The Envoy's Beheading, and Possession

Click. Click.

I kept changing the number by one, repeating the same meaningless mouse clicks over and over.

Click.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Click.

Damn it, for real!

The gold left in my coffers: 2558.

I had to somehow use this to secure an alliance with Serpina's Forces — currently the strongest power on the continent. If I failed, the next turn would almost certainly bring an invasion of my homeland, and that meant a guaranteed game over.

This game, Garand Eternity Saga, was a classic that had come out more than twenty years ago. By modern standards, it was a thoroughly outdated land-grabbing strategy title. The goal was simple: conquer enemy castles and unify the fictional fantasy continent known as the Garand Continent.

It was a turn-based combat game without any particularly deep systems, yet not so dull that it became boring — just an ordinary game. Still, I had fond childhood memories of it, and I liked it well enough that I attempted a unification run roughly once every few months.

The continent was home to a variety of lords, and my preferred playstyle was always the Randomly Generated Lord run. I had already played every named lord the game offered, cleared them all on higher difficulties, and grown thoroughly sick of them.

Of course, the game itself wasn't based on any real history. Each lord had a slightly different lifespan every playthrough and received subtly different modifiers depending on the circumstances, so the same lord never always achieved unification. That meant even picking a named lord still felt somewhat fresh each time — which was why, unless you were a hardcore player of this game, the general consensus was that random lords simply weren't worth the trouble.

But for someone like me, who had poured ten thousand hours into this game, nothing but random lord play could still deliver any real fun or enjoyment.

Anyway, to summarize the current situation—

The randomly generated lord I had rolled, RandomLord5338, and the army under his command had the misfortune of spawning right next to the most vicious and warlike tyrant in the entire game: Serpina's Forces.

Serpina was a woman who carried the blood of Jerome von Aingard, the last emperor of the unified empire that had existed before the age of war. She was the closest thing this game had to a final boss — play ten campaigns, and she would unify the continent in six or seven of them.

In this game, the CPU only began launching invasions one full in-game year after the start. One turn equaled three months. In other words, if I couldn't form an alliance with Serpina's Forces within four turns, I was finished.

Even so, there was no need to give up just yet. This was a classic game more than twenty years old, after all — and its lack of depth was precisely its weak point. Besides, I had every reason not to quit.

The strategist currently advising me — Zinor, the strategist of our army — had an Intelligence of a full 99.

That was an outstanding roll. Practically the maximum, really. Characters with Intelligence 100 didn't exist unless you used cheats — with the sole exception of the almost invariably short-lived named character Eleanor.

In this game, advice from an Intelligence 100 character was correct 100% of the time. Advice from Intelligence 99 was correct 99% of the time. And 99% was essentially 100% — more than trustworthy enough.

And it wasn't just the strategist. The neighboring powers, excluding Serpina's Forces, were fairly solid as well. Behind me sat Asius's Forces — weak in the early game, but destined to explode later once their talent pool fully matured. The absolute best window for absorbing Asius's talent was right at the start of a campaign.

In other words, if I could just secure the alliance with Serpina's Forces and then win a war against Asius to absorb their talent, I could steer the game so stably that no one would even guess I was playing a random lord. I might even pull off a speedrun from a random lord start.

Compared to modern gacha games, this was the equivalent of a successful reroll in every respect except starting position.

So I couldn't give up.

My current situation was this: Zinor, with his Intelligence of 99, was counseling me that "You cannot form an alliance with Serpina's Forces."

So why was I stubbornly adjusting the tribute gold by one point at a time and repeating the alliance proposal over and over?

Because if you kept grinding at it long enough, he would eventually say, "There is a possibility."

In short, it was a kind of exploit play.

What mechanism made this exploit possible? What was the basis for it? I had no idea. I had simply once read an old strategy guide collecting tips for this game that said: "If you keep repeating it, the counsel sometimes changes — and that's your chance! Use it when you need to push a difficult proposal."

It was an old game, so maybe there was some programming issue? Who knew. I didn't understand it, and I didn't care.

What I did know was this: no matter how absurd the proposal, there existed a divine moment when it would be accepted — just once.

Gold 3800 was the total wealth our army currently possessed. Of course, Serpina was the type who would never form an alliance unless you offered her a treasure that raised Martial power, so securing an alliance with gold alone was essentially impossible. But if I kept repeating this exploit, I was certain ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it would work — just once. The big data accumulated in my head over ten thousand hours of play insisted as much.

And besides, at this rate I was destined to be trampled under Serpina's bootheels anyway. There was nothing else to do.

Come on, please just work!

How many tens of minutes — no, how many hours — of click-grinding had I done? I pulled up YouTube on my phone and watched videos while mindlessly repeating mouse clicks on the computer.

And then, at last.

There it is!

Because I'd been watching YouTube while grinding, I nearly missed it and clicked again — but I caught myself just in time.

Yes!

Zinor's Intelligence was 99. That meant his advice was correct 99% of the time in this world. Ninety-nine percent! Not ninety — a full ninety-nine! In this game, that was as good as one hundred, wasn't it?

Great. Now while I'm allied with Serpina's Forces, I'll clean out nearby Asius, make Yuuri a general to secure the rear, and station troops along the border with Serpina. That should be enough to hold the line somehow.

Thirty-six months. Twelve precious turns. In a game where you could accomplish quite a lot in a single turn, that was time worth its weight in gold.

I carefully laid out my next plans and pressed the [Send Envoy] button.

And then.

Wait— what?

Why not? Why won't she form the alliance?

Zinor's Intelligence was 99. His words hit 99% of the time. But… there was one cold, hard fact that was all too easy to overlook.

Ninety-nine was not one hundred.

Ah, damn it.

One percent! The number that had caught my ankle — a mere one percent! Through that one-percent chance, the alliance had failed, and I'd been rejected cold.

Nothing I could do about it. I'd have to abandon the castle and flee to another region — Plan B. Of course, I'd take enormous losses in the process… but I didn't want to end a run that had given me an Intelligence 99 strategist just like that.

But then even that small hope began to dissolve into nothing.

???

What? She's taking the envoy as a prisoner?

Well, sure — the game had that feature. But imprisoning an envoy who had come purely for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠diplomacy, not in wartime, caused your reputation with neighboring lords to plummet, imposing severe diplomatic penalties. That was why it was rarely done.

But then again — who was Serpina? Was she not the greatest tyrant this game had ever produced?

Haah…

Still, well… even if I was locked in a dungeon… there had to be some way out, right? If I could somehow escape before the invasion force reached my territory…

Bzzzt!!!

Just as I was burning through my last scraps of optimistic delusion, an unpleasant 8-bit sound reached my ears.

……Haah.

I was dead. Apparently Serpina had thrown me in the dungeon and then simply had me executed on the spot.

Just imprisoning an envoy was already enough of a penalty to make proper diplomacy a pipe dream. Executing one meant that no neighboring power would even attempt a real conversation with you. But what did it matter? That woman was always like that!

And that bastard Zinor!

My army gets inherited by Zinor? I knew it was just a game, but the timing was far too perfect. Had that bastard deliberately sent me to my death so he could swallow the country whole?

This is exactly why Intelligence 99 isn't good enough. You need at least Intelligence 100.

It was my own fault for trusting an Intelligence of 99. I should have just restarted from the beginning.

I let out a long sigh and clicked the mouse to advance past the Game Over screen. I planned to hit New Game and try again somewhere far from Serpina's Forces this time.

But no matter how many times I clicked the mouse… the screen wouldn't advance.

?

What? Did it freeze?

After several more clicks, a screen appeared that I had never once seen in ten thousand hours of playing this game.

???

What? What the hell was this?

No matter how many times I clicked, the next screen wouldn't come. The only thing I could press was a single button at the bottom:

[I do. Intelligence needs to be at least 100.]

Beyond the sheer incomprehensibility of the situation — drawn in by a line that seemed to speak for my very heart — I pressed the button as if entranced.

And in that moment, the world began to ripple.

Don't tell me…!

I knew this. This kind of plot. Getting sucked into a game, right? I'd seen this possession setup dozens of times.

But… why? Why was I the one getting dragged into the world of some dusty old classic game?!

If I had a choice, I'd rather get pulled into a novel where beautiful girls obsess over me, or a stylish gacha game!!!!!!!!

Reading those words, I lost consciousness.