Fighting Game
Mojiri had stuffed the filthy carpet into a basin of water. Beside him, the Demon King hounded him without mercy.
"Take them off already."
"...A-are we really doing this?"
The Demon King slowly raised a hand, poised for a forehead flick.
"A-alright, alright!"
With a look of profound reluctance, Mojiri yanked off the steel greaves he'd been wearing and rolled up his pants. Barefoot, he stepped into the basin and began stomping on the carpet with tentative little taps.
"Harder."
"...Fine."
"Over there! That spot isn't coming clean at all."
"I-I am doing it, but..."
"What? Don't want to? Should I get in there and stomp with you?"
The Demon King slowly lifted a terrifyingly pale foot.
"Eek! No! I'll stomp with everything I've got!"
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
He knew perfectly well that if those tiny feet came down on him, he would never walk again.
The rest of the Black Dragon Guild, now incapable of combat, had their memories wiped and were sent away — just like my party.
"Not going home, then? Hmm? I can see those feet of yours."
"No! Give me a chance! I'll go faster! Ah, don't come up here!"
....!
For a moment it felt as if I'd been smacked in the back of the head. I was sure I'd never seen the Demon King before... and then I found the reason she hadn't felt unfamiliar.
From somewhere in a pile of dusty old memories.
Sergeant Go, that son of a bitch...
She'd never even set foot on a drill ground, let alone served in the military, but she gave off the distinct stench of a sadistic senior NCO...
She's got a talent for tormenting people.
The problem was that talent kept getting exercised on me.
After Mojiri's memories had been wiped and he'd been sent off as well, the cleanup of the wrecked interior was finally drawing to a close.
Fuck... what do I do...
I polished a piece of celadon porcelain, sinking into thought.
I can't see any angle where I win...
No — actually, there was one.
The Seven Stars.
The apex of the Black Dragon Guild, standing at the very summit — seven people who held the world in their grip. The four from earlier had been S-rank, but comparing them was meaningless. Each of the Seven Stars possessed abilities bordering on cheat codes.
If they just showed up, they could beat the shit out of her.
I was sure of it. But...
No way they're coming.
Black Dragon had always been conservative about the idea of purging the demons of the Tower. Why go barging into someone else's house to start a fire? An extremely valid point. The only idiots who'd bother invading would be either blind demon-haters or porters desperate to get back to Earth.
Those guys earlier probably moved on their own without notifying the guild.
And they'd gone back with their memories wiped, so there was no chance Black Dragon would come for a revenge raid.
Ah... seriously. Ugh...
I felt like I'd been left all alone in the universe. When was the next rescue party supposed to arrive?
There's someone in here!
On the squeaking-clean surface of the porcelain, a pitiful young man with hollow dark circles was making a teary face...
Someone... please come!
Clunk— creeeak.
"Hey. Let's do this next."
Anyone but you, goddammit!!!!!
The room I followed her into had a TV and video games... the kind that had been popular around 2000 through the early 2010s. A console you connected to a television and played with a gamepad.
She said she'd taken this from someone who'd invaded the Tower, too...
What the fuck... why would guys who came here to kill the Demon King bring a game console and a TV.
Well... it wasn't completely incomprehensible. Kill the Demon King and you went straight back to Earth. They must have brought everything they held dear.
How does she even plug this in?
I decided to just set that question aside after seeing the current flowing from the Demon King's fingertips.
All the game cartridges are over ten years old.
The Demon King carefully set up a console that would get you called a geezer or a boomer if anyone caught you playing it, handling the thing like treasure. She turned on the power and sat down with a practiced motion, smoothing her skirt beneath her.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Hmm..."
Is she deciding what to play?
She was pressing the joypad, picking a game. Watching her, I was every bit the contestant waiting for the next event in a survival death-game movie...
Chess. Barrel roulette. Now a gamepad...
She really was a fantastically extra Demon King.
Anyway... if we're going to play.
Co-op! It had to be a co-op game. Playing a versus title with a competitive maniac?
Hard pass.
The noob-stomping (?) from earlier had sent my terror of her to a new all-time high. I hereby repented for getting a little full of myself just because we'd shared a single meal.
...From now on, let's be even more careful not to get on her nerves.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
After a long stretch of picking through the games, the Demon King stopped her cursor on a fighting versus title.
N-no!
Anything but a fighting game! She was already plenty violent — if she got wrecked in a fighter, there was no telling what she'd do.
No! Please. Just pick something else!
"Hmm..."
Beep. Beep.
Phew...
She scrolled down, looking for another game... I felt ten years of my life drain away.
Beep.
The cursor stopped.
The game she'd landed on had an adorably cute logo.
You live harvesting happiness with your animal friends in Sprout Village.
This is it! Fuck yes!
Good. So good. Anyone could see it was a game with not a shred of conflict or opposition — just holding hands with teddy bears and rolling around in flower fields.
I read the description under the logo. Could a sentence possibly be more beautiful than this? I wanted to sprint to the Sprout Village town office this instant and file a change of address. All hail the director.
I looked at her pale fingers gripping the gamepad. The tip of her knuckle hovered over the start button, on the verge of dropping.
Press it! Press it already.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
She whipped the cursor around in a sharp U-turn and launched that fighting game from before.
A fighting game that had once drained a fair share of coins from the pockets of Korean kids.
You picked two characters and switched between them as you fought. You got sixty seconds, and if time ran out, the remaining health bars of both characters were added together to decide the winner.
A 1-Player and 2-Player selection window popped up.
"Heheheh.... hehe.... hehehe..."
Whatever had her so delighted, she beamed as she firmly mashed the 2-Player slot.
Fuck...
Fine. Whatever. As long as she didn't put a wager on it.
"The loser gets hit by the winner with whatever move they got hit by last."
What kind of bullshit is that!!!!
I was so pissed I almost beat the living daylights out of her, Demon King or not.
"W-wait. That's a bit much, isn't it?"
Suppressing a terror the size of a house, I raised my first objection to one of her wagers. Well done, Baek Dongha.
"What's the problem?"
"...It's too violent. And the fighting moves in this game are too much for me."
Too much for me. In other words, I had cleverly implied that only she would be able to hit me.
Alright, competitor. What now? Surely she wasn't the kind of scum who'd force a match on a weaker opponent at an obvious disadvantage?
"That's true. Okay."
Phew...
Put out the immediate fire...
"Blessing of Hercules."
Blessing of Hercules
The Demon King, radiating mana from her fingertips, cast something on me. I flinched, thinking she was about to beat me for talking back. But that wasn't it.
...What is this power?
How do I put it. Vitality surged through my body. I felt like I could fall from the seventh floor of an apartment building and be fine — and if a truck hit me, I'd have to attend the driver's funeral.
A buff, huh.
She spoke to me as I opened and closed my fingers, testing them.
"With that, you can do it now, right?"
"No, that's not the issue..."
As if she wouldn't tolerate any further objections, she slammed open the character select screen.
I'd never entered a tournament, but I had once been an Iron Fist player with a rating around 2500 — roughly the top 0.5 percent. A washed-up veteran. In reality she was an unbeatable powerhouse, but here...
Huh?
Tudadadak! Tupak! Pak!
The fuck?
The characters she'd picked were a demon with blue wings and a fire-breathing ogre. Well... leave it to the Demon King.
But that wasn't the problem...
Puk! Puk! Puk!
Sh-she's a monster at this?
Fast yet precise ground combos, and footwork that flowed as naturally as water.
She learned this on her own?
She was using stuff Earth's veterans had spent over a decade putting their heads together to develop. I'd figured she'd be at the level of playing patty-cake with the CPU at best.
I have to go all out!
I'd picked an adorable old-man character who threw cute little knuckle-flicks, assuming I would win. That way, even if I hit her with the finishing move, her thirst for revenge would be a little milder.
Miscalculation. Against the opponent in front of me, I didn't have the luxury of thinking that far.
Dudadadadada!
!!!
Ten-hit combo!
N-no!
Tupak!
Fuuuuuck!
My honey-knuckle grandpa character collapsed and lay on the floor complaining of joint pain.
"Woooow! I won!!"
Unable to contain her joy, the Demon King jumped up from her seat and bounced in place.
I'm fucked.
Set one. Loss. The silver lining was that it wasn't a single-round match — it was first to two sets. Meaning this had suddenly become a last stand with my life on the line.
I die because I lost at Iron Fist?
As I imagined the pathetic epitaph that would be carved on my tombstone, strength naturally flowed into the hands gripping the gamepad. I glared at the Demon King, still soaked in joy.
From now on, I go all out.
Tudwadadada!
A tight back-and-forth. I'd already taken set two. This was the last set. The Demon King had also reined in her soaring excitement and was taking it seriously.
Beep, beep, beep.
The dark, silent Demon King's Castle was filled with nothing but game sound effects and the clicking of gamepad buttons.
Beep, beep, beep.
Puk, puk, tonggagaga.
I wouldn't lose. I couldn't lose.
Both of us were at health so low that a single hit would finish it. The Demon King's demon character had begun to glow at the eyes, winding up the beam that was its special move.
Fuck! If that hits, I die.
And I'd die in reality too. For the Demon King, firing a beam from her eyes would probably be nothing.
That's why she created distance!
The reason the Demon King had pulled her demon character far away from me — all of it was to fire that beam.
Even if I duck it, another one will come. I can't keep dodging forever.
In that case...
I sent my grandpa character charging in.
The Demon King's psychology was obvious without looking. She'd be sure of victory against my desperate rush.
The instant a yellow flash erupted from the demon character's eyes—
Tadat, shuuk.
My grandpa character's slide tackle barely ducked under the beam and charged straight at the demon.
This one kick ends it.
However.
Her talent was innate.
"I saw that coming."
The demon character instantly corrected its stance and used a counter — a reversal that caught striking tackles. Meaning the beam had been a fake from the start. She'd predicted I would dodge it with a tackle and come flying in.
Terrifying talent!
I was at critical health too, so this counter would empty my bar.
If the tackle had connected, that is.
"...Huh!?"
The strength left the Demon King's hands, and the gamepad she'd been holding clattered to the floor.
I had never planned to finish with the tackle. The grandpa character's slide stopped right in front of the demon in its counter stance. Then it stood up and went for a throw instead of a strike.
The grandpa character's signature grab. A spinning fist ground into the head connected.
Kraaaagh!
Her demon character let out a wretched death cry and died. If only that had been the actual Demon King.
"...Haa."
I won this...
Eek!
The Demon King's crimson eyes, thick with disappointment, were trembling violently.