“If you don’t m—um, but I saw some players on the forum who looked like they were under the God of Water.” No matter how much I told myself it was okay, it was exhausting to be casual with virtual strangers.
“They must be level 3 or over. Once you reach level 3, you can use boards assigned to other gods. But they’re not allowed to tell people level 2 or under about that, so if they try, the post will be censored.”
That was probably the kind of stuff they spoke about in the thread for players level 3 or over.
“By the way, players aren’t supposed to talk to each other in real life, so think of this as an exception. As you’ve seen, there are certain corrupted god players who don’t bother to follow that rule.”
So corrupted gods had different rules, or their rules were laxer. In which case, the minor god players were at a disadvantage.
“What level are you, Sewatari? I’ve been wondering since we met.”
I was fairly sure I already knew from our conversation, but I wanted to check with her.
Her eyes softened, and she grinned like she’d been waiting for me to ask. “What level do you think I am?”
“Level 5?”
“Exactly! Kinda boring that you got it on the first guess. I wanted to see you gasp when I told you that you were wrong, actually, I’m level 5!”
“Yeah,” Nattyan pouted. “Why didn’t you play along?”
Why was I getting criticized for giving the right answer?
“Apologies. Have you been playing for long?”
“Apologies?! You’re being too formal again! Anyway, about two years.”
I didn’t know how long that was in the grand scheme of things, but it was longer than I’d been playing.
“Do you know when the game was first released? I got it when it was still in alpha, so I guess it’s been in testing this whole time?”
Sewatari paused thoughtfully. “Going by the rumors on the forums, it’s around ten years old at this point. There’s no real evidence to back that up, though.”
Ten years ago. Coincidentally, that was the same time I became a shut-in. Ten years was a long time to be running an online game. It was also an absurdly long alpha test period, but the fact that a game like this existed at all was enough to show me that anything was possible. A long testing phase was maybe the least mysterious things about The Village of Fate.
“Okay, now for why we came to rescue you. I spoke to the God of Fortune, and he asked me to come rescue you, the God of Fate’s player. Nattyan and I live in Hokkaido, which is probably why we were picked.”
“I see. Thanks so much for rescuing me, really.” I bowed my head deeply and noticed Carol copying my behavior. She must’ve woken up at some point. Even Destiny was nodding in her arms.
“That was some amazing teamwork, though,” Sewatari said. “I’m kind of jealous. You know, I found it hard to believe when the God of Fortune said there was an accident and a girl from the other world was sent here with a book, but she’s so pretty I don’t think I mind her being here.”
“Make sure you keep Carol-chan away from Senpai, okay, Yoshiocchi?”
I had noticed a passion in Sewatari’s eyes as she stared at Carol, but until now I thought it was just my imagination.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised.
“Hey, I just like cute things! What’s wrong with that?”
“You take it too far, Senpai. It’s creepy.”
The two of them began to quarrel. While Sewatari criticized Nattyan’s lax dress sense, Nattyan accused her of being a lolicon.
“What are they talking about, Yoshio?” Carol asked.
Apparently, their conversation wasn’t being translated this time, likely because it wasn’t child appropriate. I was glad for it.
“Um…”
“We were just talking about how cute you are, Carol-chan!”
“Thank you, Oneechan!” Carol giggled bashfully, her cheeks reddening.
“Did you understand what she said then, Carol?” I asked.
“I did now, yeah! But I didn’t understand what they were saying before that.”
Just like me, it sounded like Sewatari and Nattyan were able to switch between Japanese and the language in the game world. It must have been something all players could do.
“Question,” Sewatari said. “Would you mind if Carol-chan stayed in this world so I could adopt her as my sister?”
“Yes, I’d mind.”
“’Course he’d mind! Forget the rules, you’re a menace to society. Y’know what, I think I’m gonna call the cops right now.”
I hoped Sewatari was joking, but she looked a hundred percent serious.
“Look at that pure smile of hers! It makes me wanna give her three extra-large helpings of dessert!”
“Carol, make sure you stay away from that woman when the two of us aren’t around, okay?” I warned her.
“You’re being unreasonable! It’s not a creepy thing! I just like little girls! I hate the smartass boys around her age, though.”
From her tone, it sounded like she hated boys more than she loved girls. I wondered just what sort of trauma led to this situation.
I hoped someone would change the subject, since this one could only get worse.
“Oh, there’s something else I wanted to ask,” Sewatari said. “I know you plan to send Carol-chan back to her world, but what about the book?”
“Well, yeah. I wanna send the book back, too.”
That made sense, right? The holy book originally belonged to my villagers, so why shouldn’t it go back?
“You’re not greedy in the least, huh? You understand you can use that book to get a bird’s eye view of anywhere you’ve ever been? You can even see into buildings, which I’m sure you know by now. There are a ton of possibilities with this thing.”
I’d had the same thoughts myself. Undoubtedly, it was the most powerful navigational device in the world. Its true value was far beyond my imagination. Forget the ten million yen the corrupted gods were asking for; there were probably people who would pay well into the hundred millions for something like this.
“I know that. But this belongs to my villagers. It’s not mine to keep. Besides, if they don’t have this, I can’t send prophecies or save them if they get into trouble. I wouldn’t even be able to watch over them.” Their safety was worth more than any amount of money ever could be. “This book and my villagers are priceless. They saved me when I was at my lowest. They’re just as important to me as my biological family.”
I stroked Carol’s head softly as I spoke. I had no proof that my villagers were still alive, just faith. They were alive, and right now they were working hard to rebuild the village. I needed to return Carol and the book to them as soon as possible.
“That’s really great. There are tons of players, even on the major gods’ side, who act like their villagers are just video game characters. You’re not one of them, Yoshio-kun. I knew there was a reason I believed in you.”
Sewatari’s praise made me happy, but what did she mean she “believed in me”? It was a weird thing to say to someone you just met. Unless…I was finally becoming popular with women? Wait, wait. According to the Internet, it was super pathetic to mix up a girl being nice or complimentary to you with genuine interest. Though I guess I already knew I was pathetic…
Carol peered up at me. “Why is your face going all funny, Yoshio?”
Oh great. I didn’t realize I was that easy to read.
“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get something to eat! You hungry, Carol-chan?”
“Yeah! I’m real hungry!” Carol chirped.
“Same!” Nattyan agreed. “I could really go for some bubble tea.”
Both their hands shot up in the air. It was nice of Nattyan to show solidarity, but I wished she’d focus on driving.
I looked outside. I’d been so focused on our conversation that I hadn’t noticed it getting dark.
“Since you’re in Hokkaido, let’s grab some Genghis Khan! You know, that grilled mutton dish? I know a good place. We’ll go there!”
Genghis Khan was a famous dish. I’d always wanted to try it.
My main priority here was to meet the developers, but we were still a long way away from their building. No point in starving ourselves just to get there quicker. I also wanted Carol to eat all the delicious stuff she could. I wanted her to remember this, the country of the gods (well, Japan), as a fun place to be.
I felt someone watching me. I turned to find Destiny glaring.
Don’t worry, I want you to eat delicious food, too.
I asked Nattyan to speed up a little, if only to stop Carol and Destiny from tugging on each of my sleeves to tell me they were starving.