Chapter 119: Embracing the Light of Ambition — Part 5

[I ended up completely rewriting Animalia's death scene, so this was late. Sorry. There can't be blood, right? (A serious depiction that forgot this is a game.)]

The first thing Animalia felt was how utterly anticlimactic it was.

(How... underwhelming. Even for a Unique Monster, is this truly all there is to it?)

It made sense. The layered restraint debuffs—executed on a ten-person scale—were the pinnacle of SF-Zoo's capturing tactics. Even a dragon, the very fantasy-of-fantasy creatures, could be completely immobilized for at least a full minute. For instance, the boss of this area, the Usurper Dragon, could undoubtedly be locked down and killed without fail. With high-level players coordinating their restraints, even a uniquely powerful Unique Monster was ultimately just a game Mob. If everyone piled on, binding its movements would be this pathetically easy... Surely, that must be the case.

Animalia: "Now then, I wonder what kind of fur Lycagon-chan has?"

Pushing aside the anxiety that flickered through her mind, Animalia unleashed her curiosity and approached Lycagon. The Underworld Keystaff she possessed—and the Unique Curse spell that could only be used through it, Hands of Tartarus—allowed for the complete immobilization of any living creature for one minute, no matter the opponent. The price was that her HP wouldn't recover for five minutes, while simultaneously taking slip damage over those five minutes until her HP reached one. But the only thing that mattered was that single minute in which she could touch an animal to her heart's content. Where she died in the remaining four minutes was, to Animalia, a trivial issue.

Maria Itsukushima could not touch animals. A severe animal allergy, as if mocking her innate love for animals, meant that merely being in the same room as a single hamster would trigger violent allergic reactions. Since childhood, she'd forced herself into contact with animals, landing in the hospital time and again, swallowing her tears over and over. For Maria, Shangri-La Frontier—so close to reality—was nothing short of a paradise worthy of the name Shangri-La. Pull a weed, and soil clung to its roots. Every stone you picked up had a different shape. Toss one into the water, and it made a unique ripple and splash each time. Naturally, in Shangri-La Frontier—where even the fleas lurking in animal monsters' fur were rendered—the fur texture and movements were indistinguishable from reality. Ultimately, slaying monsters was unavoidable, but she had no choice but to accept that it was just game data. And that was precisely why Maria Itsukushima—Animalia—had founded SF-Zoo.

(A giant wolf... Is its fur coarse and rough, or unexpectedly smooth?)

While Hands of Tartarus was active, no living creature could move. None. Not a single motion. That was why Animalia was absolutely certain Lycagon couldn't possibly move. And the members of SF-Zoo, too, were freely snapping screenshots to their hearts' content.

(Heheh, getting to touch it first is the leader's privilege.)

Of course, she hadn't forgotten her original objective. After thoroughly petting it to her satisfaction, they'd all attack together, fulfill the conditions, and head back to Rabituza. Last time, they'd been deported—a regrettable outcome because they were foreigners. But this time was different. They'd confirmed that the player now watching them from a distance frequently visited Rabituza. Not as a foreigner—but as a resident. They would adore the Vorpal Bunnies to their hearts' content.

(After I've touched it as much as I want, a hundred critical hits... huh?)

Their eyes met. Animalia was certain of it.

Lycagon wasn't moving at all. Literally, not a twitch. As if it were an empty avatar with no player controlling it. A lifeless doll. Its golden eyes merely stared into the empty void, devoid of even a fragment of anything resembling a living being. Naturally, those eyes weren't looking at Animalia. So then... who was looking at Animalia?

(The night... is looking at me...?)

There was nothing there. Just the system-rendered dim darkness and the field of the Ancient Castle Ruins spreading out. But Animalia definitely felt a gaze there. Not here. Yet here. And that gaze was unmistakably fixed upon Animalia.

Animalia: "...No way."

Black, dark, an unseen gaze within the deep blackness of the night. The fierce intent emanating from that invisible stare was locked onto a single point—its prey. Animalia. In that instant, she realized.

Lycagon the Nightslayer. The true nature of the wolf that emerged from shadows, appearing randomly across all areas. No—the order was reversed.

—The shadow created by the wolf—Lycagon the Nightslayer—was...!

The very next moment—just as she was on the verge of the answer—a tremendous impact struck her from the side, and Animalia was lifted into the air in a motion that blatantly ignored the laws of physics. In Shangri-La Frontier, damage is expressed through numbness and dulled sensation. So, what kind of damage would it take... to erase all sensation entirely?

Animalia: "H-Hic!"

To an observer, it was an unnatural motion, like low-quality CG. But to the person experiencing it—being "bitten" and "hoisted up" by something—Animalia tangibly perceived "it." The thing that was there and yet not there.

(I'm being bitten... the force is getting stronger... I'm going to be eaten...?!)

Animals are adorable. Majestic. Precious precisely because they are different from humans. But this is different. This is something she doesn't know. This... this is not that. Animals are things she adores, and they are the ones being adored. But this—this is—

Animalia: "No... Help—"

An experience of being eaten by a predator—something the average Japanese person would never taste in their lifetime. The predation animation... an attack boasting a level of visceral brutality rarely seen among Mobs. In a single blow, Animalia's avatar was crushed to pieces.

Sunraku: "Uwah..."

Though it had turned into polygons early on—for age-rating and depiction-related reasons—I definitely saw the moment Animalia was snapped backward into a reverse prawn. I shake off the chill that runs down my spine. Good thing SLF isn't rated for adults, Animalia-san. Otherwise, you'd be ground meat right about now.

After that, it was just brutal. The restraint debuffs were meaningless—even when they seized the physical body, the clones moved freely. And to make matters worse, a massive bank of clouds kept hiding the moon with maddeningly perfect timing. It was painful to watch. The tanks were targeted first. I see—with high VIT and stacked defensive skills, they were excellent tanks. But total immobility against invisible surprise attacks was far too fatal. It wasn't even a fight anymore. The only way to describe it was using human bodies as soccer balls for billiards. Tanks rolled. Secondary disasters scattered as they crashed into blown-away players, with not even a moment given to regroup. Even so, the fact that four survived shows just how excellent that tank squad truly was...

Sunraku: "Still, all of them switching to recovery there—that was the worst possible move."

It was probably an accident. The recovery action—"prioritize self-healing to prevent total collapse"—was something all the tanks performed simultaneously. And so, the moment they stopped drawing aggro, the unseen night's rampage slipped past the tanks and fell upon the rear guard.

Sunraku: "Whoa, amazing. So that's the rumored human bowling..."

Some were blown away like splinters. Others rolled across the ground, unable even to break their fall. Simple as it gets—a direct hit from a massive tackle brought total HP devastation, even at high levels. Beyond the fact that their leader had burst into polygons, the real reason was likely that they'd already entered photoshoot mode. The tanks could've just equipped their shields and braced—but spellcasters, on top of that, had to sandwich spell activation into their response. Without it, they were nothing but scarecrows. By the time the tanks recovered, the front line was already annihilated.

Sunraku: "This is just brutal."

I mutter it without thinking, watching alongside Rei-shi from behind a rock. The tanks—knowing there was nothing left to protect—removed all their equipment, went naked, and were all blown away by an invisible... probably foreleg attack. A suicide to avoid equipment degradation... With only about three survivors left, it was a wise decision. Without anyone left to guard, they were helpless. Wall tanks brutalize their equipment no matter what. Grinding away resources in an unwinnable battle is pure folly. Hmm. As expected of a top clan, their fundamental strength is high. Underestimating Lycagon and goofing off was the cause of defeat... No, anyone who could handle that bullshit first-sight-kill is the crazy one. Thank you, Animalia. Thank you, SF-Zoo. A male player who appears to be the sub-leader sends a glance this way as if seeking help, but... I'm not quite sure what you're trying to say. See, you guys are the ones who unilaterally cut ties with me. We're basically strangers now.

Sunraku: "Thanks for the gameplay footage. Now die with dignity."

They probably can't see through my mask, but I flash a beaming smile and a thumbs-up. Then I flip my raised thumb straight down. The moment the male player shows an expression half "Yeah, figured" and half "Oh, the cruelty," his body is crushed under the now-freed physical Lycagon, vanishing into polygons.

...Well then. What to do?

[Being the "physical body" and being the "main body" are separate matters.]

[Actually, plenty of monsters use "bite attacks" or "destruction-attribute tearing attacks," but monsters that engage in genuine predation are rare. No matter how you dress it up, it ends up looking grotesque. Lycagon has it because there was someone who absolutely refused to compromise on that.]