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Log Horizon - Volume 11 - Chapter 1.6




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A night in the wilderness, harsh but clear. 
Getting up, Elias slipped out of the tent, which had been woven from the wool of Long-Haired Goats. 
At night, temperatures were far below freezing. It got so cold that the moisture that had gotten into fissures in the rocks froze, expanded, and broke the rocks down. That was why there weren’t many big boulders in this wasteland. 
Elias’s party had pitched their tent in a basin that would have been just big enough to slide two carts into. As a result, the tent wouldn’t blow away, but once he crawled out of the depression, which came up to his chest, the night wind buffeted him. 
The thin, shredded clouds drifted away, and the moon illuminated his surroundings. 
It was a desolate sight. 
As an Ancient, Elias was a warrior with a sturdy body, and his equipment was also pretty tough against cold air, so it only felt like a cool breeze to him. However, the effective temperature might be close to twenty below. 
Behind him, the tent swayed wildly. It wasn’t because trouble had broken out; Kanami had probably gotten rough. Both her noisiness and the way she tossed and turned in her sleep were familiar to him by now, and Elias smiled a little. 
Ever since she’d rescued him at Ulster, far in the west, Elias had accompanied her on her journey. 
At present, an unprecedented peril was attacking Theldesia. The Catastrophe had destroyed all the rules. At this point, it was probably safe to say that the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders had been wiped out. 
It had been a secret operation of vital importance. 
Ultimate destruction was bearing down on the world of Theldesia. Having gained insight into the situation from a Darshana—a “memory of the future,” related to them by the prophet Sumiltimahra—the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders had stealthily concentrated their forces. 
The past century and several decades of history had been all for the sake of this operation. 
The Geniuses, demons who wielded grotesque powers, and an army of several tens of thousands of their kin had been sealed in the Great Stronghold of the End, but the time when that seal would be lifted was drawing near. 
Elias and the rest of the Knights of the Red Branch had been in a magic circle on the outskirts of Londinium, waiting impatiently for the Great Stronghold of the End to open, so that they could go to war. 
The Great Stronghold of the End was an enormous magical device meant to seal the Geniuses, but at the same time, it was also the demons’ base, the Cradle. To obliterate them or seal them again, the Knights had to teleport to the Great Stronghold of the End, but for that to happen, the seal had to be open. 
The instant the seal on the Geniuses was released, the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders would use the Spatial Teleportation Devices they’d built in each location and storm the Great Stronghold of the End. The Geniuses—only just awakened, unable to grasp the situation or work as a team—would be vanquished. That was the outline of the decisive battle to protect the world, which had been promoted in secret, unbeknownst to the world itself. 
The Knights of the Red Branch, who were led by Elias, would serve as the vanguard in this top-secret operation, and they gave their undivided attention to their final inspection of their equipment and the spells that imbued them. Everyone was convinced that the maneuver would succeed. After all, the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders easily had more than five times the combat power the great attack strategy they’d been given by the prophet Sumiltimahra had called for. 
The Wen Keepers. 
The Obsidian Swordsmen. 
The Knights of Izumo. 
The Knights of Habaek. 
The Fei Cui Knights. 
The Winged Dragon Magic Brigade. 
The Knights of Shinha. 
The Knights of the Sacred Cow. 
The Knights of the Seven Seas. 
The Knights of the Red Branch. 
The Zilant Knights. 
The Blood-Sand Knights. 
The Shapeless Knights. 
Their forces had gathered and had even included the Shapeless Knights, who hardly ever showed themselves. Elias could state categorically that it had been the greatest number of soldiers the Ancients could muster. Military power like that could easily have ruled the world. 
However, out of the blue, tragedy had struck. Just as the countdown to the maneuver had reached eight hours, Elias and the others were hit with a surprise attack. 
Geniuses, the grotesque monsters from the prophecy. 
These monsters, which should still have been sealed, assailed the Knights of the Red Branch. They were shaped like humans, like fish, like birds, like dice, or like shining mist, and their incoherent yet fearsome army showered Elias’s allies with bladelike tentacles, electrical attacks, and acidic gas. 
The fight hadn’t been all that one-sided. Even though it had been a surprise attack, the Knights of the Red Branch had held up well. They’d even re-formed their battle lines. They probably wouldn’t have been able to escape defeat, but they should have been able to let the weaker rear-support personnel get away and vow to rise again. 
However, the grotesques had a trump card. 
The Words of Death. 
The companions who heard that curse fell, one after another. Their expressions were frozen in terror, twisted as if they’d peered into bottomless darkness and touched lunacy they hadn’t even wanted to see. They were definitely alive, but they weren’t breathing; their hearts and lungs had stopped functioning. 
Unable to stand the sight of the collapsing front line, Elias had dashed out of the main formation. He’d screamed the order to activate the Spatial Teleportation Device. 
But there hadn’t been enough energy. If things went on like this, the unlimited magical energy they’d drawn up from the land’s mana would probably do serious damage to the Transport Gate. However, this wasn’t the time to worry about that. 
If the surprise attack destroyed the Spatial Teleportation Device, they’d be left unable to capture the Great Stronghold of the End. Even before that, the military power of this base would probably be wiped out. 
Elias had screamed: 
I’ll hold them here. Knights from the main formation, use the Spatial Teleportation Device and commence the attack on the Great Stronghold of the End! 
That the Geniuses had come here meant that, for some reason, the seal had been released. Since that was the case, teleportation should have been possible, and as a matter of fact, while it had been unstable, the Spatial Teleportation Device had started up. 
Elias swung his great sword recklessly, slicing into the throng of demons. At this point, he wasn’t thinking of defeating them. 
He had to stall them for a minute longer, or even a second, to save his retreating companions. 
Gradually, little by little, in the midst of time that had grown viscous enough to set his stomach burning, the retreat was progressing. In reality, it might not have taken ten minutes, but roughly half of his companions had been absorbed into the radiance of the teleportation device. The only ones who remained were Elias and a small suicide unit. 
Stop. 
Freeze, tremble, congeal. 
An end… 
…for the puppets. 

Offer up the Empathiom that protects you. 
Stop. 
Stop this fabricated history. 
These fabricated memories. 
These fabricated feelings. 
The timelines of this character software. 
He listened to the curse, which reverberated like a funeral bell. He hoped it would be meaningless static. 
However, his wish was in vain, and as it seeped into him, Elias realized, vaguely, what it meant: He mustn’t think about it. The moment he understood it, he’d lose everything. Even though he knew this, he couldn’t stop. As if a world-engulfing nothingness had pulled in the ground under his feet, in a single moment, he’d lost all sense of time, of up and down. 
Oh, I see… 
That is how it was, isn’t it? 
Strangely, the darkness that had fallen was filled with a sense of understanding and acceptance. 
In the midst of this resigned stasis, which was abysmally foolish yet unapproachable, where even despair was ridiculous, Elias cut himself off. Or, no, in this darkness, orders and voluntary action were equal. Cutting off and throwing away were the same thing, stopping and withdrawing from the world were the same thing, and sleep and death were the same thing as well. 
Back then, Elias had met his end. 
Glaring into the darkness, buffeted by the cold wind, Elias gritted his teeth. 
He wished that the flames of his rage would scorch him. 
He didn’t want to believe that that cold resignation had belonged to him. The life Kanami had breathed into him had become fire and was racing through his veins. That fire was what had awakened him from his dreamless sleep. 
I want to be strong. 
Elias’s fairy blood had given him fighting skills and a curse. Fairy Arts, a system of sword techniques unparalleled in history, and Fairy Eye, an ability that saw through malice, had both come from the fairies. However, at the same time, he’d been inflicted with a fairy curse that rendered him unable to finish off enemies. 
Elias knew that all of these things were worthless. 
He understood that they weren’t actually real. 
However, if he admitted that the past was counterfeit, he would probably be ushered into that dreamless sleep once again. More than that, it was likely that an Elias who’d denied the fairies wouldn’t be able to be himself anymore. The fairy curse bound him, and it seemed to protect him as well. 
Why am I…? 
He gazed at his clenched fist, but there was no answer there. 
Elias was weak. 
He had ultimate power, and yet, his fighting abilities were sealed by an unfair curse. So that he wouldn’t obstruct the Adventurers’ activity— No; that wasn’t it. This seal was a curse from his fairy blood, so that he wouldn’t steal the Adventurers’ prey— 
Once again, the Words of Death were beginning to rage inside him. 
Despair and jealousy ran wild, like a black ocean, and Elias gripped his chest tightly. This icy pain wasn’t the sort of thing he could shut out by raising his anti-cold attribute defenses. 
He knew that, vaguely, but he couldn’t afford to admit it, and because he couldn’t admit it, he couldn’t escape the curse. That was the sort of snare he’d fallen into. 
As he gazed at his feet, Elias noticed a shadow. 
When he lifted his eyes… 
When had she appeared? A graceful woman was watching him, idly. 
The wind died, and thin lavender silk drifted lightly in the nighttime chill. Her eyes were hidden behind a veil, but it was clear she was looking at him. 
“Did you need something, miss?” 
Elias had asked his question on reflex. The woman—Enchantress Youren—spent a little while searching for words, then spoke in a voice that sounded deeply troubled. 
“From what I have seen, I gather that you are a highly renowned traveling practitioner of the martial arts. My name is Youren. I live in an enchanted cavern nearby, and while a humble one, I am an Immortal.” 
“An Immortal… Then—!” 
Elias had raised his voice slightly, and the lady nodded. 
“While my skills are far inferior, I, too, am an Ancient… May I assume that you are Lord Elias Hackblade?” 
“Indeed I am. I am Elias Hackblade, a Blademancer affiliated with the Knights of the Red Branch, one of the thirteen swords.” 
Under the pallid moonlight, the pair gazed at each other. 
The word Ancient was no more than shorthand. While it appeared to be the term for a race, in reality, it was neither a tribe nor a clan. Ancients were a type of Person of the Earth, and it meant only that they were strong—no more, no less. At the very least, that was how Elias thought of it. It was probably similar to the word superhuman. 
Most of the Ancients belonged to the Thirteen Global Chivalric Orders, but that was due to Elias and the others’ hard work, and not all of them did. The term was a general one for People of the Earth who had power, and so, although there weren’t many of them, evil Ancients and Ancients who’d turned their backs on the world did exist. 
Since it was a general term, there were many other names for them as well. 
Here on the Zhongyuan server, the people called “Immortals” were Ancients. The men were known as “Immortals” while the women were “Enchantresses.” Other names for Ancients on the Zhongyuan server included “Recluses,” “Perfected Ones,” “Immortal Wizards,” and “Holy Mothers.” 
Ling Tianfeng, called the White Wing Princess—a Zhongyuan Ancient who was as renowned as Elias—was the leading noble Immortal of the Fei Cui Knights, and she was also an Enchantress. 
When he’d awakened from the deep sleep into which the Geniuses had plunged him, he’d tried to contact the chivalric orders, but there had been absolutely no response from any of them, in any country. Now, finally, Elias had managed to connect with another Ancient. 
“I have a request to make of you, Lord Elias.” 
Speaking in a voice that seemed choked with tears, Enchantress Youren threw herself at Elias’s feet, prostrating herself. 
“Our Zhongyuan, with its shining history, has been visited by an unparalleled crisis as well. Fairylands everywhere have fallen or been abandoned… The Bai Tao Shrine is one such place. It is twenty ri to the southeast of here, two or three days’ journey. It has come under the control of a ferocious magus, and the people of the nearby villages and towns spend their days in fear of his violence. The frail heavenly officials live in terror, counting their remaining days on their fingers.” 
“A magus—” 
Could it be a Genius? Elias imagined the sort of violence incarnate that would make this beautiful Enchantress abandon herself to grief. 
“I do feel that it is a shameless request, but, Lord Elias, Hero of the West, I beseech you. Please vanquish the magus.” 
As if pushed into action, Elias helped Enchantress Youren up. 
She was suffering. She wanted to save her companions but lacked the power to do so… Just like Elias. 
Just like that, Elias’s anguish over wanting to save his comrades but lacking the strength to do so led him to a new quest. 



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