The Long Vacation (5)
"Planetarium's just starting up. What template should I pick at the beginning?"
"Nameless War Demon, or Barbarian's not bad either."
"Just go with whatever you like. You'll end up trying everything anyway once you get into it."
"Isn't 'Nameless War Demon' the most balanced? No harsh restrictions, and it's ridiculously strong."
"Pick 'Greedy Libertine.' Insane starting funds and drop rates. It's basically a cheat character for beginners."
"Does that guy even have a conscience? If you're gonna troll, at least make him a Saint, you bastard."
"For your first time, Nameless War Demon's probably the safest."
"If you think you're normal, go War Demon. If you consider yourself an experienced gamer in this genre, go Heir. If you're willing to admit 'I'm a pervert!' then Libertine."
In Planetarium, the Nameless War Demon template is treated as a beginner-friendly character. Not because it's low-level, but because it grows strong even if you ignore the finer details, and its freedom is unmatched. In contrast, if you behead some noble as the Red and Blue Blood Heir, the backlash could force a complete restart of that playthrough. But with Nameless War Demon, it's as simple as "Oh, I'm wanted now? Guess I'll take the thief route. Or maybe just defect to Ivestan?"
They say the most terrifying thing in the world is someone with nothing to lose. When that someone is also overwhelmingly strong in combat, there's simply no answer. Of course, Ligret is different from the in-game Nameless War Demon, and she's far from the kind of lunatic who'd cut someone down just for blocking her path. Her basic personality is a bit aggressive, and once combat begins she shows no hesitation about taking lives, but at least she can distinguish when drawing her blade is necessary and when it isn't.
That said—
"Just not drawing your sword doesn't make everything okay, young lady……"
I sighed at the scene unfolding before me. The already overheated atmosphere had been hit with a wide-area provocation, so of course it drew aggro. And when the instigator looked like a small girl, the effect was even more pronounced.
"Hey, what did you just say? You little— Whoa!"
The man who'd been glaring down at Ligret with an intimidating posture was suddenly shoved sideways. Ligret had reached out, grabbed his waist, and tossed him aside like a paper doll.
"Huh?"
"What the hell?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A burly man had been flung aside by someone a full head—or even a head and a half—shorter than him. Of course people found it strange.
"Eh? Wait, what?"
The most confused person was the man himself. He kept glancing back and forth between his own body and Ligret, as if a question mark had appeared above his head in a cartoon.
I shouted before Ligret could reach for her next target.
"Ligret! Clean it up!"
Ligret paused for a moment at my voice, then looked around and silently resumed her "work." Thud, thud, swish. With every step she took, people tangled in the chaotic line were forcibly pushed aside, and the disorderly queue straightened out as neatly as if it had always been that way. Of course, being shoved by force meant some should have fallen, but somehow everyone was simply pushed aside with bewildered expressions, maintaining their balance. Maybe she wasn't pushing them at all—maybe she was lifting them.
"No, what the hell is this trick?!"
Most of them still couldn't grasp the situation and simply stared blankly, but there were exceptions. A young man with a large scar on his right cheek lunged forward to grab Ligret by the collar. Don't. Don't set off the bomb we're trying to handle quietly!
The sudden ambush should have caught Ligret off guard and landed a hit—except, of course, it didn't. The moment the young man's hand touched her collar, his body was already soaring through the air. He crashed down on his back right next to where the bald man had fallen earlier, letting out a strangled gasp. I turned my gaze to Fiore. She had finished treating the bald man and now extended her hand toward the youth. White light washed over him, and his labored breathing gradually steadied.
"……"
By this point, even the crowd whose minds had briefly checked out began to regain their senses. Fear crept across their faces as they stared at Ligret. She seemed to ponder for a moment, then spoke a single short line.
"Don't cause trouble. Line up quietly. If you don't like it, step forward."
No one volunteered to step forward.
Afterward, the guards arrived late, but since there were no actual injuries—Fiore's treatment had been perfect—and the troublemakers all suddenly developed a strong sense of law-abiding silence, the incident didn't escalate into a major disturbance. Of course, it wasn't because they'd suddenly embraced civic duty; once their heads cooled, they simply realized they might face punishment for causing trouble in the store.
"Thank you, valued customers. Thanks to you, we can finally catch our breath."
At the bespectacled clerk's words, I waved my hand dismissively.
"No, we're the ones who should be thanking you for explaining things to the guards. I really didn't want to end up behind bars."
"I only did what was necessary."
Fiore asked, "By the way, I thought the martial tournament was held every two years. Is it always this chaotic?"
"No, not at all. If it were, we would have prepared by hiring extra security in advance. This year, an unusually large number of people have gathered—almost twice the usual amount, I'd say."
"That sounds like it would be hard to handle."
"Half the joy of increased sales, half the panic that supply can't meet demand. If our store, which can stockpile goods without worrying about expiration dates, is struggling this much, other places must be in even worse shape."
Hmm. So the number of participants has increased compared to the last tournament. It feels like the difficulty will rise, but in the end, I'll just do what I need to and drop out. Ligret? A cat worrying about a lion is pointless.
"Well, the academy's reopening probably had a significant impact. Everyone seems to be spreading the expectation that something big is about to happen."
The clerk's speculation sounded plausible. In reality, incidents would soon erupt across the continent. No—by all rights, they should have already occurred. The cult calling themselves the Star Seekers or Star Pursuers or whatever unnecessarily complicated name they used should have carried out their terrorism. Come to think of it, where the hell were those guys and what were they doing? I'd been investigating, but nothing had turned up, which only made me more uneasy.
"More importantly, how's the weapon we commissioned? I heard there was some kind of problem."
At that moment, Ligret—who had been standing silently with her arms crossed—could no longer hold back and cut into the conversation. The usually laid-back girl seemed unusually impatient today. Was she that excited about the new weapon?
"Ah, about that……"
The clerk trailed off with an uncertain expression at Ligret's question.
"Don't tell me you failed and wasted the materials……?"
"No! That's not it at all!"
Sparks flew in Ligret's eyes, and the clerk shook his head frantically, breaking into a cold sweat.
"The weapon you commissioned is right here."
What saved the clerk was the plump-looking craftsman who had previously handed us the Blood-Stained Stake. Following behind him was a sturdy clerk who could have passed for a guard, carefully carrying a small wooden box with both hands as if it contained explosives. It was only natural that everyone's gaze—mine, Ligret's, and even Fiore's—turned toward that box. What was inside at this point was obvious.
The plump craftsman noticed our stares as well. Without a word, he lifted the lid of the box. Inside lay a single small dagger. The blade was hidden inside a black sheath, and the hilt was wrapped in what looked like black leather bands, giving the whole thing a dark impression. Red line patterns resembling blood vessels ran across the guard between blade and hilt and the pommel at the end of the handle.
"It looks completely finished from the outside. Don't tell me the inside of the sheath is empty or something."
"Of course we wouldn't pull such a prank. No, to be honest, the manufacturing process itself is already complete. It's just that we can't call it finished."
The process was complete. But it wasn't finished. I tilted my head at the cryptic statement, but Fiore seemed to have grasped the craftsman's meaning from that alone.
"Did something go wrong during the final test-use phase?"
The craftsman nodded heavily.
"Three in total. Everyone who touched the blade without its sheath collapsed."