No Game No Life, Vol. 8 Read online

  The ensuing flashes crushed heaven and earth to dust, and then…

  The entire incident took less than two hours in-game. But to those watching—

  “……Wha—…?”

  —Sora, who had deposited the command, and the rest, glued to the map projected in the air, it was all but instantaneous, lasting less than a quarter of a second. They saw the Union that had faced Avant Heim perish completely, down to the last. Only Sora and Shiro understood they had been annihilated.

  The Elves had used Áka Si Anse, the Dragonias their Far Cries, the Fairies their Sprite Tunes. The Dwarves had used the E-bomb, the Phantasmas their Arma Qualia, the Demonias their Bloodbornes, and so on… Every race in the confrontation, every unit, played its respective trump card. When all were played at once—everything returned to dust. The shattering force of the exchange and the ensuing collision took half the continent of Ariela along with it, thus leaving behind a storm of death—a whirlwind of dead spirits—over Avant Heim’s corpse. It turned Sora, Shiro, and Jibril’s Capital into a natural fortress that would turn away anything.

  Just as planned. Sora and Shiro smirked as they watched.

  “M-Masters… Just—what did you just do?!”

  They’d incited friendly fire. That much should have been obvious, in which case, Jibril’s shriek of consternation must have been asking, How’d you do it? The Union—the common front of the Elven and Dwarven Alliances. The two Alliances had indeed originally been enemies. But they were deadlocked, each possessing weapons of instant doom—mutually assured destruction. For them to engage would require a preemptive strike from one side. So how and from whom had Sora and Shiro incited a strike? That was Jibril’s question.

  “…We didn’t do anything. It was…you, Jibril. Right?”

  Sora answered ironically.

  “The erofus were battling over their lust for orcs—and you interrupted them.”

  Yes, the conflict between Demonia and Elf had sparked the division of the world into two. It precipitated full-scale combat, a quagmire of attrition.

  “…And it’s not like their primary target was you—or Flügel.”

  Indeed, Jibril—the Flügel—had merely interrupted them. So Demonia and Elf temporarily joined forces to bring down the Flügel…

  “If nothing had gotten in their way, they’d have gotten back to it. Those two races were each other’s original enemies.”

  Sora swiped his fingers over the map. “To begin with,” he said, projecting the corpse of Avant Heim—the environs of their Capital—into the air.

  A “death storm.” Apparently, it was a sort of glowing blue whirlwind of dead spirits produced by a reaction within the black ash. In this case, the collision of forces had produced a fusion reaction among the dead spirits that thundered like clouds. Flashes of light like lightning, one after another, gouged the planet’s crust.

  …Stone-faced, Sora asked:

  “…So everyone possessed these crazy weapons that would freak out even the lowest circle of hell. If they were really gonna go all out— Just checking, but you Flügel would have something even crazier than that?”

  Not that comparisons even mean anything at this point, he added to himself. Jibril answered:

  “…I believe that, with the combined power of Artosh and Flügel—that is, with the Godly Smite—we would be able to hold our own…just barely.”

  But would they? It was becoming more and more mysterious how this planet had managed to maintain its shape… Anyway, so Flügel also had held firepower capable of instantaneous doom. Then what if the Union had instead deployed their arms strategically and cornered Flügel before crushing them?

  “They must have been biding their time—and thinking about what would happen after they took down Flügel.”

  That was a staple of war in the history of Sora and Shiro’s old world. The warring parties didn’t think about how they could win the current war, but rather its aftermath—how they would win the next. Yes, after the strongest were laid low, it was a lottery for who would follow suit.

  “Okay—but then suppose out of nowhere, Artosh and Avant Heim were defeated.”

  Both camps would be freed of their hypothetical enemy and left with power to spare. They’d both realize the following:

  “Someone had beat them to the punch and destroyed Flügel—a traitor.”

  “…And…it couldn’t…possibly…be themselves, right…? ”

  Who struck first?

  It didn’t matter. It made no difference. Anyone could have fired the first shot. From the start, both sides had joined forces, anticipating betrayal. So one needed only give a veneer of evidence to their faith in doubt.

  For example, what Sora’d done: One could use Jibril’s map, Jibril’s command sheets, and Jibril’s mailbox to issue commands to two of Jibril’s units—Avant Heim and Artosh. Just give those two a little message ordering them to kill themselves. Yes, in short—

  “—Ready? Fire!! …That sorta thing. ”

  A message to all the morons that it was time for them to get back to killing one another.

  “…Looking back to the root cause, I suppose this was all because of your erofu kink, yes?”

  Steph seemed to have collected herself, as she cast an icy glare at the ringleaders of this disaster, Sora and Shiro, recalling their absurd motive.

  “Heh, that’s what I’m talking about. The Elves in this world are too damn prissy. A real Elf should be covered in viscous fluids, gasping for more as her face screws up in ecstasy.”

  “Brother… You’ve read…too many, doujinshi… And way too much, hardcore stuff…”

  Steph rolled her eyes, but Sora and Shiro, the criminals responsible, were busy bashing out commands and added frivolously:

  “Besides… We just gave ’em an excuse, that’s all. Come on, this is where it gets real!”

  “…The most powerful force…the Flügel camp, is gone… Both of the two great factions…have been crippled…”

  Then what would happen? Their map made it clear.

  “—Now, then. It’s time to see just who’ll be left standing once everyone else is gone.”

  Sora watched as all the races began to clash, grinning with the utmost contempt.

  …Wait.

  “…B-but, Masters, at this rate if they attack our Capital, we’ll be—”

  Jibril spoke up, finally recovered from her trance, snapping Steph to as well.

  “Y-yes, she’s right!! You said we’d be doomed if they catch wind of us, so why did you tell them?!”

  Indeed, should Immanity’s existence be detected or investigated—their Capital identified and invaded—they’d be goners.

  Avant Heim, whom they’d all made their capital, had self-destructed. Flügel had no units left and, without its lord, found itself incapable of production—which, of course, meant it couldn’t move to a new Capital, either. Practically speaking, the same went for Sora and Shiro. No Immanity unit could even get close to their Capital’s environs, now reduced to a murderous wasteland. Even if Sora and Shiro controlled their units remotely to establish a new Capital, they couldn’t leave Jibril behind. So here they were—in the hollow shell of a common Capital. Utterly defenseless. Someone could just walk in and immediately capture it, and as soon as it fell, they would all die. But…

  “They’re not gonna attack us… None of ’em.”

  Sora dismissed Steph and Jibril’s fears.

  “’Cos what they’re gonna do, how they’re gonna move, and where they’re gonna go is clear as day.”

  At least, it was to Sora and Shiro. They knew everything: where the enemy would go, where they’d strike, where they’d be waiting, where they’d fight. Steph looked puzzled as she shuttled their rapid-fire commands at a continuous sprint, but Jibril must have figured it out, because her eyes flew open, and she gasped.

  “Master… You don’t mean… Of all things—?!”

  Even given that Sora and Shiro were in charge, the map was filled out
with unnatural detail.

  “Yeah. That’s how we start. Man, Plum’s ancestors really come through. ”

  “Plum’s…ancestors?! You brought over Dhampir?!”

  Despite Jibril’s and Steph’s cries questioning his sanity, Sora smiled and kept writing.

  There were few races with whom they could negotiate, and hoping for cooperation was out of the question. But there was, at least, one race they could count on until they started to lose. A race that, even if aware of Immanity, would see no value in it and pay it no mind. With Sora and Shiro’s intel, though, they’d be able to steer clear of the ravages of war and scavenge the spoils.

  A race glad to have its fill of Elven, Dwarven—any kind of blood they wanted—would come through.

  “With Dhampir’s intel, it’s as if everything was outlined for us. Plus—”

  Their enemies’ secrets were bare; everything was practically in the palms of their hands. What’s more, they’d be able to clearly predict the other races’ next moves. It was simple. After all—

  “All their doctrines, all their strategies… They’re allll the result of our teaching! ”

  Yes, Sora and Shiro could just tell them what to do. Sora and Shiro were the only ones grinning, as Steph and Jibril stood speechless.

  To Immanity, modern military theory was useless at best. It was worthless if they lacked the weapons and technology, and in any case, they couldn’t count on theoretical knowledge without experience. On top of that, with these monsters as their opponents, they could gather all the firepower on Earth, and it wouldn’t make a difference.

  “All our military strategies assume they’ll be used on other humans.”

  None of the theories from their old world anticipated these nutcases, in which case—

  “—These strategies only have value for other nutcases.”

  They’d provide the Elves, who excelled in individual ability, with elastic defense and mixed formation techniques. To the Dwarves, proficient in armored weaponry, they’d provide the techniques of land and air infiltration and blitzkrieg strikes. They’d supply the shit and the fan—and watch what happened.

  “…It’ll be a full-on quagmire, won’t it?”

  A back-and-forth struggle—the world map plunged into a war of attrition, and inevitably—

  “H-hey— Sora?! The Werebeast city— It’s under attack!!”

  The Elven stack was now descending upon the city Sora and Shiro had made the Werebeasts build. Without thinking, Steph stopped rushing back and forth to the mailbox and let out a panicked shriek.

  After all those full-scale clashes and battles of attrition, it went without saying that food would start to run scarce. The Elves advanced to seize what was now the world’s greatest breadbasket.

  “Huh? Uhhh, yeah, I know. So?”

  “…That’s why…we had them…build it.”

  Without so much as a glance back at Steph, Sora and Shiro wrote commands and recited aloud as if some sort of prophecy.

  “August 8, year −2 BT: Food shortages escalating, Elf moves to secure agricultural land.”

  No. They mumbled them indifferently as if reading off past events.

  “Seven mixed divisions accompanied by four Dragonias approach from the northern mountains to subdue the agricultural city.”

  “…For the same reason, Dwarf…intercepts from, the same mountains…and they engage for, nine days.”

  Sora had a thought as he kept on writing without pause.

  The d00ds in this world—no, this age—sure do have some awesome tech and weapons. Enough to kick modern Earth’s ass. Their tactics, though…are pathetic.

  …Then again, they were fighting nutcases with equally nutty weapons. It was understandable that they’d have trouble formulating cohesive strategies and fall back on raw numbers, mass, and force.

  But that won’t do. Sora smirked. Button-mashing was actually the hardest tactic to read. So they’d have to teach them.

  “…The Dwarves are unable, to exercise their mobility, in the mountains…and lose forty-two point seven percent, of the forces they invested.”

  “And the Elves, with five divisions left, resume their march upon a strategic victory—”

  Once these n00bs got their hands on some half-assed intel and wielded those pretentions…

  …everything would be in the palms of their hands.

  “But they end up in a strategic defeat. Why, you ask?”

  With that, the corners of Sora’s and Shiro’s lips twisted into creepy smiles.

  Flashes burst across the map. The Elven forces in the northern mountains—along with the surrounding terrain—had suddenly been wiped clean off. Sora grinned wickedly.

  “…Because Áka Si Anse detonates. All five remaining divisions get blown to smithereens.”

  Incidentally, this also cut off the land invasion route for Elf. Steph and Jibril were dumbfounded.

  “M-Mas-Master… Why would Elves fall to an Elven weapon?!” Jibril cried out, confused as to why the Elves’ own weapon had been used against them.

  “Well, that would be because I made them do it.”

  Steph and Jibril froze at Sora’s casual, preposterous remark.

  “I failed to turn the Elves into erofus and bring them over to our side… But hey…,” Sora continued placidly, still writing out more commands.

  “I did succeed in getting the Werebeasts to kidnap Elves—right?”

  “…Y-yes… No, wait! You never explained how—did you?!”

  How had he stopped them from using magic and kept them from resisting? He explained the very simple, extraordinarily guileless, easy-as-breathing truth.

  “It’s simple. You find an Elf who has a kid, take their kid, and say the following:”

  Sora, his radiant smile full of youthful innocence, revealed how he’d done it.

  “‘If you try anything, the kid gets it. ’ —That’s all there is to it! One willing slave, fresh and ready!”

  “You scum!!”

  “Why so blunt?!”

  Steph’s swift condemnation pierced right through Sora after he revealed the brutality instilled in his entire being.

  “Don’t tell me this is the only reason you gave food to the Werebeasts?!”

  “O-of course not! You know we wouldn’t do something as stupid as that! Look!”

  Steph had him by the collar as he pointed to the map in a panic.

  Having lost their land invasion route, the Elves were now approaching from the air.

  “W-we released the Elf who triggered Áka Si Anse! And we had her report all the stuff the Werebeasts had made her do—in great detail—so just retribution would descend!”

  “Ohhh, now I see! Allow me to correct myself: You sick bastard!!”

  However, Shiro ignored Steph’s indignation.

  “…But this time…the Dwarves…will win.”

  And in the same moment—the newly onrushing Elven stack vanished.

  …Battling on extreme terrain such as mountains fettered Dwarf’s maneuver warfare, but in a dogfight, they and their airships were unrivaled. After all, they’d applied the doctrines of naval theory to the flying ships to their utmost ability.

  “This is one of the world’s few regions for food production, and we spent a generation on it. You think we’re just gonna give it to them?”

  Dazed, Steph released Sora’s collar, and he went back to the table.

  “We’re gonna have them squash each other over the food awhile longer. Didn’t we tell you?”

  “…He who controls, food…controls the world…!”

  They continued savagely but with infinite pleasure.

  “There’s gonna be a loooooot more dyiiing! …People and non-people, tonnnns of ’em!”

  “…Kill ’em all… ”

  “Gee, I wonder who’s gonna make it through all this and still have time to worry about Immanity?”

  “…This is so sick, I don’t even know what to say…”

  Steph, having ap
parently lost the verve to instruct them in the error of their ways, gave up and went back to mailing their commands.

  ………

  They’d used Dhampir to gain vast and precise intelligence. For 184 years, Shiro had observed the various races’ every movement and calculated how the war might progress. For 184 years, Sora would use an elaborately devised strategy to con that progress into actual events. Jibril watched her masters, Sora and Shiro, as they turned everything over in their little hands. But sweat was appearing on their cheeks and foreheads, Jibril thought. Even for Sora and Shiro…it was impossible to read through the entirety of the Great War. They could not perfectly anticipate the involvement of, say, Gigant or Lunamana—races whose actions were not so clear-cut. And, no matter how far they plotted, no matter how deeply they calculated, there would always be events they could not predict. They must have accounted for this. They must have predicted the unpredictable—but.

  Just one fatal misreading.

  Just one fatal instruction.

  That would be enough for their Capital to be instantly identified, whereupon, without question—death awaited. Sora and Shiro must have known that better than anyone, yet they only grinned—savagely.

  “Ha-haaa! If we can make it through this and lose—our brains are totally gonna melt!!”

  “…Mine’s…already…about, to melt…!”

  Had they ever played a game as killer as this? This had to be the highest difficulty level they’d ever seen. They smiled in elation—but Jibril looked down uncomfortably, her hands quivering as they clutched her journal.

  ……

  “…Ah… The world is ending,” Steph mumbled as she rushed back and forth to the mailbox. Projected in midair was a dying planet, collapsing chess pieces, an ending world, but—

  “Yup, it’s ending. Screw this moldy old world. Let it end!”

  As he spoke, Sora’s writing hand stopped, and he took a look at the map.

  …A dying planet—that had once been reality.

  …Collapsing chess pieces—that had once been human lives.

  He’d threaten, kidnap, kill; he’d throw away and use and deceive and betray and torment—Sora would use most any means, even dirty tricks, swindles, and frauds if no one would find out—but.