Epilogue: Another Departure
——Outside the village of Rabbi.
Wo Wungol was sitting on a comfortably-sized rock, listening to his men report. Through his years as a bandit, he had become well-versed in the undergrounds of most nations.
“A prisoner of war in the Island Legion, huh...? Sounds about right.”
Those who lost a war and were captured were turned into slaves to be sold off. It was common practice, and nothing particular in and of itself. A demi-human in the mix, though, was another story. Especially when the group was being transported to Hellion territory, this was no ordinary transaction.
“I’ve got a friend in Euri with sticky fingers. Seems legit, Boss.”
“And how many are in tow?”
“Don’t know the exact count, but apparently it’s over 300.”
“How are they going to take that many over?”
“It looks like they’re taking a ship, Boss.”
Wo Wungol chuckled in response. Once the ship sailed, no one could tell where they were headed. No one in the Northern Nations would expect the slave ship to chart its course to Hellion territory. Wo Wungol was curious what reason was behind all of it.
“I mean, I’ve always known those bastards were up to shady crap...”
“But, Boss. Why would the Tzardom want to bring slaves to Hellion territory...? How do they expect to survive the journey to begin with?”
“Hmph. They got some sort of deal, no doubt. This is why I don’t trust any god or ‘Light’ or angel,” the bandit leader spat out.
They, at least, took pride in their lives of crime.
“Whatever. We just gotta pass this on and get our reward.”
Wo Wungol, the leader of the Mole bandit gang, stood with somewhat of an eye roll. He had become tired of this gig by now, having been half-threatened into taking it by Tahara. He was promised an absolution from Luna once the job was done.
“Absolution... My ass.”
“B-But Boss... It’s a matter of time before they’ll catch us, or we’ll starve.”
“You want me to be a slave like ol’ Fuji?”
Irritated, the bandit produced a piece of jerky from his pocket and tore into it. While a Holy Maiden was granted the authority to judge and prosecute a criminal on the spot, they were also granted the right to absolve them of their crimes. Mount Fuji, who now served Queen, was a good example of someone who was absolved of their crimes. Imagining himself as a Holy Maiden’s pet, the bandit shuddered.
“B-But, he said he’d give us more work.”
“Work, huh...”
Wo Wungol had accepted this gig because he was drawn by the prospect of this upcoming work of digging wells throughout Holylight. The bandit had scoffed at the idea at first, but after watching the major construction project begin to transform the village of Rabbi, he could no longer do so. Maybe they really would dig all of those wells...
(The Mole...)
The bandit glanced at the ground, reminiscing about an old dream that he had, to dig a well in this dried land like a mole so they could drink as much water as they wanted. His hometown was too poor to even buy any Water Spell Stones. Terrible droughts dried out their farms, causing the people of his village to drop like flies, until the village became uninhabitable. Unable to let go of his dream, he had named his gang ‘the Mole’.
“What’s wrong, Boss?”
“Nothing...”
Wo Wungol stood from the rock he was sitting on and headed to the village of Rabbi to make his report. It was no longer the desolate village he remembered, now bustling with a surprising amount of people working to transform it with a lot of sweat and hard work.
“I’ll meet you back at the base. I’ll go get our reward.”
“Yessir!”
After sending his henchman away, the bandit went to find Tahara, who was in charge of the construction. Tahara perceptively noticed Wo Wungol in no time.
“Hey, old man! How’d it go?”
“Tsk, you annoying freshman...”
The bandit winced at being called an old man. While they were bandits, he was the leader of an organization. He was relatively well known in Holylight, to the point where almost no one addressed him with such rudeness.
“Sorry I’m so young. Sure beats being a senior.”
“Young my ass... You’re not that young anymore.”
“Shut the hell up, I’m only thirty-one!”
“You’re passed thirty, you’re an old man too! Stop trying to fight it!”
The derailed, unsightly argument between the two old men ensued, until Tahara noticed the eyes of the crowd around them and urged the bandit to continue his report, annoyed.
“So, was she one of them?”
“No doubt about it. There’s a demi-human... A hawk hybrid.”
“Right on the money... It’s going to get messy.”
Tahara imagined the turbulence that was sure to follow this revelation. At the same time, he made his first move, right away.
“Here’s your pay, old man.”
“Good... Hey, this is...!”
The leather bag tossed his way was packed to the brim with silver coins, and was heavy enough to make the bandit falter. It seemed at least ten times more than the reward he was promised.
“W-Wait a minute! What’s this supposed to...?”
“I gotta go talk to Miss Luna. I don’t know what it really means, but I gotta get you absolved, or whatever.”
Tahara had decided to continue using Wo Wungol. Once he did, he acted fast. If they remained wanted criminals, it would be difficult for him to employ the gang anywhere in Holylight. Worst case scenario, they could be arrested or killed by the authorities.
“What the hell...?” the bandit muttered.
He moved the leather bag up and down as if to really measure its weight, and held it up to the sun as if to savor the reflection of the silver coins. He tried to maintain his frown, but couldn’t help cracking a smile. With all of this money, he could buy plenty of Water Spell Stones and food. He looked around the area to find many of their workers sharing his expression.
(Do these guys get paid pretty well, too...?)
Once the Northern Nations entered war season, passing both people and goods across borders would become difficult. Naturally, that meant less work for the people. On the other hand, there were more jobs once the war season ended, but being able to work in the meantime was a luxury.
“And there’s a bunch of weird-looking buildings... What the hell is happening?”
As the bandit leader pondered this and that, Luna came sprinting his way, head-on. Wo Wungol nearly fled at her intense expression.
“H-Hey... I was supposed to be absolved... You’re not going to...”
“You! Is it true!?”
Faced with Luna’s golden magic bolting through her body, the bandit sweat bullets out of every pore. He knew that, if such magic was directed at him, he would not survive it.
“A-About the demi-human? Yeah, it’s true...! Mixed in, with the slaves, in the Island Region.”
“Okay...”
The bandit answered, barely able to breathe, but even Tahara behind him was in a similar state of mind. He could have taken down Luna before she could cast a spell, but he felt that he wouldn’t get off scot-free from a direct hit of that level of magic.
“Miss Luna, I understand your eagerness here. But I can get you to do your absolution thing?”
“Right.”
Luna agreed with uncharacteristic ease. She knew that she had no time to argue. She produced a piece of paper and an elaborately decorated needle from her pocket, then turned to Wo Wungol.
“Give me your hand.”
“A-All right... Ow! Ow!”
Without hesitation, Luna stabbed the needle into Wo Wungol’s palm. Even worse, she wiggled the needle to and fro until bright red blood came pouring out.
“Gaaaaaagh! What... the hell!?”
“A punishment for the sinfu
l. Wise Angel, have mercy on this hopeless and ugly bearded ape...!”
“Graaaaaaagh!”
The bandit desperately tried to flee, but Luna’s magic engulfed him, keeping him in place. The hellish agony seemed to continue forever when Wo Wungol finally fainted, his eyes rolling into his head.
“That about does it.”
Luna, as if she were on an assembly line, pressed the bandit’s reddened hand onto the paper, leaving his handprint on it. Tahara watched the event unfold with his mouth agape.
“Uh... Is that some sort of ritual? Like, was it necessary?”
To Tahara, it seemed like some black magic. Tales of sketchy rituals using human blood, hair, or nails were common in his world, too.
“What? Oh, not really.”
“Huh?” Tahara blurted out at Luna’s matter-of-fact response. Ordinarily, absolution was performed by pricking a finger and taking the criminal’s fingerprint in blood. This version was of Luna’s invention. Tahara gazed up to the sky.
“What’s wrong with the Holy Maidens of this country...?”
“Oh? I’m much more merciful than my sister, you know? I heard Fuji had his bloodied face pressed into the paper.”
“Is that so...?”
Tahara shook his head, having heard enough. After a deep breath, Luna jumped up.
“Alright, I’m off!”
“...Uh huh.”
As Luna ran off, Tahara shot out a Communication.
Soon, Yu appeared from behind him with a curious expression.
“Are you sure?”
“Didn’t think I could stop her.”
“Still...”
“Don’t worry about it. Mister Secretary said to let her be.”
“I see. Actually, I think it will be better for us to have her involved.”
As the two advisors schemed, Luna was on course to run right out of the village when someone called her to a halt from behind. Luna turned to find the Madame with a jubilant smile and rejuvenated skin.
“What is it? Even you can’t stop me this time, Madame.”
“I wouldn’t dare, Little Luna. Why don’t you take my carriage?”
“What?”
“There’s no way you’ll make it past the Northern Nations in yours.”
Luna froze in her tracks, the revelation hitting her. If a Holy Maiden’s carriage were to pass borders without a warning, it could start rumors of war.
“But not if you blend into my caravan. While you’re at it, there are a few things I’d like you to pick up for me!”
The Madame giggled. She really didn’t have anything she wanted, but this was her way of repaying Luna while keeping face. For once, Luna seemed to pick up on the Madame’s intentions.
“Thank you, Madame... I’ll owe you.”
“Wow. A thanks from Little Luna herself? It must be my lucky day.”
“I-I thank people sometimes!” Luna shouted, beet red.
Then, numerous carriages adorning the crest of House Butterfly appeared from seemingly nowhere, all ready to depart. They formed a giant caravan akin to a battalion. Anyone in the Northern Nations would jump in joy upon seeing this caravan... It was a big wave that only came once every few years: The Buy-Out Caravan.
“Lady Luna, if you would...” The elderly butler of House Butterfly courteously escorted Luna into one of the largest carriages. The moment Luna stepped inside, the Madame saw her determined expression, and the strong, gleaming eyes of a woman ready to fulfill her dream. She couldn’t help but call out:
“Little Luna...!”
Luna stopped and turned around, curious.
“Won’t you tell me... Your dream?”
Luna looked dumbfounded for a moment before finding an answer, and shouting with a powerful voice:
“I’m going to be the princess of this world and brag to my friend about it!”
This made a brimming smile appear on the Madame’s face and she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. Let anyone laugh at them, she thought. Just like hers, Luna’s dream was grand.
“It’s a wonderful, wonderful dream, Little Luna. Take care...!”
With the Madame’s farewell encouraging her, Luna stepped into the carriage as she cheerfully waved back at her. Soon, the enormous caravan started off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
The Tzardom’s troupe, ready to transport numerous slaves; the two Star Players; Luna and the Buy-Out Caravan; and the Demon Lord with his new advisor were all gathering in one location, all as if they were drawn by something. A hellish event that would wreak catastrophic havoc in Hellion territory was about to commence...
Epitaph: Tartarus Approaching
—Japan, 2004.
Numerous players gathered at the arena, hosted by Akira, day in and day out. It was a craze. Just by logging in, players could compete with opponents all around the country, and could showcase their skills to the fullest.
Things always happened in real-time in the arena, including the News File. A single action could earn a spotlight and the praise of other players. Players were revered for killing many others, and those who acquired a hard-to-obtain skill, for example, were also picked up in the News File. The survivor of the week, in particular, would garner the applause and respect of all of the players. It couldn’t get any better — anyone could become a hero here. It is a primal human instinct to crave the attention and reassurance of others, and Akira’s game definitely fulfilled that need. The harsh environment of the arenas made it only natural that players with noteworthy performances were praised. Players forgot to sleep and eat as they dove deep into the game.
Akira only watched all of this with satisfaction, unaware of the approaching pitfall: a Tartarus. Later, he would call it a black hole. At this time, something that would inhale and swallow everything in its path was about to be born.
An incredible social networking service that sucked in the entirety of Japan’s online society... Mizi. The social network had a quiet start, but once the ignition was lit, it spread like wildfire. Friends recruited friends who recruited their friends... an endless chain. After its first year, the service hosted 200,000 then 2 million after its second year. 6 million after the third year, and 14 million after the fourth. This was truly a phenomenon. There, users could interact with all of their friends, as well as meet new people. No need to go through the hassle of creating a blog site. Everything was made easy for the user. Before this, if any individual wanted to publish any information online, they had to create a website. Now, by registering to Mizi, it was all done for them. First, the less tech-savvy women jumped on the service, and the men followed that in swarms. In the blink of an eye, individual websites decayed, blogs disappeared, and all the text-based sites could no longer be found, all swallowed up by the black hole that was Mizi.
Initially, Akira wasn’t threatened at all by it, simply ignoring it. Just a blog site, he thought. But, once the user base exploded, and Mizi began gathering numerous video games and publishing applications, Akira felt a sense of fear. The social network with such an overwhelming population reached into the realm of video games. Setting trends was a numbers game. It was clear to see that anything popularized on the site would become mainstream.
“Whoa whoa whoa...”
The popular games on there were all cuddly games, like farming, cooking in a restaurant, etc., that involved sending friends stars and hearts and such. These were casual co-op games, the polar opposite of Akira’s game.
“This isn’t good...”
That was an understatement. He could see his player base plummeting, and less and less people showing up to the arenas. Everyone was blogging, interacting with friends, and playing on cute applications on Mizi. Everyone in Japan was there, so it was only natural that people spent more and more time on it. If they were playing Akira’s game, they couldn’t be on Mizi.
“Dammit! What am I supposed to do now...!?”
Akira could not have been the only one troubled by Mizi. Those who had been making a li
ving from independent web sites or blogs were prime examples.
After two years, the entire online society of Japan was swallowed up by the Mizi monster, leaving most everything else a wasteland.
Akira’s instant messenger blinked to signal a notification. He opened it, without much emotion. As expected, it was from XX.
“See? Told you this would happen.”
“...Whatever,” Akira answered, but even his typed response seemed weak.
“What are you gonna do? Want to put your game on Mizi?”
“As if! What the hell am I supposed to do on that cuddle-fest of a platform!?”
In fact, even if Akira had ported his game, no one would have given it a second look. The SNS was a place to get along with other people. Not compete with them, let alone kill them.
“But your world’s dying out, Akira.”
“Not going to happen.”
The next day, Akira introduced a new structure. He allowed the players to form a team of up to five members and fight together. Now, there would be a surviving team of the week, rather than a single player. This was a smart move. Something that went with the times and the trends. While he gained a moderate amount of newcomers, he naturally received some harsh backlash, too. For the OG players, it only looked like he had gotten soft. The forums were in turmoil through the announcement and the implementation.
“Co-op? Who the f asked for this?”
“Who is this for?”
“Co-op sounds kind of fun, actually.”
“There’s new stuff you can do.”
“Go back to Mizi, you POS.”
“Ono’s gone soft...”
“It’s been good, but bye.”
With support and backlash clashing everywhere, the entire game was filled with tension. Eventually, the more casual players dropped out, having had enough of the continuous bickering. They were there to have fun playing a game, not fight. With Mizi’s creation, and now the civil conflict in his game, he was losing players faster than ever. Akira’s world was crumbling like a breached dam.
—New Year’s Day, 2006.
Demon Lord, Retry! Volume 3 Page 21
