The Demonic Sword

A Demonic Sword.

A weapon that hands you tremendous power, and collects an equally tremendous penalty in return. A player cannot use one. The reason is nothing grand: the game's system simply cannot implement it.

A Demonic Sword reaches into its wielder's mind and turns all that strength toward the wrong things. It drags them through hallucination after hallucination, voice after phantom voice, until paranoia sets in — or it inflames their hunger for blood until nothing else remains. And so, for as long as I had played, there had never been a single person who carried a Demonic Sword and kept a sound mind.

"...Hmm?"

But now, one had appeared. The wielder of that Demonic Sword. Someone bewitched by it, pouring raw hostility straight at me.

"What are you just standing there for? Scared?"

"No... it isn't that. I was only— heh..."

Or so the situation seemed to demand. Looking at her, though, wasn't this just a day-old puppy?

It felt like being cornered by a slightly bratty younger cousin.

Somehow I had scraped my shattered nerves back together and torn a teleport scroll. I'd fished a pair of gloves out in a hurry and pulled them on, just so the crest burned into the back of my hand wouldn't show. When I happened to lift my head, the morning I had set out in was already gone. It was afternoon.

It's already this late...

I was exhausted. I'd forgotten time entirely, and now the whole of it came crashing in at once. I didn't want to do anything. I didn't even have the appetite to eat.

So what did a man in that state choose?

"Oh— ohh...? Mr. Siegfried, you've come...?"

"Yes. The usual room. It's still available, I trust?"

"Y-yes, sir..."

I came back to the inn I always used, took the key from an innkeeper who looked oddly flustered, and went up. The window rasped open. From my Subspace Pouch I drew a pipe and a pinch of tobacco.

What — indoor smoking is poor manners? In an age like this, a setting like this, does anyone really think a rule like that exists? Back in my own hometown, people were still lighting up on television a few decades ago. This place is older than that. It's the era of the pipe. Come on. Manners are a luxury that only shows up once life is comfortable enough to afford them. And if this were the Central District, perhaps — but this is the Middle District. Nobody here is going to build anything as blessed as a smoking lounge.

"This... I meant to save it for after I beat the final boss..."

I truly hadn't expected to crack it open this soon. Thanks, Lulu. Consider this a thumbs-up.

I packed the tobacco into the pipe and lit it. White smoke curled up.

"Hoo..."

I let the smoke I'd been holding spill from my mouth, and a curse along with it.

"Goddamn it."

What in the world had even happened? Why hadn't it been there — the thing that, by every right, ought to have existed? Yes, I'd already felt the game and reality pulling apart a little. Even so, how was a man supposed to predict a route where the final boss simply doesn't exist?

Was the final boss the Status Window mentioned something other than the one I thought it was?

When I was dropped into this body, the company had definitely called it a chance to enjoy new content. Looked at that way, the outcome wasn't so strange after all...

"...Then what is this."

The Status Window had called me to the Waste Disposal Site, as if the path I'd pictured were the correct one. And I had received... that. The thing called a Call, and the thing called a Blessing. The wording sounded pleasant enough, but I didn't have the faintest idea what kind of ability it actually was. What, exactly, had that window claimed to have done so well for me? And why was it telling me it would be counting on me from here on out?

By then, another thought had crept in. Maybe it had lured me. Maybe the real purpose had been nothing other than laying that so-called Blessing on me.

My head was a thorough tangle when it came.

Knock, knock...

"...?"

The girl in the robe. She had come looking for me, and she was holding out some bizarre written challenge.

"They say it's darkest right under the lamp, but I never imagined you'd slip in while I was out searching."

"Me?"

"Yes. You."

Where was I even supposed to begin? I hadn't been hiding. I hadn't known she was looking for me. From the first detail to the last, the whole thing was absurd — starting with the inexplicable fact that this girl was possessed by a Demonic Sword.

And on top of that.

Even this Status Window, changed without warning. The lower line was telling me to take the girl's Demonic Sword. And it wasn't only the lower line that had changed. The upper one had, too.

That state was one I had seen before. It looked like that in the moment just before it spoke to me. So I waited. Something that had never once opened its mouth was about to, and I wanted to hear what would come out.

"...Hey."

"..."

But no matter how long I waited — no matter how long —

"Are you ignoring me?"

"..."

"Can't you hear me?"

Nothing changed. The only difference was that the ellipsis had vanished.

An answer clearly wasn't coming anytime soon. I pulled my eyes off the Status Window.

"Ah, mister."

"...?"

"You don't have to treat me like I'm not even here..."

The girl in front of me had thoroughly deflated. Right — I'd gone AFK in the middle of talking to her. That was on me.

"No, I'm sorry. Something important suddenly came to mind."

"R-really? You're done, then? Hurry up and fight me!"

"...Good grief."

Never mind. I wasn't sorry anymore. Thinking it over, that girl was the most primitively absurd thing I had dealt with all day. Why did she want to fight? I couldn't recall doing anything that ought to have earned her grudge.

Then... it really is the Demonic Sword?

A Demonic Sword would explain a fair amount. Not all of it — the girl had a brattiness no sword could account for — but even Demonic Swords ought to come case by case, shouldn't they?

"Very well. Follow me. I know a quiet place."

"!"

I decided to indulge her, for now. If nothing else, should she truly be possessed and puppeted by a Demonic Sword, wasn't it possible I could help? To do that, I needed to see the sword for myself, and the surest way to manage it was to make her draw a weapon. That was why I accepted.

Out of the inn I went, yet again. The innkeeper watched the two of us with an expression that had long since given up.

"I'll be running. You can keep up, I trust?"

"Of course."

If she couldn't keep up with this, I'd simply count her as unqualified to pick a fight in the first place. I kicked off the ground. For anyone who actually knows how to use a body, I'll run means something very different from what it means to an ordinary person. The fact that the first thing I did was leap onto the rooftops said everything. Following the streets takes time — the way to the destination isn't straight, and the obstacles are endless. This was fastest, short of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠teleport.

"..."

Tap. Tak!

Footsteps behind me. For the moment, at least, she was keeping up.

"Hmph. You lectured me over something like this? That's rich. If anyone's disappointed, it's me."

"..."

Oh, shut up. Chattering while she runs — does she not run out of breath?

Anyway. For several minutes I crossed the rooftops of the Middle District, leaping from one to the next, until at last I arrived. An abandoned place. No one lived there. Only buildings left half-demolished, crowding in on every side.

"Yeah... this is a good place to fight. Plenty of room, too."

"I'm glad it suits you."

"Good. Let's fight."

"..."

How was a person's logic this simple? Unless there was something she absolutely had to do first, every line of dialogue locked onto let's fight.

"No... isn't there something else we ought to do before that?"

"Hm? What?"

"I don't even know your name yet."

"Aha."

With that robe on, I didn't know what she looked like, either. Fortunately, the girl seemed to decide this was reasonable, and she nodded.

"My name is Ria Velashie. I came from the Central District. You're Siegfried, right?"

"Haha... and however did you learn that?"

"There are ways."

I would have preferred she not look so pleased with herself after digging through someone else's personal information. What was she, a phone company?

Still, that answer bought me one useful thing. The girl — Ria — could at least hold a conversation. In that case, perhaps I could afford to be greedy and ask one more question.

"Why is it you wish to fight me?"

"That's easy. I want to fight someone strong."

A clean, refreshing answer, and it came out without catching. And yet it was an answer that still left the question standing. I pressed on.

"Then why do you wish to fight someone strong?"

"Because I want a fight where I go all out."

"...Ah. I see."

"Why are you reacting like that? I answered you seriously."

Not for any particular reason. It wasn't that I thought she was lying. My reaction had gone flat for one reason only: she and I were still walking in circles over the same patch of ground.

"What I am asking is why you want to fight at all."

"...? I keep telling you..."

"Yes, I know. A fight against someone strong. A fight at full strength. A struggle with your life on the line. All of that is perfectly fine."

I understood what she meant. I didn't especially sympathize, but I understood — people who get drunk on the thrill of a fight like that, on the high of victory. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Or perhaps the reward was the point. Wealth, honor, the things that wait at the end of a battle fought with everything you have. What I wanted to know was what a fight like that meant to her.

So I asked. For a moment, silence settled over the empty lot. The girl had been quietly watching the sky, and it was a little while before she opened her mouth.

"...What it means, huh."

Her murmur carried across the vacant ground, and the rest followed at once.

"You wouldn't know, but I've never lost. Not once."

"Is that so."

"Yeah. Even the ones they called geniuses — I put every last one of them on their knees."

Right. I'd already guessed that much. That the girl was strong, at least. Someone with strength of that order doesn't come down to the Middle District without a reason.

"It was dull. Victory always dropped into my hands far too easily."

"..."

"And then one day I realized. Everything I'd been calling a fight was basically playing house."

...So that was it. The shape of her was slowly coming clear.

"So I came. Here. To find someone strong. Or to hunt monsters."

"...You wanted a real fight. Or you wanted to learn what defeat feels like. Is that why you came?"

That was how I decided to read the person called Ria Velashie: a genius who had achieved far too much, far too fast, and a girl who had spent a long time suffocating in the boredom that followed. And that reading of mine —

"...No?"

"...?"

"I'm not really interested in any of that."

—was completely wrong. Perhaps I had been far too optimistic about someone who carried a Demonic Sword.

"Beating weak people is honestly fun."

"..."

"What I hate is that those fights don't help me at all."

"You wouldn't get it this time, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠either."

"The thing is..."

"I'm fated to kill something. That's why I came to the Academy."

"..."

"At some point, nothing around me was any help anymore."

"Being weak is fine. That happens. But if you're weak... then at the very least, shouldn't you definitely be the one who loses to me?"

"I wasn't going to kill them. Cutting them cleanly — just enough to make them bleed — would have been plenty."

"...Ha."

"But they stop even that. And then every one of them turns useless."

"So I came out here. To the Middle District."

"Finding someone strong... well, fight a person like that and you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might pick up an insight or two, but..."

"From the sound of it, that isn't the reason."

"Right. I just needed someone like that."

"Someone strong enough that they won't die, even if I come at them like I mean to kill."

"Or someone it doesn't matter if I kill."

"You've been harboring some dangerous thoughts."

"Have I? I don't really know. Anyway, that's why I like you."

"...Why?"

"Because you seem to fit both."

With that, she was finished. The girl drew a dagger from inside her robe.

"Tsk."

I clicked my tongue. My head had already been aching, and now it seemed I'd been dragged into a thorough nuisance.

"..."

A voice rang through my head.

Toward the girl in front of me.

Her sword was gone. Every shred of her will to fight was gone with it. She sat on the ground, shaking, a girl with sky-blue hair.

...Toward Ria Velashie.