignified to Shiroe, and he was finding it hard to relax. The room would have been nothing if he’d seen it on a game screen, but now that he was actually inside, the atmosphere was overpowering.
Part of what made it so uncomfortable was that it felt like someone else’s personal space. The fact that it belonged to free and easy Marielle softened the edges a bit, but if this had been a lady’s private room, he would have been getting ready to beat a retreat.
This was Shiroe’s first visit to the guildhall, but he thought the place was probably pretty expensive. This whole room—which, although a bit too frilly, was fairly spacious—was reserved for the guild master’s use, and the hall held another five or six workrooms and storage rooms.
I’d say… forty thousand gold coins for the initial cost and eighty for the monthly maintenance fee, he estimated.
“How do things look on your end, Mari?”
Marielle must have checked ahead of time because she answered without hesitation.
“There were nineteen of us online, includin’ yours truly. Eighteen of us are in Akiba. They’re all feelin’ a bit lost and lonesome, so most of ’em are here at the hall… Oh, don’t worry. They won’t hear us unless we start yellin’.”
