Log Horizon - Volume 11 - Chapter 3.4

4 
“Dammit to hell!” 
Don’t screw with me. Don’t you dare screw with me. 
Zhu Huan, guild master of the Lelang Wolf Cavalry, mentally cursed as he and his Wise Wolf raced along. 
Thin, silklike fragments were beginning to drift from the low-hanging clouds, dark like India ink. It was powdery snow—unlike the heavy, wet stuff, it didn’t sap his strength directly, but it danced in the wind, obstructing his vision. In the midst of it, two columns wound through the wilderness, long and snakelike. This was the group Zhu Huan was leading. 
As he watched, the distant mountains faded into dim silhouettes. 
It would be hard to run all night in weather like this. They’d need to find a place to camp. Even if they couldn’t sleep, if they didn’t warm themselves by the fire and get something hot to drink, even if they were Adventurers who boasted inexhaustible strength, they’d freeze. On top of that, the breed of Great Wolves that the party was riding had limited active hours. 
The hard ground, which was covered in dead grasses, was like an accumulation of the cold itself. 
The wolves headed west, kicking round rocks that had been hidden in the shadows of the grass. On the other side of the thick clouds, the sun must have set, because the cold had grown more severe. The Cold Resistance sigil on the mantle he’d wrapped around himself was emitting a wavering, aqua-blue magic light. It was a seal invested with magic that warded off the cold. 
The sigil had been carved in by a Sigilmancer, in order to make a production-class magic item. Back when this had been a game, because their low performance limits had kept them from being a match for secret-class items, production-class items had been treated as stopgaps for middle-ranking Adventurers. However, at present, people appreciated that they could give you the exact abilities you wanted, so they were used on a daily basis. 
Wrapped securely in these cold-resistant mantles, the elite Lelang Wolf Cavalry unit plunged through the pale darkness and swirling snow. 
When they stopped to rest, it was just before midnight. 
This vast wasteland held extremely few places that were suitable for camping. There were a few basins and ruins that blocked the wind slightly, but there were no guarantees that these would be conveniently located on their route. The normal routes for traders ran between places like these, using them as stepping-stones. However, all that was required from tonight’s journey was speed, so they just kept pushing west through the wilderness. 
Conditions were bad as well. 
The flurries of fine snow had thoroughly chilled the ground, and on top of that, it was beginning to get wet. All they could do was pile up thick carpets—even though they might get damaged—without holding back, and set up curtains as windbreaks. The band began their camp by digging up the hard, rigid ground with their sword points, starting a fire with a flame spell, and hanging a pot over it. 
While this was a rest, it wasn’t so that they could actually sleep. They were toughing it out for a few hours, in order to get through the coldest time of the day. 
Quite a few of the lower-ranking wolves ran out of time and vanished into the darkness. They’d need to wait four hours before they could summon them again. The members who had middle-rank mounts with summoning times of over forty hours had buried themselves in their reclining wolves’ fur, sharing what little warmth there was. On Zhu Huan’s orders, the members who had even higher-ranking summoning pipes went on ahead to reconnoiter, breaking off their precious rest with nothing more than a cup of plain hot water, and they melted into the darkness. 
“GM, will we catch up to them?” 
Asking about the current situation, a swarthy-skinned member’s voice was tense. It wasn’t the way he usually spoke, but on a frozen night like this, it was understandable. In the darkness, his companions’ eyes were turned his way, faintly reflecting the glow of the flames. Everyone wanted an update on the situation. 
“Ma Bao, the sub-guild master who stayed in town, sent an additional report. As we figured, it wasn’t the Singing Sword Company. It’s the Ruby Qilin. The Red King faction picked a fight.” 
“What’s going on? Did they attack?” 
“If this turns into war, it’ll be as ugly as it gets. There are five thousand of them. Shimanaikui doesn’t have a decent defensive wall.” 
“Hey, Chief,” called a rough voice. “Don’t tell me we’re running.” 
Zhu Huan shook his head. “Of course we’re not. We worked hard to get to that city, and we’re finally used to the place. Like we could actually throw it away! Shimanaikui isn’t just a base for exchange between the east and the west. There are lots of People of the Earth living there, too. We’ve even got a few married guys in the guild. It’s real irritating, but you know we can’t break them up.” 
Who are those guys?! Getting girls—now that’s inexcusable behavior. Zhu Hua smirked at the cheerful jeers. 
“On top of that, it doesn’t look like it’s gonna be that easy for ’em. See, their goal isn’t Shimanaikui. Or, well, it’s probably on the list, but they’re after something bigger. According to intel an old friend of mine who stayed back in Yandu leaked to me, it’s pretty likely it’s the Ritual of Coronation.” 
“The one that rewrites the ownership for the whole surrounding area?” 
“But that’s a guild war, ain’t it?” 
“There’s no ‘ain’t it’ there. It’s a guild war, period. The bastards just touched off an all-out guild war, and it’s gonna pull in the whole server.” 
The Ritual of Coronation was the climax of the guild wars system. If a guild offered prayers from one of the Coronation Altars built in several areas, then expended the guild points they’d earned previously, they could rewrite the right to rule over the whole surrounding area so that it belonged to their guild. It was a variation on the zone purchase system that had been implemented in Elder Tales; it was a high-level system that could affect a wider range. 
Of course, if another guild stole that altar and conducted a new Ritual of Coronation, they’d lose their sovereign rights, but the authority was attractive, and they’d want to protect it even if it meant beefing up their defenses. 
During the days of the game, only very limited areas had been stages for guild wars. They were Shanghai’s equivalent, Dadu; Beijing’s equivalent of Yandu; and Yangdu, the equivalent of Guangzhou. 
The wide areas that had these player towns at their centers had been the “rewards” in the guild wars. Next to these reward areas, there had been combat areas that were equipped with perilous mountains and Coronation Altars. The guild that conquered the combat area could conduct the ritual and claim the reward. That had been the outline of the guild war system. 
However, that wasn’t how it played out in reality. 

Zhu Huan continued. 
“At this point, we don’t know whether it’s been like that since the days of the game or not, but those three altars weren’t the only ones. Or, well, they might have multiplied, but… Anyway, altars were discovered in every area. Mount Lang Jun is one of ’em. The guild wars turned into real wars.” 
The “coronation” was a ritual in which a king notified heaven and earth that he had ascended the throne and gave thanks that the world was at peace. In a manner of speaking, it was a declaration to all of creation that a king had been crowned. In that sense, it was understandable that it made for a fitting “final blow” in a guild war. In ancient Chinese history, it had famously been performed by the first Manchu emperor. On that occasion, it had apparently been conducted on Mount Tai Shan, a mountain that was considered sacred in Taoism. 
That said, the coronation didn’t necessarily have to be held on Mount Tai Shan. That was how it was in Theldesia, at least. If that had been the case, there wouldn’t have been Coronation Altars in three different places. 
Evidently, there was no law that said those three places couldn’t become four or more places, either. 
“From what I hear, all the mountains where the Coronation Altars are located have legends that say they’re connected to fairylands. Well, I mean, you’re reporting in to the heavenly immortals and the gods, so I guess they’d have to be. After all, in this world, unlike that one, we’ve got “immortals” in the form of the Ancients. So, see, if you follow that link, Mount Lang Jun fits the description, too, which means—” 
The Crimson King faction had set their sights on that altar. 
Zhu Huan told his companions so, flatly. 
True, this situation might have been better than a concrete war. For example, if Shimanaikui became the stage of a raid for the Adventurers, not only would the town’s facilities and its precious farmland be destroyed, but it was very likely there would be deaths among the People of the Earth. For the Ritual of Coronation, Adventurers could just settle things with other Adventurers in combat areas: places with no production facilities, such as the wilderness, the mountains, or dungeons. 
However, on the other hand, it was a terribly cruel system. At a time when the rights to ownership of the city in which they lived were being affected, the People of the Earth and Adventurers who didn’t have the scale or the combat strength to participate in raids couldn’t even resist. 
It was possible for their fates to be decided before they were even aware of it. That was exactly what was going on now. 
“According to the report, there are about thirty of them, same as us. Guild wars are like raids, so they probably got all their elites together. Mount Lang Jun hasn’t been confirmed as a raid zone, but we won’t know until we check it out.” 
In ordinary Rituals of Coronation, guilds or guild alliances fought in combat zones, and the guild points they won as a result were offered at the ritual altar. The contest of forces in the combat zone was confirmed again in the ritual. However, that method was used to overturn the sovereignty to an altar that had already been occupied, in order to sufficiently weaken the defenders while simultaneously earning a lot of points. This time, since nobody had found the altar yet, the ritual would be conducted by the first ones there. 
Even if the opposing forces had already completed the ritual, if they launched a surprise attack immediately and drove them off, they’d be able to conduct another ritual by offering a few guild points. However, the more time passed, the firmer their system of defense would be, and the greater the amount of guild points they’d have to pay. That was precisely why the Lelang Wolf Cavalry group was racing through the dark night. 
“GM! Hey, Chief!” 
Time crept by, with Zhu Huan unable to allow himself to sleep. In the midst of that frustrating rest, the chime that alerted him to a telechat sounded in his ear. 
The scout who’d sent it was speaking in a low, stifled voice. The telechat was reproduced in the hand he held up to his ear—in order to block the surrounding noise so that he could concentrate—as if he were using a smartphone from Earth. 
“Bad news.” 
“What happened? Trouble?” 
Zhu Huan asked that particular question because the scout’s voice was hushed. Regardless of their name, telechats weren’t a telepathic ability. In the Elder Tales days, they’d been an ability known as “Whisper,” a function that would convey words you spoke to someone registered to your friends list. Since it was, as the name said, an ability that delivered your voice to the other’s ear, in order to send a message, you had to speak aloud. 
The Lelang Wolf Cavalry was a guild noted for taming enormous wolves, then summoning and riding them, and when you were riding wolfback, it was pretty noisy. When you were slicing through the wind and you tried to talk to one another, you inevitably ended up yelling. This was true when speaking through a telechat as well: When you were competing with the sound of the wind, your voice got loud, no matter what you did. This was why the guild members were said to be macho and coarse. 
The fact that one of those members was speaking in a low voice meant, first off, that he clearly wasn’t riding at the moment. In addition, in this vast wilderness before dawn, if he had to hush his voice even further, it was likely he was involved in some kind of crisis. 
“I dunno. I dunno, but, GM…our problem may have gotten solved already.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“It’s the Crimson King faction. They actually did set up camp, about an hour ahead of us. They’re all gone now, though.” 
As the scout made his report, his voice was shaking. Zhu Huan could hear an edge of dread in it, more than fear, and he steeled himself, tensing his abdomen. Apparently, something big had happened. 
“I think it was a raid enemy. There was a black cloud with bird cries coming out of it. I heard thunderclaps and saw tiger claws. They fought it, and they drove it back once, but there was this bright-white light. —It got them, took out the whole unit. The Crimson King faction went to the temple, every last one of ’em.” 
Ordinarily, he might have been relieved to get that report. 
After all, the Crimson King faction, which had been trying to gain control of this area, had retreated. 
Of course they’d probably dispatch another unit in the near future, but this area was far from central Zhongyuan. It would take them ten days or so. In a tense situation, that was a crucial time difference. It was enough time for Zhu Huan and his team to conduct the ceremony and solidify their defenses. 
However, what was the beast that had appeared in that report? 
Only raid enemies could wipe out raid units. Did that mean a field boss had appeared? It had been a year since he had come to this world. It had been more than half a year since they’d arrived in Shimanaikui, even, but he’d never heard of any magical beast like that one. 
Naturally, it was possible that the report was exaggerated, or that the darkness had unsettled the Crimson King faction and they’d been routed. However, Zhu Huan really didn’t think that was the case. Would an elite unit that had been prepared for a guild war be completely annihilated because they’d gotten a little startled? 
Something fearsome had happened. 
The night in this bone-dry country of grasslands, where confusion was deepening, apparently hid an incident that was much more unsavory than he’d anticipated.