3
“Mr. Shiro, we started without you.”
“We’ve got it all warmed up, Shiroe!”
A ruined midair garden spread out before them, jutting into space several dozen meters above the ground. The concrete was cracked, and thin, spindly weeds poked through the gaps. A single ruin seemed to float, isolated, in the darkening crimson sky.
The strong wind that buffeted his cheeks felt as if it was blowing from all four directions. In Theldesia, which had almost no tall buildings, the view from Fortress of the Call was overwhelming. They were able to see so far that, in the old world, it seemed as though the view might have encompassed all of Tokyo.
The building’s square roof had no fence, raised edges, or other safety measures, so its edges were sheer. The sense of vastness was so overpowering that someone who was afraid of heights would probably have been unable to move.
By the time Shiroe and the others tumbled out onto it, Soujirou and the rest of the second party were in the middle of a protracted battle with Taliktan, as everyone had expected.
“Thank you! Reinforcements clear. Report!”
As he shouted, Shiroe signaled to the reinforcements with one hand.
In response to that hand sign, the remaining eighteen members of the raid team headed for Taliktan in a long, serpentine line and started forming ranks, with Naotsugu in the lead.
The second party had been designed for mobile defense. Compared with the first—which was built to completely engage with the enemy leader, keep it locked down for long periods of time, and fight with the goal of annihilating it—the second had better all-around performance, but its defense, recovery, and long-term combat abilities were lower. Whether defending or attacking, the Samurai class had excellent instantaneous abilities. Soujirou had kept the battle going this long through his player skills. That was just like him, but even so, they should probably avoid putting any more of a strain on him.
Naotsugu, the main tank, dashed forward, and Marielle sent support at him. It was Reactive Heal. Its level was low, but in combination with Minori’s Purification Barrier, it would probably last through the first attack.
“His level’s not that high. His ordinary attacks are within the expected range. His attribute is physical: that staff. There are two trouble spots. He has these group attacks that make no sense.”
“What’s the range configuration?”
As Nazuna answered Shiroe, she cast a Purification Barrier on Soujirou. She’d practiced it so often that she could add it without paying attention. But because the wind was strong, no matter what they did, they found themselves yelling as they talked.
“We don’t know. Purple electrical attacks that looked guided rampaged around. I’m the only one who didn’t get hit, but I was standing in practically the same place as Souji!”
So distance isn’t relevant? It’s a random attack?
Using Force Step to adjust the ranks, Shiroe kept thinking.
“The damage is huge. Souji played his trump card, and even then he almost went down.”
This was bad news.
The basic performance of the Samurai class was lower than the Guardian class. They weren’t able to equip shields, and their attribute defense tended to be lower as well. However, in exchange, their instantaneous coping abilities were far greater. Instant Desertion was a powerful special technique that let the user completely avoid all attacks for a short period of time, and Sword of Gathering Clouds was able to cancel the attack itself and halve the damage. Shiroe knew how Soujirou fought from their time in the Tea Party, and just hearing that he’d almost gone down while Parry was active told him how fierce the enemy’s attacks were.
If they took the same attack, there was a good possibility the front line would collapse.
No wonder the rearguard fighters’ HP is so far down.
Tetora, who’d opted not to compete with Marielle and was on standby in the rear instead, had begun to heal players, focusing on the ones who were the most severely injured. Reactive Heal was high performance, but as the name suggested, it was a spell system that automatically reacted to enemy attacks and recovered HP (although, naturally, not completely). The rearguard players had already taken damage and lost a lot of HP, and the only way to deal with it was to provide care using regular recovery spells. Tetora was recovering the injured members by combining spells such as Heal and Healing Light.
That was probably the correct decision.
“Sleep, all of you.”
“Why are you doing this?! What is this ‘sleep’ anyway?!”
The voice sounded like a growl.
Even so, Shiroe answered the words that fell from the monster’s lips with the response he’d planned on, loading it with his wish. This had been one of his covert goals. It was the reason he’d needed to come here.
Shiroe hadn’t been able to believe everything in Roe2’s letter. But even before that, it was hard to say he’d understood the content sufficiently.
Roe2 had warned them about the Geniuses, but despite that, Shiroe had been hesitant to cut them off without attempting a discussion. Now that things had come to this, it would probably be difficult to avoid fighting, but in that case, he at least wanted information.
“Sleep, all of you.”
“Isn’t there room to talk this out?!”
Every time Taliktan brandished his twisted staff, shock waves rampaged, and the flooring material—which should have been concrete—crumbled with absurd ease.
Shiroe looked into the eyes of the Genius of Summoning.
He had small pupils that shone like stars against a jet-black background.
Physically, he appeared to be an aged Summoner, but his expression was something entirely different. It seemed mechanical rather than alive, and the only responses Shiroe could sense were flat, inhuman ones.
“This guy’s just like Camaysar. A little better, ’cos he’s not a pervert.”
“Mr. Shiro, you can’t get through to him by talking.”
Even as a storm of bullet-like shock waves cut his cheeks, Shiroe gazed straight at the Genius. There had to be some kind of clue here. As he fought, he tried desperately to uncover it.
Taliktan wanted Empathiom, too.
The result had been this sleep.
* * *
“Aggro Exchange! Anchor Howl!”
A torrent of light streamed from the sword Naotsugu held high, draining something from Soujirou. Aggro Exchange was a special skill that swapped the user’s aggro with the aggro of a targeted companion. Soujirou, the main force of the second party, had mounted a preemptive strike and supported the front line until just a moment ago, and now Naotsugu had taken over the vast amount of aggro he’d accumulated.
Taliktan’s eyes were like red stars floating in a black, bottomless swamp. They rolled in a grotesque motion that seemed as if it should be audible, shifting to glare at Naotsugu.
“’Scuse me a sec, Miss Mari.”
Naotsugu, who was now the sole target of Taliktan’s aggro, turned around, winked cheerfully, then scooped Marielle up. Getting picked up sideways startled the woman, but the next second, her cheeks flushed as if they’d been boiled. Marielle attempted to protest but didn’t have time.
“Let’s roll, Shiro.”
“Hurry, my liege.”
Leaving those words behind them, the two of them leapt into the sunset sky, pursued by Taliktan.
Falling.
Shiroe and the others had jumped from a height of several dozen meters.
They plunged toward the ground like stones, falling through air that seemed to have turned solid and howled in their ears as they passed. Even though turning Fly into a range spell had weakened its braking effect, Shiroe glared up at the shape bearing down on them, silhouetted against the moon.
Come and get us.
He hit Taliktan with that thought, without speaking it aloud. This might have been a more important move than confronting the Genius. Taliktan pursued them, and the rainbow bubbles clung to him, following him. Just as Shiroe had thought, even the Genius of Summoning needed that iron tower—in other words, a channel to the moon—in order to summon Eternal Moths.
To separate Taliktan from that tower, Shiroe’s group had executed a maneuver that was like diving. The Genius already begun to summon. Unless they stopped Taliktan here, the damage would be even greater. In addition, they’d probably lose their means of contacting the moon and of closing in on the heart of the mystery.
However, as Shiroe murmured to Taliktan, he wore a fearless smile.
“If this is a raid, it’s my battlefield. Watch what eight years of constant fighting on countless battlefields and accumulated knowledge can do.”
Before anyone heard them, the words were shredded by the wind and vanished.
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