No Game No Life, Vol. 8 Read online

  “—How’d the world change, huh? …Sorry, but we’ve got no answer.”

  The voice sounded from behind Jibril. Bewildered, she turned.

  In Jibril’s Capital—in the Avant Heim executive office, in the hall enshrouded by silence—they’d suddenly appeared.

  “Well, all right. We’ll show you how the world changed. I mean—”

  They’d brought along their map, spread across a table, as well as their mailbox.

  “—we’ll show you what kind of world it changed into, so let us off the hook with that.”

  Two children, a pair in black and white, were at a table, writing their commands.

  “Eh-heh… Just dropped by! ”

  “…We, missed you… Hee-hee, nyah!”

  Sora and Shiro stood on their chairs, blushing and fidgeting in fake theatrics.

  “—Wha…? Huh?! Wh—wh-wh-where are we—? Wait… Jibril?!”

  Steph was there, too, looking every bit as baffled as Jibril. Speechless, Jibril’s thoughts raced confusedly, but Sora and Shiro sneered.

  “No one ever said you couldn’t move your Capital into your opponent’s, now did they?”

  “…It was tough…distracting you…while we sent a Settler unit… V!”

  Shiro formed a peace sign with her fingers. She and Sora looked like two kids who’d pulled off a prank, but…

  “So now, if the Capital falls, all four of us are gonna commit suicide together, aren’t we?”

  At their next words, Jibril—

  “You used our lives to threaten us. Of course we’re gonna get you back. ”

  —became distracted by the illusion of the blood she wasn’t supposed to have pooling at her feet.

  “Oh, heavens! I—I shall Abstain immediately, so please just go—”

  “Thaaaat’s what I’ve been saying! Why doesn’t one of you just Abstain?!” Steph wailed at Jibril, who’d sputtered a lie to convince them.

  “For heaven’s sake, Jibril! Certainly, you must realize!”

  Steph thrust a finger at her, though Sora and Shiro were too busy to even answer with a smile…

  “Don’t you realize that even if you lose your dice, you’ll only drop out of the game, not die?!”

  “Sheesh, get a load of this, Shiro. The one who didn’t get it to begin with is acting all superior now.”

  “…She’s, gotta be…the only one…besides the old fart…who didn’t.”

  As beads of sweat ran down Steph’s cheeks, and Sora and Shiro whispered about her behind her back.

  “Whyyy did you make a rule like ‘You kill yourself if you lose’?!”

  ……Jibril suddenly decided to engage. She reconfigured all the spirits in her body, forced them under control up to her terminal nerves…

  “W-well— You see, ummm, ah-ha-haaa!”

  …and struggled to…manufacture an awkward, comical grin.

  “I just thought that if I wanted you to give me your best, I ought to make it so your life depended on it! ”

  Steph couldn’t help but go limp and silent at Jibril’s expression and tone.

  “Is that so? Then we’ll watch, so why don’t you go and Abstain?”

  “…Please go ahead… Don’t mind…us.”

  Sora and Shiro just smiled back. They didn’t even look two years old, but their beaming faces alone were enough to overpower Jibril.

  “—You think you can pull a fast one on me…? Get real, man.”

  “…You can’t even…fool me…with a lie, like that…”

  “Huh? A—a lie? What is this lie?”

  But Jibril hung her head and chuckled. They’d caught her after all.

  “I see now…why you didn’t…command me to resign.”

  “Well, yeah. After you gave us those glaring hints about whether you’d be the same if you were reborn and stuff.”

  The rebooting of her rite, the accompanying loss of memory, their various principles—even her masters could not conceivably have known of such things. Regardless, they had easily inferred from indirect evidence that, if she lost all her dice—even if the game ended—her memory would never return. This realization cowed Jibril once more. When would she learn better than to underestimate her masters?

  “So neither of us can Abstain or achieve Victory—then let’s get started! ”

  “To what…are you referring…?

  Though Jibril hung her head, Sora sauntered briskly toward her.

  “What do you think? You’re the one who wanted to see it, right?!”

  Responding with the utmost joy, he passed her by—and laughed at himself.

  Sheesh, he’d thought he was the world’s ultimate idiot. But there’s always someone greater, as they say. And so a god-tier idiot had breathed life into their dream of another world—and this world was the result. Sora didn’t know how the world had changed, but he did know what it’d changed into.

  “…It’s this.”

  When Sora spread his hands, he was showing—not the old War.

  “In this game world, no one will die, nor will they be allowed to. Not you, not anyone.”

  “…It’s more…fun, that way, right…?”

  Having skirted the stock-still Jibril, Sora and Shiro gently, so smoothly and casually, as if it were only natural and expected…

  …grabbed Jibril’s map and command sheets.

  “Now, Jibril. Just to warn you, we’re the ones losing this game.”

  “…I—I beg your pardon?”

  Compiling a list of the units on Jibril’s command sheets, Sora elaborated.

  “The reason being that, from here on, we’re gonna get our asses kicked—and ragequit.”

  Yes, ragequit. In other words…

  “When seventy-two hours pass—we’ll run out of time and have to split. Shiro, how much time do we have?”

  “…Sixteen hours, twenty-two minutes, forty-eight seconds… Approximately nineteen thousand six hundred fifty-six days in-game, fifty-three point eight five two…years.”

  Sora chuckled at her answer as he jotted down a command.

  “We’re facing a bunch of psychos who could run down Flügel at their peak. They have ultimate weapons of go-do-it-in-space caliber that put the Heavenly Smite to shame. Plus, even unarmed, they’re already monsters. And we, mere humans, are gonna outrun them—for over half a century.”

  It was pointless to fight. It was effectively impossible to move their Capital now that they had Jibril in tow. And if their Capital was identified, they’d all be taking a fun trip together to the great beyond. On top of all this—they weren’t allowed to win, apparently.

  “Shiro, we’re playing at the highest difficulty level ever on an über-impossible game that’s designed for us to fail. Whaddaya think?”

  Even to this question, Shiro’s answer for her brother was the same as always—one word.

  “…Sweet…! ”

  “Right?! It’s exciting, ain’t it?!” Sora hollered as he approached Jibril’s mailbox. “Maaan! I just can’t stand that we gotta lose this game. God damn iiiiiit!”

  “I knew there was something wrong with you two! There’s no way you could—”

  Steph was the only one screaming as Jibril remained in a daze.

  “Jibril. If you’re enjoying all this, then how ’bout you give us a li’l something—two dice. ”

  Sora put the command in the mailbox, and boom—!

  “—All right, here’s where it gets real… Let’s have some fun!!!”

  Light and sound rocked the planet and drowned out Sora’s and Steph’s voices.

  There was someone else who, like Sora and Shiro, thought the world kept changing and was about to change again. No—he believed it. He’d wished to believe it and had been waiting forever.

  “…It’ll change. You’ll be the ones to keep changing it! Even today, at this very moment!!”

  For over six thousand years, he’d waited for this time, this day, this moment. Tet flapped his arms and legs—and took it all in. A worl
d that had already been destroyed. A world that had long since ended. A convention long gone.

  And the move that had bid it to rest in peace.

  Yes, just as Sora deposited his command, Tet watched as everything before Avant Heim flew to dust, a world falling straight to its doom—and he let out a belly laugh.

  CHAPTER 2

  HANDOVER

  Nestled away within a corner of the island of Kannagari, capital of the Eastern Union, was the Chinkai Tandai District. And in its reception chamber…

  A sinister, glittering apparition beyond description, which one might even call vaguely human-shaped. Ino Hatsuse and his ghastly fluorescent muscles loomed atop the balcony. He was now a specter who had dropped out of the game, a stranded soul who glimmered, swaying in the wind. If one were to avoid direct eye contact with this strange phenomenon and look into the distance, a giant landmass could be seen swirling in the heavens. And behind him—

  “…For goodness’ sake! What in the world is happening…?”

  “Eheee, Chlammyyy, your short stature must come from your temperrr.”

  The black-haired Immanity Chlammy Zell clicking her tongue in annoyance, and Fiel Nirvalen the Elf goading her, apparently drunk. They had pounced on the Shrine Maiden’s absence to force a game on the Eastern Union, but now they were out of sorts.

  “…What I want to know is how long this will go ooon. This is boooring,” grumbled the Dhampir girl—actually, a boy who looked like a girl—Plum Stoker. Thanks to his intrusion, even if the Eastern Union won, they would have to offer an Ixseed sacrifice. Win or lose, the game could not end without one—for both the challenger and the challenged. But they all looked up at the same sky and murmured much the same complaints—

  !!! went another shock, a sound outside the range of hearing, spirits pulsating through heaven and earth. With it—

  —Poof.

  “Again?” Ino sighed.

  The Chinkai Tandai District reception chamber had lost all light and fallen into darkness. No, not just the CTD—the whole city, all of Kannagari, was enshrouded in a blackout.

  The land spiraling into the sky was the Old Deus’s game board. These shocks had been shaking the Eastern Union over and over for two days, beyond all normal reckoning. Under these conditions, it was no wonder their games wouldn’t work, as they relied on the power of the Shrine—the power of the Old Deus. Even streetlights and candles were extinguished by the massive spiritual disturbance. Fiel herself was disturbed as well.

  “Ehhh-hehhh, I’m quite fiiine. Oh, how about I partake in some finger food? ”

  “…Hey… Fi. I’m not sure what you’re trying to do, but…”

  Fiel was holding Chlammy, grabbing her breasts. Chlammy continued in a slightly chilly tone.

  “If you’re saying these are small enough to hold in your fingers, I’ll lose it!”

  “…………Hic, Chlammy was mean to me! Hic, sniff!”

  “Whaaa?! You’re seriously crying? Fi, Fi! You’re way too drunk—”

  Fiel, not only an Elf, but moreover a hexcaster, had an overwhelming magical aptitude that in this case might have worked to her disadvantage. The roiling flood of spirits had made her drunk with spirit sickness. No, that didn’t even…

  “Chla-Chlammy, hic…doesn’t, like me anymore, hic, eaaagh…”

  “Th-that’s not true! I’m sorr— Wait, why must I apologize?!”

  Then suddenly, whoosh, Fiel’s smile shone from the darkness:

  “Ohhh, Chlammyyy, I know you love me! You needn’t speak! ”

  “Someone! Someone do something about her! Is there a cure?!”

  Now Fiel was rubbing her face against Chlammy’s. Nasty drunk.

  “……”

  What was happening was uncertain. But for Ino Hatsuse, it was a lifesaver. He considered silently as he looked up at the board presumably born of the Old Deus’s power.

  Each time the heavens roared, all of Kannagari experienced a blackout before the lights were eventually restored. Whenever this occurred, these crooks couldn’t use the VR game they so desired. In fact, it must have been due to the flood of spirits blocking their rite. Neither Plum nor Fiel were in any hurry to start the game, so—

  …I can only hope that this situation will continue…

  Ino prayed for the Holy Shrine Maiden’s swift return. But—

  “D-Diplomatic Commissioner Hatsuse! E-excuse me, but this is urgent!!”

  A woman smashed through the door of the reception chamber. She was a Werebeast woman with a squirrel’s ears and tail, panting, out of breath…

  “First-Class Secretary Chitose Kanae… I thought I gave notice that I must decline all inquiries for a time?”

  …Ino had a guilty look on his face as he admired her heaving, bulging melons. Chlammy shot her a lethal glare, but Chitose pressed on:

  “I—I am aware, sir! H-however, there is a guest who has insisted on being seen before you begin the game!”

  .

  “…Huff.”

  At Chitose’s report, Ino let out one short breath, and then:

  “Who the hell is it now, huh?! Which asshole’s betrayed us now?!!”

  The fluorescent meathead’s booming voice was enough to send a tremor through the entire fifty-floor building. Chitose and Chlammy shrieked as Ino finally reached poltergeist status.

  Oceand? Or Avant Heim?! Who cares? Why not just forget it all and kill them? was Ino’s immediate thought—but no…

  “……Wha…?”

  It wasn’t just Ino. It was Chlammy, the drunk Fiel…even Plum. They all gaped at the figure putting down a heavy pack; their thoughts froze. Water spilled from the pack as she emerged messily—

  “Ta-daaaa! Where’s my daaarling?! His beloved Laila has come all the way from deep beneath the sea to see him! Pun intended, of course. ”

  —the queen of Siren, Laila Lorelei. She ignored the dazed assemblage and took in her surroundings as she spoke.

  “But just what is this? I’ve been in that knapsack for two days, and— Oh, I see, kinky.”

  The blackout should have taken out the infrastructure. Yet Laila had arrived despite all forms of transit, even elevators, being repeatedly paralyzed and restored. The group was speechless; what was the queen of Siren doing here? No—never mind that—!! Ino screamed to himself, and he looked up—at the Old Deus’s game board.

  “—Impossible… Then what is that?!”

  It began with a pledge that took just shy of fifteen minutes of in-game time. In real time, though, it finished in less than a thirty-second of a second.

  The Phantasma Avant Heim faced the Old Deus Artosh and the Flügel, together the most powerful faction in the world. Amidst the hail of the flame of the Union, his voice reverberated out of the blue.

  “Once, I inquired of my brethren… Thus:”

  That voice, which thundered across the entire planet, was neither in the tongue of Elf nor Dwarf. Rather, it was in the tongue of no one at all. Yet, strangely, everyone who heard it grasped its meaning immediately.

  “‘Why were we able to survive this war?’”

  The product of Phantasma—it was the universal tongue.

  “‘We lack superior physical prowess. We have neither magic at our disposal, nor do we possess any longevity. And yet, in spite of all this, we were able to survive this war—and why?’”

  The speaker was clearly someone other than Avant Heim, so they sought the source behind the words of the Phantasma—

  “I answered our brethren: ‘It is because we are the weaklings.’”

  —and the battlefield went silent.

  “‘We, as powerless weaklings, devise ways to flee like cowards!! We fools, so lacking in wisdom, hence learn the means to survive in subservience!! The methods and teachings we continue to amass, one after the other, are the wisdom that allows us to survive!!’ …Thus was mine answer.”

  The battlefield—strafed by weapons and magic from this direction and every other, crushing heaven and earth t
o dust—now went cold like an unlit furnace, with this voice alone resounding throughout the silence.

  “…I now recall those words—with bitter shame.”

  Everyone foresaw it. Smelled it. Sensed it. Something would happen… Something was about to happen—or could it be…?

  “They were the ravings of a fool! A lack of imagination! But then, how could we have imagined this?! Surely, we failed to even entertain the thought! To put it simply—”

  Yes—could be it be, they’d wondered? It was.

  “—you peons were incompetent beyond belief.”

  It had already happened.

  As if to prove it, a majestic shaft of light erupted to plunder heaven and earth of their horizon. A massive, unthinkable power had been launched—or released? All who had spirit corridor junction nerves could not help but understand.

  There was no room for doubt. It was a demonstration that the god of war, the most powerful of the gods, the Old Deus Artosh—had been blown clean of his ether. What had happened—no, what was happening—lay beyond anyone’s comprehension as the one who seemed to have slain Artosh continued.

  “You are not fools! You lack any thought at all. You are not weaklings! You don’t learn. ‘Then what shall we call you?’ I wondered… Even beasts possessing only instinct cannot bear droning on about their own wisdom. And so I pondered… And indeed, I decided to grant you a name.”

  Specifically:

  “You pitiful, meek—pigs.”

  Then once more, as if prompted by the voice, the light burst.

  “I applaud you all for your hard work. It took some time giving you a name.”

  As Avant Heim fell to ruin, at last everyone understood. The ones who had vanquished the almighty Artosh, the Flügel, and Avant Heim had used them, opposed them. They introduced themselves as they heralded death.

  “We who pledge to annihilate you…are Immanity.”

  Then came the last words from tumbling Avant Heim before the reverberations of its impact ceased:

  “Come, pigs—dance. Dance in our palms. Dream of being able to one day escape.”