Adventure (1)

Blue sky. Warm sunlight. A breeze that barely stirred.

It was a peaceful lakeshore.

On that shore a girl stood stock-still, staring blankly at her own reflection on the water. A small frame. Gleaming silver hair. Eyes red as blood. Pointed ears. It was Ariel.

Her face was expressionless, but inside she was thoroughly rattled. The moment she pressed the button to finish character creation, her consciousness had vanished—and when she opened her eyes again, she was here, on this lakeshore, as the character named Ariel. It was not a reality she could bring herself to accept. And so she did nothing at all, only stared, dazed, at the surface of the lake.

A long while passed that way. She had thought that if this were a dream she would wake, but the only thing that changed was where the clouds sat. Only after several hours had gone by did Ariel finally accept it. She admitted that she had possessed a game character.

"Status window…."

She murmured it under her breath. The voice was dry and androgynous—not lively, but unmistakably a child's. Ariel paid it no mind and checked the window floating before her eyes.

The stats were exactly as the bug had left them. Every stat, infinite. Inwardly, Ariel was relieved. If even her numbers had been meager, she might have despaired. Stuck as a game character anyway, infinite stats would serve her no matter what she did.

Maybe it was from checking them. She could feel that her body was no longer what it had been. Power overflowed in her—enough, it seemed, to tear a massive boulder out of the ground and hurl it, enough to run all day and never tire. With Strength and Stamina both infinite, that was only natural.

This time she looked at her skills.

There were only two—the basic skills handed out by default when a character was created. Magic Missile for attack, Shield for defense. Honestly, she could have done without them. With Attack and Defense both infinite, what need was there to use a skill at all? In that sense, being a mage was meaningless too.

Ariel waved a hand and dismissed the window. Stats and skills would do, for now. Next it was time to check something else.

"Inventory."

In that instant a virtual space unfolded inside her consciousness: a void with nothing in it. She knew at once that she could store things there—the space games called an inventory. As it opened in her mind, its traits and how to use it poured in after it.

An inventory was ordinary in a game, but in reality it was far more useful. Tied to her consciousness, it could not be stolen from. She would not have to haul anything herself; whenever she wished, she could put a thing in and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take it out with ease. Whether because her Stamina had reached infinity, there was no limit to weight or volume. If she wanted, she could probably shove an entire building inside.

Living creatures, on the other hand, could not be stored. Time did not flow in the inventory. The moment something entered, time simply stopped—and that, at least, was a clear benefit. Food placed inside would never spoil. She could pile it up like a mountain and take it out fresh whenever she pleased.

Finished with the inventory, Ariel started walking. Becoming a game character was still hard to believe, but there was no point tangling herself up over it. The point of the game was adventure. If she had become a game character, all she had to do was go on one herself.

And with that, Ariel's adventure began.

The first thing she met while walking through the forest was a troll—a ferocious monster with pinkish skin and an enormous body. Ariel gazed at it without expression. It certainly felt nothing like seeing one on a game screen. For one thing, the sheer size was overwhelming. Five meters, maybe. To see its face she had to tip her head all the way back, and the face she found was not what anyone would call ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠handsome. It looked slow and dim. Those huge eyes rolled loosely as it grinned slack-jawed, and there was something almost clownish about it.

Of course, a troll was a powerful monster, one of the forest's apex predators. Ordinary beasts—wolves, bears—were busy fleeing for their lives the moment they met one. This one was muscle from head to toe, and in its hand it held a club bigger than Ariel's entire body.

Graaaaaah!

The troll roared at her. The sound was enormous. The whole stretch of forest seemed to shake, and startled birds burst up in a flurry of wings. Ariel did not so much as flinch. She only stood there, blankly watching it.

The troll did not like that. A young elf met in the woods, reacting to it with such perfect calm—ordinarily a roar like this ought to drop someone where they stood and leave them pissing themselves. It lumbered closer. The reaction was unsatisfying, but the taste would be good. Elf flesh was tender. To a troll, it was practically a delicacy.

"Hey, little elf! Don't just stand there like an idiot—run!"

A voice cut in. Ariel tilted her head and looked around.

"What are you gawking around for! If you don't want to get eaten, run right now!"

The voice was coming from the troll's direction. It was not the troll speaking, of course. From the vacant face drooling as it stared at her, she could sense nothing like the intelligence required for speech.

"Dodge!"

Her gaze dropped to the troll's waist. Something like a birdcage hung at its hip, and inside that cage a tiny person was trapped—blue hair, wings, no bigger than a finger.

"A fairy…."

Ariel said it dryly.

According to the world setting she had skimmed before starting the game, many races lived in this world. Fairies were one of the fae: finger-sized, winged, and given to glittering. They were chatterboxes, the lore said, and they loved liquor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and flowers a great deal. They could also scatter glittering powder, and its effects came in several kinds—healing, flight, sleep, and so on.

That powder was why fairies were precious, and why humans went half-mad trying to catch them. Once caught, a fairy was kept in a cage, but an ordinary cage would not do. Scatter Flight Powder, and the fairy might escape, cage and all. So a magic cage was used instead: a cage under a spell that no one but an authorized keeper could open, and that Flight Powder could not touch.

Both a fairy's price and a magic cage were extremely expensive, but if one could keep drawing out Fairy Powder, it was a very profitable business. Fairies were an active race, of course, and locked in a cage they often died before long. Even so, humans frequently caught them to use as powder mills, or kept them as living ornaments.

In any case, just such a magic cage now hung at the troll's waist, and the one shouting at Ariel to run was the fairy trapped inside it. A mindless troll going about with a magic cage at its hip—there was probably a story there. But Ariel never got to follow the thought. Before she knew it the troll had drawn up in front of her and raised its club high.

"Idiot! Fool! Run!"

The fairy cried out desperately from inside the cage, and the troll brought the club ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down.

Thoom!

Dust billowed thick, and the wind kicked up around them shook grass and branches as it passed. A troll's monstrous strength was enough to snap even a bear's spine. It had swung that club down with all of that strength, so by any ordinary measure Ariel surviving was impossible.

"Haa…."

The fairy in the magic cage let out a hollow sigh. Surely the elf had been reduced to a crushed tomato. Now she would be nothing more than one of the troll's meals.

"And she was a young elf who hadn't even finished growing…."

Elves, like fairies, were a people of the forest—not greedy like humans, but pure beings who loved the woods, just as fairies did. Of course, the notion that fairies were pure was a delusion fairies alone indulged. They were adept at lying and often deceived others, and they even loved liquor, so calling them pure was stretching it. Even so, they considered themselves pure beings, just like elves. Someone might have told a fairy like that to quit quietly hitching a ride on the reputation—but no one of that sort was here.

Slowly the dust settled, and the spot where the club had come down came into view. The fairy closed their eyes. The sight of that cute little elf dead in some horrific way seemed bad for one's peace of mind.

"Kuok?"

Then the troll made a vacant, stupid sound, and the fairy's eyes opened.

"Huh?"

The fairy, too, could only make the same vacant noise. Where the club had struck—where the young elf ought to have been pulverized—she was standing perfectly fine. Her face was as expressionless as before. The only thing that had changed was her stance: from standing still, to raising an arm to block.

To think of stopping a descending club with that slender arm—wasn't she a little soft in the head? That was what the fairy thought. But the young elf was, in fact, perfectly unharmed. Not a scratch.

"Y-you—what… are you all right?"

The fairy asked. In that moment the troll hefted the club again, and the fairy grew urgent at once.

"R-run!"

A moment ago must have been a coincidence. The club had luckily missed, or some one-time defensive spell had triggered—anyway, this time it might truly be dangerous. But the young elf was lacking after all, it seemed, for she did not so much as dodge, even as the club came down.

Thoom!!

Another tremendous crash thundered through the forest.