Pirate Invasion
Iscal gripped his massive shield and steadied his breathing.
The sand of the arena floor whispered faintly beneath his boots. The crowd's roaring cheers pulsed through the air like a living heartbeat. Sunlight poured down in a blinding blaze, baking the air until it seared against his skin.
And across from him, the dual curved-sword warrior stared him down. The man was lean and wiry, every inch of him packed with corded muscle. He bounced lightly on his feet, limbering up with quick, agile steps, then quietly leveled a pair of wickedly sharp curved blades.
Iscal swallowed hard and raised his shield. He knew his weapon's limits all too well. Its defensive performance outstripped that of any other Apostle's gear — but its offensive power was practically nonexistent.
Friga's assessment, delivered after she'd repeatedly grabbed Iscal and beaten on him just because the shield felt so satisfying to hit, had been brutally honest.
Ridiculously sturdy, and it sheds attacks beautifully. If he's on your side, you feel safe. If he's the enemy, he's a nightmare. But with no way to attack on his own… it's a shame.
No matter how hard Friga had swung her enormous axe into Iscal's shield, she hadn't so much as chipped a tooth of it — and her hands had gone numb from the impact. She'd called that "good hand feel" and cheerfully kept thrashing him.
Enduring those brutally powerful axe blows, Iscal had found his answer.
A shield wasn't just armor.
It was a weapon.
Crushing weight. Unbreakable durability. A shield could serve perfectly well as a blunt instrument.
Iscal's strategy was simple.
Block. Then smash.
Deep inside him, a bead of divine power no larger than a marble stirred and shifted in tiny increments. Iscal had awakened to his holy power not long after being named an Apostle, and he was growing skilled with it fast.
That divine power was his hidden trump card.
Violently rebound an enemy's attack to create an opening. Then wrap the shield in holy power — and swing.
Good…
The plan was perfect. Iscal glared at the curved-sword warrior over the rim of his shield.
Suffocating tension hung in the air. Then, just as a single breath of wind seemed to skim across the arena—
Swaaash—!
The curved-sword warrior kicked off the ground. He came flying in with the fluid grace of a swallow skimming low, so fast that only a blurred afterimage remained in the eye.
Iscal spun and thrust his shield into the path of the blades.
KAAANG—!
The curved swords, gleaming like white fangs, struck the shield and rebounded uselessly.
Now!
The attacker was wide open. Iscal's shield was just about to swing—
"Ghhk!"
Blood burst from the man's hands with a wet spurt. The attacker had hurt himself, and for a moment Iscal simply stared, dumbfounded.
"U-ugh! My hands…!!"
The curved-sword warrior's hands trembled violently. The instant his blades had struck the massive shield, a rebound force greater than the power he'd put into the attack had slammed back into him — and shredded his grip.
It felt as if he'd just punched an iron wall.
Underestimating the great shield for looking clumsy, and attacking it so carelessly, had been his mistake.
Iscal did not waste the opening. He swung the heavy shield forward and took a great stride.
"Hah!"
KWOONG—!
He wrung every last drop of his meager divine power into the shield and drove it home, using the shield's own weight as the force of the blow.
"Ghk…"
The curved-sword warrior's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled. His nose was a little flattened, but the priests would have that fixed in no time.
"Iscaaaal!! He stands firm as an iron wall and claims victory!"
The announcer declared Iscal the winner, and the crowd's feverish cheers crashed down on him.
"Iscal! Iscal! Iscal!"
"Not sure if he's handsome, but he's cool as hell!!"
His mouth stretched into a foolish grin. His cheeks twitched and rose higher with every chant of his name.
"Heh… heheheh!"
Wasn't a hunger for glory the whole reason he'd come to the Holy City in the first place? Watching countless people go wild for him, Iscal felt ready to take flight on the spot.
"Hey! Stop grinning like an idiot and get in here!"
Friga, thoroughly fed up, seized him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off.
And in a corner of the arena, where the crowd's cheers never reached — in the dark.
"…"
Armor blacker than shadow stood in absolute silence. At a glance it could have been a decoration. The only thing that marked it as a person was the faintly moving mask.
A crow was painted across the face, covering it completely.
"…"
The one wearing the crow mask — the very symbol of the Inquisitors — was none other than Number Five. Her eyes, red as drops of blood, glowed as she quietly watched the arena.
Another duel had just ended. What exactly was Number Five staring at so intently?
"Incredible! Truly incredible! Estel—! She dropped her opponent in an instant!! Dagger work that has reached the realm of mastery!!"
The announcer bellowed the name Estel as he declared the victory. The warrior called Estel cut a distinctly unusual figure.
She covered her entire body in a large robe and ran about barefoot in hard wooden clogs. A composite bow she had never once used in a duel hung from one shoulder, and she spoke to no one.
Number Five stared at Estel without blinking.
And not only Estel. Number Five also took careful note of the warrior the announcer introduced as the hairy Rohan.
"…"
After watching the arena for a long while, Number Five at last slipped soundlessly into the dark.
The black shadow swayed without a sound.
"Haaah — this damn bug of a game."
The utterly absurd glitch where the guy who attacked Iscal lost HP. Sure, you could say a bug working in your favor is a good thing… but a bug this ridiculous? Come on.
No, seriously — you hit a shield, and the person who hit it gets hurt? If it looked like a spiked shield, I'd get it.
Did the item description even mention reflection damage?
Maybe I'd read it, forgotten, and was just trash-talking the poor developers for nothing. I quickly opened the detailed description for the Great Shield of the Guardian.
C-Grade
A massive, sturdy shield. Thick as a door. Requires both hands to lift. So durable that the one who strikes it may get hurt.
Unique Skill:Taunt (Draws enemy attention to yourself. Makes you easier to attack.)
"Tch… 'May get hurt.' Is that supposed to mean reflection damage?"
I was pretty sure that line hadn't been there last time I looked. Or had it? The "requires both hands" part just meant it was a two-handed piece of gear — so was "may get hurt" actually reflection damage?
An annoyingly vague description that left me tilting my head. If you're going to write it, write it clearly. The developers must have caught some weird hipster disease and decided to put this kind of nonsense in the item text.
"—And with that, all four hundred and nine warriors have completed their first duel and advance to the next!! The next round is in two days!!"
Looks like the next event was set for two days out. All the Hero-grade adventurers I'd been planning to star-enhance had already won, and today's daily chores had been done ages ago.
Nothing left to do, so I shut the game off. I flopped onto the bed, and the soft give of the mattress was pure bliss.
A drowsy heaviness drifted over me in gentle waves. I had work tomorrow, so it was time to sleep… I didn't fight the eyelids growing heavier by the second.
Shaaaa—
My body felt like it was rocking, slowly.
As if the bed and I had become one, floating on the waves.
Like I'd turned the bed into a raft and become a captain sailing the open sea.
Ah — come to think of it, when I was a kid I'd wanted to be a pirate captain… Commanding a great big pirate ship. That had been my childhood dream…
"…tain!"
Back then the popular manga heroes were pirates, ninjas, and death gods, so every boy my age wanted to be a pirate, a ninja, or a death god.
"…tain!! Captain!!"
Someone kept yelling for the captain so loudly that I opened my eyes. Who the hell was calling for a captain in the middle of the night… huh?
"Captain! You're awake! Get over here, now!"
"Wh-what?"
An unfamiliar ceiling.
What I saw when I opened my eyes wasn't my room — it was a ceiling I'd never seen before.
The woman calling me Captain had black hair pulled into a ponytail and a face that looked like trouble. Something about her expression dredged up old schoolyard trauma.
"Uh… sorry, who are you?"
"Captain! It's me, Friga! This is no time for jokes!! Hurry!!"
"Friga? Did you say Friga?"
The Friga from my game? I had no idea what was going on. Was this one of those "regression, possession, reincarnation" things that showed up in novels all the time these days?
Friga seized my hand and hauled me down a long corridor.
Through the windows along the way, a vast black sea stretched out. Black as ink — a pitch-dark ocean.
What the hell is this?
KWAANG—!
A violent impact launched me into the air, and I went tumbling down the corridor.
"Whoa!"
"Captain! You okay?!"
"Y-yeah… I'm fine… I think…"
"Then move! This damn octopus bastard!!"
Friga ground her teeth, hauled me upright with ridiculous strength, and we were running down the corridor again.
She threw open the door at the far end, and beyond it—
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You. Fool. Ish. Wretches."
A giant octopus was attacking the ship, spouting lines in the most awkward speech imaginable.
"Captain! You're here!"
A red-haired woman.
"Captain! That octopus bastard's wrecking the ship!"
A man with messy brown hair.
"Captain! Give us your orders!!"
A handsome blond middle-aged man.
"Hah…"
How do you even describe that thing?
Ugly and grotesque? Huge and disgusting? It looked like an octopus overall, but up close it clearly wasn't one.
Countless tentacles writhed like octopus legs, but there were far too many to count. Something like pus dripped from the tips — the kind of fluid that looked like it'd give you a disease if you so much as brushed it.
Its body was mottled red and purple as if it had been beaten half to death, and a single enormous eyeball set in the center of its mass trembled violently as it looked at me and past the ship at something beyond.
"Whoa, for real…"
I pinched my nose and tried to breathe. If this was a dream, a reality check should fail.
In. Out. In. Out.
Breathing worked just fine.
"So it's a lucid dream."
The octopus's eye trembled harder as it stared at me. If this was a dream — a lucid dream — there was nothing to be afraid of.
I strode right up to that eyeball. It shook even more violently.
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Ghhhk…"
I flashed a grin as I said it, and now the eye was practically vibrating. Pus ran down its body like cold sweat. The stench was revolting.
"Ugh."
I quickly stepped back. If this was a lucid dream, whatever I imagined should come true.
I fixed a single image in my mind and held it there without letting go.
KUNG—!
Something enormous and heavy materialized in midair and crashed onto the deck. When I checked what it was, a smile spread across my face all by itself.
"All hands—! Prepare to fire!!"
I barked the order at the crew behind me. They moved as one, loading the cannons with crisp, coordinated precision, and finished in moments.
"H-hnn…!! Hyaaaaah!!!"
I grinned at the shuddering octopus. Dreams like this? Always welcome.
"Captain! Ready to fire!"
"Fire—!!"
TUKWAANG—!!
A thunderclap, and a trail of dazzling lightning carved through the air.
"GHHYAAAAAAH!! ■!!! Kill me!! Just kill me already!!"
Where the cannon shot had passed, the octopus's body was blown clean through — you could see straight to the other side. Of course you could.
This wasn't just a cannon.
It was a railgun.
A pirate ship without a railgun? Absolutely unforgivable.
"Reload! Reload!! Don't stop shooting—!!"
TUKWAKWANG—!! KWAANG!!
The roar of the railgun rolled across the vast black sea. A sound that made a man's heart pound.
Every shot punched fresh holes through the octopus's body. Old stress melted away in an instant. Its thrashing tentacles were neatly dodged as the pirate ship weaved and banked with sharp evasive maneuvers.
"Hard to port!! Fire the cannons!!"
"Hard to port—!!"
"Fire—!!"
TUKWANG—!! KWAKWANG—!!
"GYAAAAAH!! I-I am the Demon of Decay and Plag— ghhyaaaah!! Please just kill me!!!"
"Hahahahaha!!"
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. A dream where I was a pirate captain blasting a giant octopus monster with railguns.
Even among absurd dreams, this one took the cake.