Episode 8. We Are Players. (4)
“Can you stand?”
Aiden decided to tend to Claire first and foremost. He wanted to discuss the voice he'd just heard, but turning back mid-stride to chat with Sephirah would look suspicious, so there was no helping it. He extended a hand to Claire—and ended up hearing something rather odd in response.
“Your face looks awful, mister.”
“It's nothing.”
“Nah, it's not. You're making that super serious thinking face again.”
He tried to brush it off, but it probably wasn't just his imagination. Aiden was the type whose thoughts showed plainly on his face.
“You've been weird ever since earlier.”
“You're the one who looks weirder.”
“Oh, you mean me...?”
Claire glanced down at her hands. They were scratched up from thorns and brambles, blood trickling from the wounds, smeared with white and black ash in places. Her whole body was filthy, and her eyes stung—if they weren't bloodshot, it was a miracle. Even she, who rarely cared about her appearance, felt grimy all over right now.
“It's your fault for suddenly stirring things up. I couldn't just stand there doing nothing.”
“...Get up.”
“Ughhh...”
Claire wordlessly reached out both hands, and Aiden grabbed one, pulling her to her feet. Her grip was weak. She wobbled on her legs right after standing, barely steadying herself before letting out a deep sigh, releasing his hand, and trudging toward Sephirah.
Aiden followed, lost in thought. It was because the voice had spoken again.
Currently, up to 30 players can be accommodated.
Accommodated players: 1/30
Something strange was happening.
'Players... increasing.'
It was a phrase made of familiar words, yet Aiden couldn't quite grasp what it meant. Accommodating players? Were players something to be accepted? Not wandering around somewhere right now? Did the voice's mention of 'guests from another world' truly mean they came from somewhere else even now—and that only one had been accepted until this point?
Come to think of it, though he'd encountered three players so far, he'd never seen them at the same time. Maybe new ones could only arrive after the previous ones died and vacated the spot.
“Sephirah.”
He called out to the player idly tapping her wand against her palm.
“Oh, you brought her.”
“Done thinking?”
“Yeah. I forgot which way to go for a sec, but I... remembered. Or searched it up, whatever.”
“Which way?”
“...Let's rest first, you inconsiderate jerk.”
“Whoa, she's a jerk but she's right, mister.”
Sephirah was already sprawled out comfortably on bare dirt with not a blade of grass in sight. Seeing that, Claire squatted a short distance away, watching them. He had no idea if that was really comfortable, but from the moment he'd suggested rest, it seemed the player had only been thinking about kicking back.
Still, if there was no danger, resting was probably wise. They had things to discuss, after all.
“Mind if I ask something?”
Aiden glanced at Claire before approaching Sephirah again.
“Sure?”
His shadow fell over the lounging player. Aiden loomed directly above her, looking down.
What he was about to say was something only the two of them could understand.
“Keep your voice down. Quietly.”
“...Spit it out. I can hear you fine.”
“Where are the other players?”
Sephirah furrowed her brow slightly as she replied.
“Huh? What're you on about? How could any other players be here besides me?”
“...I see.”
Her answer didn't feel like a lie. The tone was so matter-of-fact, as if questioning why he'd even ask something so obvious, that doubt didn't even arise. She was confident no other players existed besides her—and if that conviction was real...
Scenario Denial: 12%
Accommodated players: 3/30
Soon, this player's sense of 'common knowledge' would shatter completely.
* * *
Accommodated players: 13/30
Even as the sun began to set, the number kept climbing steadily without pause. Once that gauge filled, there would be 30 players in this vast world. Compared to just one until now, it was a horrifyingly massive shift.
It'd be nice if they lived lives so separate that they'd never cross paths, but all three players Aiden had encountered so far had taken an interest in him. No matter how optimistically he spun it, entanglement was inevitable. Like with Sephirah.
“Claire, Claire? That your name? Yeah?”
“...Mister, the criminal's talking to me.”
“Aw, c'mon, if we're getting out of here we gotta help each other. Least I can do is chat! Is it your name or not?”
“...Yeees, it is. Why're you calling me?”
“Tell me about yourself!”
“Whaaat...?”
Yeah. That was what it meant—29 more of them. Wielding incomprehensible power with slightly warped thinking, justifying every reckless act as 'fun.' More lunatics on the loose.
'Another world... More far-fetched than talk of hell or heaven.'
If the message about coming from another world wasn't bluffing, how did they even get here? Was fun really all they sought?
“Claire, how old?”
“Nineteen...?”
“Nice. Legally fine then. Predictable.”
“What're you even saying.”
“And another setting... Oh, what's with the hair color? Weirdly not drab for once.”
“Born with it, I think. Unless I'm mistaken...”
“One more question.”
“Misteerrr...”
If so, then Sephirah's chumminess made perfect sense. She was just having fun right now. She hadn't been subdued or surrendered. Aiden's defiance of expectations was intriguing; chasing her to the ends of the earth was novel; he was stronger than anticipated. Pure curiosity—for the moment.
Judging solely by what players had shown, it wouldn't be odd if she dropped the act and turned hostile the instant her interest waned. Just like the players in Aiden's 'memories of death.'
'Those sudden memories might be the result of a player's interest fading.'
He didn't know when they occurred, but perhaps they were a bad ending manifesting as nightmares. Players moved for amusement alone, so he could captivate them, steer toward good relations. Make himself known, become a bulwark against their whims.
'But when the interest fades, that's the end.'
Like a child discarding a broken toy without a tear once bored. Players frolicked in the sandbox, smashing what didn't amuse them without hesitation. They might not turn enemy immediately, but anything uninteresting became 'disposable.'
Aiden himself. Claire. Everyone he knew. Everything in this world.
“What're you thinking so deeply about?”
At that moment, the player's now-familiar eyes turned to Aiden. Her face was so innocently carefree it made his earlier grim worries seem ridiculous. Even if her looks and personality clashed, even if behavior could be faked—setting aside that she was a player, she wasn't someone he'd feel the need to guard against. This player, peering over with apparent concern even while sprawled defenselessly, was that pure. Her worry felt too genuine to be a lie; she sought nothing but fun, purely and simply.
“Just watching to make sure you don't pull anything stupid.”
“Why would I do something stupid?”
“Like grilling someone you know they hate.”
“That's just... to help her relax!”
Hmm. Maybe that was the intent, but Claire clearly wasn't buying it. If anything, Sephirah was the reason they needed to stay tense.
“Don't talk to others. If you have something to say, say it to me.”
“Overprotective much.”
“...And how long do you plan to keep this up?”
“Meow?”
He pointed at the sky. Past the clear daytime, as the forest withered and the sky dimmed, it was now tinged with the sunset glow of encroaching dusk.
He recalled her saying they'd rest just a bit.
“Oh, I really meant just a quick break. Planned to get up right before those tree monsters swarmed back.”
“Nothing's moved nearby except us this whole time.”
“Yeah, so I waited and nothing came, so I just... kept resting.”
“...”
Was this how people acted?
“Oh, you busy? Wanna move now?”
“No, better to wait till dawn. We had to rest anyway...”
“Yeah. Since nothing showed, wandering wouldn't have mattered. This is fine.”
“Know a good spot to crash?”
“This time, really the cabin basement.”
Nothing shows up. Aiden mulled the words, clenching and unclenching his fist with quiet regret. Player abilities had no backlash, but the heightened sense lingered. Each foe felled had made his body lighter, vision sharper. He could feel himself growing stronger in every way—not just a mood. He wanted to savor it more, but he had to let it go.
“What's that mean? We could've rested inside from the start...”
“Sorry, sorry. Thought it'd just be a sec.”
“...Weirdo.”
Amid Claire's grumbling, the three reentered the ruined cabin. Getting to the basement was easy. No obvious entrance, so he'd assumed none existed—until Sephirah lifted a floor carpet, revealing a small door.
Opening the square hatch showed a ladder, but the player hopped down without grabbing it.
“All good down here! C'mon!”
“...Mister, you're actually friends with her?”
“Who knows.”
“Hmmm.”
Avoiding Claire's glare, he descended the ladder first. If she could see and hear the same things, he'd gladly explain—but the time for full disclosure hadn't come. Explanations could wait until he'd dragged the player out and pried info from her.
Accommodated players: 14/30
The basement matched the stereotypical image perfectly. Pitch-black, as if candles were needed; wooden crates stuffed with odds and ends on shelves and partitions. The crates were already smashed by Sephirah, who was rummaging through the contents.
“What're you doing?”
“Looting an ownerless box.”
“...”
He decided not to stop her. No owner seemed likely in a freak place like this.
“No bed, but it's restable enough, right?”
“Yeah.”
“If nothing's up top tomorrow, we head there. If the trees come back...”
She pointed to a hole big enough for a person.
“We go through there.”
“Where's it lead?”
“Deep cave. Solve the problem there, then home!”
“Convenient setup.”
“World's built that way. For... entertainment.”
Since he'd chosen to trust her words for now, doubting their truth yielded nothing. His only lingering worry:
“Connected to a cave—nothing coming from there?”
“Whoa, never thought of that... But it's fine. No ghosts or anything.”
“Call me if a ghost shows. That's my specialty.”
Safety didn't feel like an issue. Claire, the ex-nun, wasn't overly concerned either, and Sephirah peered through the hole like a window.
If it wasn't that dangerous, great—but why?
Accommodated players: 14/30
Accommodated players: 15/30
Why did he only feel like something was about to happen?
“Mooommyyy!!”
Then—Sephirah, peering through the hole, screamed at the top of her lungs.