Chapter 141: Quiet's End — Rejoice, Ruined City, in Bustle
Sunraku: "…Forced blackout. That's new."
The sensation was like logging in—a body that should have been asleep suddenly perceiving the world, a feeling like waking. I'd been sprawled on the battered deck, and as I shook off the flood of information surging into my five senses, I rose and scanned my surroundings. As expected—or rather, as the trope demanded—I was alone. Still, I doubted everyone else had been wiped out.
And those fish-men—I hurriedly scooped up my Duxram, Blade of Aspiration swords where they’d fallen and swung my gaze toward them. For some reason, the place was now littered with fresh fish, flopping and flapping.
Sunraku: "What the hell…?"
They weren't just fish-men anymore—they'd all turned into fish. What had happened? Cautiously, I smacked a writhing moray with the flat of my blade, then made up my mind and chucked it into my inventory.
Sunraku: "Deep Abyss Moray… it really is just a regular fish item."
What in the world was going on? Had the fish-men been fish all along? Or had the fish-men become just fish? Hmm… no, that's not the priority.
Sunraku: "Right before that loading screen, the EX scenario started without even giving us the option to refuse…"
Shit. I really hadn't expected that. Forced events are common enough in games, and they’re often designed to kill first-time players.
I looked up. Beyond the darkness—different from a night sky—something twinkled faintly in the distance, like stars. The place felt like a cave interior… I finally began to properly observe my surroundings.
Sunraku: "There's air here. So is this inside a cave or something? And more than anything… this view."
In a word: an underground city. We'd been dragged to the ocean floor, so it must be some Atlantis-type area. The ghost ship that had appeared with that storm, assailing us like the groans of the dead, now sat silently grounded at the edge of this abyssal city, as if none of that had ever happened—still bearing the impossible damage that should have made it unsailable.
Why had I been left here alone? …Well, I had my suspicions, but for now I didn't need to dwell on it.
Sunraku: "This area… its layout—map-wise, I mean—is the same type as Thirdrema."
A circular city, with a castle at its center and buildings and roads arranged in concentric rings. From atop the ship, all I could tell was that I seemed to be at the outer rim of that circle. The architecture was heavily decayed but medieval in style, meaning it was post-Divine-Age civilization.
Sunraku: "So this is Ctarnidd's base… Shit. Bringing Emul along was a complete blunder."
Since NPCs can't respawn, I'd wanted to keep her as far away as possible from EX scenarios with extremely high fatality rates. I'd figured the pre-EX stage would be fine, but I never dreamed we'd get blindsided like this. Things were going so wildly off-script that it was actually starting to become fun. My mindset had flipped completely—now I was in the same mental state as when I was breaking down a trash game.
Sunraku: "Hm?"
Either way, now that we'd been thrown into an EX scenario, clearing it was a gamer's duty. While checking my gear and stats, I noticed a new entry that had been added to my status screen.
Sunraku: "Special Status: 'Abyssal Time Limit'…"
The phrase "special status" instantly brought Lycagon to mind. Now that I thought about it, Wethermon's forced level restriction might've been a kind of special status too. But that was beside the point.
Sunraku: "This number… I see. So the time limit for staying in this place is seven days."
167:58:21… Converting that string of steadily decreasing digits, I could tell my permitted time in this area was fixed. But knowing the time limit was good news. After all, staying logged in for seven straight days was impossible. That meant a save point existed somewhere in this area. And given that saving equaled logging out, that spot was guaranteed safe. If there was a safe zone, then shoving the NPCs into it would at least secure their safety until the time limit ran out.
Sunraku: "Seven days means I don't need to rush the clear right now. First priority: secure the NPCs—Emul, Ceecrue… ah, right, that little shithead too, I guess—and find a save point…"
Alright. I'd set my orders before the final objective. First thing was to get moving—nothing starts otherwise. I had to find the others while locating a save point.
Sunraku: "Right, let's move!"
I dropped from the deck using Flit Float to cushion the fall. My HP had fully recovered during the area-transition loading, so I wasn't pathetic enough to die from fall damage. Still, my entire skill build revolved around sacrificing HP, so I'd keep going as is.
Sunraku: "No monsters in sight."
I landed in a meadow that was oddly verdant for an undersea city and warily surveyed my surroundings. The city proper seemed to have lights; where I stood now was just barely illuminated by the spillover. I kicked lightly at the ground and dug it up. Along with soil that wasn't quite sand, I unearthed weeds that weren't quite seaweed.
Sunraku: "…It really doesn't feel like the ocean floor."
Everything constructing this area seemed like it could've been plucked straight from a surface zone. Surely this game wouldn't tolerate lazy asset reuse, so there had to be some trick behind it.
Turning around, I saw the wreck of the ship. Even the Crying Innsman—which had been pure horror in the storm—now looked almost melancholy. That said, I doubted the players' starting point held anything significant. And while my goals were to find allies and a save point, I was far more interested in exploring that city than poking around a shipwreck.
Sunraku: "The outer wall is mostly intact. It really just looks like weathering."
I'd assumed there'd be some backstory—like an attack by Ctarnidd wiping the place out—but the collapsed sections of the outer wall felt less like battle damage and more like simple decay. I climbed over a heap of rubble and slipped into the city's interior, where I could finally see it more clearly. Its most distinctive feature was that everything—from building materials to the roads—was a uniform pale blue. Not paint; it seemed to be stone with that natural hue. Lit by strange lamps that served as light sources, the streetscape was utterly fantastical. All the more so for being ruins, steeped in collapse and silence.
But one thing nagged at me.
Sunraku: "The houses are sealed shut?"
Not just locked—far more drastic than that. Most buildings were heavily damaged, but in the ones that still barely had front doors or windows intact, many were barricaded from the outside. With wood in that same pale blue, no less. The place had suddenly turned ominous. At the very least, I couldn't imagine a holiday or festival where you'd seal houses from the outside. What kind of situation required measures to keep the residents from leaving…?
Sunraku: "If skeletons start popping out, that'd pretty much confirm it… Welp, looks like a warm welcome from the local citizenry."
An indescribable form, a voice, and a stench that mixed rot and raw fishiness like something forgotten at the back of a cooler until it liquefied. It wasn't a full reproduction of that concentrated world-ending stench, thankfully—somewhat muted—but still more than enough to amplify their presence.
Sunraku: "There you are, you rotten fish-paste bastards."
I'd thought maybe they wouldn't appear anymore, since the ones on the ghost ship had somehow turned into regular fish. No such luck. From around a street corner, fish-men emerged, their half-rotted bodies oozing a slick ichor of the variety you definitely didn't want to touch. They were already on alert when they spotted me, which felt a little odd. I readied myself for a fight anyway.
Unlike the ones we'd fought on the ghost ship, these fish-men were oddly well-equipped. They came charging at me, shrieking—but they were still just fish-heads, so their charge was straightforward and stupid, not a real threat.
Except—the first wave charged, then the second, then the third… fourth, fifth, sixth… nth wave…
Sunraku: "Wait wait wait wait?!"
There's only one of me!!
Change of plans. No way I could fight that head-on. I spun 180 degrees without hesitation and ran at full speed.