Log Horizon, Vol. 1 (light novel)

by Mamare Touno

  Naotsugu’s voice was steady, and Shiroe felt the strength start to return to his knees.

  Breathing normal, sense of balance okay… I’m calm. I can do this. I thought something like this might happen someday. We’d have had to do this eventually, he told himself.

  He was ready to fight. Still, if possible, he wanted to drag the conversation out a little longer.

  “Naotsugu hates PKs, you see… As far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t mind paying you, as long as it’s just this once.”

  At Shiroe’s words, the men smirked. Still smirking, they took half a step forward, making the ugly threat glaringly obvious. Even though he knew what was going on, the pressure was so great that Shiroe wanted to look away.

  …In other words, they’re underestimating me. They think I’ll pay up if they threaten me.

  He felt himself splitting into two Shiroes: one whose legs were about to give out on him and one whose mind was oddly clear. At the same time, he felt a hot pulse begin near his ears. It was a sensation he’d felt many times during his Debauchery Tea Party days.

  Shiroe wasn’t good with Akatsuki, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like her.

  Shiroe didn’t like fighting, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at it.

  “…Unfortunately, though, I don’t want to pay you jerks.”

  “Attaboy, Shiro.”

  Maybe they hadn’t expected Shiroe and Naotsugu’s interchange, or maybe it had irritated them. Either way, the bandits’ faces flushed red. Spitting curses, they all drew their weapons at once.

  The “Battle” icon had been blinking ever since the surprise attack, and its border was so red it seemed to stain his eyelids. Shiroe took half a step back with his left foot and, praying that his voice would come out as calmly as possible, began issuing orders.

  “The first target is the left-front Warrior! Hold them back, too.”

  “We’ll handle the armor-plated Warrior! You go put down the magic user!!”

  The bandit leader’s yell came at almost the same time as Shiroe’s tactical instructions.

  Naotsugu took one sharp step in and swung his phosphorescent shield at the Warrior in front of him. The man held a katana, which meant he was probably a Samurai. The long-haired thief that the bandit leader’s orders had singled out slipped past Naotsugu and lunged for Shiroe, but it was just one of the moves Shiroe had anticipated, and in the next instant, the man had been hit by one of Shiroe’s spells.

  Astral Bind was a movement restriction spell, like the one that had trapped Naotsugu earlier. Magic users had problematic Defense, so when they adventured alone, one of their basic combat tactics was to use this sort of spell to slow down monsters, then finish them off from a distance with attack spells. Although the details differed, the three magic-user classes used spells with the same fundamental properties. It was a basic spell that simply restricted movement.

  That said, restricting movement was all it did.

  The long-haired bandit did an about-face. Then, seeming resigned to the situation, he joined the attack on Naotsugu, brandishing a knife so big it was practically a small sword. The movement restriction spell only prevented long-distance movement; it didn’t paralyze the target. It was a little like tying a dog to a telephone pole with a chain several meters long, and it didn’t restrict movement within that range. It wouldn’t even last very long.

  “Switch! You do it!”

  “I’m on it!”

  Lit by sparks from the clashing swords, the bandit leader feinted nimbly and tried to get past Naotsugu. His first strategy had apparently been to join the bandit warrior in attacking Naotsugu and to have his underling kill Shiroe. As soon as he’d seen his underling was hobbled, he’d switched roles and was planning to take Shiroe out himself. He’d abandoned his previous formation and immediately reworked it to suit present conditions. The speed of the decision was admirable. The feint attack and the speed with which he turned also passed muster.

  —He can’t beat Naotsugu’s experience, though.

  “Anchor Howl!!”

  Naotsugu dropped into a crouch and gave a piercing yell. The roar, which seemed to shake the air, was a Guardian technique. The bandit leader who’d been about to slip past Naotsugu cringed back reflexively as if he’d touched a superheated prominence, then froze up with his twin swords still pointed at Naotsugu. His knees had gone watery; he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from Naotsugu, and he was dripping with a nasty sort of greasy sweat.

  The same thing was happening to the Samurai and the long-haired bandit: Their eyes were wide, and all three seemed to be choking back terror. If any of them took his eyes off Naotsugu now, he’d be killed in a single attack. That was the terror the three men who surrounded Naotsugu were struggling against.

  As a Guardian, Naotsugu’s job was to protect his companions. Guardians were commonly known as “tanks,” because they acted as shields to block enemy attacks. Still, just being durable with high HP wasn’t enough to make a good tank. Some monsters, such as goblins and orcs, were as intelligent as humans. In the world of Elder Tales, Adventurers could find themselves fighting ancient magical weapons, dark elves, or the adherents of heretical religions. It was common for enemies to avoid the tank, which was designed to take attacks, and go after the healer or magic user at the rear of the party instead.

  Since Guardians were specialized to protect their companions from countless enemies that could use all sorts of strategies, they’d never conclude that just being tough and having good HP was enough to get the job done. Anchor Howl was a special technique that made use of the Guardian’s piercing shout. Any enemy who heard this yell was rendered unable to ignore Naotsugu. The instant they tried, Naotsugu would hit them with a ferocious counterattack right when they were at their most defenseless. It was a Guardian special technique that launched an attack if an enemy let their guard down even slightly. This technique, which drew all enemy attacks to itself, was the reason Guardians were known as the toughest of the Warrior classes.

  “Tch! Ignore it! There’s three of us and one of him. He may be tough, but he ain’t that tough. We’ll get rid of this guy first!”

  Still unsettled by his terror, the bandit leader spurred on his underlings. Forced to change tactics once again, the Swashbuckler had decided to target Naotsugu. His twin blades wove like snakes, searching for a chink in Naotsugu’s Defense. He’d decided to overcome Naotsugu with the bandit Samurai, his own twin blades, and the long-haired brigand.

  It wasn’t a bad approach.

  “Dammit! You don’t scare me! Defense is the only move you’ve got!”

  The man screamed hysterically, launching a rapid series of attacks.

  “Your sword moves are never gonna break my guard!”

  Naotsugu sounded almost cheerful, and it made the bandits even more ferocious.

  As he listened to the metallic echoes of steel on steel from the rear, Shiroe quickly checked Naotsugu’s status. These player killers did have guts and good teamwork. Their continuous attacks were whittling down Naotsugu’s HP. In thirty seconds, even Naotsugu would fall.

  If they manage to keep it up for thirty seconds, that is, Shiroe thought.

  The corners of his lips curved slightly. We’re not naive enough to give them that time.

  It took 1.5 seconds flat to draw six runes with the tip of his staff. Shiroe launched the resulting crackling ball of electricity at the enemy Samurai. The sphere was a continuous attack spell known as Electrical Fuzz. It didn’t do much damage, but it would zap the enemy with sporadic electric shocks for ten to twenty seconds.

  “Hah! What’re you, an Enchanter? What’s with this wussy spell?! You couldn’t kill a dog with that damage!!”

  The Samurai who’d taken Shiroe’s attack did look a bit annoyed, but he snorted, laughing off the spell. The tennis ball–sized lightning sphere that was following him around did make quite a racket, but for the most part it only gave off beautiful, crackling light, and it caused no pain to speak
of.

  Overall, Enchanter attack spells tended not to cause much damage, and continuous spells like this one spread that slight damage out over the length of the spell. In terms of total damage, it did outperform Mind Bolt, but the damage per second was far lower. The fact that the sensation was more itchy than painful showed how low the damage really was. As far as the Samurai was concerned, it was no more than a nuisance.

  “Weak” is right… But even so.

  Shiroe had heard taunts like that many times before. He was well aware of the properties of his spells. Instead of responding to the taunt, he launched two more Electrical Fuzz spells, hitting the leader and the long-haired bandit. The two Weapon Attack classes had slightly lower HP than the Warrior Samurai, but as before, the spell and its paltry damage didn’t faze either of them.

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha! What are you trying to pull back there? Or what, are you some newbie that’s been trailing this big guy around?!”

  The three PKs redoubled their attacks on Naotsugu, and the orbiting spells shone like power lines that showered pale sparks or like grotesque fireworks that lit up the night.

  …All right. Let’s take one down.

  The bandits’ anger. Their carelessness. Their scorn. Shiroe took all these things in as information, condensing them in one breath. Then, with flawless timing, he took two steps forward. He swung his staff sharply, chanting a spell aloud, and called up a shortcut. The two-second chant generated a Sewn-Bind Hostage spell. Shining sapphire rings flew at the Samurai, wrapping around him like five brambles.

  “What the heck?! Gkh!”

  Naotsugu swung his sword as if to destroy the brambles, and a light like a burst flashbulb lit up the darkness. At the shock wave, the Samurai screamed and reflexively cringed back.

  Sewn-Bind Hostage was an attack spell that Shiroe used regularly. Unlike single-shot attack spells and range-scorching spells, the activation conditions were complex, and the spell had to be “set” on the targeted opponent beforehand. Once the shining bramble restraints had been set, when the magic user’s companion hit the target with a physical attack, the attack gained an additional one thousand damage points. The number of brambles and the amount of damage varied by spell rank, but Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage was a secret-class spell. Even if the player was a Warrior, if all five brambles burst, that alone would be enough to wipe out half their HP.

  “Calm down! It’s a damn set spell. Get rid of it, healer!! Concentrate your recovery on the Samurai! We’ve got double their numbers! We can’t lose!!”

  Unlike the Samurai, who’d actually taken damage and was panicking, the leader’s voice was still fairly calm.

  Healers in Elder Tales were fairly powerful entities. A single healer with decent skills was able to use recovery spells that could nearly cancel out the damage from an enemy on the same level as the player or from several players. Even if Shiroe’s Sewn-Bind Hostage was powerful, as long as the recovery spell continued uninterrupted, the Samurai had nothing to worry about. The leader of this PK group had strategies that could handle even a Sorcerer’s powerful attack spells, let alone an Enchanter’s puny ones. His confidence wasn’t empty bravado.

  Naotsugu’s sword flashed. Each strike triggered the bramble trap and sent a shock wave of damage through the Samurai. The Samurai was trying to pull himself together, but each time he got a better grip on his katana, the slashes and shock waves from both sides made a mockery of his efforts.

  “Hah! So what?! Your flank’s wide open!”

  The long-haired bandit jammed his huge knife—a type of woodsman’s knife—into Naotsugu’s right side. Naotsugu had just hit the end of a sword swing; he wasn’t able to completely dodge the blow and was wounded through a chink in his armor.

  “Looks like havin’ a healer is gonna win us the battle! That’s what you get for underestimating us, dweebs! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Go have a good cry over it at the temple!”

  Reinforced with Shiroe’s weapon-strengthening spell, Naotsugu’s attacks had been more than sharp enough for the Warrior, and Shiroe’s secret-level spell had caused great damage for an Enchanter. Even so, though, recovery performed by a healer on their level was a formidable defense, and they stood very little chance of breaking through it. The leader’s roar of laughter was backed by this confidence.

  “You have a good grasp of the situation, yes.”

  “Yeah. If your healer’s doing his job!!”

  Like lightning, Naotsugu dropped into a crouch so deep it was as if he’d lost half his height, then slashed right through the Samurai’s knees. The attack was like one clean sweep of a giant praying mantis’s arm, and still upright, the Samurai dropped like a stone. It was an oddly quiet end: no soaring, limp body, no gouts of blood. At the sudden change in the Samurai, who’d been ferociously attacking with his katana just a moment ago, the leader abruptly stopped laughing.

  “—Wh-what?! What did you do?!”

  The leader was ranting.

  “Is it paralysis? Hey, healer!! What are you doing?! Hurry up and heal him!!”

  Naotsugu took a one-handed swing at the leader, putting all his strength behind it.

  “Shut up, dude. It’s a beautiful night. Quit polluting it with bad two-bit punk lines!”

  “Wha—?! Wha—?!”

  That took less time than I thought it would—full marks for professionalism.

  Shiroe shot a glance into the trees in the garden on his right. From the road, flooded as it was with blue-white light from multiple spells, the darkness of the thickly wooded garden was completely impenetrable.

  However, Shiroe knew he had a companion somewhere in that darkness.

  “Dammit! Enough already! Hey, Sorceror! Summoner! It’s time for a full-on war! Incinerate this guy!”

  The bandit leader seemed to have finally decided to play the trump card he’d been hiding and call in his reserves.

  So he had two magic users. He’s right: With two more members, they could still kill us by inches, even now. They’ve taken damage, but it was just one Samurai. There are two of us and five of them. They’ve got more than twice our power. “We can’t possibly lose,” hm?

  Shiroe could guess what the leader was thinking. However, even the fact that he’d had reserve troops waiting wasn’t a surprise to Shiroe.

  They hit Naotsugu with a binding movement prevention spell, but the only members who showed themselves were a Warrior, two brigands, and a healer. No magic users. He tipped his hand right there.

  To Shiroe, it had been obvious from the beginning that the PK group had at least one magic user, and he’d incorporated the fact that they’d be waiting in ambush in the thickly wooded garden on his right into his plan.

  They left magic users, with low HP and thin armor, on their own, unguarded. That means…

  “C’mon, hurry up! Get this guy!!”

  The bandit leader screamed, but he was backing away as he did so. Although he pointed at Naotsugu with the sword he held in his right hand, the point of the sword was more than a meter away from Naotsugu. Shiroe and Naotsugu’s fighting methods and the sheer uncanniness of the situation seemed to have drained his morale.

  “It looks like we win.”

  “Correct, my liege.”

  A small shadow welled up from between the trees. Akatsuki, wearing her usual too-serious expression, flung the two magic users she’d been dragging onto the road. The sight of a beautiful, slight, black-haired girl who couldn’t have been 150 centimeters tall tossing his companions around like sacks of garbage completely boggled the bandit leader.

  “Wha— Wha—?! What are you two doing?! Wh-why didn’t you report in?! Huh— Healer!! I told you a million times to keep track of our HP! You little—Did you sell us out…?”

  “This is exactly what makes you so lame.”

  The bandit’s words seemed to have been the last straw for Naotsugu: He swung at him with the shield on his left arm. The Swashbuckler staggered at the sudden attack and sat down with a thump in the middle of the road.


  “You should trust your companions, at least. Your healer is just sleeping. He’s been asleep since the beginning of the battle.”

  Shiroe’s merciless declaration echoed over the road.

  Astral Hypno was the Enchanter’s ultimate binding spell, one that supported him and simultaneously strengthened his allies. The very existence of anything targeted with this suspension spell was plunged into deep slumber. Its effect didn’t last long. Even extended, it lasted a mere dozen seconds. Not only that, but if the target was attacked, the spell would be broken instantly. In a sense, it was a fool’s spell, useful only for buying time.

  Fundamentally, battles were contests in which each party tried to steal the other’s ability to fight. To put it bluntly, the goal was to kill each other. Just putting the enemy to sleep could never be enough to win a battle. It was a spell that didn’t directly contribute to ending the fight.

  Enchanters were considered to be a cut below for that very reason.

  “Don’t make fun of my liege’s spells.”

  “—!”

  While they’d been distracted, silence had returned to the road. The balls of electricity had been sparking up until a few seconds ago, but the effect time had run out for all of them and they’d vanished. In the road were the two brigands, whose legs had given out; one healer, fast asleep; and Shiroe, Naotsugu, and Akatsuki, looking down at them.

  “I hear you made fun of the electrical fireworks because they didn’t do any damage. If your field of vision was full of bright, sparking things, you’d never be able to see into the darkness of the forest. You didn’t even notice that the healer who was supposed to be supporting you from the background was asleep. Your teamwork is full of holes. You were so absorbed in fighting that you forgot to keep track of your HP or check your companions’ statuses. It made it easy to assassinate your reserves.”

  Naotsugu raised his longsword, as if he couldn’t wait for Akatsuki to finish speaking. One swing and the long-haired bandit, who’d lost all will to fight, died with a piercing shriek.