Chapter 149

Sora and Shiro, having thought long and hard, got back to the problem at hand. The problem was the presumed Dwarf lying on the bed in front of them. The Dwarf—of yet indeterminate gender—was draped in what looked like a firefighter’s coat. Actually, that wasn’t even the biggest question. If Emir-Eins hadn’t told them, Sora and Shiro wouldn’t even have been sure this was a living thing. This “Object X” looked more like a backpack. They’d had Jibril pick the object from the ground, carry it, rinse it off, and dump it on the bed… And now— “It still won’t get up. What do we do?” “…Brother… Are you…sure, it’s alive?” —they weren’t even sure whether this stone-still thing was alive or dead. As they grew increasingly nervous, Jibril solemnly knelt on one knee and informed them: “What is picked from your field belongs to you, my masters. I do believe that you may dispose of it however you like. ” …For the sake of absurd argument, let’s assume that ridiculous hogwash to be true. Even so!! “You’re saying this aspect ratio–skewed, bearded thing belongs to us?! Noooo, thank you! I just wanna wake it up and tell it, ‘Please go home.’ But how do we do that?!” Sora howled as he remembered the disappointment of the day he had first observed the appearance of Dwarves. …Indeed—he’d had hopes. In this world, the Werebeasts had been animal girls. The Sirens had been mermaids as opposed to fish monsters. The Elves had been pale, blond, and long-eared, just as one would hope—this world had brought his dreams to life! Under the circumstances, of course he’d imagined the Dwarves as superstrong manga girls or porn-game legal Lolis!! Who would’ve thought they’d be buff and bearded regardless of sex as in the classics?! …But dreams were only dreams. Sora wept at the bitter reality. “If I may, Master, please, please give the matter more thought.” Jibril folded her wings and put her hands together in prayer. “—There is no greater thing in this world than a Dwarf.” …… ……Hold up. Is it about to start raining meteorites? Shiro and Sora compulsively looked out the window, fearing for the day’s weather prospects. “After all, they use catalysts such as this to bring out magic.” Jibril waved a hammer of mechanical structure—a giant hammer, about the size of Sora, that had been buried in the ground with Object X. They didn’t know the details of this “catalyst” thing Jibril was talking about, but… “What…? You’re saying they can’t use magic without some magic wand–type item?” “…? You call that, great…? More like…weak sauce…amirite…?” Instantly reminded of Sunday-morning cartoons, Sora and Shiro were both skeptical. Magical girls were always given items to fulfill their great destiny of selling toys. What great destiny did this Dwarf shoulder? their eyes asked. “There are spiritual materials in the bodies of Dwarves. Their bodies are protected by mithril hair, and their eyes are made of orichalcum.” Jibril swallowed. “When they manipulate spirits in their bodies, the mithril naturally amplifies the spirits…which in the worst case may cause an overload—a loss of control. Therefore, to use magic, they use their orichalcum to synchronize the spirits externally, with catalysts.” Sora and Shiro narrowed their eyes further at her reply. Ah yes, I see, that’s magic…also known as bullshit. It could never be understood in its details by normal humans like Sora and Shiro. But basically, was she saying that Dwarves couldn’t use magic without their wands? No, she was saying that they were just so powerful they couldn’t control it without their wands. …Sora understood, at least, that this was the stuff of every little boy’s dreams. He was impressed. “Furthermore, they combine multiple catalysts with intricate seal-rite patterns, structuring the rites to be mobile, adjustable, and modular. By synchronizing with the catalysts that form the core of these mechanisms, Dwarves are able to cast multiple spells at once, allowing them to emulate the Elves’ unique specialty of multi-casting. What makes this possible, in short—” Jibril paused her magical technobabble to raise the hammer before Sora and Shiro before concluding. “—are these spirit arms.” Spirit arms… So, the countless components of this mechanical hammer were all catalysts. And the fine patterns on each of them were seal rites or something? And a Dwarf would combine those to…like, cast some übermagic or something… Having translated it into terms they could understand, Sora and Shiro felt strangely relieved to recognize that, yep, this was some bullshit. But wait: “So, Jibril? That means this Dwarf can’t use magic without this hammer, right?” “That is correct. Indeed my master is wise. It should be no surprise that you would deduce this fact independently.” Jibril swallowed again. Sweat ran down Sora’s and Shiro’s cheeks. —So if it’s so important— why is Jibril holding it? “I excavated and claimed this hammer. Yes…I was able to claim it.” …She’d been able. Yes, able. And what does that mean? “In light of the fact that the Covenants render theft impossible, that means this hammer is lost property and now belongs to me, who found it—which in turn means that it belongs to you, by the Covenants!!” “Uh… But isn’t it still obviously against the Covenants to make off with lost property?” “…If the Dwarf says… ‘Give it, back’…we’ll be forced to…return it…” Sora and Shiro felt compelled to say what had to be said to the impassioned Jibril, but they got what she was saying. Jibril had a logical basis to assert that the Dwarf belonged to them. “Yes. If the Dwarf says, ‘Give it back,’ then you will be forced to return it. However, I, like the hammer, am merely your property, and I myself have no right to return it!!” Jibril beamed. “And therefore, even if the Dwarf asks me to return it, I will have no obligation to do so! Though it may be impertinent, I would ask that you vacate this place for a brief time, so that I can compel the Dwarf to indulge me in a little game by the Covenants—and with that the Dwarf will be yours. It is as good as done. ” Indeed, she would make the Dwarf play. She could enforce it. But how? “Since, without the hammer—without magic—the Dwarf could neither leave this spatially severed room nor win at my game. ” Which would leave the Dwarf with two choices: refuse a losing game and never leave, or accept and become property. Having laid out her diabolically brilliant plan, Jibril looked up at them, hoping for praise it seemed. —Heh. That Jibril… She’s learned a thing or two. Getting teary eyed, Sora and Shiro smiled and were opening their mouths to give her the compliments for which she so yearned, when they noticed the way Jibril gulped as she crept upon the Dwarf. Gulp. It was the gulp of one who was drooling. They closed their mouths without speaking. “In which case, my masters? Before you depart—you see, in the Great War, useful materials such as mithril, which amplifies spirits, and orichalcum, which synchronizes souls, were quite easy to procure, but since the Ten Covenants, they have become quite hard to come by. And here we have a walking mother lode…” Thinking back on Jibril’s words, they realized there was no need to worry about those meteorites. —There is no greater thing in this world than a Dwarf… “How shall I reconfigure this Dwarf?! Please, instruct me! Geh-heh! Eh-hehh!” “At least recognize it as sentient, okay?! How ’bout we return that hammer right now?!” Sora cried out as Jibril gripped her blade of light and begged him to tell her how to harvest these materials. He was surprisingly echoed by two people of different races who had been observing in strict silence from the corner of the room. “Why, I never… If only that devil had the sort of multicellular brain necessary to achieve tasks other than killing.” “Acknowledgment: Object cannot be reconfigured. Critical gap in Flügel intelligence. Confirmed. Stuuupiiid.” As soon as he heard Fiel and Emir-Eins, Sora looked to the heavens: Oh no, not again. Through the raging flames of malice, his sadness had come to pay a second visit for the day. But then…he dropped his gaze from the ceiling, made eye contact with Shiro, and thought. —Flügel, Ex Machina, Elf—and Dwarf… …Was he imagining this? Here, in this bedroom above this little shop in a corner of Elkia—all were present to resume the Great War of the ancient past…or was it…just him?! “Uh, ummm!!! Emir-Eiiins! What do you mean when you say, ‘cannot be reconfigured’—?” “Oh, Master. It is simply the inaccurate reading of a long-obsolete machine. Please pay it no mind. ” Sora was doing his best to stay positive toward Emir-Eins, to be sure that the Great War never needed to be numbered. But Jibril shifted right into his line of vision. Sora and Shiro each wondered: The explosion that shook the building earlier—that was just my imagination, right? “…Conflict: Mithril, orichalcum. Only Dwarves can process. Obvious.” “No, Master. It is quite feasible to process them as long as we have the fire of the Old Deus Ocain. ” “Ridicule: Seizure of Holy Forge. Equivalent to control of Ocain. Requesting plan data. Resource not available. No surprise.” “Why, we’ve no need to trouble ourselves. We need only dispose of it deeep underground so as not to pollute the soil. ” “Rejection: Can collect raw material. Recommendation: Disassembly. Sale. Profit.” The two of them discounted each other’s claims, their animosity swirling through the air, as they all argued for the same kind of thing. “Come on, doesn’t anyone care to remember the Ten Covenants? Why is murder even on the table?!” Sora howled out the lone objection to what otherwise was a consensus to kill the Dwarf. Just then, a trio of blasts shook the shop. “Hey—that time it wasn’t my imagination, right?! That was seriously an explosion, right?!” The heat made it clear it was no illusion as Sora scrambled to protect Shiro. Had they failed to prevent the second Great War? Sora was more than half-serious in his panic. “……Looks like…it happened…?” “Estimate: Dwarf simulated sleep for escape attempt. However, spirit arm failed. Rite failure caused explosion. Boom.” Shiro and Emir-Eins pointed to the burned “backpack” trembling in the corner of the room. Apparently, it had long been awake, watching for a chance to escape. Then its escape spell blew up, and now it was shaking there, clutching its broken hammer and its head. ……That made sense. Suppose you were the Dwarf. You wake up and hear that all of a sudden Jibril is plotting how to despoil you of your rights. While the Flügel, an Ex Machina, and an Elf are arguing about how to kill you. What a nightmare. Sora and Shiro had respect for this hero who managed to get back the hammer and at least tried to escape. Meanwhile, however… “—? My… How could this happen? How perfectly unfathomable.” “Jibril, if you’re saying that after talking seriously about killing the little d00d, that’s pretty damn freaky!” “Oh, no, Master. It’s not that… If you’ll please observe—” Jibril gestured as she murmured with sincere confusion. Sora and Shiro gaped. While the Dwarf shook in terror, around the Dwarf countless blurs zipped about, too fast for Sora and Shiro to follow or identify. But they could manage to get the gist of things: It was like a video playing in reverse of the once-shattered hammer coming back together as its countless components flew through the air as if being juggled. “As you can see…Dwarves are exceedingly dexterous.” “…Mm…not that, we can tell…since we can’t…see it…” “Mm-hmm… I can see that at the very least their dex is broken as shit…” Sora and Shiro looked on in disgust at the repairs proceeding literally faster than the eye could see. Apparently, they were also faithful to the classics in nimbleness. However: “A Dwarf failed? At a seal rite? It boggles the—” “Sorry to interrupt. But could you please explain that mind-boggling phenomenon first?” “Why, even without spirit arms, you moles can use magic, too, you knowww? All you have to worry about is the possibility that you might explode due to internal spirit overload!! But you’ll certainly die otherwise, you knowww? Why, this is your one chance to gamble on escape!! Why, I’d looove to see how dashing and heroic you can be! Go, Mole! Go, Mole! ” Their buxom counterpart appeared interested neither in letting the Dwarf escape nor in letting a chance to kill the Dwarf escape. She hopped around the Dwarf with a radiant smile—as she indirectly told them, “Hurry up and die! ” They struggled to explain the Elf who was trying to goad the Dwarf to use magic while interfering with the repairs. “Since when is Fiel that kind of character?! Hey, Chlammy, this is you, right? Stop her!!” “Huh? Uh. I’ve never seen her like this, either! Hey! Hello, Fi?!” Fiel’s bizarre antipathy toward the Dwarf had left Chlammy almost transfixed in the corner of the room. Having been woken up by Sora, she shrieked and rushed to intervene. So what Sora was asking Jibril was, if humiliating Jibril once had been enough for Fiel to forgive her for annihilating the Elven capital in the Great War, how would you explain the cementitious obduracy of Fiel’s hatred of the Dwarf? Jibril hung her head. “Well, Elves and Dwarves. Their mutual opposition is iconic, like that of oil and water or cats and dogs.” Indeed. The strife between Elves and Dwarves was and had ever been legendary. However!! “Which of you assholes don’t hate each other?! You think you can justify her being this OOC with a canon statement that applies to anyone?!” Thus Sora raged at those who moments ago were racing to resume the hostilities of the Great War, when— “Warning: Spirit overload detected. Master advised to seek shelter beneath this unit’s skirt. High urgency. Herein.” “Ah. Master. It seems the Dwarf has elected to attempt escape, despite the high probability of a fiery death.” “Make it stop! Chlammy, get Fiel away! Jibril—” —The two weapons’ casual report of the Dwarf’s impending demise caused Sora to yelp. The rapid-fire orders and entreaties of Sora and Shiro, as well as Chlammy, filled the room… …and that was that. Those whose presence was like a bomb with a lit fuse were politely escorted off the premises, and Jibril was made to sit. The only ones left in the now-peaceful room were Sora, Shiro, and— “Uhhh, all right, I’m not going to let anyone kill you, okay? Sooo…are—are you okay…?” —the still-huddled-in-terror Dwarf, who gingerly looked up at Sora. The Dwarf’s eyes cautiously inspected the room for safety—and then made contact with Sora’s involuntarily. What did those pale blue eyes see in Sora’s dark ones from under the hood of their coat? It was a soft whisper: “……You’re Sora, you are…” “Yeah. Nice to…meet?” Sora replied reflexively, but then frowned suspiciously. “Wha…? Did I ever tell you my name? —Hey, whoaaaaa!” “Waaah! I was so scared, I was!! What do I dooo?!” The “backpack” leaped upon him, knocking him to the ground as it wailed. “I—I was ten thousand meters below the surface…when my subterrane broke, just when I was coming up! I—I dug on and on without rest or sleep…until I saw the sun and thought, oh yes, I’m saved—yet then I found myself in hell, I did!!” “Oh, Master. A subterrane is a ship used by Dwarves to travel through the ground.” “Oh. Thanks for the footnote—but is that all you have to say after freaking out the little d00d like this?!” Sora remonstrated appropriately with the cause of the little d00d’s frightened tears, as he began to go over the facts in his head. —All right. So the Dwarf didn’t actually grow out of the field. Regardless, the Dwarf continued to cry on his chest, clinging with great unease. “I—I can’t see why you would save a grubby mole such as me, I can’t!! Wh-what do you want from me?! Wh-what can I do for you not to kill me?!” “Ah, Master. Since the spirit arm is broken, the Dwarf is as good as yours. ” “Oh. Thanks for the footnote—but, Jibril, isn’t it your fault the little d00d’s pleading for their life?!” Sora shouted at the absurdity of being begged for clemency by someone trapped by Jibril. Okay. So the Dwarf couldn’t run, because they needed the hammer to do magic and that was broken. Therefore they had accepted as an inevitability that they would be Sora’s property. However, they had determined they needed to somehow prove that the rights to their ownership were worth fighting over with a Flügel, an Ex Machina, and an Elf. And they were begging for their life with the conviction that this was the only way. “I’m ready, I am!! I’m nothing but an unwanted mole, with no home to call my own! I’m ready to live in exile, whether as a slave or a pet! If it will save my life, I’ll even be your chair—Whaaa?!” But their prayers turned to a squeal and disappeared at the same time as the Dwarf’s weight from Sora’s chest. Sora’s sister had pushed the Dwarf aside and now was sitting in their place, squinting. “…This…is my seat…! Who is this girl…?!” Shiro’s voice was like a hiss, making Sora realize too late: —Ah…indeed, the voice of the backpack that had pushed him over wailing— —was like that of a girl. And on top of that, she was already in unconditional surrender mode, like, I’ll do anything. That did explain it. Under normal circumstances, Sora would have bit at close to the speed of light. Though in this case, there was the disqualifying condition of the race of stumpy girls being bearded in this world. But that didn’t seem to stop his sister from getting a little jealous because she was, technically, a girl. It warmed his heart, and he smirked. “Yeah, okay. That’s a good point… Let’s start with self-introductions, shall we?” Sora sat up and put Shiro on his lap where she belonged. “Once more—I’m Sora. This is my sister, Shiro… Sorry. I’m my little sister’s reserved seat.” He patted her head as she continued to growl, and he affirmed her behavior by starting introductions. The Dwarf either realized her impropriety or simply felt Death’s blade hanging over her. “Sir—!! I-I—I apologize, I do!! I—I failed to even show you my face—!!” The Dwarf hastily righted herself and saluted. She opened the backpack—rather, the coat that covered her head to toe…and— . “I—I! I’m a grubby mole of a travesty of a Dwarf, I am! My name—” Sora watched as she revealed her face—and her body. Distantly, abstractedly, in ecstasy and distraction, he listened as she said her name…… Shiro sat on her brother’s lap. Her brother appeared in drunk rapture, as if his soul had left his body. Seeing the Dwarf appear out of the backpack-like coat— —she couldn’t blame him. It made her gasp, too. The Dwarf was neither bearded nor stumpy. Her brown skin glistened as only the paltriest excuse for clothing covered…her exceedingly young-looking body. A pair of horns emerged from her hair. Her hair, in contrast to her body, sparkled of silver—no, mithril. Her enchanting pale blue eyes flickered with faint flame, doing justice to the name of orichalcum. And her sheepishly, nervously wavering voice and fragile expression— “I—I! I’m a grubby mole of a travesty of a Dwarf, I am!” —and the plaintive way she struggled to make herself heard—it all was just the thing to arouse the desire to protect. Shiro thought it not unreasonable that her brother would be entranced. In fact, it was necessary—perhaps even inevitable. And for that very reason—!! Shiro left reason behind her and moved. Yes “My name—is Tilvilg by clan, Nýi ……Um… What?” Tilvilg. Shiro now knew the name of her sworn enemy. She etched it into her memory and took prompt and appropriate action, reaching out her hand to clear that flag by force. Reaching for those components of unfathomable use on the garment that covered that flat body all too little, those string-like suspenders… …Yoink, yoink, yoink… “…My sister… Would it be all right for your brother to ask you what you’re doing?” Sora was brought back to reality as Shiro silently tugged. But Shiro herself could not answer his question. She tugged on and gave an evasive answer. “……Buttons, exist to be pushed… Cords, exist…to be pulled.” “Yeah. I get that. I almost want to ask you to let me do it, but—Shiro? Hellooo?” “Uhhh, excuse me! I’m not sure why, but I feel as if I’m being gravely humiliated, I do!” Shiro ignored their objections and kept tugging as her thoughts raced furiously. How had she come to this thought? Despite her typical excellence in inductive reasoning, the question hung over her unsolved. Her intuition insisted without clear evidence that the girl before her eyes was the biggest threat ever. “… By the way, Jibril? I have a grave and serious question for you. Please answer with due consideration.” Her brother, at this very moment, was investigating this question with a solemn voice. “If memory serves, Dwarves are supposed to be stumpy and bearded…correct?” “Yes, Master… Wha—?! Oh… Oh! I am so sorry, Master!!” …It was the question of how Dwarves were supposed to look here—that was the source of her unplaceable restlessness, which led her to this thought: Oh, shit… “From your words, I should have deduced that you were only familiar with male Dwarves!” Yoink, yoink, yoink… Shiro pulled hard. Yes—that was it… That was the problem…!! “Dwarves exhibit pronounced sexual dimorphism… For example, females tend to have less hair, relatively speaking—and they have horns that extend from their foreheads.” Yoink, yoink, yoink… Shiro ground her teeth. Yes—and thus every time she pulled the string, a round stomach was revealed that proved this: Female Dwarves were not fluffballs. “Also, while both males and females are short in stature, the adult form of females is what we might see as—youthful.” Ah—so, if we were to just lay it out there on that ironing board—!! They were dark-skinned Loli monster girls…… And from what Jibril said, they were even legal. “I see. In that case—Miss Tilvilg? Allow me to rephrase my request.” If he had on glasses, they would have glinted. Shiro found her hands shaking. A girl—already in unconditional surrender mode, like, I’ll do anything. Under normal conditions, her brother—virgin, eighteen—would most certainly take the bait at close to the speed of light!