6
Dawn rose on February 19th.
At the enormous dragon stables along the western wall of the cathedral grounds, Ronie rubbed the neck of her little dragon, Tsukigake.
The juvenile creature trilled lightly and narrowed its eyes in pleasure—or perhaps residual sleepiness. The dragon wasn’t the only one; Tiese’s red head nodded as she leaned against the silver fence. Ronie had wanted to get to bed early last night but couldn’t sleep, so she and Tiese had spent much of the night talking in the living room.
Though they’d been together nearly two years, one had to wonder how they had never run out of topics to get completely engrossed in. That was probably just how it worked with best friends. It had taken Kirito and Eugeo years to leave Rulid in the distant north, travel to Centoria, enter the academy, and advance to Elite Disciple status, but they’d always enjoyed chatting, debating fight tactics, or simply occupying the same space in blissful silence.
Tiese was at a major turning point in her life. If she accepted Renly’s proposal—or even if she didn’t—Ronie hoped they could always be best friends.
“…Well, Tsukigake, I have to go. Do what Tiese tells you and be a good dragon.”
Ronie straightened up, and the little dragon lifted its head to chirp, “Kyuru!”
When Tiese finally woke up again, they went to the arsenal behind the cathedral, where Dragoncraft Unit Two had already been pulled out onto the stone surface outside.
It wasn’t standing upright the way Unit One had been; instead, it rested with three legs on the ground, like it had inside the hangar. In fact, the feet of the craft weren’t clawed like a dragon’s feet; they ended in wheels.
Kirito, Asuna, Fanatio, and Arsenal Master Sadore were standing near the head, along with one other woman, who looked about the same age as Ronie. That woman was wearing an arsenal work uniform, performing sacred arts on the craft. Ronie realized that this was the generation of wind elements for it to fly. She leaned over to her partner, who was carrying her suitcase for her.
“Hey, Tiese, do you think that’s…?”
“Oh yeah. That’s her. She was the operator of the levitating platform before it got automated.”
“Ohhh…She’s really pretty.”
“I agree, but from what I hear, she’s been alive at least as long as Deusolbert.”
“W-wow, I didn’t know…”
Kirito noticed that the two of them were talking a short distance away, and he waved a hand. “Hey, Ronie, Tiese, over here.”
“Ah…coming! Good morning!” “Morning!” They called in tandem, approaching.
The sky was still dark overhead, but now that it was outdoors, Unit Two was even bigger than Ronie had imagined. Not only were there two pilot seats, but the wings were as long as a real dragon’s, and the exhausted apertures in the back were huge. The whole thing was about 40 percent bigger than Unit One, a good seven mels long.
Now that she was looking at it, she suddenly felt nervous about riding it, but accompanying Kirito had been her idea in the first place, so there was no use getting cold feet. She forced herself to stop thinking about the fiery end of Unit One and greeted Kirito and Asuna with a bow.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m a little late.”
“No, it’s still ten minutes to five.”
It had been quite a while since the four-thirty bell, but Kirito’s announcement about the time was quite confident. He glanced at the new sword on her left hip and smiled.
“Thanks for agreeing to watch my back, Ronie.”
“I…I will!” she stammered. She was going to say with my life, but the memory of what Asuna had said last night stopped her. Instead, she squeaked, “I’ll d-do my best!”
It was a bit childish, but it earned her warm smiles from both Kirito and Asuna. Once she had greeted Fanatio and Sadore as well, she was ready to grab her luggage from Tiese. The case was heavy, being so packed full of supplies. But where was she going to put it on the dragoncraft…?
“Kirito, I’ve finished loading the wind elements,” said a voice from behind them. Ronie and Tiese spun around to see the former operator of the levitating platform. They were struck by her delicate beauty; she seemed more suited to a church frock or some noblewoman’s dress than the sturdy work outfit of the arsenal.
“Thank you, Airy. I appreciate it,” said Kirito. The girl named Airy bowed without any change in expression, then stepped back to stand next to Sadore.
Just then, the gentle chimes of the five o’clock bells played from the cathedral. Kirito promptly clapped his hands.
“Well then, I suppose we should get going! I’ll take that case, Ronie,” he said, holding out his hands. She gave it to him, and he opened a small door on the side of the dragoncraft and stuffed it into a space that seemed designed for cargo. With that done, Ronie turned to give Tiese a big hug. They didn’t need to share any words; Ronie thought, I’ll be back before you know it, and Tiese returned the sentiment by thinking, Just come home safely.
Ronie loosened her grip, looked into Tiese’s eyes one last time, and headed toward the front end of the dragoncraft, where Kirito was waiting for her. He ushered her to the ladder going from the ground up to the craft’s head. She timidly climbed up until she reached the little elliptical room with seats located front and back.
The back of the front seat was tilted downward, so Ronie took off her sword and worked herself into the rear seat. It was simple leather stretched over a metal frame, but the material was valuable, supple greater-red-horn leather, so it felt more comfortable than she’d expected.
Kirito ascended the ladder soon after, returned the seat to its proper position, and took his place in it. Sadore pulled the ladder away, and Kirito turned a handle that lowered the glass ceiling over the tiny space with a clank.
All of a sudden, Ronie’s heart was pounding. She swallowed hard.
Tsukigake was still too young to fly, but she had ridden tandem several times on Renly’s Kazenui, Fizel’s Himawari, and Linel’s Hinageshi. The first time or two it had been scary, but soon the delight of carving through the wind outweighed her fear. She didn’t think she had any particular fear of flying, but now that she was in an artificial dragon largely made of metal and was riding inside rather than on its back, she felt more baffled than excited. For one thing, there were no wings meant for beating the air, so how would they return to the ground once they’d lifted off?
The sight of Unit One exploding flashed through her mind again, causing her to shiver. “Ah…um, Kirito?”
“What is it?” he asked casually from the front seat.
Ronie leaned forward, closer to his head, and asked, “Does this dragon fly by unleashing heat elements like the last one?”
“That’s right.”
“If we start flying and making an incredible roar early in the morning, won’t it startle everyone in the capital awake…?”
“I suppose it will,” Kirito murmured, then explained, “but the problem is, we don’t have a long enough runway here, so we can’t take off horizontally. Unfortunately, we’ll have to cheat a bit for Unit Two’s takeoff and landing.”
She didn’t really understand all the words he’d just said. “Ch-cheat…? Meaning…?”
Kirito just grinned at her without answering. He grabbed two metal rods attached to the front part of his seat. His hands started glowing faintly, and she held her breath.
What happened next was not the work of elements. Kirito’s willpower itself was glowing as it interfaced with the laws of the world. That was the light of Incarnation.
The steel dragon shuddered like a living thing. A moment later, it felt like the body was being lifted upward.
Ronie looked through the glass lid in alarm. Gradually, the sight of gray cobblestones and Tiese and Asuna waving wildly grew more distant. Kirito was lifting this enormous dragoncraft solely through willpower and imagination.
It did seem like cheating, Ronie thought as she waved back. As their ascending speed picked up, the people on the ground got smaller and smaller, until they were hidden by the white of the morning mist. The Rose Garden to the north of the arsenal and the white walls of the cathedral came into view instead.
She lowered her hand and looked forward to see nothing but dark-blue sky before sunrise. The beauty of the faint-red glow on the horizon took her breath away.
Once they reached the height of the Great Bath on the ninetieth floor of the cathedral, the dragoncraft stopped climbing and began to proceed parallel with the ground. This was a smooth acceleration, like gliding across water—nothing like the powerful beating of a real dragon’s wings. There was no sound, aside from the low howling of the wind around them. Unless someone happened to be looking up at the early morning sky, no one in Centoria would notice their presence.
With that concern solved, another one gripped her mind. “Kirito…are you sure you can control something this big with just Incarnation?” she asked, leaning toward the front seat. She was instantly worried that she might be distracting him and breaking his focus, but his voice returned as casually as ever.
“For the time being, yeah. But I feel like it’ll be tough to fly it like this all the way out of the human realm…”
“Oh…I see…”
The unfathomable willpower of the swordsman delegate left her stunned.
As an apprentice Integrity Knight, Ronie underwent Incarnation training, but she found it difficult to advance to the next stage, whether with more-practical exercises like Pole Isolation (standing on only one foot atop a narrow pillar) or Element Communing (preserving elements in midair with willpower) or even with simple Seated Meditation, where all she had to do was sit on the ground and concentrate.
For one thing, even expert knights such as Fanatio and Deusolbert considered Incarnate Arms, which moved an object about the size of a short sword, and Incarnate Sword, which slashed with unseen blades, to be their ultimate techniques. So Kirito’s Incarnation power was completely off the charts if it kept a huge, metal, two-passenger dragoncraft aloft.
“…And even with your overwhelming Incarnation, you can’t cross the Wall at the End of the World…,” Ronie murmured.
Kirito grimaced. “It could be that I’m just lacking discipline…but there’s no point in crossing if I’m the only one who can do it. We need to make it possible to fly large dragoncraft or levitating platforms like the one in the cathedral at regular intervals so that the people of the Dark Territory—the people of the entire Underworld—can come and go freely.”
As Kirito’s ideas so often turned out to be, the concept of attaching a levitating platform to walls whose height couldn’t even be measured was dumbfounding. Ronie gazed absently through the window.
The dragoncraft had traveled out of East Centoria, so only fields and meadows covered with the recent snow were visible below. It was a chilly sight to gaze upon, but by March, the planting of wheat would begin, and new greenery would cover the land.
Ronie envisioned that sight for a few moments, then asked, “Um, Kirito…do we even need to try crossing the Wall at the End of the World? Why not just move the Dark Territory people here? There’s plenty of uncultivated land, with room for more fields and villages…”
Kirito didn’t have an immediate answer for her this time. Eventually he murmured, “If only everyone in the human realm thought the way you do, Ronie.”
“Huh…? Wh-what do you mean by that…?”
“Well, uh…let’s see. At present, we estimate the total population of the realm to be eighty-two thousand. The latest reports suggest that the Dark Territory’s is about the same. The human realm is about one million, seven hundred and seventy thousand square kilors, over half of which is undeveloped forests and plains. So as you say, in terms of land area, we could support the doubling of the total population…I think.”
Ronie found herself shocked by this for a different reason. “What…? Is it true that the population of the dark realm is over eighty thousand?! And during the war, Emperor Vecta formed an army out of fifty thousand of them…?”
“That’s how it adds up…Fanatio told me that every able-bodied person over there gets made into a soldier. It’s pretty awful. But I’m sure it’s a custom brought about by the barren land of the Dark Territory. In that world, the ones who fight and take for themselves are the ones who survive.”
He paused there, leaning back against the seat. The craft briefly wobbled and straightened out again, as though he had momentarily lost focus.
“…Like the dark realm, the human realm has its own shared understanding that’s been built up over three centuries of history. They know the people of the Dark Territory as terrifying monsters who come over the End Mountains to steal children and livestock. With the opening of trade, there are more tourists and traders going between the two sides, but longstanding prejudices don’t change so quickly. You can control people with new laws and taboos, but you can’t eliminate the instinctual fears and desires that drive them…” His voice was grave. Ronie didn’t know what to say to him.
He had enough Incarnation power to lift a metal dragon and defeat Administrator and even Emperor Vecta, but Kirito was not a god. He was just a person born in a different world, with the same troubles, worries, and anguish that Ronie dealt with.
Kirito always got back on his feet, no matter how much he was hurt, and he’d saved the Underworld from an existential danger. He’d received no public honors for this and continued to fight for the sake of the world. Ronie wanted to help him achieve the unprecedented feat of peace between the human and dark realms, but all she could think about was the danger of the path ahead, and she had no helpful advice to offer.
She had forced her way along on this trip through sheer momentum and determination, but now she could only wonder what the point of her presence was.
Kirito seemed to sense her sudden change in mood and said, “Listen, Ronie, I’m glad you came along. I’m more likely to accidentally scare the kids over there on first meeting.”
“Um…you are?”
“I feel like the stories and rumors precede me now…but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, after the war we had…”
Kirito exhaled to reset his mood and said firmly, “Well, we’re safely away from Centoria, so let’s switch from Incarnation flight over to elemental flight.”
“O-okay!” she chirped. Then she said, “What…should I be doing…?”
“Good question. Maintain a communing state with the elements, like you did during Unit One’s test flight, and tell me if anything starts going wrong.”
“Roger that!” she replied.
Kirito gave her a strange signal—he pointed his right thumb upward—and then gripped the metal handles again. “System Call, Generate Thermal Element!” he chanted.
His hands glowed red as heat elements appeared inside the metal handles, which were apparently hollow. With Incarnation, he moved them through the tubes down into the canisters in the middle of the dragoncraft.
Even the swordsman delegate found it difficult to control the massive craft and tiny elements with Incarnation at the same time, however, and there was more shaking. Ronie reached forward and put her hands on Kirito’s shoulders without thinking.
She didn’t add any incantations, but she could sense the flow of sacred power swirling through the air around them easing. The shaking of the dragoncraft subsided, and the ten heat elements stayed firmly in place within the canister.
“Thank you, Ronie,” Kirito said, patting her hand and exhaling. “Discharge.”
The command released all the heat elements, creating a massive burst of flames. The pressure pushed the flames toward the end of the canister at the rear of the dragoncraft. Along the way, the flames mixed with the wind elements that had been loaded into a different canister before takeoff, and it was compressed into a single burst, like a gout of flaming dragon breath that roared out of the exit aperture at the back of the craft.
The sudden burst of acceleration pushed Ronie back in her chair and trapped the air in her throat. The clouds floating by outside the window shot past them. In terms of speed alone, Kirito’s wind-element flight from Central Cathedral to the city guard’s building in South Centoria had been faster, but at present, the dragoncraft was under almost no Incarnation control. In other words, an adept sacred arts user, with practice, might be able to fly it just like Kirito was doing now.
Ronie briefly wondered if this, more than trying to tackle the Wall at the End of the. World, was the real benefit to humanity, but that inkling of a thought was quickly snuffed out by the roaring that filled the tiny space.
She clutched the frame of her seat with all her strength and shouted, “K…Kirito! How fast is this dragoncraft going right now?!”
“Hmm, let’s see,” said Kirito without much concern. “The maximum speed of an Integrity Knight’s dragon mount is about a hundred and twenty kilors per hour, and it’s more like eighty for continuous flight over long distances without fatigue. But I’d bet this thing is going about two hundred and fifty kilors per hour right now…”
“T…twice as fast as a dragon??!”
“I bet we could get to three hundred per hour at maximum output. But Sadore said to keep it at eighty percent,” Kirito said, pointing at one of the many rounded dials in front of his seat. The needle attached to it was trembling a few ticks short of the highest speed.
“Three hundred kilors in an hour…,” Ronie murmured. She shook her head, unable to fathom such a thing by any practical measurement.
What she could understand was that if the dragoncraft continued on at this speed, it would reach the distant end of the earth—Obsidia Palace, three thousand kilors away—in just half a day. And there was no one who could do anything about a craft flying at such a speed and height.
Was there really a point to me coming along? she wondered again as she allowed herself to sink into the vibration of the seat.
They crossed the End Mountains and continued flying through the red sky of the Dark Territory for about fifteen hours. Despite two breaks along the way, her butt and back were starting to ache when Kirito finally pointed ahead.
“There, you can see it.”
She squinted over his shoulder and saw a faint light on the distant, darkened horizon. It was just a vague blur at first, but as they drew closer, it turned into a collection of countless individual lights.
“So that’s…the capital of the Dark Territory…,” Ronie murmured hoarsely. “You’ve been there before, haven’t you?” she asked Kirito.
“Yes, but just the one time. And it was an unofficial visit, so I hardly got any time to see the castle or the town or anything.”
“I’m guessing that will be the case this time, as well,” she murmured.
He seemed to take her statement as one of disappointment, because Kirito looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “Not only is this visit unofficial, I didn’t even let Iskahn know ahead of time. See, there are certain things we can get away with this way.”
“G-get away with…?”
She felt yet another sense of foreboding—it seemed to happen quite frequently when she hung around with Kirito—and looked out the window again.
The dragoncraft was traveling at less than half its maximum speed, but that was still fast enough that the lights of the town ahead were starting to take clear shape. Unlike the neatly compartmentalized districts of Centoria, the plethora of lights below seemed to have no patterns, except that in total they made a kind of crescent-moon shape. In the middle was a blackened rock mountain that stuck up into the sky like a spear.
The lights continued up the mountain, because the mountain itself was Emperor Vecta’s palace. That mammoth formation, shaped by its exposure to the elements over many years, was said to be just as impressive as the Axiom Church’s Central Cathedral—but in the darkness, you could make out only its silhouette.
“About ten kilors to go…Okay, let’s switch back to Incarnation flight and land this thing,” Kirito said, to Ronie’s shock.
“What? We’re going down this far away?”
“Yep. I’m sure that it would cause a riot if we lowered this craft right onto the city or palace, out of nowhere…”
Kirito squeezed the metal rod that he called a control stick, and he used Incarnation to steadily extinguish the heat elements burning away inside the sealed canister. The roar that filled the tiny room (which he called a cockpit) steadily grew quieter until it was gone.
Without its source of propulsion, the dragoncraft lost altitude until Kirito firmly held it aloft with Incarnation again. Ronie had experienced this landing sequence before, when they stopped for a break, but she still felt nervous, and she squeezed the frame of the seat harder.
She made a mental note to ask for some kind of bar near the rear seat to hold on to, once they got back to Centoria. As they descended, she felt stages of weightlessness similar to the experience of using the levitating platform at the cathedral. With a little thump, the dragoncraft fell still, and Kirito stretched in the front seat.
“We made it, Ronie. Now we fly with our own power.”
Despite carrying two swords, a small bag, a large bag, and the unexpected luggage that was an entire additional person, aka Ronie, Kirito crossed the remaining ten kilors with wind-element flight in a blink. According to him, given the weak sacred power of the Dark Territory, ten kilors was about the limit you could achieve there for stable flight.
Inevitably, Ronie had to be pressed tight to Kirito’s body during the flight, and while it caused her heart to race at first, that feeling was promptly neutralized by the realization that being in his arms made her nothing more than another piece of luggage to carry around.
They landed on a wide street heading to Obsidia’s castle town. The cobblestones were as worn and smooth as if they’d been polished, indicating that humans, demi-humans, and carriages created heavy traffic during the day. But after ten o’clock at night, there wasn’t a soul to be seen.
This was usually the time that Ronie would be in bed already, so the moment her feet hit the ground, the fatigue of the long travel and the late hour both hit her at once, and she had to shake her head to maintain focus. This was where her guard duty truly began…
Except that as he attached the Night-Sky Blade to his left hip, Kirito’s next words were “Let’s go search for an inn.”
Ronie blinked. “Uh…w-we aren’t going to the castle?”
“The gates will be closed at this hour, and I’m sure Iskahn’s already asleep. If we try to sneak inside and any guards spot us, they’ll assume we’re assassins.”
“…Good point…”
They’d crossed the entire Underworld in order to address a murder mystery that involved a mountain goblin being framed for the deed. It would be a bad joke if they got confused for assassins now.
“All right. But what inn will allow humans like us to stay without being suspicious of—,” Ronie started to ask, but Kirito was already rummaging in his small leather bag. He pulled out something small; by the faint light of the town ahead, she could see that it was some sort of solution.
“Now, if you’ll excuse my reach,” Kirito said, handling the solution. She leaned closer to see.
“Eengk!” she yelped as he wiped something on her face. She froze with shock at the sensation, and Kirito quickly used both hands to apply the solution. He rubbed her cheeks, her forehead, her ears, and even below her chin, then stepped back to inspect her.
“Yeah, that looks good.”
“What…is this…?”
She rubbed her cheek herself, but the sensation was already gone, and nothing came off on her fingertip. Kirito just grinned and did the same to his face. His skin was a bit more tan than that of Ronie and Tiese, who’d been born in Norlangarth, but it was still around the average tint for a resident of the human realm. Now it was getting darker and darker before her eyes.
In just a matter of seconds, Kirito had turned a shade of brown that resembled cofil tea. In fact, he looked like he came from Sothercrois…or even the Dark Territory…
And then it hit her.
“Oh…y-you just disguised us as darklanders?”
“Yep. Both you and I have dark hair, and it’s winter now, so I figure that if we just change our faces a bit, we might pass.”
Belatedly, Ronie realized that her own face had changed, and she touched her cheeks again. Kirito saw her do it and smiled. “It’s fine, I swear. You actually look pretty good.” Her cheeks grew hot beneath her hands.
“Th-this isn’t permanent, right?” she asked, a little sharper than necessary to hide her embarrassment.
He looked a bit nervous. “Y-yeah, of course. Cutoconia the herbalist assured me that it would wear off on its own in about eight hours.”
“On its own…? What is it made of?”
“It sounded like we’re better off not knowing,” Kirito mumbled. He reached out to fix her ruffled hair, then looked to the east.
In Centoria, there was a large gate and a guard station at the border to the city, but Obsidia’s castle town seemed to have nothing of the sort. There was just an increase in the density of buildings as the street went on, until you were in the middle of a city. There were no guards in sight.
“…I think we should be fine, but if anyone happens to ask us who we are…Let’s see. We can say we came from Faldera looking for work, and we’re hus—We’re brother and sister.”
I wonder what kind of place it is.
The real world was a source of fear and distaste, not fondness, to all the Underworlders who’d fought in the great war. Ronie was no exception. Just the thought of a world producing those terrible red knights who’d wiped out the armies of the human and dark realms made her limbs grow cold.
But on the other hand, the real world was also the home of Kirito, Asuna, and the warriors who’d come to the aid of the Human Guardian Army during the war.
In the Underworld, there were good people and bad people. Perhaps the real world was the same. But that thought wasn’t enough for her to wish the gate between them would open again.
What had Alice the Integrity Knight seen and felt when she traveled to that distant place? Would the day come when she might return and speak of those experiences…?
Ronie found herself shaken by the same odd feeling she’d gotten when she saw the sign on the outside of the inn, but the weight of her eyelids was growing irresistible, and she fell asleep for the very first time in a foreign land.
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