Lv.? Dragon Ataraxia [1]
4 Fantasy Online was a game of notorious reputation. And not merely because it was a gambling game. Treating it as an ordinary gambling title had always been a stretch. It was a virtual reality game, after all — one that reproduced real-world warfare in obsessive, almost excessive detail.
The very framework of the game made that plain. In the competition between factions, tactics, strategy, and logistics mattered far more than any individual player's heroics. The gambling element was merely a byproduct of the supply process. It was closer to a wargame than an RPG — a war exercise designed to test the command ability of officers and the skill of individual soldiers, and to drive their improvement.
Some people suspected the game was a military simulation for a war in As. Playing it, they argued, was tantamount to aiding As's war effort — in effect, as good as encouraging the outbreak of World War III. Worse still, the development company's chairman was a dragon who harbored a grudge against Earth, and she had recently attended a gathering of the Longsword Regime. The suspicion that the game's enormous profits were all flowing into war funds was, by any reasonable measure, entirely justified.
And how did the players feel about these suspicions? They didn't care in the slightest. War simulation or not — who cared? The money was good.
And a certain Gray Elf paid those suspicions no mind either. Whether the game helped spark World War III or not was none of his concern.
When Gaon logged into the 4 Fantasy Online fansite, one topic was setting the boards on fire.
Killing a single NPC might not sound like much, but in 4 Fantasy Online it was a matter of considerable importance.
If you killed a particular Swordmaster, would they respawn in the game? And if they did, how long would it take? None of this had been confirmed. Not a single Swordmaster had ever died. Right now, with some Swordmaster blocking hundreds of thousands of troops and preventing anyone from claiming victory, that kind of information was worth a fortune.
Gaon was scrolling through the comments, basking in the smug satisfaction of being the only one who knew the truth, when a conversation caught his eye.
The corner of Gaon's mouth twitched. Convinced this was his chance to get noticed, he didn't let it slip.
A short while later, a video appeared on the site. A Swordmaster meeting his end amid roaring flames.
The reaction, as expected, was explosive.
Within moments the comments numbered in the hundreds. Gaon read through them with his astonishing visual acuity — and received a shock.
"Where's the praise for me?"
Nobody was paying any attention to the person who'd filmed it. It was absurd. Shouldn't there be a flood of accolades — how did you even capture that, that was an incredible shot, and so on?
Gaon was in the middle of fuming when the Goddess spoke.
"Is it not because you edited out the entire opening, so that your Goddess's Great Warrior and his valiant struggle never appeared on screen? Lamentably, my Great Warrior has become infatuated with a narrative that conceals his own martial power. For the record, your Goddess does not care for such narratives. To watch from the sidelines is so maddeningly stifling it is like eating several persimmons with not a drop of water to wash them down."
"Goddess. Even so, I can hardly make the part where I fight in person public. That would give away that I'm a Swordmaster."
"To maintain your tragic-trainee persona? Honestly, my Great Warrior, even past the age of two hundred and thirty, your sensibilities remain those of an adolescent boy."
"It's not just that. If my identity gets exposed, I'd have to act differently, and that's... I want to at least be able to act freely in the game. As you well know, Goddess, in the real world I can barely even take a walk in my true form."
The Goddess was silent for a moment. Feeling guilty, Gaon pressed on.
"It's gotten late. I'll go to sleep now."
"Truly, Gaon? It is only ten in the evening."
"Yes."
Gaon really did fall asleep at once, to the Goddess's delight.
And a few hours later, the instant 4:34 arrived, he bolted upright and logged into the game — thereby becoming the Goddess's wrath. It was precisely the moment the death-lockout expired.
If you registered your character in a city, you could respawn there upon death. Gaon respawned in the city where he usually stayed and headed straight for the swordsmanship dojo. Then he began practicing at once. From dawn until morning, without a single minute of rest.
The instructor watching him offered an assessment.
"Your stance and movement look much improved. Noticeably so. Did you have some kind of realization?"
"Sparred with a strong opponent."
"A strong opponent?"
Gaon thought back to his duel with Hyungtun. While editing the video, he had watched that fight over and over. It was a duel that served as a kind of guide — a pointer toward the direction he needed to go.
Until now, he had had no such guide. He had trained diligently in swordsmanship, but it had been closer to a mechanical habit than anything else. Now, though, Gaon knew that this was genuinely helping him.
With more burning drive than ever before, he swung the sword in his left hand again and again. He had already been swinging since dawn, but he kept going into the afternoon. That concentration was enough to draw genuine admiration from the instructor.
It was about time for the others to log in.
"Hey hey!"
"Gaon, you're really going at it!"
The ARMA member who'd logged in grinned at Gaon, then started his own practice. Gaon was now the city's biggest celebrity, but their attitude toward him was the same as ever.
He had already stopped expecting the ARMA members to pay him any special attention. As far as he could tell, the people practicing swordsmanship here operated on a completely different wavelength from ordinary gamers. The ARMA members all had real-world jobs. They had no interest in making money from this game, so who was famous in-game simply didn't matter to them. For Gaon, that attitude was actually rather welcome.
More ARMA members kept logging in. Their conversation drifted to his ears.
"I heard Lee Mi-ri doesn't come here anymore?"
My fault. Gaon flinched. Another ARMA member spoke up.
"Good riddance."
"What? Our only girl is gone and you're saying that's a good thing?"
"She had zero manners. She straight-up ignored me."
"Why would Mi-ri ignore you?"
"Because I went to a no-name college."
"Wait, Mi-ri's a high school graduate?"
"Oh, is she?"
"Yeah. So why would she look down on a college grad? Isn't there some other reason?"
"How would I... know."
Fortunately, nobody pressed Gaon about it. Relieved, he threw himself back into his sword practice.
Then a visitor arrived at the dojo: Lee Bok-dong. His training interrupted, Gaon tried not to let his annoyance show. Lee Bok-dong spoke up cautiously.
"Someone wants to see you, hyung..."
"Who the hell is this guy, ordering me around?"
"A scout..."
"What?"
"He wants to scout you."
"I got my hopes up when I heard a Swordmaster got killed... but this is pretty underwhelming."
"One of them finally died. Why are you so unimpressed?"
"Come on, who doesn't know you can kill a Swordmaster with a nuke? Who doesn't know that if you just carpet-bomb a city with strategic strikes, most Swordmasters simply die? The data's only valuable if you take one down in a creative way. Blowing up a city with a nuke and calling it a kill..."
"So this record has no value at all?"
"It's not completely worthless. Why couldn't the Swordmaster escape when bombers that looked obviously dangerous were flying in? Was there a reason he couldn't flee? Did the bombers get hidden by clouds so he couldn't see them... It'll at least serve as reference material for analyzing that kind of thing. If we send it to the Swordmasters, it'll be a useful combat lesson, right?"
"So it's still worth looking up the recorded footage, then?"
"Yeah."
4 Fantasy Online's event-recording capability was formidable. The server preserved, in full, what had happened at what time, in what place. Administrators could review those records whenever they wished. As administrators, the employees rewound the server footage at once.
They saw Hyungtun running, and a player fleeing from him.
"One of the players is luring Hyungtun."
"Wait, is there something wrong with his behavior pattern? Why is he chasing him like he's trying to die?"
"He must've judged him as a threat... though I don't really see what's so dangerous about that guy..."
A moment later, the two employees understood why.
The man who'd been luring him turned around. The instant gray ash rippled from his blade, both of them went silent, eyes wide. The calm at the heart of a storm. It was a full five minutes before either of them managed to speak.
"Not a word of this."
"Yes... Then we should discard this..."
"No... We have to file a report."
"To whom?"
"To the Chairman."
At the word "Chairman," the employee flinched.
It is common enough that a rank-and-file employee never sees the chairman, and common enough that, even occupying the same company building, the chairman feels like someone from another world. This was especially true of companies whose chairman was a dragon — a different species entirely. The employees here were a textbook case.
The Red Dragon Ataraxia. With that Ancient Dragon — who appeared in social studies textbooks, economics textbooks, and history textbooks alike — as their chairman, the employees of this company frequently confused the title "Chairman" with the word "God." Particularly in the sense that they perceived the chairman as a transcendent being dwelling in the lofty heavens.
The fact that this famous dragon could use polymorph magic and ordinarily lived in the form of an ordinary human woman did nothing to help the employees feel any closer to her.
"Hello! I saw the video! It was really amazing!"
The person who'd come to "scout" was a woman. In this game, that alone was more than enough to monopolize every player's attention. On top of that, her character customization was so well done she looked almost like a model. Shimmering blonde hair, striking features, a naturally beautiful face. Even to Gaon — a master of polymorph with considerable expertise in game customization — it was impressive.
Jijonmussang was grinning ear to ear as he stared at the woman, while Gaon offered a polite greeting.
"It's an honor, miss. I hear you've come to scout?"
"Yes!"
In this game, a "scout" meant a contract offer to be hired as someone's exclusive employee. Only personnel who were hard to replace — former high-ranking military officers, former air force pilots — received scouting offers. Or those whose value matched such elite talent. The price of hiring such high-grade personnel was, of course, an enormous salary.
Naturally, it was something nearly every player wanted. How wonderful would it be to have a stable income? Of course, it was not something Gaon wanted. Careful not to offend her, he spoke.
"I'm afraid I'm not interested, miss. I don't play this game to make money."
Ah...
Lee Bok-dong, who'd been hoping they might get hired as a set, was in the middle of being disappointed. Gaon suddenly pointed at him and asked,
"What about this friend of mine? He fights well too. He's a hell of a shot."
Finding himself under the woman's gaze, Lee Bok-dong expected nothing. Why would a woman like that pay any attention to him? But contrary to his expectations, she showed a measure of interest.
"This is the other person from the video. You two must be close?"
Gaon nodded, and Lee Bok-dong was moved. And in the next instant, his eyes went wide with surprise. After thinking it over for a moment, the woman gave a positive answer.
"Well... he's not bad."