by Mamare Touno
“These guys are tough to fight.”
“Naotsugu, a little farther forward! Miss Mari!”
“Gotcha! Reactive Heal!”
As Shiroe pushed the front line up, he desperately scanned the surrounding situation.
It wasn’t that the monsters’ individual combat abilities were high. Monsters that appeared in proper raid zones were Raid-rank monsters. About 70 percent of the monsters that showed up in this zone were Party rank. Even if their levels were high, if they used concentrated attacks and teamwork that made use of their class characteristics, the individual monsters were easy to destroy.
The problem lay in the structure of this zone and the continuous reinforcements.
As a player town, Shibuya had been an open field area. Spain-zaka Slope was complicated, but the road was more than five meters wide in most places, and there had been plenty of room to form ranks or execute team plays. However, this ancient ruin, which was said to have been a broadcasting station in the old world, was an interior zone. Its corridors were complex, mazelike, and barely three meters wide, with lots of corners and bad visibility.
The high-carbon steel doors, which showed no signs of deterioration, all looked the same. If they weren’t careful, there was a danger that they’d lose track of which way was forward and which way was back.
And from the depths of that labyrinth, an inexhaustible supply of monsters welled up, like some sort of waste product. There were Ogres and Minotaur Warriors, but the majority were Eternal Moths and Moon Rabbits.
Having to check every single door put stress on the speed of their progress as well.
Fortress of the Call had many large rooms. The spaces were high-ceilinged and empty, but they weren’t linked to the ends of corridors or to corners. They were on the other side of identical-looking steel doors. For the most part, they didn’t have monsters lurking in them, but the walls of the rooms were often densely covered with Moon Rabbits in translucent eggs and with cocoons wrapped in white thread.
When they got close to them, the eggs burst and the Moon Rabbits sprang at them, or the Eternal Moths hatched. If they left them alone, it was possible they’d close in on Shiroe’s capture unit from the rear, intercept them, and launch a pincer attack. Even if that didn’t happen, once the sun went down, they’d probably emerge and attack Akiba. When they thought about it that way, they had no choice but to put them down.
“Six additional bunnies manifesting,” Soujirou announced.
“I’m not letting you fight all of them, Boss!” Isami called.
“Three hours and forty-five minutes remaining!”
Even as they protected their companions, a Samurai named Isami switched with Soujirou, taking over as the tank. Both belonged to the same guild, and they were used to this: She crossed with him skillfully, picking up the targets, and stepped onto the front line. It was a basic team play, meant to lighten the load. However, it shattered Shiroe.
He should have noticed that move first.
The members had used their own individual skills to cover for Shiroe’s delayed commands. Inattention, hesitation, incomplete predictions: These things were making the entire raid team less efficient.
Shiroe’s weakness was holding them back.
And even though he was aware of this, he was unable to take steps to fix it.
There were about three and a half hours left until moonrise. From what he could guess from the scenery outside, they should have enough time to explore this dungeon. Even so, there was a strange anxiety inside him, making him unsure of his decisions. This might be an unfamiliar area, but raids had their own standard moves. Even capture methods had them, so it was only natural that the zone design and the distribution of monsters would have them as well.
Shiroe had seen five types of monsters in this area. They’d probably seen all the patrolling and regularly stationed monsters by now. Even if there were additional ones in specific rooms or as midlevel bosses, he had a good grasp of the types of monsters that would appear in this zone. He was also gradually figuring out the dungeon’s structure. It was a combination of narrow, low-ceilinged corridors and vast rooms, of generic stairwells and high-steel doors. From the corridor a short while ago, he’d seen another enormous facility outside. The enemy boss was probably either in that facility or, if not there, in Fortress of the Call’s distinctive tower, where he’d initially predicted it would be.
It’s all right. There’s still time.
As if trying to convince himself of that, Shiroe ran over the current situation, then instructed the unit to head for the courtyard. They’d lost nearly half their MP. If it wasn’t going to last all the way to the end, they’d have to recover it somewhere.
Resting in the middle was a basic tactical move during raids. It shouldn’t be a bad idea. Shiroe nodded to Naotsugu, who was looking perplexed, then led the way to the courtyard, the only remaining spot of greenery.
“Ooh. Oh my. Girls wiping off the sweat of battle. That sparkling scent!”
“You get along with one another well in West Wind, don’t you?”
They finally managed to take a break in a courtyard about ten or so meters square, near the center of the dungeon. Although it was surrounded by several dozen meters of concrete ruin, the well-like space felt open and airy. It might have been a garden once: Ornamental plants and tall, broadleaf trees grew on the lawn.
“Well, Boss is strict, you see. No fighting allowed.”
“Thanks to that, every evening is a titillating ‘happening.’”
“Kurinon. Down, girl.”
Although the West Wind Brigade had kicked their legs out and collapsed, exhausted, they still seemed to have enough energy for backchat.
“Bweeeh.”
“You okay, Miss Mari?”
“Eh-heh-heh-heh. This full-dress stuff really is rough, isn’t it?”
Meanwhile, the Crescent Moon League seemed to be very worn out. Their MP was down to 20 percent. In Elder Tales, there were a relatively large number of ways to recover HP, beginning with healing spells, but MP recovery methods were extremely limited.
The most effective way was to get away from the fighting and rest. If you sat quietly or lay down, you could fully recover your MP in about two hours. That was when you had no additional help; it was possible to speed it up with appropriate food items, an Enchanter’s mana recovery special skills, or a Bard’s songs. Now, as a raid team, they’d probably be able to recover half their maximum MP by resting for thirty minutes or so.
In the days of the game, that would have meant a break of no more than a few minutes, but things didn’t work that way in this world. On top of that, it was difficult to secure a safe area in an unfamiliar raid zone. They’d been fortunate to find this open courtyard.
It was surrounded by walls on all four sides, and there were only two places that looked as if they could be used to get in or out. Apart from the Return Point near the entrance of Fortress of the Call, where Li Gan was waiting, it seemed like the safest place.
Shiroe sat down and gazed steadily at his MP display.
Like water filling a cup, the display bar lengthened. As an Enchanter, Shiroe recovered MP faster than any other class. He also had a lot of equipment with effects that emphasized recovery speed.
The other ones who recovered quickest and were surprisingly energetic were the younger group. Although they were tense, they were sitting back to back, their expressions watchful, keeping an eye on all four directions as they rested.
Soujirou, Nazuna, Naotsugu, and Captain Nyanta were speaking to tired team members and passing out drinks. They looked exactly the way they had back during the days of the Debauchery Tea Party, and it made Shiroe feel like smiling.
The Crescent Moon League group—Marielle, Henrietta, Shouryuu, and Hien—had their heads bowed, and they were breathing so roughly that their shoulders heaved. From what he heard, this was their first time on a serious raid, so that was probably only natural. Marielle in particular was a member
of the first party and had been acting as Naotsugu’s dedicated healer, so she’d been concentrating the whole time. Tetora’s plentiful combat experience had assisted the Cleric countless times, but even so, Marielle’s mental fatigue was bound to be pretty serious. It might be better to change our formation here in this courtyard, Shiroe thought. That said, it wasn’t easy to come up with alternatives. Nazuna certainly was a skilled healer, but she was too good at working with Soujirou. It had been that way since the Debauchery Tea Party.
Shiroe’s thoughts spun through a variety of expressions, toying with him. It was a little better during combat, but while he was resting, apprehension and anxiety flooded him.
He was worried about the depression in Akiba that Ains had talked about. Even though Isaac and the others had gotten them out of a tough spot, the assassins who’d attacked Maihama were harbingers of the coming deterioration of the relationship between the Holy Empire of Westlande and Eastal, the League of Free Cities. The unfathomable sense of wrongness he’d felt when he’d heard of the Spirit Theory. The post-Catastrophe world, which was cycling through endless changes. The group that called themselves Travelers, and Roe2, who should have been Shiroe’s sub-character.
The Odysseia Knights and Boreas’ Moving Temple.
There was a flood of countless conflicts, things that were too much for Shiroe to handle, but which, at the same time, he couldn’t ignore. No, that was probably self-serving, under the surface. He wasn’t that arrogant and conceited. This was a more personal problem: He didn’t feel settled regarding the decisions he’d made. He wasn’t satisfied. He thought that was all it was.
When he’d established the Round Table Council, when he’d backed Raynesia’s speech, when he’d saved Rundelhaus, and when he’d sought the gold of the Kunie, he’d made his decisions resolutely. He’d been satisfied with them, and even if those choices had resulted in losses, he would have had no regrets.
When he looked back, he wasn’t prepared now. He wasn’t satisfied enough with his choices. That was why he was afraid they would fail, and why he wasn’t able to believe in the future he’d chosen. That was all it was.
Abruptly, the light dimmed.
Several dozen Ogres plummeted down from directly above the open courtyard, blocking out the blue sky.
For a moment, Shiroe was very nearly disoriented, and as if to strike an additional blow, fissures ran up the east and west walls, and minotaurs leapt through them, sending rubble flying like an explosion.
“Enemy attack!”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a safe area?!”
“Where did they come from?”
“—They’re working together—”
“Wait, not yet, I’m not—”
“Eeeeeeeeek, not good! This ain’t good!!”
It was a bolt from the blue.
Powerful monsters had attacked their safe zone. On top of that, they hadn’t done it through the doors they’d been watching, but from other angles.
“These guys are Raid rank!”
“I’ll take the right! Go ahead and take the left, Mr. Naotsugu!”
The two tanks split, heading right and left. However, the healers weren’t able to follow them. Marielle had been in the middle of changing equipment and was caught off guard, so she got a late start, and Nazuna and Soujirou had been a good distance apart. To fill the gaps, Minori and Serara cast spells in rapid succession with all their might, but the courtyard was instantly filled with confused fighting.
Their ranks had completely disintegrated.
And once again, it was individuals’ skills that were trying desperately to keep them afloat.
“So they’re not gonna let us rest, huh?”
“Raids are always like this, aren’t they?”
The group from D.D.D. had the most raid experience of any of the members. They managed to regain their poise before anyone else, then sprang into action, beginning to build battle lines. The Monk Richou was in the lead, and Kushiyatama, a vanguard-type Kannagi, followed.
“Well, this warrior has been prepared since the moment he heard he’d be with you, Miz Buzzkill.”
“You wouldn’t be thinking of me as a plague god, would you? You’ll make me cry. And I’m absolutely going to make you cry for that ‘this warrior’ nonsense later!”
“I’m going, too!”
“I’ll cover you. Dread Weapon!”
They carved their way through the enemy forces with ferocious speed, bantering the whole time. Koen the Assassin, Yuzuko the Summoner, and Riezé the Sorcerer followed.
“Rrraaaaaaargh!”
The Ogres bore down on them, bellowing.
They were a type of giant, and they had enormous heads and thick limbs. They were only about three meters tall, but they probably weighed close to a ton. Their jaws were as sturdy and powerful as construction machinery, and although the teeth that lined them weren’t sharp, they looked like something out of a nightmare.
Richou was a big guy, and his fists detonated on the arm of a giant Ogre that was easily taller than he was. It staggered, and Koen grabbed the opportunity to dash in. Yuzuko’s Salamander breathed fire on it, finishing it off.
The balance of their five classes wasn’t bad. They had one tank, one healer, one close-combat fighter, and two long-range magic attack types. In fact, as Shiroe watched, the five from D.D.D. put down close to ten monsters.
All in all, this was an intrinsically bad move.
A twenty-four-member raid was composed of four parties, numbered One through Four. Each of these four parties was composed of six members and had been calculated to fulfill its own function. What happened when five members abruptly dropped out of those four parties? The balance of the remaining nineteen fighters broke down.
If this had been a full group from D.D.D., that probably wouldn’t have happened. Their training almost certainly covered recombining team members in unexpected situations like this. However, this was a patchwork team put together specifically to capture Fortress of the Call.
“Yeep!”
“Serara!”
Serara had turned around, eyes wide, and had instantly frozen. Nyanta shielded her.
Hien had attracted a monster’s aggro with Assassinate, and he retreated. Eternal Moths flew in through that slight gap in the ranks and scattered golden scales around. They were inhibiting magic. Like a pitch-black river of terror, Minotaur Warriors poured in.
In order to rebuild the confused battle lines, Naotsugu yelled out Front Line. For the moment, he was trying to draw the frontline enemies to himself. When he’d made that decision, he’d been prepared to die. To save Naotsugu, Shiroe broke off Force Step, but he couldn’t think of the next move. Tetora was comparatively calm. Raising Resonant Jewel Rod, the idol began to chant Aurora Heal. Even in the midst of this lethal melee, the powerful overall recovery spell would probably prolong all their companions’ lives by ten seconds or so. They just had to use that leeway to put together a scheme that would let them turn the tables. Right now, that was the calmest, most strategic idea.
However, as Tetora looked around in order to set the center of Aurora Heal, the ground split wide open.
As if mocking Shiroe’s and the others’ efforts, a plant monster with enormous tentacle-shaped vines appeared, sending the soil in the courtyard flying.
“New enemy! Venom Hydrangea!!”
A level-93 Raid-rank enemy.
Its tangled shape was actually multiple individuals. A handful of vanguards wouldn’t be able to provide enough support.
The ground cracked as if it were boiling, pushing out rubble that was taller than they were, opening the jaws of the abyss.
“Ah—yeeeeek?!”
“Noooooo!”
Tetora gave a cute little scream and was on the verge of being swallowed derriere-first when Marielle shoved the idol out of the way. The idol gazed at Marielle with round, wide eyes. Marielle was a beginner at raids, and she’d just tried to save Tetora, a seasoned veteran. It was point
less, of course. After shoving the other Cleric away, Marielle got caught up in the collapse, and Tetora was run through by the Venom Hydrangea’s purple spear-roots. The raid team was on the brink of annihilation.
Nevertheless, in the midst of that, Marielle had shown good will.
“It’s no good! My Four Quarters Prayer won’t last a moment!”
Everywhere, the battle lines were tearing like paper.
The emergency recovery spell barrier that Minori had chanted couldn’t hold back ferocious attacks of this rank. The sound of shattering glass signaled its destruction.
Shiroe, who was stopping several monsters with Astral Hypno, felt his back freeze immediately. This was as futile as throwing water on hot stones. Nyanta, Marielle, Touya, Olive, Koen—they all turned into rainbow-colored bubbles of light and burst.
“Three lost! Five dead!”
Beyond the dust clouds, he heard a voice scream.
Shiroe’s error had caused this tragedy.
Carelessness in assuming this place was safe. Reluctance to give up, insisting they could regroup. Both had increased the damage.
The capture team was already almost beyond saving. The well-shaped courtyard that should have been a sanctuary was like the inside of a blender, filled with rampaging monsters. Was it a trap? The thoughts just circled around and around inside his head, and he wasn’t able to respond intelligently.
“Mr. Shiro!”
“Shiroe, we can’t hold out any longer!”
As if the urgent voices had kicked him in the back, Shiroe bit his lip. His body was so cold that it might already have been in the land of the dead, and his heart was as heavy as if it had been frozen.
“—Retreat! Flip Gate!!”
Enveloped in a severing light, with half its forces lost, the Fortress of the Call capture team retreated.
The ruined courtyard echoed with the victory cries of monsters from another world.
6
A dizzy sensation dragged on.
It was the disorientation that always accompanied teleportation. The vague sensation of movement felt during Call of Home or when being sent to the Temple.
