The Frontier (1)

Ever since the RPG genre first took shape in the gaming world, customization and costume content — what people call "looksmaxxing" — has never once fallen out of the spotlight.

Infinity Black, moreover, was a full-dive VR MMORPG where the player became the character. In this game, your character was essentially you.

I happened to have a costume I'd picked up and kept wearing as a long-term investment, but Infinity Black was full of people who'd decked themselves out in every way imaginable. A character's appearance didn't really matter all that much.

So what deserved attention wasn't the "magical girl" look, and it wasn't the act of "terrorism" either.

What mattered was that she was doing it in town.

Towns were supposed to be safe zones under the system's protection.

"Ahahahaha! Die! Somersault Kick!"

"Th-that crazy bitch!"

"Take this! Spinning Heel Kick!"

Her magic wand flared, and fire magic poured out. Every time the girl shouted the name of a kick that had absolutely nothing to do with her skill activation, screams and single-word curses erupted from the players around her. Flames bloomed like flowers and left another pile of ash in their wake.

She's having a blast, that one.

A fighter charging head-on was swept aside by the blaze. A mage who lost the firepower contest was reduced to bone dust, and an archer who'd been hiding, arrow nocked, died to a Tracker assassin's dagger.

In short: the crazy girl wasn't alone.

One Tracker circling the back alleys. And beneath the magical girl's feet, a Berserker lay in wait. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She looked like a total lunatic on the surface, but her actual play was shrewd. From what I could tell, she had at least a baseline grasp of PVP — those two eyes never stopped scanning the perimeter. Keeping enough distance to call on her teammates at any moment was a matter of pure game sense.

By the way, hasn't it been over five minutes? Is there really no response at all?

Once the chaos started, it showed no sign of stopping. A Rogue trying to fight the terrorists. A Warrior who backstabbed that Rogue and pocketed the gold. A Ranger who'd started looting NPCs.

Of those, the Ranger was the one worth watching — because not long after he began his looting, a knight NPC astride a wyvern appeared.

A booming shout froze the chaos across the entire town.

"This land is under the administration of Count Rahikal! How dare you raise a ruckus!"

So they weren't just going to sit and watch the town descend into anarchy after all. A Wyvern Knight was a far higher-tier security NPC than the guards on the main continent. With every eye on him, the knight valiantly cut down the looter.

What came next was obvious.

The magical girl finished reading the situation with cold precision. Her urgent voice carried an order that was exact and intuitive.

"Shit! We're fucked! Run!"

The first thing to erupt was magic designed to trigger a smoke blast. The hidden Berserker revealed his massive frame. Whether stalling for time had been his role from the start, he planted himself with a heroic stance and became the magical girl's wall.

Now the Wyvern Knight's spear would turn on the Berserker. Everyone believed that — and in that instant, the wyvern's wings beat hard.

Then it flew back to the castle as if nothing had happened. Leaving the burning town and the terrorist magical girl right where they were.

"……?"

Everyone in the city stared up at the sky with vacant expressions. The blue sky was brilliant and clear, and the knight never once looked back.

Soon enough, everyone arrived at the same conclusion.

Right after a major patch. Fatal bugs cropping up was nothing new at this point.

"Loot everything! Kill the women and rape the men!"

"Found a male furry!"

"Kill that one!"

"No, leave him alive! I'm on my way!"

"?"

I gripped my dagger as well.

Plenty of pro gamers hated free-for-alls. Their stage was one where the number of participants was fairly fixed. When a fight devolved into a free-for-all, every carefully constructed formation they'd built became meaningless. Strategist-type players, in particular, tended to despise fights drowning in variables.

Field-focused PVP players like me, on the other hand, had a high preference for free-for-alls. No complicated tactics or formations — just pure physical skill and animal instinct. A clean, exhilarating fight where you indiscriminately killed every enemy in sight: that was a free-for-all on the field.

A blind arrow whistled past my head. Fragmented ice crystals failed to pierce my coat and clattered weakly to the ground.

When someone gives you a gift, the decent thing is to return the favor. I put a throwing knife — loaded with generous goodwill — straight into the cryomancer's gut.

I'd meant to close the distance and finish them off, but right beside me I ran into another assassin. Prey that wouldn't take long to devour. I was busy, but a little snack wouldn't hurt.

"W-wait, is that Gawol……?"

No questions asked — I drove the dagger in. They came back with a bold counter. I slipped my body sideways and locked their arm under my armpit. From there, a trip and a shove to the head — and the back of their skull slammed into the floor. Before they could start resisting, I stabbed their temple over and over.

Thuk. Thuk. As the sickening sounds continued, the assassin raised a thumb.

"You're really good……."

"Huh."

A fan, maybe? Shame. If they'd said so earlier, I wouldn't have killed them. But I'd already stabbed them, so there was nothing for it — I twisted the blade and finished the job.

Look on the bright side. As fan meet-and-greets went, mine wasn't half bad.

Either way, once I'd marked a target, I had to finish them. The moment Fan Number Two died, I rode the shadows toward the throwing knife I'd planted earlier. Thinking I'd given up the chase, the cryomancer was completely exposed. I took them from behind.

I sliced the Achilles tendon at the ankle, both hamstrings, and finally the tendons of the latissimus dorsi, rendering them helpless. The reason I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stabbed the back of the neck was to stop any spellcasting.

"Urgh, kkh……."

"You made me lose them. Ha, shit. Where is she?"

My original target had been the magical girl from the start. I'd gotten distracted elsewhere and lost the trail. Scraping my dagger across the cryomancer's throat, I scanned the surroundings.

A few arrows came flying my way. I twisted the blade inside the neck to finish the cut, then used the corpse as a shield. For the archer who'd had the nerve to shoot at me, I threw a rope dagger.

My throwing skill was good enough to go toe-to-toe with top-tier assassins like Ripper. The blade flew in a straight line and drew blood, and the archer frantically tried to yank the dagger free.

Not happening.

I immediately hauled on the rope and closed the distance. The archer, giving up on escape, loosed a few more arrows — but if you couldn't even deflect that much, you had no business being an assassin. The weight in my wrist wasn't heavy, so the outcome was easy to predict.

A conscious gesture to guard the neck. If both hands went up, how exactly were they planning to cover mid and low?

I tore open their side and blocked the arm coming down. Driving them back against the wall, I drove a knee into their gut. The shock left their high guard loose, so I fed them another knee to the face.

That one landed clean. The danger triangle of the face collapsed, and bright red blood sprayed.

After killing the challenger, I went looking for fresh prey.

"How many was that."

Having lost the magical girl, I'd killed every enemy nearby on pure impulse. It wasn't hard. An assassin's true worth lay in ambush, and in the middle of a free-for-all, being aware of an assassin you couldn't even see was impossible. Spec gaps helped too, so the kill count climbed fast. Before long, there were barely any players left in the area.

While my stealth wore off, I drank a potion — and sensed someone on the ground nearby.

I know.

Just let me finish this, then wait a second.

I'll be right there.

The moment I put the potion bottle to my lips, my eyes met those of the magical girl emerging from a shabby building.

"Oh."

"Huh."

The starlight on her magic wand glittered for a moment. As if she'd lost all will to fight, the pink-haired girl lowered her staff. A hesitant voice left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a question hanging.

"Um…… are you Gawol, by any chance?"

"That's right."

"Could you just… let me go?"

"Hmm."

"What's with this one. What kind of nickname is that?"