Episode 5. We Are Protagonists (5)

More or less, that was how it all went down.

Accepting Aiden's opinion that rehabilitating villains would be more fun, the players put it into action. Just to test ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how capable they were, they roped in some random NPCs to pad their numbers and then poked at Lady Satyr. The result? About half a success.

'A bit disappointing. Just a bit...'

Unfortunately, the prank they pulled with the gathered NPCs didn't yield much amusement.

If I'd known it would turn out like this, I would've just leveled up later and come alone.

But acquiring the NPC named Loqi Mendacium and confirming his value was a resounding success. It felt like pulling off a classic fantasy comic trope from the old man's generation—turning a character who was supposed to be an enemy into an ally. Plenty of people hated it as an outdated hero's tale cliché, but there was still something romantic about it.

The info in the in-game character codex matched what Sephirah knew. Roughly speaking, as the story reached its latter half, the game's atmosphere and state would shift dramatically, and that's when Loqi Mendacium emerged as a players' arch-nemesis. If you ignored him, side quests, affinity levels, and shop access in the city would get heavily restricted due to the "city in danger" warning, so you had to catch him. Something like that background setup.

Saying it that way might make it sound like he was a new enemy spawning only in the late game, but surprisingly, that wasn't the case. All NPCs just appeared at the right time—they were always wandering somewhere in the game world. So Loqi Mendacium had existed from the start. In the form of a child.

"Loqi, have I ever told you my name before?"

"Don't wanna hear it. You're way too suspicious."

"Sephirah. Remember it."

"Weird name."

As if his own name wasn't weird. Actually, for an NPC to have a unique name, even a fake one, counted as a successful life. And Loqi here loved that forced pseudonym others had given him. Teasing him sincerely would cause problems. So for now, Sephirah decided to change the subject.

"So, what's your take on the crime we just pulled off?"

"Feels filthy."

"...?"

Sneak in secretly, plant the bomb, and get out. That was the first order Sephirah had given Loqi after bending him to her will with force and words. In the old game, he wouldn't even acknowledge such a complicated request, and even with mods, it'd be a sloppy recreation at best—a tough ask.

"You pulled it off perfectly, though? Messing with Lady Satyr's place isn't easy to do on the sly."

But Loqi had handled that complex command with ease. The increased freedom let her issue orders, sure, but executing it was all down to this NPC's raw talent. Even for a player, avoiding detection by Lady Satyr was no small feat.

"Why?"

But... filthy? It'd make rehabilitation easier if he felt that way, but Loqi Mendacium of all people finding thievery repugnant?

"Why d'you think? It's a bad thing to do! Isn't that obvious?"

"Then, what do you think when you look at them?"

Sephirah pointed to the wide basement space with her finger. There stood five low-level humanoid enemies. They were NPCs first and foes second, so she'd been able to beat them down and make them obey. All they'd done was clumsily follow orders and fetch random items, though.

"You bent those guys with brute force and made 'em listen, right? They look pretty cool kneeling there with their stuff down. But how long do you think they'll keep obeying?"

"Doesn't matter if they listen long-term—they're disposable anyway. My goal was you."

"Hmm..."

"Anyway, you seem useful, so stick with me from now on. You got nowhere else to go, right?"

Loqi scowled beside the arrogantly seated Sephirah. She was an utterly inscrutable person. She'd shown up out of nowhere demanding he follow if he didn't want to die, shoved a bomb at him and told him to plant it on the sly, praised him constantly during their chats. Yet when he asked the important stuff, she'd dodge with talk of the "future" or whatever.

Did this Sephirah really think she could win people over with that crap? Especially when every time she spoke, her eyes stared not at him but into empty space?

Dead wrong.

"Hey, I've been too flustered to say it till now, but—"

"...Incoming."

Loqi's words, breaking the mood as they finally left his mouth, were naturally ignored.

'Ah, crap.'

Meanwhile, Sephirah was checking her minimap without even glancing at Loqi's expression. Something marked as a red dot on her little map was drawing steadily closer.

And for a player, a red dot meant "hostile NPC." If it turned out to be a city guard closing in, even she couldn't take it.

"Loqi."

"What now?!"

"Follow me. Hurry."

"What? Now?"

Loqi gritted his teeth. She'd ignored what he'd just tried to say and was bossing him around again like he was hers. Time to refuse.

"Piss off. I don't care where you're going—go enjoy it alone. I never had business here anyway."

"...Did you just refuse my order?"

"Yeah! I don't know how you figured out my name, but I'm not your buddy! Who said you could drag ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me along like it's a given?"

Sephirah's playful smile froze for an instant. Not to intimidate. Not out of anger. It was genuine surprise, like she'd never seen it coming.

"This place is about to get dangerous."

"Whatever. True or not, I ain't coming."

"...Got it."

Once Loqi made his stance clear, Sephirah reluctantly nodded. Even after saying she understood, she kept glancing back, clearly itching to try persuading him again—but Loqi had no intention of budging.

"Tch."

In the end, Sephirah pulled up her hood without another word and climbed the stairs. The gazes of the remaining NPCs in the basement faded bit by bit, and her minimap now blared a warning: hurry or face the enemy.

No time to carefully persuade Loqi again. No window to drag him by force either. So Sephirah could only trust that this key NPC would survive.

"Get up now. Your boss is gone."

But in the spot she'd just vacated...

"I said get up. Why are you all still kneeling?"

"......"

"What the hell? Like a bunch of lunatics... all of you...?"

The side characters, now player-less, froze in place. Still holding the kneeling pose Sephirah had ordered. Endlessly.

* * *

"Mister, mister."

Aiden Oliver, tracing the trail and nearly at the destination, halted his steps. Claire was calling out again, probably wanting to chat about something trivial.

"Yes, Claire."

"That thing we just got—what was it?"

"Not sure."

"Aw, c'mon, you two were talking like she spilled everything."

Lady Satyr had told Aiden what the spear was and why it counted as a "collectible." Maker, effects, usage. He'd gotten the short version of everything available. He remembered it as something like "summons to hand anytime, anywhere."

"That's pretty basic. My book does that too."

"Your book is the abnormal one."

"Nothing else? C'mon?"

Claire circled him, prying nosily, but Aiden stayed silent for a moment. Then he quietly called her name.

"Claire."

"Ah, I was focusing! I was just following, so I relaxed a bit. That happens, right?"

"No, not that."

Claire fidgeted, feeling oddly guilty, but Aiden just pointed in one direction with his finger.

The spot he indicated held a rundown, unmanaged building. The front door looked just as shabby—questionable if it'd even open. But the trail pointed there.

"Probably down below there."

"It's just some crumbling dump. In a dark alley, too."

"Something bothering you?"

"Not what I expected."

Not what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she expected? Aiden wondered if he'd misheard and looked at Claire again, but no—it seemed correct.

"Claire."

"Ah, no, listen. Half-serious here? I get you're talking about the basement, but it's way more out in the open than I thought. Kinda disappointing..."

Listening closely, she was admitting disappointment because it didn't match her expectations. What the hell had she been expecting to say that?

"It does seem sloppier than expected. Usually they'd make it more of a hassle."

"Mm-hmm, that's what I mean."

"Later."

"Ah."

Aiden habitually raised his index and middle fingers to his lips, signaling silence. Truth be told, he half-agreed with her, but now wasn't the time for chit-chat.

After hearing that, how could he keep a light heart? It might as well be a death sentence.

"If you're not ready, or suddenly feel unwell—anything like that—better say so now."

"Whaaat?"

"We're going in."

"Ah, got it!"

Aiden gripped his left wrist hard out of habit, loosening up, then approached the door to the basement. Unlocked, it swung open with a simple pull, revealing a narrow staircase descending into the dark.

That's when a boy's voice echoed from below.

"Everyone, what the...?"

The instant he heard it, Aiden raised index and middle fingers to signal himself and Claire to stay silent. Only one voice. He caught the first words clearly enough to parse, but he knew exactly who it belonged to.

The boy who'd bumped into Aiden earlier and fled in a panic.

"......"

Aiden pulled the javelin Lady Satyr had just given him from his inventory. Still on the stairs, throwing it as intended would be tricky, but gripping and thrusting was far better than swinging a sword.

"C'mon, this is a joke, right? What? Why are you all just standing there, you guys!!"

The boy's voice grew more agitated, desperate. No clue who or what he was yelling at, but he was still the only source of noise.

"......"

Before fully descending, Aiden gauged the boy's position from the voice. Right side relative to him—no sense of distance, so closer than thought.

He gripped the javelin tight.

"Going in."

Aiden whispered—just loud enough for those right beside him—then rushed inward.

The "boy" was relative; too capable to call a kid. He'd infiltrated Lady Satyr's house undetected, after all.

So...

"Time to take back what's mine."

First target: the boy.