Log Horizon - Volume 11 - Chapter 3.5

5 
Leonardo was close to falling to pieces over his unexpected good luck, and he clamped down hard, controlling himself. As a geek—and a gentleman—he had to deal with this coolly. 
Calm down, compose yourself, don’t smirk, and don’t sniff out loud. 
A head that seemed very small was resting on his shoulder. 
Coppélia’s body was too delicate, and as he held her close, it felt as if he had an overabundance of arm. She was thin and lithe, and she seemed terribly fragile, rather than soft. He would have liked to savor that sensation, but it felt as if he’d end up breaking two or three bones if he did, and it made him terribly careful and nervous. 
Leonardo shook his head hard, but he twisted his body gently—taking care not to wake Coppélia—and took some cheap Moon Fay Drops out of his pack, sprinkling them around his eyes, one-handed. These eye drops were made by an Apothecary, and they made your eyes see in the dark as well as a cat’s for a whole day. Since he was using a consumable item, it had higher performance than an Assassin’s special skills. Technically, they could have just made a Magic Light, but Leonardo was a melee attacker, and that was too much for him to handle. 
As far as Leonardo’s eyes were concerned, the pitch-black darkness softened to the level of a moonlit night. Of course, since the Balm didn’t improve his actual eyesight, he didn’t know what the sealed space they were in looked like in its entirety. However, Leonardo could sense dense matter beyond them, as an invisible feeling of oppression. Something unpleasant was lurking out there. 
On the other hand, the girl he’d pulled close in a reflexive attempt to protect her during that collapse didn’t seem to have taken any noticeable damage. The clean line of Coppélia’s cheek, her little cherry lips, the eyelashes that were always lowered in the shadow of her bangs—all these things shone palely, so close he could have kissed them if he felt like it. This particular situation was gratifying. 
Hey, now’s not the time. You should be handling this crisis more resolutely! 
Leonardo shook off the temptation and began to act. 
After all, being a hero was a thankless job. 
Taking another careful look around the area, he confirmed that there were no impending threats. 
They’d definitely been buried alive, but since he could hear water running somewhere, it probably wasn’t a completely sealed space. If he’d had to say, he was more concerned about a secondary collapse or some other additional disaster. 
He wanted to go explore the area, but it would mean setting Coppélia down on the ground, and he was hesitant to do that; he couldn’t make up his mind. He felt a resistance to the idea of laying a delicate girl down directly on a cold, damp, rock-littered surface, and frankly, it also seemed like a waste. 
Kanami, who put ideas into action just as soon as she thought of them, hugged Coppélia on a routine basis—like when they were riding on horseback, for example—but (naturally), Leonardo didn’t get opportunities like that. That didn’t mean it was hard for him to let go of her… Well, actually, that’s exactly what it meant. 
Man, I am seriously uncool. 
Leonardo compromised by holding her sideways, then sat up, peering into the darkness. 
“So we managed to survive somehow.” 
There was a small reaction to his murmur. 
When Leonardo looked down, in the midst of his pale field of vision, her white, thin eyelids opened slowly, revealing eyes like liquid jewels. They blinked several times, then found Leonardo. 
“Good morning, Sir Leonardo.” 
“Morning, Coppélia.” 
Feeling awkward for some reason, Leonardo hastily averted his eyes as he spoke. Coppélia didn’t have night vision abilities, and in this darkness, she wouldn’t notice he was blushing. That was a relief. 
“We got caught up in a collapse,” Coppélia murmured, confirming the facts. 
The girl seemed to be mentally putting her memories and the circumstances in order, and instead of responding, Leonardo waited patiently for her to settle down. After about ten seconds, Coppélia chose Bug Light, a spell that summoned a light. 
“Coppélia is able to walk.” 
At those rather brusque words, Leonardo set her down on the floor of the limestone cave. He didn’t think she meant anything by it, but the things Coppélia said were very direct sometimes, and Leonardo, who was aiming to be a hero, felt that they whittled away at his spirit. He almost asked her to give more emotional responses—a demand that even the apps he made didn’t fulfill. 
The direction of the gravity in this space—in other words, the rock they stood on—tilted significantly, and although it wasn’t a problem as far as standing up went, it was bad enough that if they dropped something small, it was bound to keep rolling forever and get lost in the darkness. The limestone had a unique texture, the sort of smoothness you’d expect from a living creature. He wasn’t sure whether the lime had melted or accumulated, but in any case, he’d seen on some sort of documentary that these things were made by flowing water, which resulted in that smoothness. 
“Do you wish to be healed?” 
“Uh… Yeah, but heal yourself, too.” 
Coppélia had tilted her head as she asked her question, and he took a look. He didn’t know whether the damage had been from the fall or the impact, but his HP was down about 20 percent. He’d figured something on that level would recover naturally with time, but as Coppélia looked up at him, he checked her HP, too. Area Heal surrounded them, softly illuminating the cave’s interior. 
When she’d finished her spell, not seeming at all afraid of the darkness, she began walking up the slope. 
“Hey, hold on a second. That’s not safe.” 
“Coppélia detects no hostile entities in this space. Coppélia thinks we should reunite with the others as soon as possible.” 
“Well, yeah, but I mean…” 
The lead spot was dangerous, and he wanted her to let him take it. Leonardo’s feelings didn’t seem to have gotten through to his companion; she kept walking without turning back. 
“Aren’t you scared, Coppélia? Because it’s dark, or because this place might collapse…” 

After mulling it over, the girl responded, “Coppélia’s vision is not affected by darkness. The data stream is stable.” 
Is that how it is? Leonardo thought. Come to think of it, this mysterious girl had explained to him before that her vision was different from his and the others’. 
“Can you see through walls with those eyes? Like the exit of this cave. Or a map.” 
“Coppélia seems unable to perceive anything not in the range known as ‘visible light.’ However, it is possible to expand and display estimated vectors from her sight history.” 
“What’s that mean?” 
“Currently mapping two hundred and ten sets of vectors in the composition of her current field of vision. From the shape, areas with sufficiently stable instances may be considered trustworthy.” 
Leonardo scratched his head. From the gist of the conversation, he thought she probably meant For now, this area won’t collapse. To be honest, he hadn’t understood half of that. 
However, as he listened to Coppélia’s voice, his irritation and unease disappeared in a curious way. I guess there’s no sense in worrying. Leonardo rolled his shoulders, switching his feelings over. 
Even listening closely, the two of them were moving through a subterranean cavern so still that the silence seemed as if it would suck them in. It was a strange experience. The stuff under his feet had to be solid (and pretty hard) limestone, but as he walked along in the faint, soft glow of the magic lamp, Leonardo felt somehow light, as if he were in a dream or an illusion. 
Through the unfathomable commotion known as the Catastrophe, he’d been pulled smack into the middle of an epic. It was unusual for him to be thinking like this, but he felt as if he was in a fantasy. This was partly because the scenery he was seeing right now was far too much like something out of a fairy tale, but more than that, it was because he was walking beside Coppélia, an innocent young woman. 
Walking next to a girl I like is just as fantastic as a dungeon collapsing? How sad am I anyway? That makes it sound like I’ve never had a single girlfriend. 
Laughing at himself, he scratched his cheek with his index finger, then sighed, shoulders slumping. 
Well, there was no help for that. In his old world, the only women he could remember talking to recently were his manager (with her triangle eyebrows), the industrial doctor (with her triangle spectacles), and the clerks at the deli, who were from India (a country shaped like a triangle). 
“As the boulders fell, Coppélia saw Lord Elias in the direction of the sky.” 
“Yeah.” 
His response sounded an awful lot like a sigh. 
She was right: During that collapse, the sky had opened up abruptly, and Elias had been there. 
He’d been brandishing that enormous sword that sparkled like a crystal, challenging something that shone vermillion. It had been for less than half an instant, but Leonardo had seen it, and Coppélia said she had, too. In that case, it had probably been real. 
“Lord Elias looked—” 
Coppélia’s words vanished as though the darkness of the cavern had absorbed them, and she didn’t finish the sentence. The girl’s shoulders slumped dejectedly, and she seemed bewildered. It made Leonardo feel the same way. 
“That expression didn’t look good on him, did it? Even in the ghetto, you don’t see stuff like that much these days… Well, you probably do once in a while, but still. Seriously.” 
Remembering Elias’s face, Leonardo forced out the rest of a sentence that didn’t want to emerge. It was a truly unemotional comment. He couldn’t criticize Coppélia. 
What had that expression been anyway? 
Why were he and Coppélia feeling like this? 
Elias Hackblade was a real hero. He protected the world of Theldesia. However, that was from the perspective of the People of the Earth. 
To the Adventurers, Elias Hackblade was an Ancient they were unexpectedly close to. He featured in the package art. He showed up in all sorts of quests, guided the Adventurers, gave them advice, and sometimes fought alongside them. In other words, they had plenty of opportunities to come into contact with him. His appearances were so frequent that, in a way, he was more of a regular than the nameless village blacksmiths they visited. 
Of course, that had probably been for the convenience of the game. When the whole place was swarming with monsters, when they’d been attacked by a ghost ship and their boat sank, when an immortal snake king had scattered miasma around…Elias had appeared. He’d shown up to shout, “Come, rise up! Illuminate the darkness with the radiance of justice,” and race onto the battlefield. 
Since Elder Tales had been a game, all sorts of cataclysms and huge incidents had occurred. Sealed monsters were released. Ancient, evil magic items were stolen. Demihumans invaded. These were all common events. Most People of the Earth grieved over these things and resisted them desperately. After all, back then, no matter what they personally thought, that had been the role they were meant to play. 
With every crisis, Elias—who had been cast as a hero in the same way—would yell, “Now is the time for a counterstrike!” He had definitely looked gallant and heroic, but he’d also seemed rather fictional, in a way that provoked wry smiles. Always straightforward and never losing his optimism, the elf fit the part too well. 
When Elias had encouraged the Adventurer Leonardo from inside the game screen, he’d seemed like a reckless hero who spoke of hope without really thinking. 
Naturally, he didn’t mean that this was bad. On the contrary, it was why people had loved Elias. Elias Hackblade, who was widely viewed as a prominent candidate for “strongest hero in Theldesia,” had been called “the charging elf,” “the drill sergeant,” and “Mr. Elias” by the players. In chats, on bulletin boards, and on video sites, he’d been teased in all sorts of ways, and more than that, he’d been loved. 
This was because, in the end, everybody knew. 
The optimistic way Elias spoke and acted had its roots in the convenience of Elder Tales game production. If he hadn’t been that way, there would have been no one to bring Adventurer-players into the story. His unfortunate points—the rule that kept him from finishing off monsters, the way he was fated to slip up at crucial moments and leave things up to the Adventurer-players, and the ridiculous amount of odd, mismatched background information he was loaded down with—were also there for the convenience of the game. After all, if it hadn’t been for those things, the protagonist of the story would have been Elias, not the players. 
In that sense, Elias’s encouragement and his busy efforts were nothing more than expedients. In other words, a farce. However, for that very reason, Elder Tales fans loved his excessive sense of mission and his mistakes. Fans all around the world cheered for this handsome clown of a hero, who was the first one to charge into the thick of trouble, yet seemed somehow haphazard. 
And now… 
Elias’s tear-streaked face, as he was torn in two between his manufactured sense of mission and his manufactured flaws—whose fault was that? Who should he accuse, and who should he press to take responsibility? 
Leonardo had realized that, in a Theldesia that had lost Elder Tales, that answer didn’t exist. Elias was just like Leonardo and the other modern players who had lost the call center, their “gods’ consulting service.”