Editing User:Démiurge

== Chapitre 5 : Pour répondre (Pragmatisme)==

And so,

the puppet fled to the sky the chick so desired,

to that cramped, dark world.

Yes…

A sky for the puppet to be safe from hurt, to smile from the heart.

A place where no one would trample them, no one hurt them,

no force compel them, no need to change.

A new world where they could fly.

 

That day,

The chick knew well enough it likely would never be.

The chick implored the puppet, who vowed to fight:

No sky is worth seeing you hurt.

So the puppet, too, fled to that same cage.

Until we find a way to create that sky,

so thought the puppet in the stifling world.

Thought and only thought…

Doubtful and wavering, finding nothing sought,

the puppet still thought about that promise:

 

That day,

in a new land, gazing at the heavens above,

seeing the baby bird spread its wings and smile,

the empty puppet—the sky—Sora—

== Partie 1 ==

…A stage filled with the echoing eruption of the Holy Forge…the waste disposal site.

A giant silver humanoid machine took heavy steps through the subterranean ruins buried in metal refuse. Tears welled in Veig’s fiery eyes as he muttered desolately with his life’s first worry.

“… Have I, of all people, really done something so very wrong…?”

He recalled the two souls he’d smashed after an unexpected struggle—the soul of that weirdly tough little weed with the excellent tits, and the soul of that incomprehensibly toxic viper who had cracked his sword for the first time. Gloomily swaying, wobbling ahead, he thought:

…What in the blazes have I done…?

Veig could remember being thanked, but never being blamed. Yet all he felt now was a mysterious sense of guilt etched into his soul too deeply to deny. Now here he stood, in front of the fallen metal mass, the machine lying on the ground with its limbs totaled.

“…Ho… I did say I’d be late, but to take a nap, you’ve got gumption, have ya?”

Veig looked keenly down at the broken frame. Through the comm system, he accused its pilots of playing dead.

In this game, attacks caused no direct damage to the opposing machine. Therefore, any damage must have occurred through rite failure or misfiring—or been self-inflicted. And truthfully, it was both. Veig’s intuition told him. He lifted the broken body and howled.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!! Your opponent is me. Don’t roll over and die. Have ya no sense?!”

Indeed…Sora and Shiro never did stand a chance against Veig in a battle of spirit arms. So it was inevitable they would lose. Still, though—

“Ya aren’t plannin’ to just clam up without sayin’ a word about your soul, are ya?!”

Yes—they’d stood up to Veig with an unthinkable storm of bullets. But it carried none of their soul—the barrage was all too brittle. All it did was reject Veig’s attack and say No to his soul…

It spoke nothing. It admitted nothing. Their soul had only rejected his and remained steadfast. Veig ground his teeth. If they could do this much, then why?

He pulled up the wrecked frame as if by its collar and raged:

'''“When are ya gonna answer my question?!”'''

And he did at last get an answer.

«…Right now, I will. I’ll give you your answer, I will.»

… A voice murmured across the line.

“Whuh?!”

The wreck suddenly retaliated by blowing up, unleashing a mad torrent of soul. It answered him with powerful imagery that momentarily robbed him of his consciousness.

……

'''It was at the bottom of a small hole, dark and cramped. Veig knew the girl who wept, looking up at the sky alone. He knew her well…the flightless girl, who more than anyone admired the birds that flew so high.'''

'''A paradoxical girl, she knew she could not fly and yet looked up to the sky… Wept though she’d given up… The world interrogated her with unanswerable questions—why she fled, why she didn’t try—and then asked her why she cried…and despised her for it. Left her in this dump…unwanted…'''

'''The lone girl…swinging her hammer through tears…… He—'''

……

Veig tried to reach out…but blam—the explosion shook the cave and stirred him from his reverie. As soon as he took a look around, maybe sooner, he guessed what was going on. He grinned and howled with wild anticipation.

“What a joke… Ya never had anyone in there from the beginning? It was remote-controlled…?!”

Now that you mention it, there was no rule that said you had to pilot the machine…was there? If they controlled it from a cockpit outside the frame, they could chuck it around without compunction.

But even if it was remote-controlled, they had to be connected to their spirit arms. Which meant that blowing up their own frame so carelessly would have repercussions. And indeed, the ground shook with a chain reaction of explosions one after another throughout the waste disposal site.

Generated spirits drew lines of light as if flowing through circuits etched into the stage. The circuit of light would converge—to show it:

The real unit—!

Eager to see where the real cockpit lay, Veig followed the spirit light to its destination. It turned out to be at the center of the quaking stage, so far away that his zoom function was just barely sufficient to make it out. At the top of an especially tall plant, his eyes found their target—and they opened wide. It appeared to be a girl he knew well, standing on the seat of an opened cockpit.

«You ask why I ran from this bloody world, do you…? …It’s a foolish question, it is.»

But it was a girl he didn’t know who murmured to him. Her eyes, blazing with unquenchable fire, looked far down—down at his machine. The girl with a hammer-shaped piece of junk in her hand spoke as if laying down a declaration of war. From her heart, she spoke her soul…not objective fact, but her feelings:

«It’s because—I despise that world, I do.»

== Partie 2 ==

Til’s voice, resolute, was yet like her limbs…jittery. She couldn’t help but tremble, because of what she saw down there from the open cockpit—Veig standing there in the venue that still quaked from the blasts—and because of the sparkling hammer in her right hand. Regardless—

“Don’t worry. We’ll blast off with you. We promised, didn’t we?”

“…Brother…always…keeps, his promises… Trust us, okay?”

—Sora’s and Shiro’s voices intoned from the seat in front of her, joyful but firm. And Til felt them holding her left hand tight. She broke into a smile to realize her trembling had somehow stopped…and she continued with her eyes fixed straight ahead on Veig’s machine, all the way through to the man inside.

“…I hate this country. I hate Hardenfell, I do.”

She reaffirmed her feelings—her belief. This arrogant world told her not to run. This 

oppressive world told her not to be ashamed. Til looked up at its tireless way of life and sneered at it.

“I love the sky, I do… In this country…the sky is closed off, it is.”

The cave’s ceiling reminded her; lost and confused, she’d ended up in this dump before she knew it, and the world asked her, Why did you run? Now, Til knew the feeling of a hand in hers. Now, she knew another world—that of those two. Now, she could say it:

Ah…there never was a place for me here.

—Screw this place—!!

So—!

“I also hate the chieftain of this country. I hate you, I do…!”

The hammer sparkled ever brighter as Til’s words spilled out uncontrollably, with the pain that burned her up. What came back was a lonely, sorrowful chuckle. Til ground her teeth.

…She’d known—no, she’d had a hunch—that he’d say that. What he was saying. As if it was everything—

'''“I hate that…how everything’s just as you expected… I hate iiit!!”'''

Her voice impulsively swelled with the pain that only grew:

'''“I hate how you act like you’re so great, I do! I hate even more that you actually are, I do!!”'''

The dam had burst, and her feelings could no longer be contained.

“I hate how you advertise yourself as a genius, I do! I hate how I can’t argue because you actually are a genius, I do!! I hate how you look down on me, I do! I hate so much that it’s only natural because you’re above me, I do!! I hate how you’re so hairy!! You shaved too much, you say?! So what? Are you trying to rub it in? I wish you’d go to hell, I do!! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—U-Uncle, you’re a pervert!! I hate you very, very, veeery much, I do!!”

«Whoa!! Come on, stop already or I’m really gonna cry! Goddamn!»

The momentum had flushed out everything Til wanted to say. Inattentive to the tearful begging over the comm system, Til caught her breath. As the shaking of the stage and the sparkling of her hammer and her pain all grew in speed, she wiped her tears. With a sharp, firm voice, she mulled over her words carefully and gave her answer:

“I hate you. That’s why I run. If that’s not enough for you to understand—”

Then in the spirit of the game:

“—I’ll sock it to you like this—and then I think you will understand, I do.”

Yes—seeing behind her eyelids the place the feeling of those two had taken her as they held her left hand, that black sky with a white bird, Til laid down the gauntlet sonorously.

“I fled to win—to honor my promise, I did.”

…A tactical withdrawal was made when one had a chance of victory… She had been just lost, but now it would be redefined—no. Each time another explosion went off, the spirits converged into her hammer, and it was that pain.

And now it had been redefined—!!

That pain had turned her conviction into that of the past. Til savagely swung her hammer as she—

—bellowed forth her soul with the stirring of a power beyond all normal conception throughout the venue.

'''“I fled for the sake of this day, when I’d surpass you, I diiid!!”'''

== Partie 3 ==

It was a power that all feared instinctively. The memories sleeping deep in their blood awakened. An outrageous power of a whole different rank, a whole different status, a whole different order of magnitude—quite literally a different level. The future brought on in the next few moments by this power beyond reason didn’t take someone like Veig to foresee. It was a strike from the heavens that sneered at every one of heaven’s gifts crawling atop the earth, judging them likewise of null value. No one could mistake that power. It was

a Heavenly Smite……

“Hey, whoaaa! I thought the Flügel wasn’t—hey, isn’t that against the rules?!”

From his machine—his cockpit—Veig screeched, blanching. Someone who wasn’t in the game—with magic that wasn’t even a seal rite!! His one eye searched in a panic for the Flügel, but in the next moment—

—he realized that the center of the crawling power…was Til’s hammer. And his one eye was opened by the roar over the comm system and the unheard-of shock that followed… Yes:

'''«Ultra-large-scale spirit-arm expansion—connect all!! Ariiiise!!!»'''

Til’s face wrenched in agony as she brought down the hammer. There was a flash as it bore through the cockpit…and through the plant below. With that, there came a moment of silence to the blast-stricken venue. And then…

“—?!!”

…a vertical oscillation unlike anything that had gone before tossed them. A heavy shock came from behind Veig. He dodged instinctively on the spot, but from the mass of metal that had only grazed him flowed a tempestuous soul.

'''……'''

'''A girl who wanted to imagine things that could not be imagined. A girl who wanted to fly though by no effort could she fly. Saying she could do nothing, she chased the bird in the sky for which there was nothing to do…'''

'''They said she was just running. They mocked that it was impossible. Her soul…'''

«I…knew it! …I knew it!! Better than anyone, I did…!!»

The transmission helped Veig crawl back to reality. But another—no, ten more—no, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand—innumerable storms of metal whipped through the stage and assaulted his unit like squalls.

Just scraps, they hadn’t much in the way of force or even speed. But every time the fierce soul contained in them scratched by his frame, it left residue. As Til’s voice, wheezing in agony, continued to come through, it pounded at Veig’s will, hard, so hard—

«So…you wanted me to live like you…? Fa-kew!!»

To live like them. Like a Dwarf. Without giving up. Without going astray or tiring. To try to overcome natural gifts. To live without shame or retreat. Indeed… Putting themselves on pedestals, though they couldn’t overcome Veig!! Looking as if they understood, talking as if they knew!! They’d called her rubbish, and then!! They’d all said it. They’d basically said this…

—Everyone else is doing it, so you should, too.

—You can dream you’ll be rewarded. Just do it—

—just shut up and do your work!!—

«I don’t like a world that tells me what to do… I hate it, I do!!»

I’ll never give in…

I’ll overcome the chieftain and destroy those dictates—!!

I’ll use measuring instruments and Elven theory. I’ll use anything to find a different way!

I’ll show him… So she thought…

«But…no matter what I did…I just…couldn’t find anything!!»

Just piling up failures. Bathed in error, lost, confused, making one mistake after another. At last surrendering to a false resignation, as paradoxical as ever. Unable to say anything in return… At some point…she came to think she’d forgotten those feelings, and just wandered, pathetically.

«…But—hee-hee… Now I know what to say—I do…»

Weeping, sobbing, yet the two souls grinned. At last Veig realized the true nature of the maelstrom of metal pounding his unit. And for the first time in his life, he said, It couldn’t be—he doubted his own intuition.

“……Hey… Ho. I must be hallucinating, ain’t I?”

He saw the whirlwind of metal converging. Not the ground shaking, but the stage moving. Not the metal flying, but just gathering. The parts, the catalysts were joining and coupling and assembling. The majestic waste disposal site was rising as one. The stage itself was wakening—and standing up. That was his impression. It was confirmed by Til’s announcement to everyone watching in Hardenfell, I’ll tell you, and the thing that towered before his eyes—a thing inconceivably gargantuan.

«You forge ahead without shame…as you will—but I, too…will do as I will, I will!!»

She’d led a life of shame—failing, contradicting herself, getting lost without end. Today, this moment, was what it had all been for, and for that she was proud. She trumpeted to all the world that had rejected her, just as they were taught:

'''«Shut up!! Your stupid world can eat shit, it can!! Pft!»'''

Having asserted her freedom to rebel, the girl crumpled. The siblings embraced her and kept her from falling. Veig gaped at last.

It wasn’t from finally observing the giant object towering over him. It was the girl held by the siblings in the now-empty cockpit at the top…the girl weeping tears of heartfelt joy that she was not alone—a girl beyond his knowledge, who looked down at a bird from heights beyond its knowledge…with a dazzling smile…beyond all knowledge.

«…Uncle, did you…ever imagine…this…?»

She asked him whether this was a sight that effort and sensibility could get to—and that moment, a torrent of violence descended upon Veig’s unit…

== Partie 4 ==

Neither Veig nor any of the Dwarves watching through all of Hardenfell had ever imagined it, most likely. However, aside from Dwarves…the three who were watching at Til’s hideout did not seem all that surprised. Their eyes still on the monitor, they spoke admiringly…

“…Wow… A city can walk, can it…? Oh, is that also a spirit arm?”

“To be more precise, it is a spirit-arm expansion connected to her hammer, on which she engraved my one-percent Heavenly Smite.”

“Observation: Height 9,700 meters. Length 74,200 meters. Cannon count 982. Definition: High-maneuver fortress class. Evidence of brilliance of Master. Excessive. Zero maturity. This unit loves that part of him, too… Blush.”

Steph knew those siblings… She’d imagined they’d do something unimaginable. No, she’d known it. So she watched the screen with a sense of resignation, as a shadow desperately ran from the storm falling from the mountain of steel…

== Partie 5 ==

At the venue, rain fell from the heap of scrap—torrential rain deep underground where there was no sky. Each drop sliced the wind, pierced the ground, and created a deeper depth below the bottom.

“What a little man you are, Veig!! You talk big, but you’re the one who’s smaaaall!!”

It was a hailstorm of scrap that accompanied the raucous laughter.

“You called this stage our hunting grounds?! What puny thoughts—what a tiny imagination!! As would be expected from someone so small-minded as to only appreciate big boobs—ah, it’s a veritable microcosm of your life!!”

“…You said…we could use any machines…and do anything with the venue, didn’t you?♪”

Towering with a sneer on top was a giant mecha of junk—of the unwanted. Of unvalued failures and rejected scrap.

This was the gathering place for the things that might have not been mistakes. This was their home turf, they indicated with a sneer.

“Who’s gonna take the time to hunt their prey after they’ve already lured them in?”

Sora uproariously exposed the truth that was now assaulting Veig.

“If you’re gonna lure in your prey, obviously you’re gonna go straight to a trap, aren’t you, you scrub?!”

It was a cage, a trap. The junk itself, the venue itself, the soul of a girl who had patched failure to error itself—

'''“Ladies and gentlemen—the venue itself is our machine!! How do you like that?!”'''

'''“…We of Blank call it…the Spirit of Mother Til…♪”'''

It literally looked down on Veig, nine hundred seventy times his size. Sora and Shiro cackled, back at the reins for their big counterattack.

—Come, O ye who declare yourselves infallible, those of the righteous world. Now our patchwork heap shall speak with iron and lightning and fire to test our Mother’s spirit. We shall now question the refuse that you have shorn away and discarded in your quest to forge. We ask: On what grounds did you reject us—?!

“Personally, I’m not as into the NEXTs as the Arms Forts built by average schmucks to confront them.”

In fiction, raw size is destined to be overthrown.

Which is how we know that reality is different!! Indeed—!!

'''“Raw mass is the secret to defeating genius, biiitch!! We haven’t designed this bullet hell with any place to hide! You trap ’em and smash ’em with sheer numbers! There’s no better tactic!! All you gotta do is win, baby, win!!”'''

In reality—overkill is all the better!!

Seated in the cockpit, Sora and Shiro controlled the massive body and filled the screen with projectiles.

«The fock?! How’d you get such a crazy machine?!»

Veig screeched as he just barely managed to demi-shift from one empty location to another.

«What kinda Dwarf has the power to run a barmy monster like that?!»

Between that and the Heavenly Strike, Veig was sure now there were some spirits involved far outside the regulations. He raged at their perceived violation of the rules.

……Ha. His opponents laughed in unison. They knew it: Dwarves were the perfect negative examples. After all, they were just half-right. Just as he guessed that the stage itself was their machine, but that wasn’t even close to enough. On Sora’s lap sat Shiro—and on her lap sat a girl whose face was scrunched in pain, but who still sneered with fearless irony—

“Chieftain… You ask that now? I couldn’t even start up our first machine without boosting, I couldn’t.”

It seemed he had still overlooked the trick in Shiro’s arms. Yes, it was the murmuring of Til, the real trick, most impossible of all—

“To begin with…I can’t even use magic without boosting, I can’t.”

«—Huhhh?!»

—that made Veig cry out in long-delayed recognition. Sora chuckled. Yes, a Dwarf so great as Veig probably couldn’t have imagined such a trick. Til, by nature, couldn’t even use magic, much less operate a supermassive spirit arm. For Til—

'''—WAS AS SMOOTH AS DOLPHIN—!!!'''

Dwarves used catalysts because of the spiritual overload caused by their mithril—to synchronize externally. But Til didn’t have that mithril!! She wasn’t subject to such overload, or even load for that matter!! That was why she used boosting… Yes…the hidden truth that astonished Jibril when Til used her shift. Til couldn’t use magic without boosting. Conversely, that meant she could if she used boosting…

…It meant she could use boosting. For example: She could chain boost to boost on the chain reaction of explosions of the huge number of demi-shift anchors they’d planted, funnel the spirits into her hammer on which she’d engraved a Rite of Heavenly Smiting, and synchronize it into her body! With the vast amount of spirits thus summoned under her control, she could operate this leviathan assemblage of parts, this scrap on the stage on which she’d engraved seal rites…!!

… Yes, if a normal Dwarf tried this, they’d blow right up. It would be impossible and meaningless. Just as Til said, it would be as perverse an idea as building an underwater breathing apparatus for a fish. But for such an abnormal dwarf, it was both possible and essential. For Til—

'''—WAS AS SMOOTH AS DOLPHIN—!!!'''

«Wha—? Wait, whoa— Niecey, don’t tell me yours still hasn’t growwwn?!»

“Heh…heh-heh, Ch-Chieftain…I’d like to see you burn in hell! I would…”

Listening to their exchange, Sora, to be honest, was fairly sure by now this was not the case. But he still insisted: they had to be talking about beards!! So anyway—!

“Heh, this is the difference in natural gifts… Bow before the absolute wall you cannot overcome, Veig!!”

«Fock!! How can a Dwarf’s body endure that shite? You wanna kill my fockin’ niece?!»

The transmission to Sora roared full of naked rage. Understandable. One percent of Jibril’s power—the power to run a supermassive machine like that—was as reckless as pouring rocket fuel into an automobile. Therefore…

“…Didn’t you say no mercy? A man’s word isn’t worth much these days, huh?”

«—!!»

…Sora saw that Veig was thinking of taking a bullet and losing the game for Til’s sake, and Sora stopped him, making a face. If Til died, it would probably spell death for Sora and Shiro, who were holding her, too. Til was barely conscious, but still she held firm to her hammer and smiled.

—Veig meant to lose intentionally.

This man didn’t seem to understand what a humiliation that would be—!!

“To hell with your patronizing sympathy!! This is a trap—there’s no place for you to hide and no room for you to choose!!”

Sora’s howl what seemed like a signal to that which sat somewhere in the supermassive machine behind the giant cannon that opened its mouth with a roar: another machine. Sora and the operator inside the additional cockpit announced savagely:

“There’s only one future: Til’s complete victory!!”

«Whyyy, it’s time for the showwwdowwwn.♥»

That moment, the light of the Holy Forge flashed from the barrel, and suddenly a metal glob blocked the opening. Connected to the muzzle, the object sparkled—and this time, Veig froze, mech and all. It was another legacy of the past that he could not mistake.

“Can you dodge a bomb? If you know a way, as a gamer, I’d very much like to know!”

A bomb indeed, leaving no place to hide. A bomb called…yes, that’s right:

…The E-bomb…

== Partie 6 ==

In the cockpit behind the blazing E-bomb was Fiel, smiling.

“Why, you’ll note that we’ve followed the rules to a T. And in a most sustainable way, if I might add.♥”

No magic other than seal rites. You lost if your core broke. And the players here were everyone…

“Anyone can very well recycle the unit we lost in, caaan’t theyyy?♥”

True, Til could connect and use Fiel’s unit. Also:

“Incluuuding the seal of protection of that boorish fire, and incluuuding the seal rites on the unit.♪”

Fiel had in mind the seventh player, and their fifth trump card.

They hadn’t bothered with any seal rites for the specs, but they had bothered with seal rites.

They had implemented an eighty-four-fold rite using the seal of protection of an Old Deus. And they’d used the Holy Forge, the power of Ocain, to enable shifting.

Til had subsumed Fiel’s unit and commandeered it under the protection of Ocain. And there was no rule that Til couldn’t use that thing shifted from her hideout!! Chlammy asked suspiciously of the merry Fiel, who occupied the same cockpit:

“…Fi, I’ve been wondering: Whose idea was it to use the seal of Ocain’s protection?”

She’d heard of the “rites of spirit-breaking” or whatever that they’d used in the War, such as Áka Si Anse—spells that used seal rites to call upon the protection of Kainas, creator of the Elves. But it was said they were no longer usable after the Ten Covenants. In that case, this thing Fiel produced must have been newly compiled, after the War.

…Who would have implemented a seal rite to call upon Ocain, of all gods? For that matter, even having grown up in Elven Gard, Chlammy had never heard of a spell that could un-quasi-shift such a large mass.

“Mmm, I don’t know, myself. It’s been the Nirvalens’ ace in the hole for generations.”

Fiel tilted her head. Yes, and they’d said this…

“They said trump cards are trump cards because you don’t reveal them until the showdown.”

Howeverrr… She gave Chlammy her greatest smile as she continued.

“Why, my ultimate trump card is you, Chlammy.♪”

Fiel had gone to such lengths as to reveal her family’s secret. She smiled at her best friend: They had lost—and that therefore was the victory planned. Chlammy beamed and reflexively looked away, embarrassed.

“If you say we can’t win…why, then we can’t win.”

Yes…from the moment Chlammy had concluded that they couldn’t win…

…Fiel had resigned from this game…

So, they had requested of Sora and Shiro a friendly token of appreciation for their friendly cooperation. It was a condition of the deal, in other words: No matter who won—

—Veig must be commanded to bear shame for the rest of his life…

“Whyyy, it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you win!! Our objective is to convict that thing, the offender! In which caaase, it doesn’t maaatter who uses whose power to win. As long as the crook gets his just deserts, we have wooon!!”

Fiel’s bright demeanor made Chlammy chuckle.

“…Well, we do have to regret a little we didn’t make good on our chance to win directly.”

“But we must count ourselves blessed to have been able to pummel you a bit.♪ After allll—”





















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== Références ==
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| Revenir au [[No_Game_No_Life_:_Tome_10_Chapitre_4|Chapitre 4]]
| Retourner au [[No_Game_No_Life_-_Français|Sommaire]]
| Passer à l' [[No_Game_No_Life_:_Tome_10_Épilogue|Épilogue]]
|-
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