Ep15. Player vs. Environment (1)
Aiden had to first accept the situation now that the cleanup nearby was done.
"So... fighting and then suddenly bonding because things are wrapping up?"
"Yeah."
Hasselhoff, who usually didn't talk much, finally opened up to Aiden. He explained everything as factually as possible—what had happened, why they weren't fighting now.
But Aiden looked utterly baffled, like he couldn't comprehend it at all.
"How the hell does that even... happen?"
"Not surprising you wouldn't get it..."
No one would. Hasselhoff himself barely understood it either. Players sometimes communicated through gestures or writing, even though they could speak. Not always, but occasionally. Sitting and standing together, mimicking actions, greeting each other, and so on. Staring blankly while doing that stuff supposedly built camaraderie, made the mimicry look cute. Hasselhoff had never really grasped that kind of sentiment.
"I was planning to keep only the ones we could handle anyway, so this is actually good..."
Aiden glanced back at the five players eyeing him with curiosity. They'd shown up here in clownish, festival-like ridiculous getups. Sephirah had orchestrated their outfits to weaken the players' morale, but still...
"Haa."
Aiden couldn't hold their gaze for long. The five survivors, each in their own grotesque costume, staring at his face—it was terrifying, even knowing they were people. Surviving forty of those things while dressed like that...
"Loqi, what'd it look like to you? You were there with them."
"Looked like a bunch of lunatics greeting each other mid-fight and suddenly getting along."
Loqi's answer was satisfying. At least it confirmed Hasselhoff's story—they'd really stopped fighting and started bonding.
Right now, one player threw both hands up in joy, and the others followed like a wave. These pure, childlike survivors.
Come to think of it, I never figured out how to explain things to them after letting them live.
As the situation settled, Aiden realized the most crucial parts were unfinished. Keep only friendly or convertible players to ensure no more player-induced problems for him or this world. But he hadn't planned what to do with the survivors.
A simple warning not to cause trouble wouldn't cut it...
If only a Log of their memories popped up like last time.
Unlike his hopes, no memories replayed despite seeing tons of players today—not like Sephirah's. He'd thought seeing himself in their "runs" would reveal everything. All he got was Loqi surrounded by the "lunatics," flailing his arms grotesquely as they mocked him.
"They can answer NPC questions, so maybe try talking."
"..."
Hasselhoff murmured his suggestion, then trailed off when Aiden seemed distracted. Aiden had been off since earlier—not meeting eyes with Loqi, Hasselhoff, or anyone, just forcing the conversation. Loqi might not notice, and Hasselhoff was quiet anyway, but it was definitely different from usual. Just deep in thought?
"Excuse me... anyone there...?"
Knock knock.
The person appearing behind the pondering Aiden was Claire. Her return meant not just the clearing, but the whole abandoned residence was cleared.
"Oh my."
Claire flinched at the five remaining players and instinctively backed away big time. They were circling Hasselhoff like they were consoling him for being ignored. She realized they were the players she'd seen earlier, but still hid behind Aiden, spooked.
"Claire."
Aiden's expression brightened noticeably as he asked,
"Everything okay? No issues?"
"Just had a big issue. Saw something scary."
"Would you believe me if I said those are the players we're letting go?"
"Nope, not buying it...!"
"That's what I wanted to talk about..."
Aiden briefly explained to the trembling Claire. He'd come to say they should spare a few, but Hasselhoff had already finished, leaving five. Now, staring at the survivors, he had no idea what next. The goal was non-problematic players, so they'd picked the milder ones, but no guarantee they'd stay meek.
"Hmm."
Claire pondered after hearing it all, then shook her head.
"Can't be helped, right? Players don't seem like the type to follow this world's laws."
"Yeah, figured..."
"And wouldn't Sephirah have thought of that? She suggested gathering them here."
She seemed scatterbrained, but Sephirah was surprisingly decisive. She'd probably planned what to do with survivors too. No high hopes, though.
"Then Sephirah..."
Only after calling her name did Aiden remember Sephirah wasn't there.
"Still on the roof? Thought she'd come down first."
"Sephiraaaah! All done—come here!!"
The abandoned residence echoed with Claire's shout toward the roof. It should've reached, but the rooftop stayed eerily silent.
[Player Capacity: 91/128]
Anxiety that Sephirah might be among the unnoticed 37 dead. Confusion at his own unease over one mere player possibly dying.
Aiden gripped his quickening panic and said,
"Hasselhoff, you got help from her—when'd you last see her?"
"...Stopped midway. Thought she paused 'cause few players left."
"Tch, everyone to the roof. Now!"
No time for players. Aiden grabbed Claire's wrist—hiding behind him—and activated Fast Travel.
They arrived at Sephirah's railing perch.
"Gasp...!"
Claire, wrist gripped, startled at the sight and clutched Aiden back. First in her shifted view: fresh red blood pooled on the floor. Bloody footprints tracked through it.
Fight here? Too late?
Footprints scattered different ways—fainter farther from the pool. Eyes followed the one clear trail far off.
"Whoaaa... Hi, Aiden."
In the rooftop corner sat Sephirah, wounded all over, blood pooling in her mouth. Blood rode her breath each word; her UI showed critical HP.
"Thought I'd never see you move like that again..."
"Wait—don't talk, don't move! One wrong move and we really won't...!"
"I'm fine."
Anyone could see Sephirah was a mess, so Claire rushed to treat her. Unknown attack, but severe gashes ringed her hands and neck. By any knowledge, she'd bled out fatally. But as a player, one tossed potion had stabilized her somewhat.
"Sephirah, if you can spare a reply..."
Aiden guarded her back, scanning surroundings.
"Who did this? You'd have yelled—we'd have come faster."
"Well, funny thing—I got caught by someone earlier. Little experiment."
Sephirah explained preemptively.
"How much hand damage stops magic? Does cutting tongue stop speech like severing hand stops spells... Stuff like that."
"Still so chatty—guess your tongue's intact."
"Nah, players can talk without tongues."
"...What?"
Aiden stared at her bloodied face, hoping he'd misheard. But seeing inside her open mouth crushed that—severed tongue stump, unmoving.
"Whaa... Couldn't talk like this. Yell and might get killed. Had to cooperate, y'know."
"You just took it? You?"
"Prejudice, I tell ya. Players aren't that big a deal—especially not me."
Sephirah stuck out her stump. Claire, hating the sight, prioritized regenerating it over other wounds. Aiden sighed in relief as blue-tinged fingers healed next.
"Wanna say it's over, but not with you like this."
"For 'over,' that's a lotta players left."
"Changed my mind. If killing spawns more, fill with meek ones."
"Smart. But plan's flawed from start. Didn't see this coming."
Sephirah fiddled her wrist familiarly.
"Listen—we posted on player 'community' to lure newbies. Worked great—over forty. But..."
"...But?"
"Shoulda accounted for first thirty seeing it too. Adapted enough to this run."
He hadn't ignored the possibility. But among tons of players, excluding Sephirah and Hasselhoff, twenty-five chasing a post here? Unlikely odds—over ten thousand still playing.
Math was wrong.
"If they're still prowling with interest, they use community. Someone targeting us this run... Totally possible."
"Adapted player flipping the board. Where?"
Sephirah shook her head, hinting indirectly it was dangerous now.
"Probably still watching nearby. Could just run while we sit?"
"Be serious. Flee now? Would've bolted from you first if so."
"With me like this?"
"Possible. We're not alone."
"Heh..."
Figured. Sephirah resigned. Special NPC and players gathered or not, she lacked confidence. Beating someone casually watching her HP refill chit-chatting...
Still, Sephirah and Aiden had to beat the "second participant." To continue this.
"Fine, let's do it. Five might manage."
"Good call. Where's the guy?"
"Right beside you, Aiden."
As talk wrapped, the "second participant" appeared beside Aiden like always there. Full helmet and cloth hid him, mystery skin peeking—purple, softly glowing. The enigmatic man revealed himself.
"You did this to Sephirah?"
Aiden turned to him.