The Horse Struggles to Get Off the Chessboard (3)
In chess, there exists a tactic known as Zugzwang. It forces the opponent into a position where every possible move only worsens their situation. I knew about it because playing chess with my girlfriend and chatting about all sorts of things had once been part of my everyday life. Thanks to that knowledge, I could sense the unnatural quality in the behavior Demian had just displayed. This was a scheme of his making. It was as if he had placed me on an enormous chessboard and forced me to move.
Demian must know the future through some kind of ability. That’s probably why he deliberately handed the holy sword over to me.
The holy sword Einherjar. Gazing at the blade that carried the power to banish evil and bring light into the world, I pulled my lips into a thin line. This sword was both proof that one had been chosen as the Hero and the most effective weapon for slaying the Demon King. The fact that he had given away the very blade the original Demian had guarded with his life meant there had to be a hidden intention or reason behind it.
Regression, loops… Could something like that actually exist? It’s not entirely impossible.
I shook my head vigorously. With reincarnation already a reality, I couldn’t claim with certainty that abnormal phenomena like regression or loops were impossible. After all, the man now inhabiting Shade’s body had originally been a modern Korean living in the twenty-first century.
Feigning a return to the Slums with the Hero’s party, I slipped into a quiet, deserted alley once no one was around.
“…Phantom. You there?”
A small, nagging anxiety kept tugging at my ankles, so I finally reached beneath my cloak and summoned my spy.
— Yes! Shade! Shade!
The moment I called its name, something emerged from the cloak’s shadow and took shape. It devoured every scrap of darkness in the alley as though it meant to swallow the entire space whole, only shrinking down to the size of a small ball of fur when I clicked my tongue in irritation. That was excessive. The task I needed Phantom for was reconnaissance, not combat or protection, so there was no need for it to grow large.
— What is it? Why did you call me?
Looking exactly like a pitch-black purebred Pomeranian, the wolf—whose eyes and nose were the only features distinguishable—panted with a tiny red tongue and repeated the question. Technically it communicated through telepathy, and because it was still clumsy with human speech, it repeated short sentences like a child.
A being that was essentially a collection of shadows itself. That was why the wolf, capable of freely altering its size and appearance, was classified as a magical beast known as a Shadow Wolf in the Empire.
“Phantom, I’ve got some people I need you to spy on. Can you hide in their shadows and report back on what they say and where they’re headed?”
Yet I was close enough with the creature to make such a request. We had met in the Slums, where all filth and trash gathered. Not every grudge ends as a grudge. Likewise, not every bond ends as a bond. Magical beasts and demons were supposed to torment or toy with humans, but this one and I had both been abandoned and wounded by our own kind.
— If it’s Shade’s request, I’ll do anything! Just reconnaissance? Just reconnaissance?
That was how this strange coexistence between human and magical beast had formed. Using these bizarre yet beautiful bonds, I had seized control of the Empire’s underworld and turned it into something at least marginally livable. A damned stroke of luck—more precisely, a small comfort born from terrible pain. How many children had died in the underworld before Moonshadow was established? How many people had suffered?
“Yeah. From now on, especially keep track of Hero Demian’s movements and conversations. Prioritize him if he separates from his companions. Think you can handle that?”
I asked while gently stroking Phantom’s head. No matter how much I possessed Einherjar, I could never become a chosen Hero like Demian. Well, there was the thought that it might be possible if I died and came back to life again. Since my reincarnation, I had stained my hands with far too much blood. That was why I had no intention of pretending to be the Hero with this sword or trying to slay the Demon King.
— Of course! Of course!
In a world where the game had become reality, even protecting the small utopia I had built—the guild—was already more than enough to keep me busy.
— Then just give me something with a scent!
“Here. The hilt’s a little discolored, so the smell should be strong.”
I held the hilt of Einherjar in front of Phantom’s nose. No matter how many times Demian had gripped and swung this sword, the effort and will he had poured into it were visibly embedded within. The game’s flavor text had contained similar lines, but seeing it in person made the difference starkly apparent.
— Huh? I smell several people! Shade, which one should I track?
“What? Several people?”
Phantom’s question felt like a hammer striking the back of my skull. This was information that never appeared even in the game. The wolf sniffed and relayed the fact to me.
— Yes! The strongest scent is roses, but there are three more very faint ones! Different people! All different!
“You’re not mistaking it for my scent, are you? Or did the other members of the Hero’s party touch the sword…?”
I unconsciously bit my lower lip. Unease—that chilling swirl of emotion—tightened around my body like handcuffs.
— No! No! I left out Shade’s scent on purpose! Besides, these are really faint! They’re not the companions’ scents either!
“Then… could they be traces left by previous Heroes?”
A single fact suddenly surfaced in my mind—the setting that should have been revealed when Demian’s story was disclosed in the game. The previous generation’s Heroes. Those who hadn’t even left their names behind existed only as fragments in the game and in imperial history. It made sense. The original game had shut down while still carrying the disgrace of being an NTR title, before Demian’s story could even begin. Just as infinity and eternity don’t truly exist, yet the concepts are known to people.
— That might be it! That might be it! These three scents are so faint they’ll disappear soon! And excluding Demian, there are exactly three of them. If they’re the lingering thoughts or traces of those who once wielded the holy sword, it’s not impossible.
“…Just how much more is hidden here?”
The hollow feeling made me mutter to myself. Information about the previous Heroes was like shattered glass shards. Even I, the head of Moonshadow that bought and sold all manner of intelligence, couldn’t find a clear lead. Suspicions, scandals, and false information filled the darkness, yet no light emerged. Anything that might have hinted at a way out of this damned NTR game had vanished as cleanly as if someone had erased its very existence. Like the sheep in the box from The Little Prince, people no longer cared what was inside. Even though the most important things are invisible, they simply comforted themselves with the shallow truth that “there once was a Hero who fought the Demon King.” They should have doubted it at least once.
“I’ll have to check it out myself after all. Tracking the rose scent is one thing, but there are too many points that don’t add up.”
I furrowed my brows in dissatisfaction before relaxing them again. I had originally planned to send only Phantom to learn what the Hero’s party was saying and doing, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that something else was at play. Whether the souls or grudges of the vanished Heroes lingered in the holy sword, or whether Demian had truly grown detached after repeating regressions, it bothered me.
— Then, fusion? Fusion!
“Yeah. Cover my body and clothes completely with shadow. I’ll use the mask so my breathing doesn’t give us away.”
I lightly tapped the mask with my finger to activate its magic, and Phantom wrapped shadows around me. Whoosh. Sensation drained from my body starting at my fingertips, replaced by a floating feeling like sinking into a warm sleep. My vision turned black and white. The entire world seemed to freeze for an instant, then distort, like a film camera. Light faded to gray, gray to ash, ash to dust. And then—click—the boundary separating the world from me disappeared.
— Fusion complete! No one can see us now! We’re just shadows!
With Phantom, the Shadow Wolf, enveloping my entire body, I had truly become one with the shadows.
“It’s been a while, so it feels awkward.”
A world where swords and magic sang. The reality I now inhabited was not merely a game, but this kind of world.
* * *
“So, are you really okay with this?”
At the central guild on Hamelion Street, where adventurers and mercenaries gathered, inside the Oak Eagle, Hero Demian and the women were seated with grave expressions. I stood right beside Demian, observing the situation from within the shadows. Of course it wasn’t okay. The holy sword Einherjar—the symbol of the Hero and the key to slaying the Demon King—had just been handed over to me, the leader of the Thieves’ Guild. It was no different from Demian ceasing to be the Hero and the party losing its very center.
“That masked man isn’t stupid enough to not recognize the sword’s value. The Thieves’ Guild Moonshadow is structured as a vast network of cells, and it’s said there’s no information they don’t know.”
The first to voice her anxiety was Isabella, the count’s daughter. With her pink hair and rose ornaments, she seemed to have heard about my guild in high society. The underworld boss whom even nobles with blue blood and the imperial family feared—that was how the public evaluated me. In truth, many people were privately on good terms with me, but I had spread the smokescreen in advance.
“Then this man called Shade might sell the holy sword to a fence… or perhaps offer it to the Demon King for profit, don’t you think?”
The second to let out a short sigh was Lavey, the Saintess whose eyes were hidden behind black crow wings.
“Demian, if you have any thoughts of your own, please share them. You were never this reckless before.”
Between her wings, the Saintess’s red eyes were visible. I worried she might see through me, but her expression held only lament and despair.
“It’s fine. In the end, Shade will become our companion.”
Yet Demian’s expression was different. Like a devout believer who had entrusted his entire life to religion, his voice carried a heavy trust despite its blunt tone.
“…Until then, this iron sword will be enough.”
The way he gently gripped the cheap iron sword he had just bought from a weapon shop gave the impression that there was something reliable about him after all.
“Besides, if lacking the holy sword means I’m not the Hero, then I never had the right to save the world to begin with.”
I quietly etched Demian’s dignified appearance into my eyes.
“Shade is the one who told me that truth. He’s someone I can trust completely.”
Words I had no memory of, and boundless trust. Hearing him say even this much made it clear that Demian had experienced something in a future involving regression or loops.