Chapter 159: Anonymous (Idiot) Bastard A-Team, and the Storm Brews

Results of the Atlanticus Lepnorca Battle

・Atlanticus Lepnorca’s Mirror Bone ・Atlanticus Lepnorca’s Coagulation-Touch Fin ・Atlanticus Lepnorca’s Fan-Mowing Fin ・Atlanticus Lepnorca’s Heavy Head Carapace ・Atlanticus Lepnorca’s Rigid Endurance Hide ・Mass quantities of recovery items consumed as a result of getting way too into it ・Experience points too negligible to matter ・Status Ailment: Sleep Deprivation ・Despair upon seeing the clock read 4:00 AM ・Despair upon seeing the clock read 10:00 AM ・Snide remarks from two utter scumbags ・A newly erupted problem upon remembering a certain fact

Rakuro: "Goddammit… ‘Reality is the real trash game’—they say that more than anything for a reason…"

Towa: "Yo, Hizutome-san! Nice executive-style late arrival!"

Kei: "How was brunch, huh? The taste of brunch you get to eat while keeping everyone else waiting, I mean??"

Rakuro: "The fact that I can’t even talk back hurts more than anything. Is this… guilt…?"

I found out later that these two had also slept in pretty damn late themselves. And on top of that, they still had the nerve to give me this much shit.

The scene shifts to the digital world. Using the characters we’d each been playing just moments ago as our avatars, we now sit around the round table in the entrance hall.

Oikatzo: "GGC Day One is currently underway at the venue, but unfortunately, we’re right here, holding a strategy meeting for our match against Star Rain."

Pencilgon: "Hey, Katzo-kun, just to check—those three muscleheads besides Sylvia-chan… how strong are they?"

Oikatzo: "They’re all rankers who placed in the top 20 of the world rankings in the previous title."

Pencilgon: "Y’know, maybe we should just slip ’em some laxatives before the match?"

Nu2meg: "Could you maybe NOT casually toss out scumbag suggestions like that!?"

While my teammates noisily banter back and forth, I’m stuck racking my brain over a certain problem.

(That’s the thing… I’ve gotta tell these two about Ctarnidd, and about Rust and Mold…)

The whole reason I’m challenging Ctarnidd right now goes back to the contract I made with those two players I met in Nephilim Hollow. Since this really did turn out to be a scenario connected to Ctarnidd, I have to provide them with the right to use the robo—… the Tactical Machine gear, as compensation. And to do that, I have to convince these two. Of all people, these two—whom I’ve cut out of the Unique Monster hunt in our current situation!

Sunraku: "Isn’t that basically impossible…?"

Pencilgon: "That’s the level where even Sunraku-kun’s complaining?"

Oikatzo: "C’mon, don’t start saying dumb shit now, Sunraku."

The peanut gallery’s making noise, but this is hardly the time. If I want to convince these two, the quickest way would be to deliberately fail the EX scenario I’m currently attempting and start over. That way I can add the two of them to the EX scenario, which would definitely lower the difficulty of negotiations. But that also means I have no idea what would happen to the NPCs. From what Araba’s been telling me, it sounds like if you can’t put up a good fight against Ctarnidd, you won’t even make it back alive. Should I go with Plan B after all? On the other hand, if I succeed in the EX scenario, I can use the spoils as bargaining material. In other words, use Unique-ish items as—

Sunraku: "…hostages for blackmail…"

Nu2meg: "Hey, Kei?! This old samurai just started saying some seriously dangerous stuff!"

Pencilgon: "Sunraku, get a grip! Scumbag tactics are supposed to be MY specialty!"

Oikatzo: "Maybe I oughta start by slipping YOU some laxatives, huh? Hmm??"

Ahh, shut up, shut up, shut the hell up. But if I want everything to go smoothly, that really is the only way. Defeat the Unique Monster “Ctarnidd of the Abyss,” and use the items I get from it to bring Pencilgon to the negotiating table. I can talk Katzo into anything—I just need to convince Pencilgon. Which means what’s required of me right now is—

Sunraku: "Overwhelming power… to trample absurdity underfoot!!"

Oikatzo: "Uh, hey, Sunraku… are you even listening?"

Sunraku: "Huh? What’re you talking about, Mr. Can’t-Trigger-Uniques-On-His-Own?"

Oikatzo: "Pro Gamer Chop!"

Sunraku: "Gahah!?"

Oikatzo: "Alright then, Mr. His-Head’s-Become-A-Unique, how about you share your impressions of Star Rain from your perspective?"

Sunraku: "…Honestly, against these three, if things go well, Pencilgon could lock ’em down and kill ’em."

Rubbing my throbbing head, I flatly assert my assessment of the opposing team—excluding their ace.

Sunraku: "These three—haven’t they done some kind of martial arts?"

Oikatzo: "Yeah, they have. This guy, I think, even holds a heavyweight boxing license."

Sunraku: "Why the hell wouldn’t he just go into boxing…? Well, whatever. Basically, players who’ve trained in martial arts inevitably have their fight styles pulled in that direction."

Normally, that wouldn’t be considered a weakness. In this modern age, people who know extremely analog combat techniques have a massive advantage in fighting games. It might be a strength, but it’s rarely ever a weakness. And that’s exactly why—in this particular match—something that should never be a weakness will become one.

Nu2meg: "In simple terms?"

Sunraku: "Boxing is something you do in a ring, using only gloves."

The charismatic model wears a magnificently wicked grin as Natsume-san watches with an indescribable expression… and, having suddenly gotten curious, I decide to ask the person in question directly.

Sunraku: "Hey, Pencilgon, are you planning to show up with your face exposed?"

Pencilgon: "No, no, of course not. I’ll hide my face properly when I go out. It’d be a liiittle too stimulating for the world’s teens, y’know?"

Oikatzo: "Ah, that reminds me. You two—what names do you wanna register under? If neither of you’s got a preference, Sunraku, I’ll put you down as Pencil Warrior."

Oh, right. If we’re entering a tournament, even if only nominally, we need entry names. Honestly, I’m not exactly keen on standing out under the name Sunraku…

Sunraku: "Put me down as Anonymous Alpha or something."

Pencilgon: "Ah, then I’ll be Anonymous Omega."

Hm.

Sunraku: "…No, actually, maybe I’ll go with Anonymous Type Zero."

Pencilgon: "Then I’ll be… Anonymous Nonexistent Number (Ghost Number), maybe…"

Hmm.

Five minutes later.

Oikatzo: "…So, let me get this straight. Sunraku will be ‘The Anonymous Chronic Affliction Unleashed from Beyond,’ and Pencilgon will be ‘†The Noble Anonymous Lady (Mystic Lady)†’? That work?"

Sunraku & Pencilgon: "Yeah, let’s not."

If we got called by those names, we’d die. In more ways than one.

Nu2meg: "…Couldn’t you just go with Mysterious Helper #1 and #2?"

But somehow that feels unsatisfying too. Such is the human heart, eh, Natsume-san?

Oikatzo: "Alright, at this point, I, your pro gamer, shall personally bestow names upon you."

Sunraku: "Ho?"

Oikatzo: "Sunraku will be ‘Gunball’ and Pencilgon will be ‘Black Curtain.’"

Sunraku: "Who the hell are you calling a damn bullet!?"

Pencilgon: "If anyone’s the “mastermind” here, it’s you!!"

Oikatzo: "Ahh, shut it, you two active-duty chuunibyou cases! We’ve gotta decide by noon!"

Another thirty minutes passed.

Oikatzo: "…Aaaand there you have it. As a result of a rigorous fistfight, the names have been decided."

That’s right. Sunraku is nothing more than a private name. My “true name” for the official tournament is…!!

Anyway, I am absolutely never forgiving Katzo.

???: "Hey, Silvi, did Kei’s team always have members with names like these?"

Sylvia: "Hmm? Did they pick up some newcomers or something… Wait, what the—‘No Face’ and ‘No Name’?"

Sunraku: "Dammit… ‘You’re a guy who’ll do anything to keep his face from getting out and a guy who’ll do anything to keep his name from getting out, so those fit perfectly’… he says…"

The fact that I can’t really argue with it just pisses me off even more. Also, I do NOT secretly think they’re simple and kind of cool. I do not. Looking back, I guess we were making a fuss over some pretty stupid reasons, but there’s no point in dredging up the past.

It’s just before noon. Katzo’s stepped away to submit the registration and deal with some kind of summons. Natsume-san is on the phone—seems like the backlash from her impossible schedule adjustments. Pencilgon’s gone off to scheme… er, rather, to pick up a delivery she’d ordered. As for me, with nothing better to do, I’ve come down to the hotel restaurant. Obviously, I can’t wear a gas mask out in public, so I’m bare-faced. If any of the others saw me… well, it’s not like it’d really be a problem.

Rakuro: "Still, I just ate a little while ago, so maybe a light snack… nah, I want something sweet."

Dessert, dessert… Huh, the prices aren’t listed. Wait, don’t tell me meals are included in the accommodation fee? Seriously?

Rakuro: "Let’s see, this ‘Rare Cheesecake ~with a Midsummer Fruit Splash~’ sounds kinda inter—"

???: "Four 900-gram steaks. One medium, two rare, one well-done. Extra garlic on one of the rares and the well-done."

What kind of spell is that, where just hearing it gives you heartburn? I came to this place alone, so that order is a total stranger placing an order with the staff. And yet, driven by curiosity, I turn around… and freeze, my face twitching.

Rakuro: "…You’ve gotta be shittin’ me."

Muscle. Muscle. Skip one. Muscle. With these guys here, it feels like terrorists could storm the hotel at any moment, a gunfight with some mysterious secret society could break out—hell, a truck could come crashing through the entrance. That’s the kind of pack of musclemen standing there. And among the three mountains of muscle, one person who is distinctly Not Muscle… and therefore stands out all the more—a blonde woman. The four of them, so aggressively American they look like they just stepped out of a Hollywood movie, are chattering away in English.

Rakuro: "…Essential Japanese Skill: Presence Erasure."

Right behind where I’m sitting: the so-called Star Rain first-string members. Slowly, I turn my head back forward and attempt to thin my presence—I’m just a mob, I’m just part of the scenery. Faced with this sudden real-life encounter, I deploy the full force of the Japanese Stealth Technique for minimizing your chances of getting called on by the language teacher.

Kei: "………What?"

He can’t comprehend the words that have just been delivered to him. Kei lets out an involuntarily stupid-sounding reaction to the “order.” Could they be speaking English or something? If they’re claiming this is Japanese, then the meaning of the words makes no sense.

Kei: "…This is a joke, right?"

Man: "It’s no joke, Uomi. This is an order from the Cyber Battalion… and by extension, from our ‘sponsor.’"

Kei: "You’ve gotta be shitt—! Do you even understand what you’re saying!?"

Slamming his tablet against the floor, Kei roars at the man in front of him—the man who, by job title, is his superior. But the man doesn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow at Kei’s furious bellowing—the kind of outburst that, in the outside world, would be unthinkable from the well-mannered young man everyone knows. Instead, he calmly, clearly—as if talking someone down—repeats his words.

Man: "Pro gamer Uomi Kei. Tomorrow, during GGC, you will participate in the ‘Ruins War Hounds 6 World Championship’ finals as a member of ‘Assault Company.’ Full-time. No half-measures will be tolerated."

The wind and clouds churn with urgency.

Towa Amane, the ideal of teens everywhere:

Towa: "A girl can shine as bright as she wants! Just like me!!"

Arthur Pencilgon, as witnessed by Natsume:

Pencilgon: "At this point, wouldn’t it be better to use out-of-game tactics and ambush Star Rain?"

Megumi: "Uh…"