CHAPTER 3
ORACLE MAKER
Five days later, the long-hung placard that read C LOSED FOR B USINESS was finally taken down. Now a new placard was hung from the spire, just as stately as the first:
C ONCERT V ENUE
“Oh… The throne of the Kingdom of Elkia, steeped in fine tradition. The throne room…”
What Steph saw as she lamented was a magnificent stage beyond compare to that used previously. It was outfitted with countless gadgets and lights, courtesy of Ex Machina, and had perfect acoustics. However, the throne had been removed on the grounds that This is just the right height for a stage. Additionally, the walls had been broken down because We need more capacity. Not a trace was left of the traditional visage of the throne room that had been passed down for ages. Steph could not help but weep, and rubbing it in—
“…I really want to know! What are all these people doing here?!”
Thousands of people gathered before the trespassing stage, waiting for the show to start. Steph’s piteous query was answered from behind.
“Sure, there mighta been some casual passersby when we did it on the balcony, but this is indoors, man.”
Steph, who had peeked out from backstage, turned back. Down past the short stairs, there was a table at which a man was seated, on whose lap, in turn, a girl was fixed. It was Sora and Shiro, looking smug as ever.
“…Everyone here came here—they’re all our cherished true-blue dumbasses, ya know?”
“…I fear for the fate of our country…”
Steph gazed with melancholy at the poor, brainwashed masses. Sighing, she went on down the stairs.
She headed for where the sources of the evil were seated, facing off across the table. On one side, Sora and Shiro, the producers of this travesty, Jibril behind them. On the other side, Einzig, the manufacturer of this travesty, Emir-Eins and eleven other maid robots behind him. With Steph stood a fairly uniform line of victims:
“…O Sora, O Shiro. I ask you once and I ask you again: Why must Holou take part in this inscrutable parade?”
The pouty-faced god waited in costume for her entrance, apparently none too happy about the arbitrary manner in which she had been spun about.
“Hmm… You really hate it that much? I think it looks good on you!”
“…The idol, aura…is bursting…from you…!”
“I lack basis upon which to estimate my wrath! Thus, I beseech you!”
Holou growled at Sora and Shiro, after asking them the same question over and over again, only to get nonanswers each time. But Sora, with a very rare smile—
“Don’t worry, Holou… You’ll find the answer within yourself. Didn’t I tell you?”
—one that appeared pure and free of ulterior motives—stroked Holou’s head as he told her:
“We dunno what’s gonna happen, either. ? So it’s about time for your entrance. Knock ’em dead!”
“…Holou… Kick ass. Take names… We’re rooting…for you!”
“—I comprehend not… I comprehend naught… I know not what it is ye want from Holou…”
Sora and Shiro saw Holou off as she obediently headed for the stairs, albeit grumbling. They got back to the situation at hand, facing Einzig and the Ex Machinas once more.
“All right, then—shall we begin our game as well?”
In other words, they faced the chessboard on the table and confirmed what was about to go down. This game was the answer to everything—why they’d created this stage, why Holou was heading onto it, why everyone was here. A brief word for now.
“Well, ya know—the rules prohibit the use of magic or ‘deployments’ other than those specified as part of the game,” Sora added, reminding Jibril to pay very close attention. “Other than that… Ah, you know the rules, right?”
No one contradicted Sora’s smart-assed assertion. Which was all very natural, considering the Ex Machinas and Jibril had built the game together based on the rules specified by Sora and Shiro. Everyone there knew the rules better than anyone. It was basically just chess. Basically being the key word.
There was one thing everyone was wondering about, including Jibril and Steph: No matter how you looked at it, this game overwhelmingly disfavored Sora and Shiro. But they themselves did not seem concerned as they apparently took the silence for assent—
“All right, the wagers… Starting with who’s ready to pay up…”
“…Ready… Get set… Let’s go…!”
Sora and Shiro raised their hands, confirming the wagers and prompting the pledge.
“ Acknowledgment: If lose, then: Release hardware lock. Abandon love. Reproduce independently. Avert extinction.”
“I vow to emerge victorious with the bonus and the special prize in my hands. You may look forward to it, Spieler.”
Emir-Eins, Einzig, and all the Ex Machinas followed their lead.
A tone sounded to indicate that the show was starting, and Holou ran up the stairs onto the stage. There was a moment of silence that felt unnaturally long…and finally, the music blared. Several shouts clamored forth so as not to be drowned out:
“—Aschente—!!”
The music was played back by Shiro’s phone and amplified by Ex Machina’s speakers. Holou stepped out on the stage amidst the deafening intro to hear—
“Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
—an explosion of enthusiasm from the darkened seats such as to make it hard to hear the music.
.
For a moment, Holou’s mind went blank. It was a moment by human standards, but more like an eternity of stillness to an Old Deus. Her thoughts were frozen on one word: Enigma.
Last time, Holou just followed Sora and Shiro’s vague instructions without understanding. But amidst the enthusiasm here, in the audience , Holou felt a wish for something more. This hypothesis gave rise to a theory: They expected something from her. It was there that her thoughts stopped.
What did they expect?
She hadn’t even determined clearly what expectation was… Truly, what? What was this that made her supposedly insubstantial body shake?
It made her wheeze silently.
Anxiety, fear, tension.
Feelings no god should have swirled within her. Her hands gripped the mic of their own accord and trembled. Her divine eyes swam in search of salvation, not even conscious of it. Then, among the screaming faces in the dark, she saw someone familiar. She saw someone she knew.
Host…?
Those eyes, they did expect something. They were her friend’s. Her comrade’s. The Shrine Maiden’s.
“…H-Holou is Holou! N-now…Holou shall sing and dance, and so forth!”
Holou still didn’t know what she was supposed to do. But. Still. Regardless! At the very least, she was almost sure of this!
— Holou’s host desireth not—for Holou to drown in questions!!
Holou set forth that hypothesis and awkwardly introduced herself. And she moved her mouth and body as she’d been taught.
While Holou was starting to awkwardly sing and dance, backstage, Sora, Shiro, and Einzig were wildly moving their hands. Einzig was moving two hands, guided by the parallel thought of the entire Ex Machina cluster. Sora and Shiro were moving four hands, their thinking remarkably in tandem. Both were taking their turns at blazing speed as they moved pieces without a moment of confusion.
It was basically just chess. With a few special rules. Such as— not taking turns .
“…Wh-what is happening…? J-Jibril, who is leading?”
“…I believe my masters are slightly behind… Wait. Now they have— No…a ploy…?”
The moves flashed about on the board so fast, the two squealed in their attempts to follow it. High-speed chess. Average four moves a second. Sora and Shiro played their moves back and forth without having to talk about it. It seemed that the fact that they were competing with Ex Machina like this was enough to astonish Steph and Jibril, but…
…Don’t get excited about this . There was no special meaning in that rule. It’s just how it ended up because they wanted to make it like a rhythm game. Whence also—
“…So any moves not in time with the beat are invalid, are they? A mere constraint?”
Just as Einzig suggested, this, too, had no special meaning.
Yes—a rhythm game. A music game.
—Waves of light crashed through the board in sync with the song Holou sang onstage. You had to smack down the pieces in sync with the rhythm, or your move would be invalid—and the piece would go back.
“No shit. You expect us to let you move as fast as sound or light?”
“…But…we, too, were…always perfect…on rhythm…games…”
For “ ” and Ex Machina alone, this was a mere speed control.
Holou’s set list contained thirteen songs, which meant the chess match should have thirteen rounds. No turns. No stalemate. Whoever brought things to a stalemate lost. This made Holou’s show and the game sync up. So yeah—that was pretty much all there was to the rules described thus far.
None of that included the special rule. The really special rule was—well, look at that . Steph and Jibril nervously looked up at the meter floating in the air.
It was goofy-looking, with an Emir-Eins chibi on it: the Energy Gauge.
It represented the level of excitement, delight, and satisfaction among the audience as measured by the Ex Machina Seher and Prüfer. To put it a bit more bluntly, it showed how much this concert was rocking —and it was gradually sliding down at the moment. There’d been no particular effects. It was just Holou awkwardly singing and dancing. This could not be expected to rock.
So let’s take stock: Sora and Shiro had three win conditions. One, they had to win at least seven rounds of chess. Two, they had to prove that Sora was not the Spieler. And three, they had to make the concert a success—which meant they couldn’t let the Energy Gauge run out. The Ex Machinas, on the other hand, would win if they prevented any one of these.
At the very least, they had to beat Ex Machina at chess , a perfect play . And they had to do it seven times, against a hypercomputer cluster that infinitely grew more powerful as it learned and adapted in less than an instant. That should have been enough to make this game overwhelmingly disadvantageous—no, infinitely approaching impossible —for Sora and Shiro. And then they stuck on this Energy Gauge that looked like it would run out anytime now.
As for that final, really special rule…
“…Hmm. I cannot understand it… What is the meaning of this …?”
Suddenly, one square on the board flashed in Technicolor. Einzig furrowed his brow at it. This represented the really special rule: At random points in the game, squares would flash, and if you slammed a piece on them, then it was an effect strike .
But to spell out This is where I’m moving , in a high-speed game of chess with no turns, was like saying, Come get me —it was suicidal. And the flashing square was random, which meant that they might have to make a fatally bad move. Meanwhile, Ex Machina had no reason whatsoever to do that. The Energy Gauge running out was entirely Sora and Shiro’s problem. Ex Machina could just ignore the concert and win at chess by a perfect play.
This was what led everyone, including Jibril and Steph, to one conclusion: that this game clearly was overwhelmingly disadvantageous to Sora and Shiro. Even Einzig said doubtfully, “Certainly you could not expect us to hit this, Spieler.”
Did he really? But Sora’s and Shiro’s faces twisted into sneers.
Bingo. He really does.
“I do, actually. I mean—that’s the wrong way to put it. ’Cos—we’re gonna hit it ourselves, too.”
With a wicked leer, Sora took the piece in his hand and spelled out, This is where I’m moving. Saying, Come get me. It was suicidal, obviously a bad move. He moved right onto the flashing square and said:
“But you guys are also gonna hit it. I promise.”
Sora glanced at the speechless faces of the Ex Machinas, Steph, and Jibril. They would be speechless. Since they all knew that was the worst move they possibly could have made .
But that was the thing!
—That was the soul of this game … And so!!
“Looks like you don’t get it, pervbot! But you’re one thing to us!”
“…All you’ve…ever been…to us…is stage equipment…!”
In echo to their cry, it came to demonstrate the final rule—the effect strike . They’d employed Jibril’s Materialization Shiritori board to implement it. It launched effects—just as the striker imagined them. It used that space-rewriting trick Ex Machina had always pained their asses with. Now their surroundings were being rebuilt the way Sora wanted. Sora and Shiro crowed.
“Now—all you Eastern Union idol agencies! Ready to kick and scream?”
“…You’ll regret…underestimating…Bl4nk Productions… But you can cry…d00ds.”
The Ten Covenants forbade them from harming Holou, other players, or the audience. On the other hand—they could do anything else! In their shiritori game with Jibril, they hadn’t been allowed to use things that didn’t exist. There was no such limit on the effect strike —!!
“This show is gonna go down in history!! Ready to scream, Shiro?!”
“…Ohhh, yeahhh…!”
The Ex Machinas hadn’t even gotten over the shock of Sora banging out that blunder with no hesitation. Now the scenery shocked Jibril and Steph, too—and prompted Sora and Shiro to yell:
““Repeat after we !!””
The throne room had already been rebuilt into a venue. Now Sora and Shiro were rebuilding it again. Light exploded through the stage, the seats, the backstage area—and boom!
““Yack deculturrrrrrrrrre!!!!””
…They weren’t even on Disboard anymore. They were in a place no one knew—not even Sora or Shiro, strictly speaking— somewhere in space . Amidst the unknown wilderness, all the audience and backstage crew looked at was Holou. Standing on the arm of a robot fighter, a giant screen projecting her to the heavens, Holou sang and danced. Accentuating her performance—or maybe overdoing it a little—were the effects. Missiles traced strange and complex patterns as beams and lasers traced the universe. The silver, spiraling paths of the fighters, the rain of curtain fire, it was all so beautiful, but—
……
This was obviously a war zone, and it threw everyone except Holou and Sora and Shiro into mute amazement.
…Well, it would. Even Sora and Shiro hadn’t seen this except in fiction. For those who didn’t know it at all, the instinctual associations it aroused had much more to do with running away than rocking out. Sora and Shiro, however, sneered with confidence. When the audience saw the writing on the screen, they immediately exploded into a cheer. It read:
Don’t worry. It’s harmless.
“ Howww can they accept it just like thaaat ?!”
Steph’s shriek at the rebounding Energy Gauge was ignored.
“Ha-haaa! O cherished dumbasses! Have we got a divine set list for you!”
“…It’s divine…’cos…she’s a god… ? ”
“Galactic idol? Ha!! Small potatoes! She’s headed for super-dimensional territory. Make way!”
Sora and Shiro shouted out in glee, not stopping their chess game for so much as an instant. Einzig kept playing smoothly, too, but he and his maids couldn’t hide their shock. Meanwhile, without regard for this—
— He’d really played badly just for the sake of a show.
Steph and Jibril squeaked at this eerily familiar behavior of Sora.
“…Oh…! Could it be—?”
“Quite identical…to that time…?!”
—The effect strike projected the image of the one who struck it throughout the venue in ambient sensory effects. Yes, the scene, the shock, the vibration, all extended all the way backstage, around the players. So it was just like that time. That time they’d played Materialization Shiritori with Jibril.
They’d risked loss on the first move to check what they could do—and their real aim lay beyond. They’d beaten Jibril by trapping her in a hypernova. Thus, they would beat Ex Machina—by trapping them in effects? Or something.
They weren’t the only ones this occurred to.
“You mean to impede our chess…by blinding us with special effects?”
Einzig spoke softly, well up to speed. Steph and Jibril inhaled shortly behind. Emir-Eins paid no mind.
“ Negative acknowledgment: Effects damaging players prohibited. Therefore, low impact on Ex Machina. Pointless.”
—There was the rub: It wasn’t like that time. This was the real world. Which meant that the Ten Covenants prevented injury. The most they could hope to do was distract. And what good would that do against the Ex Machinas? The proof was in their smooth, well-reasoned moves, effectively partitioned from their emotions.
“…Then why could it be that the Spieler would choose loss…?”
The shock of the Ex Machinas was all at Sora’s bad move. Even if he cared about the concert, why would he set up the rules to assure his own defeat? Sora and Shiro observed their doubt with another crooked sneer.
— Wrong. Now you’ve made a big mistake.
“Still confused, huh? We’ll say it one more time. To us—”
“…All you’ve… ever been…is…stage equipment…”
Sora and Shiro leered and made their move.
.
“…Einzig to all units: What just happened? Report…”
Einzig mumbled this deadpan. The other units choked on errors. Sora gave them his most ironic smile yet.
“Why I’d choose loss ? I made that move ’cos I wanted effects. Loss can kiss my ass.”
Sora decided to answer Einzig’s question—silently: What just happened? Sora spelled out, This is where I’m moving. Saying, Come get me. It was suicidal, obviously a bad move. For the effects. It seemed Einzig and the bots were pretty sure they were winning. Sora grinned. Four moves. He and Shiro made four moves, back and forth between each other—and everything changed. And now—
“Well, then! A little smug about managing to get me alone into a draw, are we?”
The Ex Machinas saw how it was. And couldn’t believe it. Sora and Shiro bathed in the looks of Einzig, Emir-Eins—all the Ex Machinas. But, as if cracking up, as if guilty, as if so very ironic—
“With Shiro—I’ve—we’ve managed to beat Lord Tet at chess.”
“…Think of how…the god of play…Tet, would feel…to fall behind, you tools.”
Holou’s first number reached its end. Right about then…
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. ONE VICTORY.
…the chessboard called it. But their victory over Ex Machina, despite making a terrible move, paled before what they’d related. They’d beaten the One True God—the God of Play. The greatest gamer of all. It was a bold claim. It was also a cold, hard fact.
“ ? .”
The machines knew better than anyone: There was no lie anywhere in their words. Sora and Shiro left Ex Machina’s shock behind.
“Time for round two. No time to sit back, Ex Machina!”
The intro to Holou’s second song started on the very next beat. The cheers were their signal. Sora and Shiro savagely, boldly, insolently smiled—and spoke.
“ Get used. That’s really all you’re playing this game for. ? ”
“…Go for it…perfect equipment… Moar effects…moar… ? ”
To kick all the expectations of the Ex Machinas, Jibril, and Steph to the curb.
“—Sorry, Ex Machina… There’s no way—you can beat us .”
Sora and Shiro, with the start of the second round, calmly got their pieces moving.
And so Einzig—no, also Emir-Eins and the whole cluster—was forced to provisionally give this unfathomable suspicion the value of fact.
In round two, Einzig barely eked out a victory for Ex Machina.
In round three…now the movement was dizzying.
All units were screaming, Analysis failed. They could only take it.
“Pwnd! Okay, Shiro, now it’s your turn! Pick your effect!”
“…Ohhh, yeahhh… Wait ’til…you see, this…Brother… ? ”
Sora and Shiro were placing pieces one after the other, without discussion but with plenty of joy. While even straight-up announcing that they were about to do another effect strike. Yes— another . Sora and his sister had struck one this round already.
A fatal blunder—that was what it should have been. The parallel processors had spat out the probability of recovery from that effect strike as zero. And yet , the two of them were still winning. Einzig and the machines evaluated a new hypothesis: regarding the true meaning of the effect strike —
“Einzig to all units: Initiating verification. Request supplementary post-blunder computation.”
“—Jawohl.”
Einzig instructed the cluster to prepare to clean up as he waited for the chance to verify the hypothesis. Regarding the meaning, the will to be inferred from Sora’s words: You’re also gonna hit it. I promise. The chance came right away.
—A Technicolor square appeared.
Cluster report: The position was fatal. There was a high probability that occupying it would make the round unwinnable. But Einzig moved his piece straight there—and smacked down an effect strike. Because if the hypothesis was correct, it wasn’t just a matter of this round—it could spell defeat in every round . The need for verification was critical, and so Einzig took the risk and imagined his effect.
—Bzt. All light and sound vanished from the venue, as if there had been a power failure. It was the effect of stopping effects. Not having light or sound stopped the concert itself. It wasn’t even about the Energy Gauge anymore. For Ex Machina, it was the worst possible move because it would force their loss in this round. On the other hand, it was the best possible move because it would force the end of the concert, and therefore their victory in this game.
“Yeah…you got the picture.”
Only the light of the board lit Sora’s dark smile. His fiendish voice was followed in a few seconds by another shining square and his sister striking another effect from it.
— Force this, suckers.
It was as if the soundless black Einzig had brought was itself part of the effect. The lights flashed, Holou’s costume changed, and the music modulated—people cheered. Einzig had thought he was winning by force-quitting the concert and losing by forcing the exploitation of an opening. So much for any of that. Sora grinned.
“We really need you to throw down like that so we can ramp it up, you know? ? ”
“ ? .”
Sora’s words set a final value to Einzig’s hypothesis: True.
Sora and his sister had lost in the second round simply because they’d focused on spamming effect strikes to pump up their Energy Gauge. But then—if they weren’t striking any effects—or were striking, say, just one—
“Let’s see who can play the worst . ’Cos perfect play is boring.”
“…Who…wants…to win…at tic-tac-toe…?”
Predators of overwhelming strength—hard to imagine as Immanities—Sora and Shiro smiled savagely. Their self-assured words made it as clear to the Ex Machinas as to anyone what they were saying.
— Beating you is not the issue.
Ex Machina had, in fact, lost the first round. If this had just been a one-shot match, that would have been it.
— The issue is we want to have fun.
Get used. That really was all they’d wanted from Ex Machina.
— Get us our effects. Get this show rocking.
You do that— and we’ll let you pick some effects, too !
“Screw best response; it’s about worst response . Can you keep up, O transcendent machinery?”
The smile of Sora, the taunt of a predator letting his prey run, appeared to be an acknowledgment. The hypothesis was confirmed. The meaning of the effect strike was to make the game fun for Sora— by giving Ex Machina a chance .
Then—is this to say—
he plays us—with a handicap ? ?!
At this verification result, which defied all logic, the cluster thought in parallel. Is he so powerful that he can far outstrip Ex Machina, or even the god of play himself? Understanding failed. No—accept it! Credibility not found. No—at least one part is true! Then analyze it. Interpret it. Learn from it, adapt to it—and, at last, transcend it!! Show the nature of the race. Demonstrate its quintessence—! The style of play conforms to that which Sora—that which the Spieler showed us five days ago. Did he let us win? No. Then where lies the discrepancy—?
“…What’s this? Looks like you’ve finally noticed that my genius sister exists, you junk heap.”
“ ? ?!”
Sora had apparently noticed Ex Machina’s eyes going to Shiro.
“Honestly, it was really starting to get annoying. We’d really like it if you’d rethink your perspective, you know?”
“…You think…you can…ignore me…? We’ll…teach you…!”
The bile and seething sarcasm made Ex Machina think.
— Who…is this girl? No—she is Sora’s sister. His family. Her name is Shiro. We recognized this. We did not ignore it. We simply did not assign it high importance. Why? Obviously, because she is an outsider. To play chess in concert with an outsider—what is that? They are not capable of parallel thought, nor do they have time to coordinate. They are only two discrete units operating independently…which meant nothing…we thought…
“…Playing, Brother, alone…or just me…is, one thing…”
“But if you think you can beat Blank, we’ve got news for you.”
Their categorical statement contained not a shred of logical coherence. But why was it that it resonated so deeply within Ex Machina’s illogical “heart”—?
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. TWO VICTORIES.
The chessboard called it as a sound signaled the end of the third song. Leaning back in his chair and holding Shiro, Sora spoke.
“You’d better etch this into your buggy heads. Blank doesn’t—”
Sora stopped. He and Shiro looked up.
“…We did… We did once… We lost… We did…”
“I see, so we can’t use that line anymore… I feel depressed now.”
“I—I cannot apologize enough, my masters! How I have failed you!”
Something had triggered doom-and-gloom mode. The two sunk deep into their chair, which for some reason prompted Jibril to prostrate herself in a panic. But Ex Machina thought on.
They still couldn’t make sense of it. Of what Shiro was to be able to make Sora so powerful, or of the mechanism behind it. But—something did catch Einzig’s attention. He gave an instruction to the cluster.
“All units: Change top analysis priority from target path to methods of victory other than chess.”
If Einzig’s suspicions about Shiro were correct, then it could be extremely difficult to reveal the hand of the two in four rounds and overcome it. But extreme difficulty, even impossibility, anything—they were there to adapt to and overcome it all. Who, after all, would have thought that the Spieler would still be present after six thousand years?
“Heh-heh-heh. The Spieler challenges us to overcome him. We accept this challenge laid down by love!”
Einzig’s ardent defiance was met by Sora’s and Shiro’s frigid glares.
Backstage, there was only silence. Sora and Shiro sat deep in their chair, resting. The Ex Machinas had paused their communication. After the third round of the game, the third song in the concert, came an intermission. Cheers behind her, Holou came back down the stairs. Jibril watched.
“…Masters. Surely Holou cannot feel fatigue, nor must time pass for her to change her costume?”
Jibril also looked at the Energy Gauge over their heads as it gradually drained.
Ah, the intermission. An important time for rest and costume changes in a normal concert. But in this game, their Energy Gauge was active all the while. Why had they bothered with this needless respite?
“The audience is gonna get tired! When you’ve got a godly set list, you gotta make them wait, even for no reason. You get it?!”
“…You leave, for a while…and get them…worked up…over what’s next… Costumes and all!”
Sora and Shiro were straight-faced as they spoke.
— Are these two even interested in the game with Ex Machina at all?
Sora felt everyone staring at him thus with wonderment, but he shook it off.
“So! Steph!! Go work ’em. We’re counting on you!”
“…………I’m…sorry?” she squeaked. Sora sternly turned to face her.
“D00d, you gotta fill the time! Holou’s come off the stage. Who do you expect to keep ’em entertained now?”
“…Steph…have you…forgotten…why you’re…here…?”
Steph’s eyes swam from the siblings’ harsh gazes. After apparently digging through her memory, she nodded a few times and answered, “No, of course not.” After all—
“How can I forget something you’ve never told me ?!”
Then she started.
“Wait! Why am I here?”
Sora and Shiro heaved a long, long sigh.
“…Hey, come on, manager babe. The set list. What’s it say after the third song?”
“What, I’m a manager?! …Oh, I think you did call me that once— Wait, it just says, Intermission: MC, 5 min ! I checked! Where are you saying my name is?!”
What a worker Steph was making herself out to be, having checked the list even though Sora had only once implied that she had a position here, and she didn’t even remember.
“Damn it! These schmucks don’t have a lick of common sense… Listen up!”
The two of most dubious common sense smacked their heads.
“…Brother…and I…can’t go out…in public…!”
“But if we put Jibril up there, there’s no telling what will happen!”
“…And Ex Machina…is out, of the question…”
—So. Who with common sense was there left besides Steph? There was only one sensible outcome to this process of elimination, at which Steph looked to the heavens.
“You can introduce the band, you can do a comedy skit; we don’t care, just say something entertaining! Just go!”
“There is no band! There is no comedy group! What do you mean, entertaining?”
Steph struggled to resist, but then she saw the Energy Gauge slowly but surely depleting. She shook her head.
“……Oh God! I-it won’t be my fault if it gets worse, all right?!”
Steph ran up the stairs desperately.
“…Master, is this safe? If the Energy Gauge were to run out…” Jibril asked as she eyed Holou’s replacement skeptically.
“It’s fine. She’ll get them pumping somehow… She’s got charm.”
But Sora answered her, not an ounce of worry on his face, and they all looked to the stage.
* * *
— That is deep. So deep.
Is it truly possible for us to attain knowledge so profound…?
The confidence of the limitlessly growing machines seemed shaken— But just then…
“…! Heh-heh-heh, I should expect no less from the Spieler… But allow me to correct you!”
Einzig popped up from the abyss of despair.
“This move is no mere double bind… It is a triple bind!”
Yes—though only subtly—the Energy Gauge had decreased. That fearsome hypercomputer recognized the meaning of this, at which Sora could not help but swallow.
Yes—they’d given the audience too much fanservice !!
Nudity—it was as thrilling as a happening ! As a glimpse of panties was precious for its very transience! As panties on full display were nothing more than a buzzkill! The machines grasped this deep and penetrating truth—whereupon Sora and Shiro recognized: They would have to strike. An effect strike, to restore Holou’s clothes. A blunder, right in the endgame. A move that would put them at a hopeless disadvantage! And then, as if it had been waiting for them to get there, one square flashed psychedelically. That square. That position. Sora and Shiro looked at each other. They knew.
—It was death.
If they moved there, they would inevitably be placed in check, and however they struggled, all that was left was a stalemate—their loss. The double bind had been extended into a triple bind that worked them in a whole new way. Sora commended, Sora respected this adaptation, this development, most worthy of awe.
“…Yeah. Looks like we’re losing this round no matter what.” Admitting it, he brought the piece to the shining square. “So let’s compromise on winning the next one —you ready, Shiro?”
Sora’s meaningful utterance was answered by Shiro with an utter disregard for the skeptical looks of all.
“…Mm… Didn’t, I say…we would find…more porn…together?”
“Oh man! I’ve got such a good sister! Your brother’s so happy!”
Shiro nodded with a smile, and Sora choked with tears as the piece approached the board. For the effect strike that spelled their defeat in this round.
—That same moment.
Sora and Shiro’s initial velocity as they launched out of the chair surpassed the speed of light. Or so it seemed to everyone, their act that meant abandoning the game giving no one time to process it. Before Sora’s image could even be reflected in the environment. So fast. Faster than anything! Holou’s clothes were repaired—no, changed to her costume for her next song—and!!
Rrriiiiiipppshhhhrrr.
The unnatural sound Holou’s clothes had made as they ripped was echoed by a factor of ten to the forty-fifth power.
“““…………Huh?”””
The clothes of the twelve maid robots, including Emir-Eins, and of both Steph and Jibril—in other words, every girl but Shiro—were shredded to smithereens, except for the important articles such as their socks and garters. A moment after their modesty was compromised, each of the maids individually witnessed a gross spectacle—
“— Fear: …Eek!”
—a writhing bundle of meat in a loincloth swaying without wind, who was admiring her bare body intently. Yes…the abomination vulgarly known as Ino Hatsuse had come for each of them. Twelve of him in total—the effect nightmarish enough to make them squeal—by which time Sora had his smartphone and Shiro had the tablet—and they were sliding under Emir-Eins’s legs! The myriad of images yielded by burst mode in storage, they dashed on to their next target…!
— All right, that’s crossing the line , you may think. Uncensored low-angle close-ups? That’s straight from the red card to suspension from F*FA. And yet! —Nay. I say nay! No red card will be presented here. No ref’s whistle will blow! Why, you ask?!
“M-Masters?! Th-this mysterious light —what composes it?!”
“I don’t even know where to start, but—why am I naked?!”
Yes. Jibril had inquired about (and Steph had ignored) the light drifting about the girls—the light that just barely concealed their privates from every angle! Mysterious Light , with its ever-so-dependable non-euclidean geometry, decided to grace us with their presence! Conversely, this likely wouldn’t make the cut using Pixelation . But with our friend Mysterious Light, we’re in the clear for broadcast! Therefore, this content is definitively safe and wholesome !! QED!!
…Thus, here lay Sora and Shiro’s challenge: There were at least 3.2 seconds until the end of the seventh round, which they would inevitably lose, and another 8 seconds until the start of the eighth round, for a total of 11.2 seconds! They had this very limited span of time to determine the angles and compositions that wouldn’t include Ino in the frame! And they had to capture at least one bust shot of each of these fourteen individuals, all before returning to their seat…
Could they do it? Sora and Shiro looked at each other. What a silly question! Could they thread their camera shutters through the eyes of an endlessly towering series of needles and reach the elusory porno beyond? Let’s see what happens. “ ” will get it done!!
……
“A-all right… Now for round eight. We totally got this, but still, let’s get…goinggg… Hff… ”
“…I-it’s their…first move… And an…effect strike, too… Egh, fff…”
…Exactly 11.2 seconds. Sora and Shiro were back at the table, panting, faces full of accomplishment. Still, their hands were getting right to that eighth round as they declared victory.
“— Command: Effect strike, top priority. Execute.”
“Wha…? My good unit, what are you saying—?!”
The bureaucratic voice of Emir-Eins gave Einzig no time to question Sora and Shiro. Rather, all the Ex Machinas except Einzig glared at him with overbearing pressure.
“Spieler… Is this what you meant when you spoke of a compromise on winning the next round ?”
Sora merely grinned at Einzig’s belated realization.
Indeed—why had they chosen this effect? Well, yeah… For the porno, duh. But there’s nothing like making your hobbies useful, is there? Even if it means you need to raise the difficulty a little. Even if it means you need to bring out Ino —look how useful it is.
“ Vote: Consensus of twelve units. Effect strike, top priority. Eliminate undesirable observation subject X permanently. Destroy. Kill.”
“Attention, all units! This is a trap! There is no need to counter this effect! We shall only—”
“ Warning: Viewing of this unit’s body by an agent other than Master deemed unacceptable. If Einzig views this unit’s body, then unit will destroy sensors of Einzig. Consensus of twelve units. Final advisory: Effect strike, top priority. Command. Now.”
Einzig’s reasoned arguments did not reach the maids. While Emir-Eins’s tone remained bureaucratic, her words were clearly lacking any calm— Okay, she was pissed.
To stoke the shame of the maid robots and cause them to make the first blunder—Sora had considered this quite the gamble. I mean, first, you had to wonder whether Ex Machinas even had shame. But to be stared at lovingly by those crude hunks of sinew that would chase you down anywhere, those twelve loinclothed apparitions making poses, with a special emphasis on the boobs. Even if you were a machine, as long as you had a heart… No, even if you didn’t have a heart! The providence that even flowers wilt and fall—would have to make them think thus, he assumed. Yes.
— No matter what, this must be eliminated!!
But…it seemed it wasn’t such a gamble after all. It seemed they clearly had shame, and what’s more, they even denied Einzig permission to view their bodies, even when redacted by our friend Mysterious Light. And so they placidly went on:
“ Vote: Unanimous. Einzig will be stripped of authority. This unit will assume temporary authority. ”
It was the collective opinion—no, the determination—of the Ex Machinas who moved to eject the muscle installation rejected by the will of the universe.
“Noooooooo! Attention, all units! You must cease this at once! Exercise sound judgment! Nooooo!!”
Einzig’s protestations were futile as his hand took the piece unhesitatingly to the first square that shone. Then—effects took effect as the female Ex Machinas imagined them, which meant…uh…
…Well…yeah… The twelve images of Ino had been murdered, literally, in ways that it would not be pleasant to describe. Sora was just barely able to get Shiro to focus on the board so that she wouldn’t see it. Emir-Eins murmured:
“ Witticism: Don’t worry. It’s harmless.”
Her nude body was drenched in blood—or rather, something closely resembling it. Definitely not real blood. After a moment’s delay, our friend Mysterious Light was relieved of duty by the return of the maid costumes. Einzig started.
“All units! Are your thoughts functioning normally?! Would you trade our victory for something so insignificant as your nude forms?!”
Sora and Shiro, honestly pretty freaked out, were secretly grateful for Einzig’s cry, but—
“ Directive: All units to Einzig. Self-destruct. Explode. Dummy. Jerk… Aus. ”
Even if they were machines, it was a grave sin to refer to the bare bodies of maidens as insignificant , for which Emir-Eins, speaking on behalf of them all, advised him politely to fuck off and die. But, ah…the sinners know not their sin…
“But why?! All may behold my nude body as much as they—”
As Einzig began to strip, he suddenly disappeared from Sora’s and Shiro’s vision.
“ Eulogy: Player Einzig failed unexpectedly. Regrettable. This unit will inherit current game. No impact on continuity.”
Emir-Eins replaced Einzig in the seat as if she’d been there all along.
…W-well. The opponent was, after all, Ex Machina—the whole cluster. It didn’t matter which unit was moving the pieces. It didn’t impinge on the rules… But anyway. Again, it had eluded their vision, but presumably, Einzig had been kicked by Emir-Eins again. It appeared this time he had not been stuck into the wall so much as smashed into it to form a crater. Sora and Shiro worried about him for a moment—
“…All u-units… W-would you, accept defeat…?!”
But Einzig’s voice, full of static, came as a relief to them.
“ Equanimity: Master provides nude photos. This unit will acquire. Ex Machina will win.”
“It’s cool that you’re determined and all, but what the hell is that motive?!”
Emir-Eins faced Sora as resolute as a soldier sworn to defend, and at that, Sora couldn’t help but squeak. But her next words made him a little more wary.
“ Inference: Effective impediment to Master calculated. Victory in this round feasible.”
“……That so?”
It was, once more, a declaration of an effect strike. They’d already done one, and things were looking grim enough for them for it, yet they were up for another. This could mean one of two things: Either they had a plan they believed in completely, or they were ready to resign themselves to defeat. Regardless, if it was Emir-Eins talking, that worried both Sora and Shiro.
—Emir-Eins. Among Ex Machina, who were in general hard to grasp, she was the one unit Sora still had not managed to read. She didn’t advance on Sora, nor did she withdraw from him. She seemed consistently neutral or, perhaps, an observer. Her peculiarity combined with this trait made her feel alien even among these eerily foreign machines. A smile formed on her perfect doll face. Her voice echoed out like the strings of a harp:
“ Fact: Master is a virgin.”
“Yeah, that’s right! What, you got a problem?!”
She relieved Sora and made him shout in surrender. And followed up—with words that resonated deep within his core.
“ Corollaries: Master is terrified of females. But his interest levels are very high. Verified by severe agitation upon approach. Also, preferences of Master in appearance and attributes identified with high precision.”
With every word she spoke, he thought, Shit .
And with every additional word: Shit, shit.
As the blood drained from his face: Shit. Shit, shit, shit!
His face taut, Sora thought, I underestimated them! Are they really gonna pull the worst move?!
He repressed his anxiety and kept his hands moving.
But Emir-Eins moved her piece like the flow of a river as soon as she saw the square glow. And struck her effect strike while elucidating the evident and ineluctable truth—namely.
“ Conclusion: Application of numerous hotties will result in Master’s defeat…by rendering him unable to continue.”
Can’t game when you’re getting sexed up by mad chicks, can you?!
…………Say what?
That’s what everyone but Emir-Eins and Sora would have liked to ask as they stared, dumbfounded. Sora confirmed that outlines resembling those of numerous animal-girls were forming around him.
“Damn, they got me!! Shiro, you’ll have to hold out alone until you can erase this with the next effect strike!!” Sora wailed piteously.
“…B-Brother…! Is that really…enough…to KO you…?!”
Shiro interjected, seeming to speak for everyone.
You call yourself one half of the greatest gamer in the world? And you’re okay with this?!
Everyone’s stares asked him as much, but he retaliated internally— How can you blame me?! Oh, I see how it is. You’re gonna fault me for being a virgin? Is it that grave of a sin?! If there were a man who could observe Zhuang Zhou’s exhortation to be “clear mirror, still water” in the presence of sexy ladies, he’d already be in nirvana! There is no way for me to continue through this!
As Sora dedicated himself to the next stratagem, surrounding him…
“Mr. Producerrr! ? You worked soooo hard today! ? ”
“Excuse me, I, uh! I just came out of the showerrr… ? ”
“I want you to train me more! Drill it in …please. ? ”
…the effects Emir-Eins imagined took form.
“ Certainty: Desire of idol producer. Interference from requests for ‘midnight lessons.’ Delay. Very effective.”
There were now forty-eight animal girls almost fighting one another to get it on with Sora. Ambitious idols.
.
……Hmph…
“Ahhh, what garbage. I shouldn’t have let you get me worked up… Damn, though, you really scared me there. Shiro, back to the game.”
“…Mm… Yeah… I guess, that’s how it is…”
Sora snickered before turning his attention to the game again. Everyone but Shiro raised their voices in alarm.
“M-Master?! D-do you feel ill? D-do you need a rest?!”
“You—you cannot possibly be Sora…! Who are you—?!”
“You’d chew me out either way, wouldn’t you?! What d’you want me to do?!”
Jibril’s voice quavered as Steph’s doubt crystallized. Sora howled.
Yeah, that’s right. You got the right idea. But the wrong scenario. This shit is disgusting as all hell!
“I am a dedicated master of idol production. You’re proposing that I give ‘midnight lessons’? You believe that I will lay a hand on the idols I raise?”
Yes—Emir-Eins had struck precisely the wrong nerve. Sora fixed his eyes on this wench who had affronted his pride as he bellowed with indignation—
“You take me for the scum of the earth who will stoop to such base perversions? Think again, Ex Machina!! ”
—seeming to rile the very air into a divine storm that would blow them all away. They squeaked.
Sure, they were just playing at being producers. But that’s just how Sora and Shiro were when it came to playing at anything.
— They took it more seriously than the real thing!
Now that everyone had recalled that, or learned it, Sora clenched his piece and balled up his fist—
“No need to sleep with me! I’ll produce the hell out of each and every one of you! Come get some!”
—and he slammed it down onto the shining square. The crash of the effect strike resounded throughout the backstage area with the maids’ bewilderment. And—
“Hey, everyoooone! Are you having a good tiiiiiime?!”
—the cheers of the forty-eight animal-idols crashed over the stage. With colorful explosive smoke, the forty-eight Werebeast idols had been shifted out. The whole audience—no, even Holou—froze for a moment at their abrupt appearance. But they segued right into a dance routine behind Holou. They were the backup dancers. The crowd roared as they realized they had just been visited by the crème de la crème of beautiful idols en masse—
“Excuse me! Um, that just now! You could have used that to restore my clothes, couldn’t you? Couldn’t you?!”
—and Steph roared as she was reminded that our friend Mysterious Light was working overtime while she and Jibril were still naked. No one cared. In spite of her nudity, Jibril was watching Sora and Shiro play. But as it should happen, Emir-Eins, who faced them, was showing quite the same feelings on her face.
—Shock. Distress. Doubt. Ever deeper.
“Perhaps you wonder why we bothered to take the idols you brought and make them backup dancers.”
Sora explicated her feelings in her stead, his hands never pausing all the while. The Energy Gauge had already maxed out with all that had followed Holou’s wardrobe destruction. Plus, Emir-Eins’s two bad moves had by this point all but assured Sora and Shiro’s victory in this round. So why? Why had they returned a bad move when they’d had no need to so disadvantage themselves? And also—
“And how can you still lose ? You just can’t get that, is what your face is telling me… Am I right?”
“ Acknowledgment: …Failure to comprehend…!”
The randomly positioned effect strikes—bad moves—by the nature of the game grew more fatal the closer it came to the endgame. Sora’s blunder was enough to compensate for both bad moves Emir-Eins had made and put him on the losing end. But—in a flash, the momentum of the game shifted back to Sora and Shiro. Yes—even after that bad move.
Emir-Eins groaned with perplexity. Sora and Shiro had surpassed Ex Machina .
—Chess. The textbook example of a finite, zero-sum, two-player game with perfect information. But the introduction of the randomly flashing squares made this a game with imperfect information. This made the complexity of the calculation recede to the limit—of perfectly imperfect play.
When could you strike? You couldn’t tell that much exactly.
Where should you strike? You couldn’t say the risk until the square actually flashed.
When would you strike? The risk of having the squares you would strike known was no small matter.
Would you really strike? Or would you make them think so and use it against them?
And so the 10 120 possible games of chess came to approach infinity. But the real problem sure as hell wasn’t that . Sora smirked.
“So far we’ve played eight rounds, over seven hundred moves. And you still can’t successfully analyze the patterns of our play…or rather!”
How far had he managed to read into the psychology of machines ? He spoke to mark the heart-pounding challenge he’d set for himself, as a gamer and as a person—thus.
“ The more you analyze us, the more powerful we get… That’s what you don’t understand, and that’s the real problem, right?”
…For an instant, less than a moment, tantamount to nothingness—Emir-Eins’s hand perceptibly…stopped. It proved that all the units, even Einzig in the wall, had frozen. It proved that Sora had met the challenge—and he went on imagining what they were thinking.
Right. So the indeterminate nature of this game makes it maximally difficult to calculate. But in that case… Given that Sora and Shiro were under the same conditions, they were just as screwed in trying to calculate it. When a race was capable of analyzing and adapting to anything—growing infinitely—how could it be—? How could they keep losing round after round and have their every adaptation foiled?!
That’s what they were thinking, right? Sora snapped his piece down.
“It’s ’cos that’s the kind of race Ex Machina is . And we’re not under the same conditions .”
Yes, he went ahead and said those words that made Emir-Eins and all the maids stare together. He said them. He was able to say them. He knew they’d analyze his joy, but he didn’t care . Inside his heart—Sora yelled, Pwned! and gestured obnoxiously with his fists. Later he would brag to Shiro. He would keep bragging even if she told him to shut up already. Shiro, perhaps having already inferred Sora’s determination, given her unenthusiastic expression—
“…‘We are Ex Machina. We will adapt to anything in existence’…”
—repeated Einzig’s statement, word for word. And then they both stopped their hands and thought: They were speaking the truth. Ex Machina had been an opponent they weren’t even sure “ ” could beat. But then they found in this fearsome race an opening to exploit—a flaw. A critical defect they couldn’t have counted on under normal conditions.
CHECKMATE. WINNER: “ ”. THREE VICTORIES.
The chessboard called the game, and Sora told them:
“…You can’t adapt to something that doesn’t exist, can you…?”
The sound of the end of Holou’s eighth song echoed as they waited for the next to start. A brief interim. Ex Machina’s silence seemed to ask what Sora meant, to which he and Shiro replied:
“Well, seeee, if you guys lived up to your reputation, we figured even we together would have trouble beating you.”
“…………But nooo… Ex Machina…you guys, are too strong …”
They went slack as if melting, so as to get what rest they could.
“—If you’d managed to kill the great Artosh, there’s no way you’d draw against just me.”
Yes, the same misgiving had been hounding Sora ever since that first battle he’d undergone alone. Now that his suspicions had been confirmed, he spelled it out for everyone, his tone and expression equally languid.
—The words, however, bewildered Jibril more than anyone.
“You can’t do it, Ex Machina. You weren’t the ones who killed Artosh— someone else did , right?”
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