Chapter 156

* * * “The sky—It bothered you not being able to see it, right?” …… “…I like the sky, I do… I like…to see the birds fly, I do.” As if to say she didn’t want to run anymore—no, had no place to run anymore… “I like to fantasize about what those birds see, I do—swimming through the air, doing what I can’t as if there were nothing to it. I’d like to be able at least to dream… If only I could fly…” …Til glanced with eyes of resignation at the dark sky and white bird, and then turned back. “…It’s time for a demonstration of some simple and easy spirit-arm manufacturing, in the style of a grubby mole who can’t do anything…it is.” She self-mockingly referred to the lesson she’d given before about what any Dwarf could do. That had been two days ago. Her mumbling now indicated that she would show them with actions rather than words. “First…you do your best to rifle through a heap of junk for existing seal rites…and collect what you find, you do.” Indeed, here in this hole echoing with the strikes of Til’s lone hammer, they were at a corner of Hardenfell’s greatest dump site. “Next…you desperately try to figure out what the seals mean and what you can make, you do…” Junk covered the bottom of the hole in the ground, visible from the sky above. Til held some of it, decorated with seals whose meaning they couldn’t sense. She beheld it with a defeated gaze. “Then, as always, you moan that you can’t make head or tails of it, and, one by one…” Belying her words, she flashed about her tools with speed beyond what Sora’s and Shiro’s vision could follow— “…you muck about with them, thinking, No, not like this, nor like this…and that’s all, it is. So this is all you get, it is.” —and—smirking—she indicated that, in this pile of junk filling the hole, there was now one new piece of junk. “Then you just continue until you get something that happens to work… See? It’s simple, isn’t it?” Punctuating the irony of her words, she tossed the item she’d just finished. So—here, she fished through the existing seal rites…the scrap…cobbled it together… She made her own mountain of junk, building her own geological stratum—right here. Born to a race that never erred—then erring constantly. Of a race that forged ever ahead—yet unable to follow. Doused in shame and frustration and failure, she’d fled her homeland, fled her country, fled her talented uncle. She’d fled and fled and fled. And this is where they ended up, those who’d fled from it all. As the chair had said, this was the destination—for those no one needed, those not even alive… “Welcome to my home, if you will… What brings you here?” Til smiled weakly, in that deep, dark dungeon—that desolate nonplace for those with no place at all—and asked: “Having seen this…do you still want me to make something for you?” “……” Til’s back continued to tremble. Sora silently took just one step forward. “Live without shame, without running away? That’s hogwash, it is. If it’s so possible to surpass a genius with effort, then why doesn’t someone go prove it already?! No one can do it—well they claim it’s their destination, they do!!” Another step. And another. Til seemed frightened of Sora’s approach. “Th-they can go toil. I’ve had enough, I have! Taking pride in failure? That’s insane, it is! I just don’t see any sense in going to try and fail when you can’t win, I dooon’t!!” She didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Til just kept shaking as she piled on the excuses. But… “Effort will be rewarded?! Talk of dreams is all well and good. But they’re just dreams, they aaare!!” Thus she finally shrieked as she felt Sora get right behind her. The next moment, she practically leaped up into the air as Sora nodded dramatically and roared—! “Damn straiiiiiiiiight!!!” …… “I’ll spell it right out!! Effort’s not rewarded, and you can’t overcome talent. That’s reality!!” “…………Sir. Um, uh… That’s right, it…is?” Til turned with fear, dumbfounded at Sora’s unexpected agreement. Her round orichalcum eyes got even rounder in her bewilderment, which Sora elegantly trampled right over! “Back in our old world, characters in games and comics are always saying, ‘Effort pays off,’ ‘Effort can outdo talent.’ And why?! Because they’re fiction!! Because they’re telling a story of something that doesn’t exist!!” Sora grew impassioned, vehement! He raised his arms triumphantly. His fists, his voice shook as he spelled it out article by article—yes!! “And thus it is clear! ‘People can understand one another.’ ‘All people are equal’! All those lines they spout out in entertainment, they’re all fiction!! They’re dreams we wish for ’cos we ain’t got ’em. That’s entertainment, right?!” —Anything they showed in entertainment could be expected to be fiction! If it were obvious reality, it wouldn’t make for entertainment. For example!! …People get sleepy. Is there a work of entertainment in which the main characters argue passionately for this? Probably not. Why? Because it’s obvious. It’s a reality more familiar to us than our pillows at home. We know, stupid. Give us back our money! What kind of idiot wants some idiot to argue in detail for some reality that goes without saying?! If it’s depicted thus in entertainment—it’s proof that it’s otherwise in reality, and so—!! “‘True friendship’! ‘True love’! ‘The guy all the girls go for’!! All of these are inherently fiction. This should be self-evident!!” “……Uh. Well…I’m not, sure…about, that…?” Shiro interrupted, evincing residual attachment to hope, but Sora mercilessly cut her down! “It’s fiction!! Friendship breaks down. True love turns into a mess! The guy all the girls go for gets stabbed. That’s reality. I mean, you gotta make a choice here, either retreat into fiction or get stabbed and step off the stage of reality. But anyway—!!” He cleaved hope in two, and again looked Til in the eye— “Til, you are absolutely right. Make an effort at a game you can’t win? Hogwash. Any sane person would run.” —and affirmed what she had said. “Beat the greatest Dwarf by effort alone? As the worst Dwarf? Yeah, right.” “……! …Sir. It’s as you say, it is.” Her pale blue eyes agreeed in confusion, fire waving in them fragilely—eyes Sora knew well. Til didn’t seem to realize they’d clouded due to Sora’s affirmation… “If effort’s enough for the lowest to beat the geniuses—then the geniuses can just make an effort and kick your ass, can’t they?!” “Sir! That’s it exactly, it is!! It’s impossible to catch up with a genius who makes an effort, it is!!” She nodded furiously at Sora’s continued address. But she didn’t seem to realize the fire flickering in her eyes as she looked up at her sky, or the spark of hope roaring to life inside her… “Can you train your body to beat a Werebeast at arm wrestling?! Can you train your eyes to see spirits?! If you really think that kind of effort will pay off—go train your muscles and outgrip a gorilla!! We’re all just human, you say? With all due respect, that is a fallacy!! No human is just a human! If you think that kind of twaddle will get you anywhere, look, we’re all just living things, okay? So you make that effort and evolve so you can shine light out of your ass like a firefly!!” “Yes, yes!! Shine that light—sparkle, sparkle!! It even sounds a bit cute, it does!” “If you’re gonna hold us up to the same standards as the powerful, all we have to say is, Fuck you!!” “Yes, yes! Fa-kew! …What does fa-kew mean?!” Til saluted, weeping with the grand emotion of Sora’s speech. But fwip, Sora turned his back. Only Shiro and Jibril saw his face, wrenched into an evil smile. And by now it was no surprise… —Overcome the naturally strong by effort? —Hogwash. No matter how hard he tried—he could never become like his sister. He knew that better than anyone—and that was why he’d lived looking down at such conventional strategies, more than anyone… They knew him, and so they knew. The fundamental question was this: Why did you have to win through your own power…? They knew that was what that savage smile meant. They kept quiet and watched Sora’s farce unfold. So, Sora whipped around to face Til again, and initiated a dialogue!! “I ask you, Til! Can you defeat a Werebeast in magic-less combat?!” “I cannot, I can’t! Not by any means!! I cannot, I can’t!!” “And I ask you, Til! Can you beat an Ex Machina at chess?!” “No, sir! No, no, no, sir!! “Then let me ask you, Til! Can you overcome Veig, the greatest master of spirit arms?!” “Semper fi! Do or die! Hell no!! Hell no!!” Til answered Sora’s questioning passionately, complete with a martial salute! …Yoink, yoink, yoink… “Let’s see, your score is… Zero. And what’s the penalty for the smartasses who get those questions wrong?” “…Sexual harassment…courtesy of, Shiro…plus…a photo…” Til was greeted by the obnoxious smiles of the easygoing Sora and Shiro, looking like kids who’d pulled off a prank. Til stood there, even forgetting to blush at the harassment she’d previously endured three days before. But Sora’s next words— “The correct answer to all the questions is yes… It’s just reality. It’s just fact.” “!!!” —made Til remember, whether she liked it or not, just who those two pairs of eyes that pierced her now belonged to. She stood shivering as though she’d been struck by lightning. Yes… They’d always overcome and trounced higher races—those talents insurmountable by effort. Now they promised to defeat Veig. No, just as they had with their previous victories, they boasted that they’d already won. They were Sora and Shiro—“ ”…mere humans, who embodied the fact that it was possible to utterly destroy those with greater gifts—even the divine. “Til… Do you realize who you’re speaking to when you claim to be the most inferior of all?” “…We’re never-before-seen…literal unprecedented scum… That’s, us…” The dignity of their (inexplicable) godly presence as they took Til to task made Til and Jibril gulp, feeling as if they heard the subtext audibly… —Know your place, O strong ones. Stretch. Swagger. —Know, too, that however you may crawl or squirm, you will never reach our depths. “You can beat a gorilla, right?! You can see spirits, and in the first place—!!” …Yes, looking up at everything farther down their noses than anyone else, the two crowed mightily! “You can go out alone and talk to people alone!! That alone makes you far, far stronger than us. Don’t get full of yourself!!” “…We can barely, breathe by ourselves, and you think you’re worse…? You’ve got something to learn, missy…” “A-as you say, it is, but, uh, um! I—I am eighty-four years old—so I am your elder—” “Gaaah!! I’m not going to take it easy on you just ’cos you’re exactly my type!! Why do I have to set someone else’s heroine’s flags? It doesn’t make any sense! We’re going Spartan on your ass now. You ready?!” Sora declared on his own that he would not accept any rebuttal from Til. They belonged to the weakest and most inferior race. And of them, they were the select bottom of the bottom of the bottom. “Perhaps you’d like to know how we, ‘ ’, the true claimants of the title of most inferior, prevail and continue to prevail… If you are so determined to boast of weakness rivaling ours, if you intend to go to the extreme—then very well. Prick up your ears, listen, and learn…” Sora smiled wickedly, ready to enlighten Til as to what constituted the real thing, what it really meant to be the weakest. Ready to reveal the culmination of the abyss, the secret to defeating talents that could never be overcome with effort alone. He stuck his elbows at his sides and raised his palms, prophesying in the manner of a conqueror. He said!!! “You beat them by cheating…!” …… “That’s right!! You stab ’em in the back, hit them when they’re not looking, make them shoot their friends, poison them, undermine them, and trick them into traps!!” Ah, fiction tells us Evil never prevails… However, sadly enough, in reality, evil always prevails!! “You analyze the strong, study them, exploit them, copy them—it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you win. You got it?!” “…………Uh… I suppose, I…do…” Sora concluded his speech with his face twisted in a wicked smile that, in entertainment terms, looked like that of a demon lord destined to be slain. Til was confused to hear evil’s praises sung so gallantly, but Sora proceeded to pass right by her. “That’s right, you cheat. If I must grace it with a word—” Sora picked up one item from the heap of junk and turned. Now smiling serenely, he exalted the epitome of evil he had just sung. You might call it…wisdom. Or perhaps calculation. Or learning. Or deliberation. —Or, in the final analysis, theory. That academic system, the grandfather of all manner of tactics and strategy— “……It’s called…ingenuity…” Indeed—that was the nature of human weakness. That was how humans lived, and it was just that which the self-described grubby mole, likewise proud of her inferiority, had stacked up all this time. Yes—it was impossible to overcome the naturally strong by pure effort. And that was why just as exemplified by that which Sora now held, described as one of many failures, and its clearly strange engraving: “You win by piling up trick after trick, just like you’ve done.” Groping in the dark. You considered, inferred, observed, patched together the principles of the strong. Grasping at straws. You failed and suffered until you had amassed a mountain. Sora knew where it led—to victory. And so he spoke with a grin. Fundamentally—to begin with: —Why did you have to win through your own power…? If you were to overcome absolute talent—to win against a Flügel: “The way you’ve relied on others to escape Jibril, for example. ” “Oh. Oh, ohh—uh, um! I-i-it wasn’t l-like that, it wasn’t!!” Sora threw Jibril the object he held, and Til seemed to finally realize what it was. She leaped desperately to snatch it from the air but ended up in a futile dive. “Oh my…? Is this not…an Elven seal rite?” “Noooo!! Please, no, I beg you, don’t look, oh pleaaase!!” Jibril simply shifted to catch it first, regardless of the supplication of Til, now stuck headfirst in the pile of metal. …She just cobbled together existing seals. All right, that sounded plausible enough. Cobbling together seals more complex than integrated circuits in machines more precise than a mechanical watch? Objects built by sensibility alone? Without a shred of theory? “I see… So you used the theoretical framework of the Elves, even though you despise them so…” “Aaah, I can’t hear you, I caaan’t. I want to di—just kidding, I don’t want to die, I dooon’t.” Right. She just had to patch in Elven seal rites, which did have a theoretical system. That would explain how Til had known enough to detect Fiel’s magic before it fired. But Jibril’s eyes still asked how she’d been able to escape her. “Hey, Jibril. If she’s gonna use Elven rites…” “…there’s no…reason, she wouldn’t…use others’, right…?” Magic wasn’t Sora and Shiro’s specialty… They couldn’t even understand that shit. But in this case, things were especially easy to piece together from the circumstantial evidence. They both smirked. After all, there weren’t that many ways to flee from Jibril other than through the afterlife. Of them, one could again be a rite Til had seen through before it was used. And the only time she could have engraved the rite was when they were on the subterrane—yes… “For example, the shift rite you first wove to go above the capital of Hardenfell, Jibril. ” That was why they’d commanded her to shift there, they were saying. But then that meant—! Jibril’s eyes opened wide at the revelation. Til had fled by engraving a Flügel rite onto her hammer and using it to shift… “Inconceivable! One does not merely transcribe—no, in the first place, to perform a nonvirtual shift—even if it could be expressed as a seal, it would not operate with the amount of spirits a Dwarf has—it’s meaningless!” “Yes. That’s what boosting is for, right? Til can’t use a single spell without boosting. ” Jibril caught Sora’s subtext, and now was truly lost for words. True, for a normal Dwarf, it would likely be meaningless and impossible. But for Til, who was not a normal Dwarf, it was both a given and entirely possible. “And it’s quite a meaningful trick to use against us, since we’re not normal either, right?” Sora called affectionately to the rear end growing from the pile of junk. “Hey, grubby little mole who’s so proud of her conviction she can’t do anything.” To defeat the greatest of all Dwarves—Veig—they needed the lowest of all Dwarves—Til. That’s right… She boasted with overflowing confidence that she couldn’t do anything without cheap tricks. She ran from pointless effort—and yet… “Despite all that—why’d you build your spirit arm looking up at the sky?” “!!” The rear end jumped with a gasp. Hesitantly, Til produced her face from the junk. Then, waffling and wavering, fretting and frowning, she looked directly into Sora’s eyes. Her own eyes were the same as two days before; the same stare. And she asked in the same way: “…Is it, all right, for me…to go, with you…?” Indeed— “I’m…a grubby little mole, I am. I can’t do anything without staining my hands with the terrible, horrible crime of using Elven rites. I’ve no sense nor courage nor guts—nor a speck of hair, baby-bald mole that I am.” —when Til’s eyes had rested on the darkness of Sora’s, uncertain, weak, afraid, and fragile—but with great conviction…of her inferiority—she’d asked: “Despite it all…is it—possible for me to fly like you…?” Orichalcum eyes shimmering with pale blue flame—they didn’t ask, Will you abandon me? Nor: Is it worth anything to have me with you? It was: Is there anything I can do? That was what it looked like they were asking. Til herself didn’t even know it as she looked to the sky with hope, and asked: “Is it possible—for me to be something more than a chicken…?” The chieftain; her uncle; her natural gifts; spirit arms—promises… Could she face all that she’d run away from, everything she’d turned her back on—and win? —Could she believe that she could be like Sora and Shiro? Could she be a flightless bird yet able to fly…? The fire in her pale blue eyes, flickering a hotter temperature than red, roared: I won’t accept it—and I won’t surrender. Sora recalled how Veig had interrupted things that day and chuckled. —Sure it is, kid. You just got to be deliciously enjoyed. Beg, and you’ll blast off so high… “Yeah, Dwarven opinions are perfect negative examples. After all…they’re only half-right.” And with a smarmy grin, Sora adopted Veig’s vernacular for his answer. “No way it ain’t, kid.” The hope in Til’s eyes instantly clouded with disappointment, but— “I mean, we can’t, either. A chicken is a chicken. No matter how we cheat to fly, we can’t become birds. However…” Sora smiled gently, offered his hand, and continued. “…If you beg to win, we’ll help blast you up with us, higher than the birds.” Til’s eyes wavered, her hands trembling from fear and admiration, hope and unease. She looked back and forth between Sora’s darkness and the literal sky’s blue. Finally, she made up her mind and took hold of the dark sky, in fine spirits. She had no more hesitation. “Very well, then!! Um, I can’t vouch for my deliciousness, but I’ll gladly blast off with you, I willl!!” “Okay, I worded that poorly!! Veig was right, you shouldn’t do it with a virgin, so stop stripping. Hey, being ‘deliciously enjoyed’ isn’t part of it, okay—d00d, she’s strong! Someone help me stop her, will ya?!” Ready? Here’s my cherry. Take it, bitch—!! Crimson-faced, Til started ripping off her clothes without a second thought, so Sora had to call in the reinforcements. However— “…It’s okay… The pairing’s already set… Cockblocking is inevitable… In the worst case…it’ll be just the tip…and then…there will be, a precedent…which…suits me… I can live with that…” “If so saith Lord Shiro, then all I’ve to do is to stand by in diminutive form… Geh-heh, geh-heh-hehhh…” —he was heartlessly abandoned by the eagle-eyed little strategists, already focused on the next battle. …… “A-are you really going to remove this?! It’s a historic property, it is!” “Hnh? Don’cha mean a historic burden? The rules say we can borrow anything in this city, don’t they?” “…Which means…we can also borrow, this and that…nooo problem…” “We’ll make good use of it to defeat Veig! And while we’re at it we can dispose of it! Two birds with one stone, right?!” “Then you’re not borrowing it, are you?! If you don’t intend to return it, that’s borrowing as a euphemism for stealing, it iiis!!” “And now, Master, we can shift all of this to the plant where the long-ears awaits—” …… And then…since when had it been like this? Sora suddenly felt a pleasant warmth and heard Shiro’s voice from seemingly far away… “…Brother…I thought about it, so long…and finally…I found…the answer.” —Had he been asleep? Or was he still asleep…? In the darkness, his senses drifted through indistinct consciousness as Shiro continued… “…The Veig x Til…flag…has already been set…right…?” …and Sora slowly, reluctantly accepted the facts: Ah. But. “…Brother x Shiro…must progress… But the content guidelines…were tricky.” Shiro’s voice sounded joyful—and somehow, something connected that made Sora tense. “…But Til, gave me…a hint… I found…the answer!” ThenSora abruptly— “…If I do this…you can, see!! You can touch… And it’s acceptable…right?!” “What, am I inside Shiro’s skirt?! It’s dark; I can’t see anything; d00d, what’s going on?!” —Gwish. Gwwish…! The warmth was of her stomach, which pressed him. Sora rushed to pull his face out. But even after he escaped the darkness, things still looked bleary, unsteady—