Chapter 31

CHAPTER ONE Meta-Utopia City—Yokohama Two people were in the dark room. One was a man. Average build and dressed in a monk’s robe; impossible to tell his species from his silhouette. He had no physical body—he was but a hologram projected into the air. The other person was more of a mystery: unknown species, gender, and age. They wore black full-body armor, an overcoat with the design of a dragon holding a sword, and a large black sword on their back. A voice came from the black armor. “That’s it for the report from the Guild. Any questions?” They appeared to be wearing an external audio output device. Their voice was masculine, muffled, and had heavy effects applied. “Will he really come to the island? That Veltol you mentioned?” the man asked. “No idea… I just suppose he will because of the dragon.” “I’d prefer to have more certainty…” “Don’t ask me. Whatever, I gotta go.” The armor turned around with a rustle of their overcoat and a metallic clink. “Already leaving? I could serve you saba for coming all the way here.” “I’ll pass. Would it even be edible for humans? I’m only here because the comms are cut off from this island. And us lowly grunts got a lot of work to do. Interventions in FEMU, the Illuminati, 3U, the Order, Sidonic Net… So many baddies to fight, so little time. And there’s also the babysitting I had to take over from that Faceless idiot in Akiba. I’m just glad I had another mission near this place…” The armor turned their back on the man again, sounding irritated. Light entered the dark room the moment they opened the door. The armor walked out, leaving the room full of silence and shadow. The Dragon Slayer died a martyr during the White Wolf Disaster in Shanghai; the Maiden gathered a new arcanum during the Red Moon Noon case in Los Angeles; and Faceless was demoted after failing to capture the goddess of weal and woe in Akihabara. The resulting changes in human resources brought him, the Progenitor, a promotion to Fourth Seat. That was the report from the Guild—the Salvation Church. None of that mattered. His job didn’t change, no matter what number he was in what organization. He belonged to the organization but didn’t share their ideals. Their only relationship was making use of each other to further their goals. The organization provided tech and money, and he returned the favor with some help. This relationship would end soon, as his plan was approaching its endgame. “Just a little longer, everyone. I will take all of you to a peaceful world—to utopia.” He spoke those words naturally. “Huh…?” He cocked his head. “Who is ‘everyone’?” She wanted a little sister. Or rather, she wanted to be a big sister. She was an only child and wished for a younger family member. And that is why… Stars twinkled in a chaotic sea. Like comets or meteors, the Familia, computers, and servers beamed their traffic lights with dazzling trails connecting to other people and machines. Each ray of light in this aether web was a technic that constituted magic. People connected to the world through machines, and the immense construction of data formed from their connections was named as such: “The aether network.” A girl spoke the name of this magic. The aether network was a composite magic built on various technics and given form by many spells to connect machines to each other. One vast, chaotic sea. The girl floated in the celestial sea of chaos. She wore a dwarven jacket over her qipao. This was but an avatar in cyberspace. People usually chose an avatar that looked different from their real-world selves, but she faithfully emulated her actual appearance—the only difference being that her face was covered in a bunny skull holomask. This sea was an aethernet map created in her field of view through the terminal buried in her nape: the Familia. The aethernet was the biggest form of magic in history. “‘Chaos and paradox are this vast sea’s essence.’ Arthur Daniels, From Electronics to Aether.” The girl didn’t know that quote. She was merely copying what her artificial spirit cited from the aethernet dictionary. A simple action, not a gathering of knowledge. Magic was highly systematic. Normally, the bigger its scale, the stronger its logic, but in turn, it also turned unstable and harder to construct. One single missing or extra spell word could lead to a self-contradiction and crumble the construction, unravel its logic, and collapse the magic. And so it was said: “Magic does not permit contradictions.” This was the first of the six great laws of magicology. And yet spells and technics increased and decreased by the second in the aethernet, creating contradictions, all while maintaining its logic. “Why doesn’t the aethernet collapse under its constant contradictions?” the girl asked the void. She knew the answer. The aethernet had achieved the ability to support the contradictions of chaos by being in constant activation by a massive number of users. That is to say, the aethernet was the only magic to have surpassed the first law. It corrected the incongruencies of the chaos born from its size. In a way, the aethernet was alive. If one tried to destroy such a massive and logically solid magic system, one would need power enough to annihilate the planet itself. That meant that the aethernet was indestructible. “And this is where I feel most at ease…” The girl swam through humankind’s biggest and greatest magic like a jellyfish, enveloped in fuzzy drowsiness. She had been in contact with it for as long as she could remember; it was her second home. “What am I trying to do?” The farther she moved away from reality, the heavier it weighed on her mind. Or perhaps it was an illusion to believe the aethernet wasn’t reality. This virtual world was merely an extension of the actual one. It was not material, but it was real. Reality was harsh. Bodies were brittle; the limbs and the mind didn’t extend beyond cognition; walking was limited to one’s stride. Her physical skills were average, her mana reserve and release were below average; she didn’t want to take over the world, nor was she going to save it; she didn’t have the patience to spend five hundred years waiting, and she hadn’t thrown herself into the flames of revenge. She was just a little knowledgeable about the aethernet and had some proficiency with magic. Other than that, she was a normal young girl. That’s me. And within such a vast, infinite space, I want to bask in this small world, the only place where I can feel invincible. If this is reality, too, then what’s so wrong with that? She closed her eyes and listened intently. “…shi.” She could hear a voice. “…hashi.” Someone was calling her. “…Takahashi.” Someone was calling the girl. “Takahashi? Hello? Are you listening?” The girl, Takahashi, found herself being shaken, and she was forcibly logged out of her full-dive aethernet session. She opened her eyes; her vision was momentarily blurry from the logout noise. Little by little, her view became clear. The virtual retina display interface rebooted. Takahashi was in a Chinese restaurant. It was small, dimly lit, and crowded. The voices of the diners, employees, and the newscasters on the small holomonitors entered her ears as she looked around. Faint orange lights; red, round, greasy tables; faded and creased posters; the handwritten menu: All words she wouldn’t be able to read without the Familia’s translation software. Underneath the menu was a QR code one had to scan with their eyes or their PDA’s camera to order or pay. The mouthwatering smell of spices mixed with the eyewatering stink of synthetic tobacco and thermi-oil. Takahashi was seated at a four-person table with three oolong tea glasses. Before her was an unbelievably beautiful girl. Long silver hair, light-crimson eyes, and skin like snow. Everything about her harmonized in the crown of beauty. Although she looked like a regular human girl at first glance, she was a being beyond death—an immortal older than Takahashi by a mind-boggling number of years. “I was about to be like, who’s this hottie? But then I realized it’s just Machina…” “Huh…? H-hottie? G-goodness, Takahashi! Hee-hee-hee.” “Don’t be fooled, Machina,” said the girl sitting beside her. “She was deep in the web.” “Whaaa? No, I wasn’t… You think I’d be full-diving in the middle of a chat with my gal pals? Please, Hizuki, I just zoned out for a little bit!” Hizuki was just as beautiful as Machina. She had her long blond hair up in pigtails and pointy ears shorter than an elf’s—proof she was a half-elf. What stood out the most, however, was her heterochromia: Her left eye was scarlet and her right gold. She was one of the main actors involved in the incident that divided Akihabara in two; one of the former holders of the royal right to rule over Akihabara. “Oh, you just zoned out… Hmm? Wait—isn’t it plenty rude to zone out while talking to your friends?!” Machina cried. “Hee-hee.” Takahashi scratched her head, winked, and stuck out her tongue. “Give it up, Machina,” said Hizuki. “That’s the kind of woman she is.” “I can’t deny it…,” Machina replied. She and Hizuki bumped shoulders and hung their heads. Takahashi didn’t pay them much attention; instead, she was listening to the news coming from the holomonitor in the corner by the ceiling. “FEMU has announced their plans to eradicate the Scream narcotic epidemic. G6 has stood firmly in opposition…” “The Merchant Union’s got it tough, huh…?” Takahashi said, letting the information go in one ear and out the other. News of illicit drugs had been the talk of the net as of late. The Far East Merchant Union was a business conglomerate not aligned with any of the Greatest Six, which included IHMI. It also had strong ties with the Yakuza Guild. That was when Takahashi noticed that the person who had just been sitting next to her was gone. “Wait, where’s Velly?” she asked. The four of them had entered the restaurant, and Veltol had disappeared while Takahashi was on the web. “Lord Veltol left for a stream after he finished eating.” “Ohhh. Wonder what his next plan is. I guess it’s nothing urgent if he’s streaming,” Takahashi said. “I doubt even he knows. He’s probably making it all up as he goes along,” Hizuki remarked. Machina puffed out her cheeks. “He most certainly is not! Lord Veltol constantly has plans in mind. Plans we could only hope to understand…I think.” “I know, I was just kidding.” “Anyways, what were you guys talkin’ about?” Takahashi asked. “Moebius Protocol season three,” Hizuki answered. “Did you watch it?” Machina asked Takahashi. “I binged it the moment it came out. You just can’t beat Oh Olau’s screenwriting, man. Nowadays, though…the show’s kinda lost a bit of its luster. Feels like it’s pandering for wider appeal. It lacks the edge it once had, y’know?” “Shut up, nerd,” said Hizuki. “At this point, Veltol’s basically the only person who hasn’t watched the show. Machina, you’re a Sygin fan, right?” “I couldn’t stop crying when Sygin died… Why do they have to kill my faves?” “For real? I didn’t peg you as the type,” Takahashi said. “I get it, though,” said Hizuki. “I’m a Moreau stan, but Sygin’s death still hurt.” “Speaking of types, Hizuki is so predictable with her faves…” “Totes,” Takahashi agreed. “Wh-what do you care?!” Hizuki yelled. The trio’s chattering added to the tiny restaurant’s din. Machina put her hand to her cheek and sighed. “Sygin losing his mind and fighting his best friend… Moreau, desperate to find a way to save him while knowing there is none… Ugh… It was so painful to watch…” “So true, so true! I can’t even talk about that scene without shedding a tear…” “You know it, Hizuki!” Machina and Hizuki gripped each other’s hands over their shared pain. Takahashi raised an eyebrow and pouted. “Seriously? The whole time during that scene I was just, like, kill him already!” The other two recoiled in disgust. “That certainly sounds like you,” Machina said. “I’m honestly not even surprised by your snobby opinions anymore,” Hizuki added. “The heck?! Yeah, I’m a snob through and through!” Takahashi gulped down her remaining oolong tea and crushed the half-melted ice in her mouth. “I mean, look—I’m basically, like, a pragmatist, y’know? I can’t stand those melodramatic tropes where they’re debating whether to kill somebody. Just get it over with! Quit it with the half-assed compromises!” “So you’re saying you would simply kill us without hesitation if we were in the same situation?” Machina asked. “Heck yeah! I’d just put you out of your misery! Instantly!” Takahashi teased. “So this is what our friendship means to you…” “Snobs, I tell you…” “Yep, that’s me! And I’d put you in the grave the moment you went berserk, so watch out!” Takahashi flashed her teeth before pouring the remaining ice into her mouth and crushing it as she stood up. “Wait, where are you going?” Machina asked. “Out for a walk! And don’t you talk behind my back while I’m gone!” “We won’t…” “Who do you think we are…?” Hizuki said. “I read on the web that when one woman leaves a group of three, the other two women will always speak ill of her!” “Is that so? I’m not particularly well-versed in mortal matters… Did you know about this, Hizuki?” “Don’t ask me… I never had many friends to begin with.” “Okay, let’s stop talking about this before I start getting depressed!” Takahashi turned around and left the restaurant. “Phew…” Once she was out of the tiny alleyway where the Chinese restaurant Xing Long was located, Takahashi stretched and massaged her hips, which were stiff from all the sitting. She then took a deep breath of the cold, fetid air. The ground was muddy and piled high with cases of beer. Thin cables stretched overhead, and the restaurant’s old, pink aether neon sign was blinking on and off. Neither the alleyway nor the Chinese place was in Shinjuku. This was Goar—a city that used to exist in Alnaeth, named after the roar of a dragon. It was south of Shinjuku. Veltol, Machina, Takahashi, and Hizuki had taken the only railway between satellite cities to get there. Goar was a port city surrounded by steep mountains. There was the port district to the east, built upon reclaimed land, while westward was the mining district. The contrast between both sides of the city was staggering. The port district used to have a city called Yokohama 1, which was merged with the mining district after City War II to become Goar. A case not dissimilar to Akihabara’s. The wartime generation still called Goar “Yokohama,” and the Yokohama yen was still the currency in current-day Goar—a complicated yet fairly common situation among merged cities. Takahashi’s group had arrived in Goar with a goal in mind, and they took a break at the first restaurant they found. Takahashi’s virtual retina interface displayed the current air temperature, humidity, pollution, and aether density, among other measurements. She glanced at the clock in the corner of her display. “Seven thirty PM. Guess I’ll join Velly.” Takahashi opened a browser window via her Familia, accessed the video streaming site MIMIC, and flipped to one particular channel. The catalog marked the uploader as live, and she clicked on it. There was a man with beautiful, long black hair, eyes the color of darkness, and a shapely face. The streamer with unparalleled good looks: Veltol Velvet Velsvalt. He must’ve been streaming through his tablet’s camera. Behind him was the Goar landscape instead of a virtual background. This was the invincible Demon Lord, revived five hundred years after his defeat at the hands of the Hero in the world of Alnaeth. And now… “Whaaat?! I should’ve carefully proceeded with domestic affairs for the western expedition?! You amateur! You understand nothing! The right way to do it is to use your overwhelming military might to expand south! Sure, it all went down the toilet because of the natural disaster, but that’s only something you realize in hindsight… What?! I should be watching out for the RNG?! Stay cooped up at home and cry about how the sky is falling, you absolute buffoons!” …he was arguing with his viewers over his last stream on a turn-based strategy game. As usual. In times like these, Takahashi couldn’t help but doubt that this man was truly a tremendous being, even though she knew the truth and had witnessed his immortality and Demon Lord power. “Same old Velly.” She nodded a few times. Not only were they friends, but she was also a fan of his streams. And seeing him arguing with his viewers was already part of the routine. “Where is he, though? Guess it’s time to find out.” She booted up the 3D map app on her Familia and rewound the stream to load the background images. Her artificial spirit compared the data with the map and approximated his location. Takahashi could have simply sent him a text or a Whisper call, but she had decided to never contact him during a stream unless it was a real emergency. “Pretty much anyone could pinpoint where he is… Is he not afraid of getting rushed on the street?” He certainly would not be. Takahashi looked straight at the sky. “Same color here, too. Doesn’t make a difference whether you’re in Goar or Shinjuku or Akihabara.” It was soon to be eighty years since the Fantasion, and the effects on the Earth’s crust, the weather, and the space itself remained immense. Goar was no exception. Once a bountiful land with plenty of water and aether lines, the diastrophism enclosed it within steep mountains and turned it barren. It was said that the mountains surrounding Goar came from the mining veins that existed there originally. “‘Some say the city got isolated within the mountains ’cause it angered a dragon god… They gotta mark this with [citation needed],’” Takahashi said as she read the encyclopedia entry on Goar. Although its structure and origins were similar to Akihabara’s, Goar wasn’t divided into two sections like Electric Town and Magic Town; the city’s cultures had completely fused. Goar was a key point for commerce as well as a cultural melting pot; the port district was particularly cosmopolitan, with a lot of different architectural styles melded together. Positively put, it was diverse; negatively, chaotic. Takahashi went onto the main street where she was immediately overwhelmed with noise from the distance. “Wowie-zowie,” she said as soon as she saw the night cityscape. An enormous, magnificent arch at the entrance to the main road. Numerous floating red lanterns with gold letters covering the sky. Old homes mixed in with classic imperial-style buildings and unassuming eastern dwarf constructions. RAMEN BOUILLON DE RAIS FULL BODY MASSAGES KANEYASU WASTE MANAGEMENT: GOAR BRANCH ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT The multicolored aether neon signs were written more in Japanese, Chinese, and dwarvish than in the common tongue, elvish. And soaring above all this: personal flying vehicles. “Nighttime in Goar is totally different from nighttime in Shinjuku and Akihabara. It’s like a whole ’nother world,” Takahashi marveled. Goar’s buildings were shorter than Shinjuku’s, while the alleyways were as intricate as Electric Town’s in Akihabara. The crowds weren’t as overwhelming as in Shinjuku, with its population of three million, but because of the narrower streets, Goar was a much denser city. The alleys were only wide enough for two people, at most—or one person, if they were an ogre or an orc. Takahashi read the sign on a streetlamp. “‘Beware unlawful soliciting, leaflet distribution, and mernius peddling’…?” The sign was next to a grilled mernius stall, where a young human man was hawking his cuisine to an elderly orc lady. Takahashi looked to the side and saw a statue of a dragon; it was likely made out of ibrista, but it lacked the stone’s fiery luster. The statue was dirty from many years of neglected maintenance. “Did they worship dragons here back in the day?” Just looking at Goar was fun, but she wasn’t there for tourism. Beneath the chilly sky, a phrase came to her mind. Nothing really brought it on; it felt like whenever a bad memory or embarrassing moment resurfaced, one that made a person want to kick and scream. “You’ve got it so easy, Takahashi. It’s like nothing bothers you,” a friend from school had once told her. Sure enough, she always seemed to be at ease and never really let her worries show, but she had her own anxieties, just like anyone else. That said, anything on her mind was minuscule compared to a guy who seriously sought to take over the world, or a girl who’d waited faithfully five hundred years for said guy, or a girl who’d thrown her whole life away for the sake of revenge. Besides, Takahashi wasn’t one of the many street urchins who filled the back alleys. Her parents were in good health; she had a home to return to; she had an education; getting enough food in her belly wasn’t a concern at all. Aether hacking was also merely a hobby. Half rebellion against her parents, half fun pastime. She was sure of it: Nothing she did was serious. “I’m here just for fun, too. Once it gets boring, I’ll up and leave.” She could never be a Hero, nor a Demon Lord. She was some rando who’d never amount to anything big. A little rascal. And she was fine with that. Takahashi mulled this over as she walked to the end of the road and through the massive eastern gate until she arrived at the wharf in full view of the deep-black sea. The cold ocean was like liquified darkness. “Brrr!” Takahashi shivered at the skin-splitting wind and shoved her hands deep into her dwarven jacket’s pockets. The jacket had long, thick sleeves with a cropped torso—it was tailored specifically for dwarves working in the mines. Not only was it tough and warm, but it had also been enhanced with cold resistant magic, and yet even within the cryotolerance barrier, the sea air was blisteringly chilly. She reached Veltol’s location on the 3D map app. There were a few people around: some fishers and others gathering around a metal barrel fire to warm up. “Oh, there he is.” Exactly where she’d expected. She also had the livestream on while looking for him, so she knew he’d just ended the stream. Gazing at him from afar, Takahashi wondered aloud, “What’s he doing…?” Atop the blustery pier, Veltol was staring out into the ocean, one foot on a bollard and a hand on his knee. Takahashi instinctively knew he was basking in nostalgia, although as a 2099 FE kid, she had no idea what that nostalgia was. Cool pose, though. His black jacket fluttered with the wind, exposing his Demon Lord T-shirt underneath. His outfit was far from being fashionable in any sense, yet with his attractive face and body, he somehow pulled it off. Such was the Demon Lord Veltol—the personification of manliness. “Velly,” Takahashi called from behind. He slowly turned around. “Takahashi.” “Wassup? Feelin’ melancholy?” “I was merely cooling down after a heated debate.” “Yeah, I was watching your stream. I wouldn’t call it a debate so much as an argument, though…” “Perhaps that is one way to see it. In any case, arguing gets both haters and fans riled up, which only contributes to my faith. Some fools say streamer and viewer should be on equal footing, but I can plainly see there is a prey and a predator in this relationship. That said, I do care for the people who contribute devotion and money to me.” “Uh, you act pretty grateful whenever people tip you…” “A show of gratitude—if only for appearance—keeps the horde pleased.” Livestreaming was not merely a job for Veltol. Through his streams, he earned faith—the source of his power as a higher incorporeal being.