by Nikita Thorn
Okamoto turned to him. “I… I can’t, Seiki.” It somehow sounded like a plea. “It’s too late.”
One of the ropes snapped, and Okamoto let out a cry as he nearly fell. Seiki tilted his weight to the left to balance the structure and reached his hand forward.
“It’s all right,” he said. “We all make mistakes. Come back with me. It’s never too late.”
Eyes wide, hands clutching tightly the flimsy rope, Okamoto hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly reached out.
“It’s a lie, Okamoto,” a cold voice interrupted him.
The young man gasped and shrank back. At the far end of the bridge was the Demonic Agent. Two thirds of his health was missing, which was where Seiki’s earlier attacks had left him, but he was still very much alive.
The demon’s voice was full of mockery. “Come back with us. That’s what they told Captain Okamoto. For someone who had saved thousands of lives, surely the Shogun would forgive him.” The demon laughed. “What awaited him though in his beloved Shinshioka? A public execution, since Shinshioka doesn’t negotiate with demons. Going against that code is punishable by death. Oh, a tragedy, for certain. Perhaps a noble sacrifice by Captain Okamoto. But do you see anything in Mani Shrine with his name on it?”
Okamoto shivered. His eyes hardened. “I’m sorry, Seiki. I can’t turn back now,” he said, and he continued to struggle across the swinging bridge toward the other side.
Seiki took a step toward the burning middle. “No, Okamoto!”
Still laughing, the Demonic Agent grabbed the approaching young man’s collar and threw him carelessly into the safety of the ledge.
“Words are empty, ronin.” The demon turned around, drew his dagger and cut at one of the main ropes. One snapped, and the right side of the bridge dropped away. Seiki slid his feet through one of the side ropes and wrapped his arm around the railing, just in time to stop his fall. The bridge wobbled dangerously under him, and the remaining ropes screeched under pressure.
The Demonic Agent raised his blade again, a smile on his lips. Okamoto, with his back turned, made no effort to stop the demon from cutting the last ropes.
With a swish, the burning bridge dropped in a free fall. Seiki held tight. Something yanked the ropes from the opposite side, and the whole bridge started swinging like a pendulum back toward the side of the cliff where its other end was attached.
Bracing himself against the hot and cold wind rushing past, and watching as the straight rocky surface rushed toward him like a speeding truck, Seiki once again wished he had some of the samurai damage-reduction abilities. Then he remembered he had one after all. Pushing as much energy as he could through his left arm in a hasty Focused Strike, the Crimsonfire Tekko warmed around his hand. Another Focused Strike completely charged it up, just as the bridge slammed into the cliff face.
Wincing, Seiki stretched out his left hand. The tip of his fingers brushed the crude surface of rocks, and a bright flame-colored shield exploded from his arm. It was almost like a houshi Ward expanding in the air around him; but unlike the soft and almost spongy cushion, this was more a sphere of glass. The shield shattered upon impact, dispersing as quickly as it had appeared, but it had completely stopped the momentum.
A second later, shuddering off the numbing vibration that had passed through his body, Seiki found himself hanging onto what remained of the bridge, dangling nearly a hundred feet above the fast-gushing stream below.
The section underneath him was burning. Bright orange flames, nearly scalding his feet, crackled as they sent out black fumes.
From the cliff above came multiple panicked cries. “Chief! Are you there?”
Seiki glanced up. The bridge now hung vertically off the cliff like a badly-woven rope ladder. He slowly pulled himself up, grabbing at the uneven wooden planks, which swayed dangerously but seemed to hold. Below him, one of the wooden planks snapped and fell off into the stream.
Relief washed over his unit’s faces as they saw him emerge, and Ojisan and Genta quickly helped him over the edge onto firm ground. “Chief, you all right?”
Seiki let out a long-held breath. The clothes under his armor were damp, either from blood or sweat, and his right hand was hot with rope burns. But now, being out of direct danger, the minor injuries were starting to fade. Taking another deep breath to calm his racing pulse, Seiki looked back at the other side of the cliff. Okamoto and the Demonic Agent were no longer there, leaving only a dim cave mouth like a black ink stain in the mountain side.
A crack sounded from beyond the cliff, followed by a splash as what was left of the bridge dropped into the stream at the bottom of the ravine. A wind lifted to scatter the smoke, and the night returned to its peaceful tranquility. The stark contrast felt chilly in comparison to what just happened.
Of the bridge, only the two wooden posts at the start still remained, lit by a single ground torch. Now that Seiki had time to study them he found that one bore carved characters that said ‘Ketsui Bridge’.
Quest completed: The Burnt Bridge [Level Unknown]. 49,810 XP gained.
The notification and the subsequent experience gain took Seiki by surprise, and he shivered as if someone had just emptied a bucket of water over him. With goose bumps all over his skin, Seiki turned back again to study the mountain Okamoto and his demonic companion had disappeared into. “I don’t remember a quest…”
“An unlabeled quest?” He interrupted himself, his mind trying to figure out what that could mean. “Uh, an unlabeled class quest?”
His unit simply looked at him, muttering words of concerns over his missing health, but offered no information.
“Of course it was a quest.” Seiki let out a soft exhausted breath, not sure if he was disturbed or darkly amused by the fact that for a moment he really thought he could convince Okamoto to change his mind. He then laughed at himself. “Master Tsujihara, your boy is impossible.”
A voice cackled in response from the tree line. “Now don’t you wish you had simply taken the bribe and left?”
Seiki jumped. He was rather certain by now that the whole event had been in a personal instance and had not expected someone else.
In perfect reflection of his mood, his unit tensed and drew their short swords.
“More demons?” said Saburo.
Back at the edge of the woods, sitting by a dying fire, was a skinny old man in grayish rags. His long white hair held up in a messy bun, his beard unshaven, the man had in his hand a slim stick, which he used to poke lazily at the embers.
The man bore no label, which meant he was not a player but an NPC. Seiki was very certain he had not been there before, or he would have spotted the firelight. “Who are you?”
The old man shook his head as he stared into the fire. “No manners,” he said. “Wasn’t I just saying that? Young people nowadays have no manners.”
The fire seemed to crackle gently in response, and the old man nodded thoughtfully.
“Are you… part of this unlabeled quest?” Seiki flatly asked, still trying to understand what had just happened. “When I followed Okamoto from the shrine, that… triggered a quest? An unlabeled class quest?”
“That’s what you think?” said the old beggar.
Seiki knew by now many NPCs had an uncanny ability to make it sound like they really comprehended what he was saying, but thinking aloud always helped. “This is the second time already, with these unlabeled quests.” He paused to recall Nezumi Temple. “That first one was a dungeon, and it had a rare boss. This one must be a class quest, because this Okamoto story line only exists for me. So…” He paused, not knowing if his reasoning had yielded anything. “What does this mean?”
He turned toward the old beggar again, hoping for a hint.
The old man looked up from the fire, an annoyed expression on his face. “Well, what do you want it to mean, young man? Does everything have to mean something?”
Seiki smiled and decided an old man wit
h an attitude like that could not be much of a threat. “So this is a ronin class instance?” He continued to organize his thoughts as he glanced back into the wilderness. It had been a long time, and knowing his friends, someone at the kakigouri shop must have written by now to check what was holding him up. The fact that there were no birds meant he was in a personal instance.
The beggar snorted but did not reply. Instead, he suddenly glared at the villagers and barked, “Dismissed, soldiers!” The four unit members shrank back in shock. “I have something to discuss with your unit chief here.” The beggar lifted a scrawny finger to point toward the tree line. “Go!”
Seiki stared in disbelief as his four unit members quickly disappeared into the woods as if chased by angry hornets. Even Ojisan, who was usually the most sensible of the lot.
“Hey, why are you listening to him?” he cried after them.
“Sorry, Chief.” Rumi peered apologetically out from behind a tree a safe distance away.
“He’s scary,” said Saburo in a low voice. “It’s like he’s got some… black magic.”
Seiki looked back warily at the old beggar by the fire. “How can you dismiss my troops?”
“I have very low tolerance for crowds.” The beggar frowned. “Although, of course, I can be incentivized.” A toothy smile spread across his face. He held up his hand, where a small item appeared twirling between his fingers, like what Ippei had done with War Cards. “So, if you have three of these to give me, I might be able to tolerate you and your unit running around the ledge for an hour or two without being tempted to throw you all off the cliff.”
The item in his hand was a bronze coin, marked with the five-petaled flower symbol of Shinshioka, labeled War Coin [currency].
Seiki examined it in confusion for a moment, before he realized what it was. “Oh. You’re the West Gate wilderness version of Captain Sakurai?” He wondered if Ippei had ever told him they existed.
The grass ledge was wide enough for formation practice. Perhaps like the Training Ground in the Palace, this place cost 3 War Coins to use, directly payable to this old man on the ledge.
The beggar scoffed as if insulted by the comparison. “Well, got some of these coins on you, First-Rank Unit Chief?” he said, flipping the coin in the air and catching it. “Or this?” A larger silver coin with a square hole in the middle had appeared in his hand. As expected, it was marked War Token [currency].
Again, Seiki blinked. This could only mean one thing. “And you also sell War Games upgrades and all that?”
“That’s what they call it now?” The old man grimaced. “Let’s say I can help you train troops so you boys will survive out there a while longer against the demons. And I save you the trouble of running all the way back to Muraki every time you have a bright new idea for formations.”
“Ah, I see,” said Seiki. Players could only make changes to their units and slots in a safe zone, or during a war event itself. So it made sense that there would be personal instances scattered throughout the West Plains.
The beggar rummaged through a pile of rags beside him, before tossing an old piece of paper to Seiki. The crumbling piece of parchment mostly contained the exact items he had seen on the Copied Document – War Upgrades: Ronin that he had purchased from a copier.
Seiki handed it back to the beggar. “So you are really Captain Sakurai of the Wilderness. And this is exactly the same as Captain Sakurai’s list, except yours is a little… pricey, I’d say.” Everything was a Token or two more expensive than the standard price in the Soldiers’ Quarters. “So, no thanks. I’ll wait till I’m back in the City.”
The beggar frowned. “I don’t give away my trade tricks for cheap.”
Seiki thought of something. “Since you’re like a Wilderness vendor, do you sell post paper?” It had been longer than expected, and he thought he should write to his friends to let them know he had not been kidnapped by the Rogami Clan as they had feared.
“I might have one,” said the man.
“How much?”
“Five gold.”
Seiki’s face contorted. “That’s a blatant rip-off.” Perhaps this old man worked the same way as the Wilderness peddlers and needed to be vehemently haggled with, which was unfortunately something he was not good at. “I only have—”
Checking his bags, Seiki found that he had absolutely nothing in them except for the usual whistle and tinderbox and toy socks he was going to give to Mairin. “Never mind. It’s not like I can afford one right now.”
The old beggar remained quiet, muttering something inaudible into his fire.
Seiki considered him for a moment. “There isn’t a time limit on unlabeled class quests, is there? With Okamoto? The Demonic Agent?” He was hoping to trigger a hint. “Earlier you said something about how I should have taken the bribe, so I think you know something and you’re part of this quest.”
The old beggar shrugged, looking back toward his dim campfire. “That’s what you think?”
“If this is an unlabeled quest with unlabeled objectives, I think… I’ve got to save Okamoto. I know that sounds silly, but it would make sense. For Master Tsujihara.”
The beggar lifted his brow. “Oh?”
“So I have to find a way across the gorge to the cave and kill that Demonic Agent, and then Okamoto will come to his senses. Right?”
The beggar smiled, seemingly amused. “That’s what you think?”
“Yes,” said Seiki. “That’s what I think.”
The old man shrugged again. “That’s what you’re going to do?”
Seiki took a deep breath. “Since I don’t have any post paper, I’ll need to ride back and tell my friends. Then I’m coming back to find a way across that gorge. And I’d appreciate any pointers right now.”
“I see,” said the beggar, again looking rather amused, but that was all he said.
The conversation was obviously not working, and Seiki gave up. “You’re not very helpful, are you?”
“No,” said the old man.
Seiki puffed through his nose and started walking back. The return journey was always shorter, and he would not be surprised if it only took him ten minutes to get back to Shinshioka.
“Let’s go,” he said to his troops as he walked past their chosen hiding spot. “You’re all pretty hopeless, you know? I can’t believe you’re scared of him.”
“You never know, Chief,” said Saburo, turning back to check the beggar out. “Maybe he’s a witch doctor.”
“Witch doctors aren’t real,” said Genta. “The men at the barracks told me the other day, city folks, you see. They don’t believe in these things. They say it’s all sleight-of-hand tricks.”
Amused, Seiki let them chatter as he led them slightly further along the edge away from the old man’s campfire, wondering how big the training ground was, in case he needed to use it in the future.
It turned out that the personal instance occupied about half the ledge. As soon as he walked past one low bush, a flock of post pigeons burst out from the nearest tree to deliver their delayed messages. Out of curiosity, after grabbing one of the birds and letting the others fly off, Seiki ran to the very edge of the cliff to see if he could spot the old man from outside the instance. As expected, a small carefully-placed patch of wild holly cleverly hid the campfire from sight, and what appeared was only a desolated gorge with flowing water down below.
“So it must be a class instance,” Seiki concluded to himself as he unrolled the messages to read. It was longer than he thought.
Yamura [Level 16]: (44 minutes ago) I told them you’re doing some class quest.
Ippei [Level 14]: (39 minutes ago) I’m off to talk to the West Defenders. Foxy’s covering for a while, but she wants ice treats when you come back.
Mairin [Level 13]: (39 minutes ago) One every ten minutes.
Mairin [Level 13]: (22 minutes ago) Where is Ketsui Gorge anyway? Are you stuck?
Mairin [Leve
l 13]: (22 minutes ago) That annoying guy is back asking questions about the teleport scroll.
Ippei [Level 14]: (10 minutes ago) The whole Rogami clan just rode through the city out the West Gate. Hope it’s not you this time. If you’re doing the ability quest, I guess just stay in the instance and log out from there tonight.
“No, it’s not me this time,” he said. Genta turned to look at him, but Seiki did not bother explaining, as he continued to read the rest of the messages.
Mairin [Level 13]: (9 minutes ago) Oh, congrats on the level. That would be a total of 6 cherry kakigouri, thank you.
“Six? That was definitely not an hour.” Seiki laughed, wondering if he should heed Ippei’s advice and stay in the instance for a while after all, since it would give him perfect excuse to try finding his way across the gorge.
“Should I?” Seiki turned toward Genta, who, of course, had no idea what he was talking about.
That was when something buzzed in his consciousness as the resource-locating charm that had lay peacefully undisturbed in his pocket since he left the city came to life.
Rogami located nearby!
He should be used to it by now, considering the amount of false alarms the charm had given him. This time, far from Rogami flags and decorations, however, the threat could very well be real. Drawing his Hikari just in case, Seiki scanned the woods.
The shadows of the trees were still and the surrounding area was quiet, until something flashed, almost noiselessly, through the air. Seiki lifted up his Hikari to Upslash it, noticing as the blade was about to touch the projectile that it was a black arrow. He had timed it well enough, but instead of the wind effect pushing the arrow astray, the thick arrowhead suddenly exploded in a cloud of sour-smelling smoke.
In his experience fighting ryoushi of various levels, Seiki had never seen anything like this, and he leapt back to avoid inhaling more of the smoke.
Without needing to be prompted, his troops drew their weapons. Seiki noticed then that his energy had mysteriously dropped to zero, as if he had tried to Parry a fatal attack.
