Dark Moon
The 82nd Founding Anniversary ceremony was held in a new-city development zone a short distance from the capital. There was no mistaking the intent: piggyback on the televised broadcast of the anniversary and advertise the new city while they were at it.
Well — the venue itself was out on the fringe of that new city, but still.
The 667th Unit, the one I belonged to, had put in a brief appearance at the morning rehearsal and then been confined to quarters for the rest of the day. Even if the people who needed to know already knew, the 667th was an unofficial unit. The Battle Mage Project it was running was, of course, nothing that could be shown to the public.
Under the instructors' control, we sat in our chairs and stared blankly at the anniversary broadcast.
Any number of nations were scheduled to attend. Everything from tiny city-states of under a million people, to the diplomatic corps of the Hapeil Republic — currently under a ceasefire — to the Heist Empire, presently the strongest power in the world, to Divine France, to Neo London. The delegations that had shown up were, at the very least, spectacular.
What I was watching for was the Heist Empire.
A country whose very name meant "robbery," notorious for thug diplomacy. Every other nation on the map was busy criticizing them. Lately, internal problems had kept them relatively quiet. Their motif was modern Germany.
If this is playing out the way the original game did, the Kaiser is in the middle of purge after purge right now, rotting the place from the inside out.
The Heist Empire's diplomatic corps appeared on the TV. They were dressed in immaculate black military uniforms.
Half the reason newbie players pick the Heist Empire in the original is those uniforms.
The camera lingered on a blonde woman.
Brigitte. I didn't expect her to show up for the anniversary.
Brilliant gold hair, eyes the red of blood. A black coat draped over her shoulders, she looked down on everything around her with arrogant eyes.
Then the camera swung up toward the sky. An airship with the red cross of the Holy Knights painted across its hull came gliding in and touched down on the ground.
The hatch opened, and Divine France's diplomatic corps stepped out. All of them in black from head to toe, red-cross badges pinned to their chests.
At their center stood a woman with long green hair, the left side of her face half-hidden by her bangs.
One of Divine France's Divine Saints — the Guardian Saintess, Martha. She was wearing a black suit: a jacket and trousers that clung to her body, a glimpse of upper chest and hip showing through. She gave off less the air of a saintess than of some mafia boss. A red-cross badge was fixed to the black jacket.
Even while the cameras were rolling, she had a cigarette in her mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Looks aren't the only thing that put her a long way from "saintess." Personality, too.
The shot followed her into a luxury car, then cut back to the sky.
"Hahahahahahahahaha!"
A roaring laugh, and London's Greatest Sword, Percival, made his entrance. The mechanical steed he was riding was galloping through the air. Full plate armor that suited the horse, a greatsword strapped across his back. His short brown hair whipped violently in the wind. Face alone, he was a rather handsome man in middle age.
A member of Neo London's highest authority, the Neo Round Table — and London's Greatest Sword, Percival.
Watching the broadcast, I felt a strange twist in my gut. In my memory they had been nothing but NPCs. Now those NPCs were people, moving, breathing under the same sky. I felt, all over again, that I was inside a game world.
After that, the king of the Freesel Kingdom appeared and began his speech — a middle-aged man in his fifties with almost no impact next to Brigitte, Martha, and Percival.
"The real ceremony should be starting now."
Instructor Vinous, seated nearby, spoke.
The anniversary was lavish.
Thousands of soldiers marched tanks through the city streets; dozens of tanks fired in unison to show off their firepower. Then a globally famous idol girl group put on a glittering performance.
They showed off painstakingly developed new weapons and pinned medals on nobles for this or that achievement. I would have bet my right wrist that those medals had been bought with money and connections.
"No. 31. No. 211. Get ready. You're up soon."
No. 31 and I rose from our seats. First we checked our gear, then fitted the masks over our faces. Weapons: pistol, knife, elemental blade.
Once we were ready, we followed Instructor Vinous out to the sparring ground — a place closer to an athletic field than anything else.
Under a soldier's guidance, No. 31 and I walked to the center of the arena and faced each other.
"We're still setting up the broadcast equipment. It won't take long — please wait a moment."
Spectators began to gather in a slow trickle. No king, no nobles in sight. They intended to watch on TV rather than in person.
From my point of view, that was a relief. Having the high and mighty nearby would have been far too much pressure.
My eyes met No. 31's. She looked more serious than I had ever seen her. She was going to take this spar for real. My job was to play along just enough and then lose.
…Still, I can go all-out through the early and mid stages, at least. Not that I have the slightest intention of showing off anything 4-Class or higher.
I ran a simulation in my head of how No. 31 would come at me.
Her specialties are wind-attribute magic and mobility-focused hand-to-hand. Combat style: extremely aggressive. Kill them before they kill you — that kind of feel.
Officially, excluding the instructors, the strongest person in the unit was No. 31. She had a real gift for fighting.
"Broadcast feed is ready. Arcane Special Forces operatives, prepare for combat… Announcer!"
"Yes! Shall we begin?"
A beautiful announcer came running up from behind — a skirt short and tight enough to show her thighs, a full chest that swayed with every step. She was one of the announcers riding a wave of popularity right now.
A little different from the announcers I knew in my old world, but either way, she was easy on the eyes.
"Start!"
The camera director called out. A red light came on in the camera riding his shoulder.
"Hello, everyone! We're a short distance from the main venue…"
The announcer's brief introduction finished, and the camera swung onto No. 31 and me.
"We'll now have a combat demonstration from two members of the Arcane Special Forces!"
The moment the announcer finished speaking, Instructor Vinous's voice came through the mask.
— Combat begin.
No. 31 struck first. She flung her right arm high. Over her open palm, wind gathered hard enough to see with the naked eye — and in the same instant, flames roared up around her and tangled into the wind.
Double casting. And of two attributes that played well together: wind and fire.
Within expected range.
Spreading flame through wind. She meant to dominate the space itself from the opening move.
I couldn't just stand there. I answered in much the same way she had. I opened my Astral and ran the formula.
Air Ball
I cast the same 3-Class wind spell No. 31 had just used, over my own palm. Wind gathered. Of course, that alone was nowhere near enough.
Torrent
Transparent water mixed into the Air Ball and compressed.
Timing it to her incoming attack, I threw the prepared Air Ball as well. The two spheres met in midair and detonated.
Fierce wind, flame, and water exploded outward in every direction, fighting for territory. In the aftermath, pure white steam settled over the ground like dawn fog. That was not a normal phenomenon.
She's holding the steam in place with magic.
The broadcast would still look fine. Cameras in this world were higher-performance than you'd expect — a little steam was no real problem.
An attack came flying at me. A spear of pure wind. Thanks to the steam, the shape of it was crystal clear.
Barrier
I blocked the attack with a Barrier, drew my pistol, and pulled the trigger three times toward the direction the strike had come from. Three rounds punched through the steam and went on. No sensation of a hit. I hadn't expected one, so there was no disappointment either.
Detection
I spread mana in every direction and cast a detection spell.
I swallowed hard. Two on the right, one dead ahead, two behind — five signatures total. She'd used the 2-Class spell Decoy to throw me off.
She wants to keep fighting inside this steam?
The thought had barely finished when—
BOOM!
An Air Boom went off right beside me with a deafening crack. The Barrier protecting my body shattered. I fell back and cast Barrier again at once. Part of the steam cleared in the blast, and for a heartbeat No. 31's purple hair flashed into view before vanishing again.
KA-BOOM!
This time an Air Boom from behind. The Barrier broke again. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, I activated Barrier once more. Maintaining a Barrier was basic for a battle mage.
I've taken enough hits. Time to hit back.
As the steam thinned, I could make out No. 31's approximate position. High chance it was a Decoy — but that didn't matter. Anything suspicious, I would just attack all of it.
I flung my left hand wide open. Zzzt. Current flared and poured from the center of my palm.
Electric Whip
A whip of blue lightning cracked out and lashed the silhouette of No. 31. The figure vanished without a trace. A Decoy. I spun and swung the electric whip straight to the side.
This time there was a reaction. The whip had struck No. 31's Barrier.
Detonate.
I detonated Electric Whip. This wasn't magic — it was one of my own abilities. To anyone watching, though, it would look like a spell.
Electric Whip exploded, and lightning fanned out in every direction. The steam cleared. I could see the masked No. 31 charging at me with a knife in hand, Barriers layered over her body.
So she wants close combat.
Not a bad idea. In close quarters, maintaining a Barrier got hard. No more pointless contests of raw force.
Any ordinary mage would have called us insane, but No. 31 and I were battle mages. Close-combat readiness came with the job.
Kiiiiing.
A blade of wind bloomed from No. 31's knife.
I holstered the pistol and drew my own knife.
Water Blade
A long blade of water formed along the short knife, spinning at high speed to sharpen its cutting edge.
Ordinarily I never went into close combat. My body was sluggish; I had zero talent for it. Among my cohort, I was the worst at melee.
Normally you'd lean hard on magic here and open the distance, but…
I had to lose this fight.
So I would go into close combat and lose at a reasonable point.
If I use magic desperately enough, it won't look like I threw it on purpose.
Fortunately, I was confident in my acting.
No. 31 closed in. Wind blade met water blade.
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG—!
A colossal explosion, out of nowhere, froze both of us mid-fight. The blast had come from the place where the king and the other dignitaries were gathered — which meant something completely unhinged had just happened.
"Terrorism! Some lunatics just pulled a terrorist attack!! This is a scoop! What are you doing, announcer?! Get ready to move — now!"
The camera director shouted. His voice was thick with manic exhilaration.