That Shouldn't Have Happened (2)

"Irina!"

It began with his little sister, who had rushed outside thinking their father had come home.

The white dress he had bought her for her birthday was dyed red. At its center sat a black blade that reflected no light at all.

"No!"

Next was his older brother, a Chief Knight. Seeing the sword driven into Irina's body, he had charged out—and fallen to that same blade without ever swinging his own once.

The memory of his shouting voice cutting off, of his body tipping and crumpling to the ground, remained painfully clear.

"Arthur!"

His mother's cry, calling his brother's name, had echoed in his ears.

"You bastard!"

His older sister—who had claimed the Chief Knight's seat after their brother—had seized the mace she'd left propped against the wall and run out. As she passed him where he stood frozen, he thought he saw tears welling at the corners of her eyes.

But even that was swallowed by blood, by gore, by the red water that was life itself.

"Run—hurry!"

His mother had shouted something. Had his father's sword been in her hand? Or a kitchen knife?

"I'm a knight too!"

"No—you at least have to run!"

"What's happening!"

His father, too—he thought his father had come as well.

"Run, quickly—!"

"You at least must ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠get away!"

What came after that was no longer clear. He had gripped a sword, and the world had gone red, then white again, then black, until a single faint moonbeam lit it once more.

The black blade lodged in his right arm had burrowed beneath the skin just as it was—squirming, squirming, squirming…

Ah—if only.

A soul that could overcome malice. A being strong enough not to break before evil. Someone who could claim victory over the demon.

Please…

.

.

.

…Can you hear my voice?

"Hah—!"

The moment that last voice reached him, his vision brightened and air flooded his lungs.

"Get off!"

What followed, boring into his ears, was the raucous clamor of something like a marketplace—and a shout booming right in his face.

Right on cue, a dull, heavy gong of a bell rang in his ears and jolted him fully awake.

And so the curtain rose on the prologue of Legend of Heroes.

"Ah…"

I clenched and unclenched my hand without thinking. The aftertaste the opening had left was simply that overwhelming.

Could modern games really do this with their cutscenes…? Not just the sense of watching something, but the feeling of remembering it? It had been so vivid I felt as if even the emotions of that moment had been injected into me.

I absently rubbed the back of my neck. I made a point of not using crude language, but damn—that had been absolutely insane.

"Hey. You."

I must have been lingering a little too long in the afterglow of nostalgia and improved tech. Someone's voice approached.

Only then did I collect myself. The opening cinematic was over, the window announcing the area name had already popped up—the game must have started.

"You getting off or not?"

When you've played every game under the sun, a snippy tone starts to feel almost charming. Even more so when it's a one-and-done encounter.

So instead of taking offense, I quickly flicked my eyes around and sized up the situation.

People unloading cargo from a wagon—and me, still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sitting on it. Plus one person giving me the stink eye.

In that instant, nostalgia for those old days came flooding up. It was the exact same scene as the original Demon Knight tutorial, only swapped from 2D to 3D.

Nostalgia bait starting from the tutorial? Was I going to be able to stay in character at all? I was already getting choked up.

I forcibly redirected my thoughts. Even if full immersion was out of reach, I was not going to cry.

Of course, tears probably weren't even implemented—but knowing they wouldn't show was no excuse to skip the facial control!

Thud.

So I climbed down from the wagon with deliberate carelessness. Not that I was particularly thinking about the official lore of a "sharp, volatile temperament," or the concept built on top of it.

That was part of it, sure—but more than that, no dialogue window had appeared to tell me what to say, and it didn't seem like a moment that required a reaction, so I'd just moved without much thought.

"What an asshole."

And yet the wagon owner—presumably?—clicked his tongue and muttered an insult. For a second I wondered if he was a real person.

The beta testers had all gone on about how incredible the NPC interactions were. Apparently that hadn't been empty hype.

"If we raised the price…"

"Then the profit would…"

"The rebels…"

"The demon…"

The moment I stepped down and took in the trading post spread before me, I realized something far more important.

"…Did Deeppearl finally eat some aliens?"

The developers had well and truly lost their minds.

"Have the graphics gone insane?"

The dirt road still marked with wheel ruts, the textures on the building walls, the various lighting effects, the shadows… and beyond that, the tickle of a cool breeze on my skin, dust drifting through the air, the whole mess of smells assaulting my nose.

And that wasn't all. Looking carefully at the NPCs packing the place, not a single face or outfit repeated.

I'd thought the trailer was ridiculous, but I never expected the real thing to go even further. This was actual, genuine virtual reality.

"This many objects and not a single lag spike or frame drop…? Are they out of their minds?"

When I was downloading it I'd wondered why the file size was so huge—turns out it was the opposite problem. How the hell had they optimized this well enough to pull off these graphics at that size? Had they seriously ground up aliens for this?

"Crazy. Actually crazy…"

Deeppearl were real bastards. Trying to drown a man in a wave of awe and kill him with it. Legal or not, this was premeditated murder.

"Hah."

I clenched my fist tight against the tide of emotion pouring in like a flood. It was the best I could manage. Truly, I could die without regret.

"Don't block the road—move!"

Fortunately, someone rescued me from floundering in my own rapture. A passing NPC.

I took that as my cue and slowly reined in my feelings.

Words and actions already spent couldn't be taken back, but anything further was beyond what a dedicated roleplayer's pride would allow. It was time to get my head on straight and enjoy the game.

And for that, the first thing I did was put myself under self-suggestion. It was a habit I always fell into when immersing in a character.

Alright. From this moment on, I am a Demon Knight—a man with the demon that murdered his family nested in his arm.

Always on edge, never knowing when the demon in his arm might devour him, and never knowing what calamity it might bring down on those around him, so he forces people away. A sharp, volatile temper masking a fragile core—all bark and no manners, soft on the inside!

The concept I'd built from the trailer, the released info, the official lore, settled over me like a mask.

The roleplay had begun.

Shiiing.

I killed my expression—not that a game character's face would change; it was just for smoother immersion—and slung the sword I'd been holding onto my back.

It was so long I'd wondered if it would even work, but my body moved on its own and slid it into the sheath.

So what now? Normally you'd find whoever had the quest marker floating over them, but scanning the area turned up nothing.

Checking for a minimap revealed that the feature didn't exist at all, and pulling up the quest window found it empty as a drum.

So did that mean the story-progression NPC would come find me on their own?

"Ah—Adventurer!"

At that moment someone came trotting right up to me. A small child who only came up to my sternum.

"Um… Adventurer, are you the 'Demon Knight'… sir?"

The name the child spoke was both my class title and the nickname I'd chosen for myself.

I'd deliberately set it that way as a bit of flavor—that he'd discarded his name after that incident. So yes, that was definitely me being called.

Separately, I waited a moment for a window to appear. Games usually offered choices, or even in free-dialogue modes at least prompted you with the necessary lines or keywords to advance.

"Ah—you're not?"

But nothing came up.

I felt a flicker of confusion at that, but decided to affirm it for now. This was clearly quest progression—I couldn't afford to miss it.

"…No. That's me."

I answered with deliberate coldness, mindful of the concept, and the child's body flinched. As if gauging my mood.

It was so much like a real person that for a split second I nearly soothed them not to be scared.

"Th-then please follow me. I'll guide you to the Adventurer's Guild."

Wow, they really built this character well. With that silent admiration, I followed after the little NPC as they hurried ahead.

Clack. Clack.

The heels of my boots struck the dry dirt road.

And where exactly was this Adventurer's Guild supposed to be, anyway? Alongside that thought, I discreetly checked myself over—to see whether the customizations had applied properly.

The gear I'd set during character creation with the Deluxe Edition, the True Two-Hander of Destruction I'd gotten as a pre-order bonus, and inventory leg bags at my waist and thighs.

My vision was so perfectly clear I'd wondered if I was actually wearing the eyepatch—but touching it confirmed I definitely was. The hair color visible at the edge of my vision was half-and-half too, so the appearance settings seemed fully applied.

Perfect.

"We're here!"

How long could it have taken me to check myself over? We were already at the Adventurer's Guild.

Judging by what I'd seen on the way, they hadn't made the city small—the trading post and the Adventurer's Guild just happened to be next to each other.

"Something like this should work for us, right?"

"Did you hear? Fani's older brother went to escort a caravan and vanished along with the whole company."

"There seem to be more missing people these days…"

The inside of the Adventurer's Guild was extremely loud and chaotic. People were especially clustered around a board—reading the room, I figured it was the quest board.

"Clerk! I brought the adventurer!"

"Ah, you're here?"

At any rate, the place the child had delivered me to was a counter along one side. Someone mid-service looked at me and brightened.

"Thank you. You can go back to your work now. And… a pleasure to meet you. I am Iseren, a clerk of Tatara's Adventurer's Guild."

The clerk gave me a light nod, then sent off both the child and the person she'd been handling.

The way she smoothly shuffled her remaining clients over to another window was not the work of a novice.

"You are the Demon Knight, correct?"

"I am."

"Your features are distinctive enough that I recognized you at once. Still, as a precaution, would you mind verifying your identity with your adventurer's badge? Impersonation has been rampant lately, so we've unfortunately had to make the verification process mandatory."

At her words, a window blocked one side of my vision.

A tutorial explaining a basic system.

I followed the instructions and stuck my hand into the bag. A related UI appeared and took up a corner of my vision.

It was a tetris-style inventory where each item occupied a set number of slots. Weight displayed at the top suggested they'd implemented a weight system as well as volume.

Swish.

A slot-based system would have been nicer, but for a game this polished, I could live with it. I found the adventurer's badge among the items and pulled it out.

"Confirmed."

The clerk accepted the badge, turned it this way and that to inspect it, then handed it right back.

"Welcome to Tatara, Adventurer."

It was a reception that made me feel, vividly, that I was truly playing Legend of Heroes.

"I know you've come a long way, but would it be all right if I guided you to a commission right away? The client is in quite a hurry."

Hmm. I'd figured she was about to walk me through the board over there and how to use this place, but apparently that came later. Well, the system itself didn't seem to have changed much from the original, so I had a decent feel for it.

"Lead the way."

And this was clearly another stretch of tutorial in its own right. I agreed at once. The clerk rose from her seat and guided me.

This time, too, it wasn't far.

The Meyble Merchant Guild. I followed the clerk into a building bearing that sign. Fitting for a commercial association, a number of merchants were moving about inside.

It was every bit as noisy as the Adventurer's Guild, but the graphics were so good I barely noticed. Barely keeping my wandering gaze in check, I trailed after the clerk's back.

"Guildmaster, the adventurer you requested has arrived."

"Come in!"

The room we entered looked imposing from the doorway itself. Given that they'd called him Guildmaster, this was almost certainly the merchant guild owner's office.

"One-eye?"

But why pick a fight the second you see me?

"Your tongue lacks manners."

I snapped it out while scanning the NPCs inside the room. I wasn't particularly hoping for a reaction—just a light line that fit the concept.

Obviously. No matter how well-made a game is, you can't design it to respond to every single thing a player says. There are simply too many possibilities, and the data load would grow exponentially.

So I naturally didn't expect the NPC to answer—and that was exactly why the next moment left me stunned.

The face of the one who'd called me one-eye twisted hideously. As if it had actually responded to my line.

"Hmph! Even more of a pain in the ass than I'd heard."

"Please compose yourself, Guildmaster."

"A-Adventurer, please calm down as well."

He hadn't just made a face—he'd spoken. The other NPCs who hadn't even been targeted did the same. They were behaving exactly like real people.

This was getting a little unhinged. Deeppearl—had they seriously ground up aliens to make this game?

"So you're that Demon Knight?"

"What, who else did you think I was?"

On a hunch, I answered while deliberately cutting out affirmation keywords like "yeah," "that's right," or "I am."

Between the game not designating required keywords and the reaction just now—I was curious whether they'd really designed it to respond no matter how the player spoke.

"Right. There can't be two faces as ominous as yours. And the clerk wouldn't have brought the wrong man."

Amazingly, the conversation continued. I'd half-doubted it, but he had genuinely understood my rude line!

"Guildmaasteer…"

"Sir, please…"

Holy shit, what is this?

I forcibly crushed the excitement trying to burst out and glared coldly around the room. The coarse-mouthed old man—probably the guildmaster—a middle-aged man soothing him, and the clerk who'd come with me.

The numbers were few, but that hardly mattered. The fact that three NPCs could each link up with appropriately fitting reactions already made this a god-tier game.

"Adventurer, please soften your language just a little…"

Why should I? Absolutely not. When the reactions come out this well, if you don't commit to the concept, what's even the point of playing? That wouldn't be a roleplayer at all.

"You've got the wrong person to persuade. Why should I?"

"Adventureeer…"

"Th-that insolent—!"

Wow, they must actually be insane. To have input all of this. No—they hadn't input it; they'd programmed AI to generate the dialogue on its own, right? But what on earth made them give this level of AI to these guys?

By old-game standards, this was like giving voice acting even to Villager Number One. I loved it.

"Hmph. He'd better not be incompetent… the one who recommended him, I'll—"

"Sir, he can hear you."

"Let him hear! He's saying it to my face himself!"

Hah… if I'd known it would be like this, I would've bought Deeppearl stock. The shares had already risen as far as they could go, but looking at this quality, it wouldn't be strange if they climbed even further. A missed opportunity.

"Ahem! More importantly! Let us begin the commission at once! Isn't that why you summoned the adventurer all the way to this city!"

Iseren hurriedly smoothed over the atmosphere in the room. I wanted to be a bit more of a bastard to match the concept, but I'd already been surprised enough, so I decided to play along.

I fixed the old man NPC with a sidelong look.

"First of all—you are aware of the commission details, yes?"

Clerk Iseren asked me. It was a pointless question. I'd only just learned that I'd even come to this city because of a commission; how could I possibly know the details?

"I've heard nothing."

"What? This is…"

I denied it in a chilly tone. The old man swallowed a curse. If the middle-aged man hadn't covered his mouth, it probably would have run its full course.

"Pardon? The guild didn't inform you? No—more than that, you volunteered without knowing?"

Iseren asked in startled surprise, but I didn't have much to say.

Who does that because they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to? I'd logged into the game and been thrown a job out of nowhere by the Pearl bastards.

Ah—of course I have no complaints, Lord Godpearl. I'm only grateful you let me play a game like this. Loyalty, loyalty.

"So? You're saying some worthless insects could put me in danger?"

A good roleplayer turns even this into an opportunity.

I kept up the act of a purebred bastard with a sky-high ego and continued the staring contest with the old man.

"Y-you…"

The elderly NPC muttered something under his breath. Half insults aimed at me, half at whoever had recommended me, I guessed.

From what I'd heard earlier, it seemed someone had recommended me for hire.

At this point I wanted to see the programmer's face once. First I'd bow, and second I'd ask if they were a god.

Only a god could make mere NPCs this human. Deeppearl truly were gods!