Episode 7. Eagle Vision (4)
The old horse Sephirah had mounted began to move with a steady clop-clop of hooves. At first, it seemed like it would just charge straight ahead, but then it veered, turning its gaze toward the shortest path across the grassy field.
"Hey, mister, she's getting away!"
"I know."
Aiden reached out again, preparing his magic. He brushed the ground ahead of her path, raising a wall of earth, then hurled lightning at the horse's legs. Finally, he etched a compass pattern onto the back of his hand, invoking the system.
Cannot use FAST TRAVEL during combat!
It fizzled out. Wasn't this situation combat, really? Something else entirely? But the system classified it as battle anyway, locking out fast travel.
Not helpful when I need it most.
All of Aiden's actions were stopgaps. The horse, struck by his attacks, showed not a drop of blood and kept galloping strong. Even if he blocked the path with an earthen wall, it could just veer around with ease. If he couldn't stop it here, keeping up with its speed would be impossible.
"Claire."
No, impossible, but not entirely out of reach.
"You can catch up later if you need to."
"What are you planning now?"
"I've got to chase her."
"We could just go together at that pace—"
Aiden didn't have time to hear Claire out. No time to spare. The horse Sephirah rode was old, the kind no one would covet—scrawny, skittish, slow-footed. Catchable, in other words.
Thud.
The sound of one footfall in the dirt, and Aiden was off, sprinting. He vaulted a fallen log in a single stride. Tracking the hoofprints crushing the grass, he followed exactly in her wake. While Sephirah throttled back to spare the old nag exhaustion, Aiden gradually ramped up his speed... and the gap, widening fast due to their modes of travel, began to hold steady.
"Gotta buy a proper horse later instead of that basic one. Damn...!"
As time passed, the distance stopped growing. Aiden's stamina and movement weren't what they'd once been, either—like magic, transformed. Whether from endurance or something else, the gap soon started closing.
"What do I do? Now what? Why's an NPC showing up at my hideout after all that?!"
Meanwhile, oblivious to her pursuer, Sephirah muttered to herself.
"If the hideout's not safe, where the hell am I supposed to go? I can just log out, sure, but Loqi..."
Her words weren't crisp—more like a mumble. Not meant for any ears but her own, yet her voice rang out loud and clear, as if she believed no one could possibly hear.
Inventory.
A long spear slipped effortlessly from his small bag into Aiden's grip. If scattershot magic from an unprepared caster couldn't halt the old horse, a stronger tool would do the trick.
Skreeeech...
He dragged his feet to slow, readying the javelin. No specific target this time—just hit anything. Right leg and arm back, eyes locked on Sephirah. Accounting for speed, he predicted her trajectory for a direct hit. Horse or not, he aimed high for safety and hurled without hesitation.
"Shit, if I tell him to hide, even I won't find him! Should've phrased it different...!"
Sephirah remained unaware of the approaching projectile. She never once looked back, felt no need to, just kept mumbling away. Right up until the spear would've pierced her arm.
"...Gahhh!!"
Without even glancing sideways, she ducked low, evading the strike.
"What the hell was that?!"
Only after dodging did she notice the pursuit. Only after turning her head did she realize Aiden was behind her.
Crack.
A tree splintered nearby. Sephirah's eyes widened in panic. Simultaneously.
Craaack.
Another from a different direction. Aiden, watching Sephirah, saw what was happening—but Sephirah, staring at Aiden, had no clue about the anomaly.
Craaack!
Each time the thrown spear hit a tree, it ricocheted in a new direction. Bouncing toward another obstacle, changing course again on impact. At a glance, it seemed like expert marksmanship. But contrived. Convenient to the extreme.
SANDBOX
Transformed into a single ricocheting missile, the spear grazed Sephirah's side as it flew past.
"Nngh...!"
She tumbled from the horse, rolling across the grass, biting her lip. Luckily, no pain registered. Pierced and thrown—even in a game, it was just the sensation of something touching her body. No real wounds.
"Whoa, shit."
Sephirah stared into empty air as if something had materialized before her, awestruck. Her system HP had dipped just below half, and from whatever botch during the fall, her left arm was fractured again. Pathetic for an early-game character with crap levels and gear, but one solid hit had reduced her to this.
This was exactly why Sephirah wanted to avoid Aiden for the foreseeable future.
"Hurts more than I thought."
"If you'd listened, you wouldn't be hurt at all."
The spear returned to Aiden's hand. No trace of Sephirah's blood on the tip—it gleamed pristine, as before the throw. The old horse had fled after witnessing the chaos.
"Pfft, this is nothing—just an injury that pops up every thirty minutes. Eat some bread, good as new."
She talked big, but no time to heal. Using food or potions required at least pretending to consume them, impossible with her limp left arm. Dropping her wand to free up her right would just give Aiden an opening to rush and subdue her.
"Back in the day, one button and it'd heal right up."
Surprisingly, Aiden didn't close in immediately. She seemed an clueless mage who hadn't sensed his incoming attack—ripe for capture. But viewed as a player who'd wielded the system from the start, her next move was unpredictable. That hit had landed only thanks to freakish luck stacking up.
"Sephirah."
"Weird hearing you say my name... What?"
"One more time: willing to talk?"
"Told you, I'm not ready yet."
Fist-sized stars of mana materialized around Sephirah, twinkling like sunlit snow—tempting to grasp. Behind this pretty offensive spell, she glanced slyly in another direction.
"I'm still too green to chat with you."
Player conversations demanded much. Even without dialogue choices now, that hadn't changed. Intelligence to follow the story. Strength against coercion. Charisma to sway others. Or mind control magic, in-game status. Unreal as it was, games enforced conversation rules stricter than reality.
Aiden Oliver wasn't a default player companion, so players needed prep time for equal footing.
Vreeee—
Sephirah unleashed the mana orbs at Aiden. Prioritizing homing over power, basic suppression fire. They swarmed his torso, kicking up a massive dust cloud.
When it cleared, she was bolting in one direction. Ignoring her useless left arm, wand in her good hand, she swung lightly to hinder pursuit. Pure desperation, and she knew it.
"That's far enough."
They'd gone too far to keep watching. Aiden batted aside the incoming orbs, tanked some with his body, closing in on Sephirah. To avoid worsening her injuries, he kicked her back—not hard, just a firm shove with his foot.
"Urk...!"
Sephirah rolled across the grass again, unable to resist. She dropped her wand from her right hand and couldn't rise quickly with one arm. Her broken left hung even more uselessly now.
But ignoring the injury, she kept crawling forward.
"Now we can finally talk."
"...Tch."
Her destination: an utterly ordinary cabin smack in the middle of the grassy field. Door ajar for some reason, but nothing special about it—a dime-a-dozen building. Aiden stomped her leg and spoke.
"Sephirah, is that your real name?"
"Only one I use here."
Now that it had come to this, Aiden faltered, unsure what to say. Natural enough—it felt like she had initiated, voice and all.
For now, direct it was.
"And... you had another special title besides your name."
"You do this to me and spout nonsense I can't even—"
"Player."
"...!"
Sephirah twisted awkwardly, staring at Aiden in shock. Her pupils traced perfect stars, just like in the dream. Battered, rolling in the dirt—utterly wrecked. Aiden had never seen this player Sephirah up close like this.
「"Failure again."」
Yet something overlapped in Aiden's vision. Not mere resemblance—the sparkling eyes. So badly hurt, on the verge of death by stray arrow. Playful, unique features, but no joke in her expression.
「"Confirmed. Ending this run here."」
The overlap deepened into fresh memory playback. Aiden's view low, as if prone. Sephirah, scarred but standing nearby on two legs, arms wide in a beaming smile. Then turning, walking away to elsewhere—
Thud!
The system vision cut off. Unlocked by encountering and speaking to Sephirah, but abruptly ending on that loud noise.
From right in front of him.
"That just now, you..."
"...Sephirah?"
"You said Player. Spot on."
While Aiden hallucinated, Sephirah had risen and reached the cabin door. One more step and done. Couldn't shake him yet, but she could pull off something startling to escape.
But first, eyeing Aiden clutching his head with one hand, she muttered.
"Ah, got it. That's how it is? The system's changes, you chasing me this far."
The fourth wall. Unspoken taboo: characters must never acknowledge reality. They move by world logic alone, untouched by the real. But stories breaking that became a genre.
Named.
"Metafiction. That's it, right?"
A game where story and systems glitch, NPCs stray from script, even recognize players.
Metafiction.
Not certain. Just a hunch. This game wasn't built for that plot. But genres where systems vanished or players got name-dropped? Only those.
"Yeah... if so."
Decision made, Sephirah stepped toward the cabin.
"Let's see what happens to you now."
The bright forest twisted into something horrific.