Chapter 161: Effort for Whose Sake? (Paid)

Sunraku, Pencilgon, Nu2meg: "You can't compete in the match anymore!?"

Oikatzo: "…Yeah."

Me, Pencilgon, and Natsume-san all unintentionally harmonize at the words that come out of Katzo's mouth, his face looking like someone's scooped out everything resembling joy and amusement.

Sunraku: "The organizers pulled a last-minute cancellation... Don't tell me that massive prank theory was actually true...?"

Pencilgon: "If this were happening to somebody else, I'd be laughing my ass off, but Katzo-kun, even you can't laugh at this, right?"

Nu2meg: "Wh-what do you mean, Kei!?"

Oikatzo: "Orders from above… or rather, from our sponsor. They said I'm gonna be filling in for a missing member in the RwH6 tournament…"

Sunraku: "Huh?"

To summarize Katzo's story: On the second day of GGC — the same day as our exhibition match, which is essentially a live demo of Galaxia Heroes Chaos gameplay — the world championship finals for RwH6… Ruins War Hounds 6, are going to be held. If it were just that, we could write it off as someone else's problem, but one of the members got hospitalized in a car accident, and the situation took a sharp turn.

These days, as long as your body isn't literally torn to pieces, you can manage somehow. Fortunately, the injury doesn't seem like it'll leave lasting damage, but naturally, competing in a tournament is impossible, which means they suddenly need a substitute member. Normally, they'd have picked from the reserves of the FPS division "Assault Company" within the pro gaming team "Cyber Battalion," but that's when the sponsor stuck their nose in.

Apparently, a "request" — which was really more of a threat — along the lines of "Why not add Uomi Kei to the roster?" semi-forcefully got Katzo's game category switched. Normally, a demand like that wouldn't fly. But Katzo happens to be here on the same day, the start times for the RwH6 tournament and the GH:C exhibition match are inconveniently staggered, and getting on that "sponsor's" bad side would be bad for business… A chain reaction of terrible timing full-combo'd, and here we are.

Sunraku: "Misfortune pinballing around like that—at this point, it's almost funny."

Pencilgon: "If it were happening to someone else, it would've been hilarious…"

Nu2meg: "Actually, why is a fighting game guy like you, Katzo-kun, becoming an FPS player? Isn't that weird?"

Oikatzo: "Ahh… a bunch of stuff happened a while back, and I ended up playing an FPS in front of that sponsor. Heh, I know I don't look it, but after fighting games, FPS is my next best genre…"

I see. So he stood out just enough to burn himself into the sponsor's memory. Katzo lets out a dry laugh, his face exhausted and resigned, while Natsume-san wears an expression of pure despair. The two of them don't seem to have noticed, but right now, the people in this room are divided into two distinct species.

Nu2meg: "R-right, if we can just get the RwH6 match over with quickly, we might still make it in time…"

Oikatzo: "Sure, our military maniacs are strong, but their opponents are Germany's 'Sturm und Explosiv,' so nine times out of ten, it's gonna drag on."

I don't know if they're called Morning Glory Industries or Shrimp-Red Bean Paste-Expensive or whatever, but it seems like in Katzo and Natsume-san's minds, Katzo participating in the exhibition match is already a lost cause.

Sunraku: "I see… So just for reference, if you went all-out but things still dragged, how long would these finals take?"

Oikatzo: "Rules are territory control, five matches total… each match is thirty minutes, so factoring in breaks, you're locked in for about three hours."

Pencilgon: "Also, the GH:C exhibition match starts at 10 AM, and the RwH6 world championship starts at 9 AM."

So no matter how you slice it, he's guaranteed to be at least an hour late. Unlike FPS, fighting games have short match time limits. If I remember correctly, the exhibition match is ten minutes per round, and even fighting all rounds it's thirty minutes per match — even if we slot Katzo in as the fourth fighter, it's doubtful he'd make it. And that whole premise hinges on the condition that "the three of us drag out every single one of those thirty full minutes." That's way too unreasonable to call a strategy. Which means this situation is already…

Pencilgon: "In other words, if we all fight full rounds, we'll make it in time, right?"

Sunraku: "We just say our anchor's in the bathroom or something. How exactly do we drag out a full ten minutes per fight, though — go all-in on roleplaying?"

Pencilgon: "If they play along, that'd work too, but I guess straddling the line between cube capture and knockout and stretching it to three rounds might do it?"

Nu2meg: "…H-hold on, are you two serious? You honestly mean that!?"

The two who'd been lamenting the situation stare wide-eyed at the two of us who'd been scheming to overturn it. What is there to be so shocked about? I mean, this is me and Pencilgon we're talking about. You ought to know by now what we'd say and think at a time like this.

Sunraku: "You seriously think we'd let you drag two amateurs into the public spotlight and then bail on your own? Not a chance."

Pencilgon: "The whole thing's already got a painfully strong 'we were short on people so we threw in some subs' vibe, and now our main attraction's gonna no-show? That's just begging for a spectacular public shaming, and I'm not really a fan of that kind of spotlight, y'know?"

Oikatzo: "The fact that you two are coming at me full-force to drag me down in a situation like this… I almost admire it, in a roundabout way… No, that's not it! You two do realize what you're saying is insane, right…?"

Pencilgon: "I wasn't just getting my cosplay ready for nothing, y'know~?"

So says Pencilgon with a broad grin. In her real-life form, it'd probably be a dazzling sight, but this is the GH:C matching entrance — avatars reflect whichever character you used most recently, so the one flashing that dauntless smirk is some mystery character in a tailcoat with a CRT television for a head. Incidentally, its expressions are displayed as a human face on the CRT screen, and it seems to be a female character. Did she use a slot machine to decide appearance, gender, and outfit or something?

As Natsume-san mutters “Cosplay…?” with a question mark floating over her head, Professor Pencilgon, now fully in mastermind mode, continues her address.

Pencilgon: "Listen. In this exhibition match, when you get down to it, winning and losing are secondary. The main point is to convey to the live audience, to the viewers watching online, to the people who'll watch the recording later — just how fun this game is."

Sunraku: "That's why this isn't a battle — it's entertainment. What they want isn't a victory decided in the prologue, but a climactic struggle that lasts all the way to the epilogue."

Pencilgon: "So then, how should we go about achieving both our own objectives and the purpose of this exhibition match?"

Natsume-san leans forward, drawn in by Pencilgon's eloquence. Once it's come to this, there's no escape — anyone who's had threads attached to them by the puppeteer called Pencilgon gets used up like a marionette without exception. Well, this time around, we're the ones who have to attach the threads to ourselves.

Pencilgon: "We're not fighting a thirty-minute match. We're putting on a thirty-minute drama."

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Sunraku: "Alrighty, then."

The tasks are piled high — the grand role assigned by the mastermind fixer isn't something you can pull off easily. If the fight against Wethermon was a battle that pushed a single blade named "Sunraku" to its absolute limits, then this fight is, so to speak, a multi-sword style. To force the unreasonable into reality and achieve our scheme — to clear a player-count restriction and time quota with just three people — Pencilgon's scheming, already unreasonable, produces a rickety, cobbled-together plan that only barely holds together with one person serving as multiple cogs.

Honestly, searching for a way for the three of us to win would've been somewhat more manageable. Sure, America's top player is a formidable enemy, but at least there'd be slightly better odds than challenging the Emperor of the Night with stats not even at level 30. But even so, the scheme Pencilgon has cooked up is like tap-dancing your way through a path of thorns, and me, going along with it… and surely Natsume-san too — we're all just idiots among idiots, colossal idiots.

Sunraku: "Hm?"

Going out of his way to ask my true intentions via email… that's Katzo for you.

Sunraku: "Why…? Well, that's…"

Why would you go so far for me? The answers that came back to his simple, blunt email question were, in turn, simple things.

Subject: Re: Why From: Sunraku To: Modor Katzo Body: It's a pretty big deal event if you're going out of your way to call us in, right? I'm telling you we're gonna bring the goddamn fireworks, dumbass.

If it goes well, barbecue's on you. Obviously.

Subject: Re: Why From: Pencil Warrior To: Modor Katzo Body: Your match against Sylvia-chan — it's important to you, isn't it, Katzo-kun? That's big sis offering to lend a hand. Well, technically I'll be wearing a cosplay outfit!

If it goes well, I'd like sushi. All on you, Katzo-kun.

Kei: "…Room and board are included and I'm already covering everything."

At the messages from the two of them, so casually trying to wring even more money out of him, Kei wears a bitter smile filled with exasperation, resignation, sadness… and gratitude that outweighs all of it, and tosses his mobile device onto the bed.

His motivation for this so-called RwH6 world championship had been scraping rock bottom, but if his infuriatingly reliable friends are going to go all-out to buy him time, then—

Kei: "Bring it on. I don't know if they're Cream Puff Cult Exercise or whatever the hell, but I just gotta crush 'em fast and get back to my real job!"

Launching the software that was hurriedly installed on the VR system set up in his room, Kei too dives into the virtual world to do what he needs to do.

[Sturm und Explosiv A German pro gaming team, one of the world's leading FPS powerhouses. It is not Sugar Stick. Their playstyle is rapid, thoroughly efficient, and perfectly coordinated. It is not turmeric. Incidentally, ever since arriving in Japan—the host country for the finals—they've been complaining nonstop about the quality of the beer and sausages, but octopus-shaped wieners are pretty great! It is not Explora.]