User:Démiurge
Chapitre 2 : Ligne Silencieuse (Esthétisme)
Cependant, ces grandes ailes
n'ont pas réussi à atteindre le ciel.
Car il n'y avait pas de ciel dans ce monde.
Un monde vide qui mentait, disant qu'ils pouvaient aller n'importe où.
Une voix vide qui ne les laissait aller nulle part.
Une cage vide qui leur disait comment vivre...
Chaque fois que ces ailes s'ouvraient,
aversion et curiosité,
l'inclusion et l'exclusion,
une force barrait le ciel.
Voyant les larmes de l'oisillon, la marionnette dit :
Prenons notre temps et réfléchissons à comment nous pouvons nous échapper de cette cage.
La marionnette est entrée dans la cage de l'oiseau.
Réfléchissons ensemble comment déployer nos ailes et voler.
Toujours ensemble...
Comme nous l'avons promis. Ils ont souri...
Partie 1
Il n'y avait pas de ciel dans ce monde... physiquement.
La capitale d'Hardenfell, un espace massif dont on dit qu'il se trouve à dix mille mètres sous la surface. Sora et Shiro sont descendus du souterrain et ont observé cette vaste ville souterraine. Tous deux étaient perdus dans leurs pensées, cherchant comment décrire ce qui s'étendait devant eux. Techniquement, pas seulement devant. Mais aussi au-dessus, en dessous, derrière, à gauche et à droite. S'ils devaient décrire ce panorama à 360 degrés tel qu'ils le voyaient.
"Laissez-moi deviner. Votre chef est le président d'une société qui rime avec Thinra."
"...Qu'est-ce que Demi...fait...en fait...de toute façon ?"
Si vous faisiez une recherche d'image pour "paysage nocturne d'usine", vous auriez probablement la même idée. Une jungle d'acier flottant de façon fantastique avec d'innombrables sources lumineuses éblouissantes scintillant dans l'obscurité. Cela ressemblait à une légère modification de Midgar dans le septième épisode de cette série dont les deux mots commencent par F. Comme s'ils avaient utilisé un sort de gravité pour ignorer toutes les lois de la physique et autres, et qu'ils l'avaient copié-collé dans toutes les directions et voilà. Ce que vous avez vu est ce que vous avez obtenu - pas de ciel, pas de haut ou de bas. Le résultat :
"Ils ont même les Réacteurs Mako". Il suffit de le dire. Le chef est un Ruf*s, n'est-ce pas ?"
En voyant une colonne de lumière traverser le centre de la ville, Sora a lancé cette question par-dessus son épaule, à moitié sérieux.
"-Oh ! Non, Maître. C'est le feu susmentionné de l'Ancien Dieux Ocain - la Forge Sacrée."
Jibril avait regardé autour d'elle, les yeux brillants d'excitation, mais elle s'est empressée de baisser la tête en parlant.
"Les Nains sont l'une des rares races dont le créateur est vivant et bien portant, et réside toujours parmi eux. L'utilité industrielle de la Forge Sacrée lui permet de servir de force motrice à cette civilisation mécanique avancée - cette ville."
Civilisation mécanique avancée - hum. Ils avaient vu beaucoup de choses sur le chemin pour les convaincre de cela. Comme le souterrain, dont Til ne voulait toujours pas sortir...
Apparemment, c'était un vaisseau qui utilisait des "flux différentiels" pour voyager à travers la terre. Ils n'avaient pas la moindre idée de ce que cela signifiait, mais de toute façon, ils avaient parcouru environ neuf mille sept cents kilomètres pour arriver ici. Sans compter le temps de réparation de Til, un peu moins de six heures. Mille six cents kilomètres par heure...
...à travers la terre ferme. Dans leur ancien monde, ce n'était même pas à la portée d'un sous-marin, il fallait un jet supersonique. L'avertissement standard pour la physique improbable - "sans tenir compte de la friction" - s'appliquait-il à la réalité de ce monde ? Même Shiro a saisi sa tête.
"...C'est assez impressionnant, je te l'accorde. Mais comme Jibril a dit que c'était la civilisation la plus avancée scientifiquement..."
Sora a jeté un autre coup d'œil à Midgar - pardon, la capitale d'Hardenfell. Un peu steampunk, mais totalement science-fiction.
Et pourtant... Qu'est-ce que c'était ? D'une certaine manière... ce n'était pas à la hauteur de ses attentes. Quelque chose n'allait pas - ou pas exactement, mais...
"Oh, non, Maître. J'ai simplement indiqué que c'était la civilisation la plus avancée mécaniquement dans ce monde."
Jibril interrompit les pensées discordantes de Sora par une correction et développa.
"Si je puis ajouter - votre monde est bien plus avancé en matière de science. "
...Huh. Comparé à ces nains de merde qui ont joué avec la gravité pour construire des villes à 360 degrés ? Ces tarés qui avaient construit cette ville en couches sans aucun support ?
"La civilisation naine est mécaniquement supérieure - mais en aucun cas scientifiquement. En fait, la race naine est la race la plus éloignée de la science... Je soupçonne que cela deviendra clair pour vous assez rapidement. ♪"
- ?
Mécaniquement avancé, scientifiquement avancé... Quelle était la différence ? Sora et Shiro échangèrent un regard sceptique, mais Jibril se contenta d'un sourire entendu.
"Sur ce, bien qu'avec beaucoup de réticence, je vais prendre congé pour accueillir nos invités."
Sa voix maussade s'est arrêtée alors qu'elle disparaissait dans les airs.
Et donc, pour l'instant, ceux qui restaient étaient Sora, Shiro... et un autre. C'était Til, qui utilisait furieusement d'innombrables outils pour réparer son bras spirituel, son marteau. Son travail avait continué bruyamment depuis qu'ils étaient en route. "Hey," dit Sora—
" O-Oui ?! Est-ce que le chef est là ? Aidez-moi ! !"
—à laquelle elle s'était immédiatement éclipsée derrière lui et Shiro. Elle s'était mise à l'abri en un instant, les larmes aux yeux, son marteau tenu défensivement en l'air. C'était trop rapide pour que Sora ou Shiro puissent le voir ou le comprendre.
@
"Nous ne savons pas pourquoi tu es si effrayé. Mais on peut dire ce qu'on sait ?"
"...Nous sommes... certains... nous ne pouvons rien faire... pour t'aider."
Si elle avait ce genre de prouesses physiques et qu'elle avait encore peur... alors ils ne pouvaient rien faire pour l'aider.
"Je ne suis pas d'accord, je l'ai fait ! J'ai réussi d'une manière ou d'une autre à remettre en état mon bras spirituel à temps !!"
Comme pour confirmer l'objection de Til, son marteau a fait un bruit sourd et a émis un motif complexe de faisceaux lumineux.
Sora et Shiro ont froncé les yeux et ont dit : "Ah, je vois. Ce n'est pas à cause du bras spirituel qui se transforme et s'initialise. C'est plutôt le feu bleu pâle qui scintillait dans les yeux de Til, ces yeux censés être en orichalque, qui a fait naître un sourire sur les visages de Sora et Shiro. C'était la détermination dans ces yeux, cette résolution indomptable brûlant d'une flamme vive...
"Je ne suis plus seul !!! Si l'ennemi vient..."
...cette volonté de fer, ne s'inclinant devant personne, qui grondait dans la bouche de cette monstrueuse loli brune. En d'autres termes- !!
"- tu me soutiendras, tu le feras ! Et alors ! Je serai ☆ vraiment ☆ en sécurité !"
"Excellent. Viens rugir dans mes bras ! Ouais, où est cet ennemi ? Venez et..."
"With indomitable resolve, Til would run like hell from the dominant! And Sora would welcome her into his arms—that ultimate safety zone where the Covenants would repel any attempt to pry her loose—
…Yoink, yoink, yoink…
Silence arrived as Shiro yanked at Til’s suspenders. Til blushed, and Sora watched adoringly. But just as soon, the silence dissolved with the appearance of one of the enemies Til feared.
@
"Whyyy…so this is your burrow… What a perfectly grotesque horror showww!”
The sudden visitor continued merrily as if in song: "It rubs me quite the wrong way. ♥ Why… ♪ this would be a fine time to execute you in a dark ☆ ritual! ♥”
“Help me! This is the time, it is! Help me! I’ll be burned alive, I—ow! Q-Q-Queen Shiro, pardon me, if you will! I-I’m safe here, I am; I’ve successfully escaped, I have!!”
Smiling, Fiel announced Til’s imminent slaughter. Til fell on her face, probably due to having her suspenders pulled, before crawling into Shiro’s skirt. Sora looked behind, unimpressed with Til’s shaky-voiced declaration of victory.
“…? Oh, I apologize for the wait, Masters. But I have returned.”
“Yeah… Good work, Jibril… So, sorry to spring this on you right away, but…"
The devil angel, back with the Elven menace, stood there confused.
Til and Fiel had averred that they would die were they to breathe the same air for six hours in the subterrane. So the agreement had been made that Jibril would go back to pick up Chlammy and Fiel after they got to Hardenfell. Sora praised Jibril and clutched his head again.
“…This isn’t even on the level of ‘they don’t get along’…"
@
*****
"Heh-heh-heh, yes, heh, I say! I can’t see anything, I can’t! Even if you glare at me, I—I won’t be scared, I won’t! You might as well craft a spell to hurt me and watch the Covenants turn it to mist, you might! ***Pft!***"
*****
"Fi!! Come on, Fi, don’t make that face; it’s scary! Please…”
Her head buried beneath Shiro’s skirt, her bottom showing, her body trembling, Til taunted Fiel all the same. Fiel’s face was such a storm of silent bloodthirst, it ultimately made Chlammy cry. Shiro grudgingly bore the situation as the alternative to having Til in Sora’s arms. All present looked to Jibril for an explanation.
“Perhaps owing to the influence of their creator, Dwarves believe that everything exists to be forged.”
She gestured toward the light at the center of the city—the Holy Forge.
“And with the fire of Ocain, god of the forge, they are capable of melting anything."
…Hmm, quite a radical line of thought. Sora nodded. Everything existed to be forged—so the world existed to be rebuilt. To the Dwarves with their all-melting furnace, the environment was made to be destroyed. Meanwhile…
“Why, rocks cave, trees fall, rivers dry up in their wake. The very mountains collapse.”
—And the wind? And the sky? Sora, Shiro, and even Chlammy wisecracked to themselves as they listened to Fiel.
“The seasons dieee, and the homes of the Elves—naturally!—die as well…”
And as they started to hear the rumbling of intent to kill, Sora and Shiro finally understood.
@
"Why, to exterminate such vicious beasts…is the natural obligation of every intelligent being. ♥”
The polar opposite of the Elves, whose love and hearts died as well, apparently… Even so, Sora asserted that he was not convinced—for indeed—!
*****
"You both destroyed the environment on a planetary scale in the Great War! Who are you to talk?!"
*****
It was thousands of years too late to be saying that—!! Sora and Shiro couldn’t swallow this however they tried. But at Jibril’s next words—
“It is a matter of the length of their feud, I suppose. Masters? Please observe the forehead of that long-ears. Do you see something? ♥”
—they froze like stone. In Fiel’s forehead…there were gems—minerals. Sweat ran down their cheeks.
—Everything exists to be forged…
They didn’t know exactly what those gems were. But it was easy to imagine that it would be problematic for them to be mined.
"As the Elves have butchered the Dwarves for destroying their forests, so have the Dwarves massacred the Elves for their gems…”
No one knew by now which happened first, but in any case…
“They have slaughtered each other since the beginning of time, altogether apart from squabbles over the One True God.♥”
*****
“It’s your fault for being born with stones in your head, it is. If you’ve a complaint, then come back as a liquid instead. ***Pft!*** That’s right, I won’t apologize, I won’t!! I’ll never apologize to a little weed, I won’t!!”
*****
“…Nooo, nooo… Fi’s ignorrring me… Waaaaaah!!"
@
"—Ah! Wh-why, no! I wasn’t ignoring you, Chlammyyy, I was just a bit—”
“Nooo! I don’t like iiit! Eegh… You’re scary, Fi. I hate you!!”
Til’s trolling had made Fiel’s malice explode again, which then brought Chlammy’s fear to the breaking point, it seemed. Fiel apologized in a panic to the wailing Chlammy, who’d regressed to the state of an infant…
At all this, Sora just sighed. He gave up and decided to dismiss it.
This is beyond reconciliation or resolution…
“’Kay. So, will you take us to our customer who wants his medicine?”
He looked back at the multilayered, antigravity, omnidirectional factory-type city as he spoke.
Actually, to be precise, by now Sora’s eyes were only on the Dwarves who bustled about the city. To be more precise: only the females. Yes…the brown Loli monster girls—!! As he asked Til where to find the customer who would sell them to him, not knowing even which way was up…
“By the way, you might want to get out of there…before Shiro goes ballistic on your ass.”
…Sora advised Til, who’d been squawking away with her head beneath Shiro’s skirt. Til responded promptly.
“ — Wha? Wha?! I-it was a brief lapse, but I do apologize, I do!!”
“……There’s…a limit…to how, rude…you can…be……isn’t there?”
Til’s shoulders bounced up as she scrambled to her feet with a salute. Which meant…
@
…Her skirt—Shiro’s—went up, too. Dazzled by the sight of her panties, belly button, and smile, Sora and Til froze.
“…The little sister…role’s, not…enough, huh? …Now you want…to be the protag…?”
The smiling Shiro was looking just as ballistic as Sora had feared. He could read between the lines.
“…You think, you can get away with…being an accidental perv…if you’re not even, the main character…?”
I see, so you want to be crushed, do you? Very well, I’ll grant your wish.
*****
Alll right, Til!! Let’s hurry and get to Hardenfell and get back!! Okay?!
*****
"Sir!! I-I’ll escort you to the Chieftain’s Hall immediately! B-but I won’t see the chieftain, I won’t. I-I’ll wait nearby, if I may…!!”
Sora shouted at Til in the hope of hurrying her and avoiding an unmanageable situation this time. Til saluted, while sticking to her guns on that one point. She closed her coat up to her head—once more in backpack form—and said as if reassuring herself:
“…It—it’s all right. I’ll go back home; this is just a trip…it is…"
Mumbling, she walked ahead with heavy steps. Following, Sora felt—
—a sense of déjà vu at this one who so hated her own country.
“…Hey… Why do you hate Hardenfell so much?”
“Heh… There’s no place for a grubby mole among Dwarves, there’s not.”
She sounded just as she had when they first met, when she called herself a “grubby mole of a travesty of a Dwarf.” She seemed to sense the doubt of Sora and Shiro behind her.
@
" …We’re going through anyway, we are. I’ll introduce you to the Central Industrial District, I shall.”
A picture is worth a thousand words. You’ll see. The ironic smile with which she turned made clear enough what she meant. And then:
“…Sir and Ma’am, do you like this city?”
……
“To me…the capital is the worst part of Hardenfell, it is.”
Til looked up at the lights like dazzling stars throughout the spherical underground city. The light shone in her orichalcum eyes—but she dropped her gaze as if she were staring beyond the horizon.
“ — There is no sky here……”
Til managed a fragile smile as she looked at the dark sky reflected in the dark-haired Sora’s eyes. Sora chuckled—Yeah, you’re right…
Partie 2
The Central Industrial District buzzed with noise and machines and Dwarves...and manufacturing plants. Sora and Shiro witnessed an answer to a question they’d long had for fantasy works: Why is magic the opposite of science?
What is science?
It is a system of records of observation of natural phenomena, inference of laws, and verification by testing. If one could observe magic, spirits, souls, or even gods as natural phenomena, then one could research them systematically. And if the results were reproducible, then wasn’t that totally science? Wasn’t it just one more scientific discipline, like physics or mathematics?! Spiritology!! And now we were talking about machines— devices that behave in specified ways according to theoretical laws. Who cared if they ran on steam, electricity, spirits, or what?! Wasn’t it science regardless of the power source?! Yeah...that’s what they’d thought...but…
“Now!! It’s time for a demonstration of some simple spirit-arm manufacturing, easy for any Dwarf to handle, it is!!”
...Sora’s eyes were already glazing over at this complete collection of advertising phrases that had never been associated with anything that was actually simple. Til shouted over the work noise and gestured below them. They were on an overpass, looking down at a massive manufacturing site… Yes...
@@@
“First! You just need some ordinary Dwarves and an appropriate amount of materials, you do!!”
...Slapped in the face from the first line, Sora and Shiro looked like they were already done with this. They watched a buff fluffball pick up a huge mass of metal as if it were nothing. Ordinary, my ass. And then:
“Next, you just bash it with a hammer! Do it in the way you feel is best— and there you go!!”
There was a blast as if someone had gotten frustrated, shoved a whole bunch of charges into a rock mass, and ignited them all at once.
“...Yeah? So...what’s that?”
“It’s a spirit arm, it is. See? Simple, isn’t it?”
“......I don’t, like this... My, head hurts…”
Before they knew it, the buff fluffball had in his hand a mysterious machine—reportedly a spirit arm. It was as if they’d cut straight to the end. This was reality. Shiro crouched and held her head. Sora pressed on his temple and took a deep breath before asking Jibril:
“Okay... Now show us the raw footage in slow motion. With voice-over, if possible.”
“Master, I’m afraid it’s just as it looks. Dwarves are exceedingly dexterous.”
“...Mm... Can’t even see! ...I don’t get it, but...okay?!”
“I’m asking you to explain this crazy bullshit, okay?! Don’t tell me—”
Having gone over it, there was just one thing Sora had learned, and he asked to confirm:
“You’re saying they grab a lump of metal ten times as big as they are, hack at it, bash away at it—and then—”
Eyes wide open, his head shaking side to side, he screamed—!
“—boom, you have a mechanical ball? There’s only so far ‘dexterous’ will take you!!”
“...Not just a ball...it’s, almost a perfect sphere! ...The precision...is on the level, of a prototype for measurement...!”
The object in the fluffball’s hand, according to Til, was a spirit arm.
This spirit arm had been transformed from a metal mass to debris to a machine that operated as intricately as a gyrocompass. It had been finely engraved and gave off the luster of a mirrored surface.
@@@
“I mean, how is it possible to turn a single piece of metal into a machine with multiple interlocking parts?!”
Cast it. Cut it... At least assemble it! What? They just mash the material arbitrarily? They pound it and bend it and fold it, and then there’s a seal-rite machine—a complete spirit arm?
At least drill it !!!
They’re “seal rites” as in engraved seals, right? So engrave them! At least do what the name says!!
“...Hey, you’re not telling me they made the subterrane and this whole mechanical city this way, are you?”
Sora was flummoxed. Jibril replied with a correction.
“Oh, no, Master. Spirit arms are implemented by connecting catalysts that have had seal rites applied, combining them, and synchronizing spirits and souls with the cores. Ultimately, they are driven by the magic of an individual Dwarf, the spirits of the caster.”
“Yes, yes! Typical machines... Oh, look over there. They’re building an airship, they are.”
They turned their eyes to the section of the plant Til pointed to. A fluffball who’d crossed his arms in front of a huge bulk of material, shouted “Rahhh!” and smashed it like a karate master would to a stack of tiles! And then— somehow!—before their eyes, the material turned into an organic-looking drive furnace. Then, with the sense of satisfaction at a job well done, the Dwarf lifted it up like a barbell.
“Now! Another Dwarf who’s made another part as seems best takes that part—”
The fluffball tossed the drive furnace to another fluffball, who caught it with his hands—
“And thus they put together parts as they see fit until they have an airship, they do. And there you have it, you do!!”
—Steadily. At blinding speed. Tossing and heaving... Various units flew through the air and piled up on one another, connecting as they hit each other, unfolding, coupling. It seemed as if a massive structure was forming all by itself. This was unwatchable.
@@@
“Other than the seal-rite stuff, isn’t this exactly the saaame?!”
...Okay. So basically, it was magical bullshit. Time to let it go. Even as Sora relaxed, his face sculpted into an archaic smile, the airship kept coming together—but there was no need to trouble oneself over how this insult to aerodynamics could fly. If you wanted to start that, what about Jibril? Screw it. It’s magic. But it was a machine—so screw you, Sora roared with the baneful visage of an Asura!
“Look—where are the blueprints?! Where are the measuring instruments?! Where are the tools other than hammers?!”
A machine—a device that behaved in specific ways according to theoretical laws... Sora demanded to know what had become of the design documents, the engineering logic...in short, the theory. Til’s voice rang out to reveal to him the quintessence of this advanced civilization.
“Sir!! If you ask what the secret of Dwarven mechanical engineering and magical theory is, there is only one answer, there is!!”
“‘DON’T THINK, FEEL!’ IT IIIIIIIIS !!”
“HOW CAN YOU HAVE ENGINEERING OR THEORY IF YOU REJECT THINKING ?! ARE YOU SCREWING WITH ME ?!”
—Don’t worry about all that theoretical crap. Use your common sense!!
Sora gasped under the weight of this unheard-of absurdity. But Jibril kneeled and told him for the third time:
“Master, I apologize for not explaining sufficiently... Dwarves are exceedingly dexterous.”
No matter how he begged for an explanation, that was the only answer she could give. And there was a reason for that.
“I can see it, but I cannot understand it myself. I speculate that they themselves would be unable to explain it.”
Sora felt the blood drain from his face, as Shiro felt it drain from hers as she crouched trying to do calculations. So Jibril was saying that Dwarves fundamentally…
“Dwarves: the race created by Ocain, god of the forge.”
@@@
It was like asking the Flügel, created by the god of war, how they could fight so well. If one were to ask the Dwarves, created by the god of the forge, how they could forge so well—
“All they need is their natural gifts—no, their god-given sensibility—to manufacture anything.”
—one’s question would be answered with a question: How can’t you?
“They imagine what they fancy and move as they please—drawing their ideal ever nearer through pure sensibility.”
Sora and Shiro gulped as the answer got shoved down their throats.
“And as a result, they never fail... They are a race without need for hypotheses or testing.” So it was just that they were preternaturally talented... No. Straight-up geniuses—monsters of sensibility. All they had to do was move their hands the way their imagination told them to, and creation would occur spontaneously. If they’d built this civilization all out of flashes of inspiration and casual tweaks, then they didn’t need theory. Trial with no error. Testing with no failure...
“...A mechanical civilization that’s progressed by passing down knowledge and experience by sensibility alone...huh...”
Having finally got the big picture, Sora and Shiro looked at each other and nodded deeply.
—IN THAT CASE, THERE’S NO PROBLEM !!
“So basically! Dwarves just have an OP buff?”
“......Mm! ...If that’s, all it is... Okay... I can live with that…”
Sora and Shiro powerfully stood up and shook off their confusion. All right, so they have a mechanical civilization that would sneer at science fiction. But this isn’t science fantasy, either. It isn’t science at all. It’s pure fantasy!! So the two of them thought, having at last understood the true meaning of what Jibril had been telling them.
A mechanical civilization but not a scientific civilization...huh? Ah...now they had their answer as to the difference between science and magic.
@@@
—Machines without theory... Yes, indeed, that was not science. It was, indeed, magical bullshit !!
“Maaan... Why didn’t you just tell us Dwarves were a magical bullshit race?”
“...You could have...saved us...a lot, of...sweating...”
Beaming from ear to ear, Sora and Shiro resumed walking, ready to leave this magical workshop that called itself a manufacturing plant, while the Dwarves carried on their work below.
A race of geniuses that advanced technology without theory. So decisively incomprehensible that it was a relief. It’d be more productive to try to understand Flügel or Old Dei, Sora thought with a smirk. They were just fundamentally beyond human understanding—or rather...
...They were the most dangerous thing to assume you understood. Sora made up his mind about that. As they began to exit the Central Industrial District, Sora and Shiro heard someone mutter behind them.
“...Why, they’re simply animals not capable of complex thought.”
It was Fiel, who’d kept silent for a long while, with a differing opinion about the Dwarves... No, actually, a plain statement without the slightest aggressive intent. She sounded as calm and sure as a Buddha giving a sermon.
While Chlammy cried—You’re scary, Fi; I don’t like it—Fi’s face, its emotions sealed away by magic, remained as placid as a Buddha’s.
“...Fi? Your ‘form is emptiness’ face is kind of scary in its own way...”
“Chlammy... You must calm your mind... Why, fear is one of the roots of suffering…”
Fiel looked like a Buddha statue, and it only made Chlammy back farther away.
“By the way, Master? I hear there is a race that has repeatedly lost to this very thoughtless race.♥”
Jibril looked pleased as punch.
“I have also heard that they analyzed the tactics produced by the thoughtless sensibility of this thoughtless race, and systematized them into a set of conventions that just barely allowed them to fight back, both in war and in games— Oh! That reminds me.♪”
The terrible actor glanced at Fiel.
@@@
“I believe the link tattoos on the arm and forehead of that long-ears do, in fact, stem from a desperate theoretical adaptation of those used without a caaare in the worrrld by the Dwarves. Pardon, was I too harsh?”
With the utmost joy, she worked to break the face of that statue—trolling as hard as she could.
“You had to downgrade them so that your long-ears could use them, didn’t you?♥”
“Fi?! That’s a cheap shot! Don’t get mad, please?!”
“...Why would I? A Flügel knows nothing of seals, useless should even one spirit particle be warped. Why, I’d never take to heart the words of one who hasn’t the faintest idea what subtlety is, to say nothing of being able to use seal rites...”
“Are you sure you’re sealing away your emotion?! Don’t mock her back with that face, that voice!!”
With that commotion behind them, Sora and Shiro looked at the back of the little figure ahead of them.
...Til had talked about Dwarven craft as if it had nothing to do with her.
They looked at the hammer on the back of that self-described “grubby mole”...
“...Yes, yes. I’m sure you’ve realized by now, you have...”
Without turning, Til nodded deeply and self-deprecatingly. All right. Dwarf had a crafting cheat. Got that. But when Til had repaired her spirit arm and the subterrane, the way she had done it defied even Sora’s comprehension. That speed the eye couldn’t follow, that inexplicable skill— but what was it...?
“...I can’t make anything the way the others do.”
Til turned with a grin as if revealing the secret to a cheap trick. She bashed her spirit arm into the ground, and it blossomed like a fan with thousands of slats, the slats unfolding into countless tools and measuring instruments.
“...I...don’t have a bit...of that sensibility, I don’t.”
So she was saying... Even with tools, there was nothing she could do in that regard. Til sneered at herself to confirm Sora’s thoughts and continued.
“...Whether it’s this hammer or the subterrane, the best I can do is to fix things or patch them together, it is.”
@@@
Til was supposed to be one of those Dwarves who “never failed.” Sora now understood Jibril’s consternation when Til had blown up her spirit arm.
“But even when I patch things together, I don’t understand the meanings of the seals...so I fail, I do.”
This civilization had passed down knowledge and experience by natural sensibility. Without that sensibility...there was nothing that could be passed down.
Sora noticed the way Dwarves looked at Til, her face hidden by her coat...
—What are you doing here? Their eyes asked her that warily.
“...So do you still need to ask...why I hate Hardenfell?”
Sora and Shiro, Chlammy, even Jibril, all found themselves silent. If what made a Dwarf a Dwarf was that gift—that god-given sensibility—then Til...
...of course wouldn’t like it. Nor have a place.
She wasn’t even a Dwarf...from her point of view. She gently brought her face into sight to declare her inferiority.
“It’s because I’m a grubby little mole, I am!! Do you understand now?!”
—and sang the triumph of I told you so—!!
......Uhhh...?
Her glorious mien paradoxically suggested pride. The rest uniformly were without words this time.
Til’s heated discourse reminded one that this was the point she was after. But then she walked up to Sora with a smirk that made even Sora nervous and leery, and she went on—!!
“Sir?! I have heard that Immanity is a ‘thinking reed’!!”
“Uh, yeah... Someone said that in this world, too, did—”
“But an unthinking Immanity is not a reed!! It’s just a moving reed! A pestilent freak of nature just waiting to be blasted with weed killer. At least a real weed stays put, it does!!”
Til’s furious invective didn’t even give Sora time to acknowledge her statements. He couldn’t breathe.
@@@
“An Immanity that doesn’t think! A Werebeast that doesn’t have keen senses! A Flügel that can’t fight, a Siren that can’t attract, an Ex Machina that doesn’t learn—these are all cases of utter and irredeemable hopelessness, which I would to, here, as I said!!”
Til, so impassioned she was losing her command of the Immanity tongue, concluded!!
“There is nothing worse than a Dwarf who doesn’t have sensibility!! This should be self-evident, it shouuuld!!”
Her words had an echo of thunder quite unlikely in an underground city.
......Oh. Must be the factories, Sora hazily realized. Fiel nodded with her Buddha-statue face, while everyone else was simply overwhelmed by the tide of her momentum—
“Oh. You weeds who can’t be eaten and can’t be burned should hurry up and rot down into fossil fuels before you start talking, you should. ***Pft!*** No, I won’t apologize, I won’t! I’ll never apologize to a bloody Elf, I won’t!!”
—But, Elf. I’m not including you here. Her motor-mouthing seemed to have led to Fiel weaving a spell, still with the Buddha-statue face.
“Heh! You can try to destroy me, but it’s futile, it is; I’m not scared, I’m— waiiit! H-help me! Queen Shiro, please let me in; I was bluffing; I am sooo scared, I am!!”
Til tried to flee under Shiro’s skirt again, but that wouldn’t work a second time. She hurried to hide behind Sora and Shiro, where she quivered. Sora— and for some reason Jibril and Fiel, too—frowned at her quizzically.
“Uh...hey. But, Til...you can build spirit arms...can’t you?”
Til had asserted her inferiority with a fervor going past humility all the way to pride. But...
“From our point of view, you’re so skilled it’s bullshit. We can’t even see spir—”
Sora chose his words to probe out the identity of this unease that had arisen within him but was interrupted.
“Sir. Immanities cannot fly, they can’t.”
“.........Well, yeah, we can’t. Sure.”
@@@
Til looked straight at Sora. Her next words, with her pale blue eyes, followed:
“So, then, do you resign yourselves to the fact you can’t fly?”
...Oh... That’s how it is...
Sora fell silent. Heedless, Til once again took on again a triumphant visage and added, That aside—!!
“A bird that cannot fly is a chicken, it is! A farm animal! Good only to be cooked to a crisp and deliciously— Wait! I-if I cannot even be deliciously enjoyed, then am I even inferior to a farm animal?! I—I’m afraid I’ve insulted chickens, I have... B-but at any rate!!”
Til’s speech, resounding ten thousand meters below the surface, seemed to be finally reaching its conclusion.
“I have no sensibility! I can’t build spirit arms! I can’t even use magic! And as such I’m not even a Dwarf!!”
Her endless stream of negatives sparked something in Sora. He thought he might be putting a finger on his unease—but then her conclusion crashed his thought process.
“Finally, I have no hair!! I’m as smooth as a dolphin!! And therefore: I’m a grubby little mole, I am!!”
“Hmm?! I find this a non sequitur! Please elaborate on the implications of this smoothness of yours!
Sora turned toward Til so fast the air friction could have lit a match! And —
...Yoink, yoink, yoink…
—his little sister, eyes cold enough to freeze Hell itself, tugged at Til’s suspenders.
“...Dolphins...have no hair...on their bodies...and are used, as an analogy...correspondingly...”
“Oh, Master? I mentioned that Dwarven females have less hair, but—”
And then, when Jibril added—
“—I only meant in comparison to the males. They are still hairy and bearded, you see.”
“Oh, we’re talking about beards?! Of course! I thought she just made a really dramatic revelation and—”
@@@
—the females in their party all peered at him as if to ask, What did you think she meant? But Sora said to himself, That’s not the issue here. He looked around the city in a panic and shouted:
“Wait... Jibril—did you just say the girls are hairy and bearded? What? Where?!”
Out of nowhere, Jibril had seemed to hint that this Shambhala, its streets filled with brown Loli monster girls going this way and that, was secretly the abyss.
“The mithril hair of Dwarves is an excellent material for spirit amplification.”
Oh!! So their hair isn’t silver; it’s mithril. Yeah, she mentioned that! And she said that caused the magic overload that meant they needed catalysts!! But—?!
Though Sora clung to hope, the answer that came was merciless—and yet, obvious, if you thought about it...
“It is used, of course, for catalysts, and also for spirit arms... In fact, it is used in most every machine produced by Dwarf. However, to use it, first one must harvest it... In other words, one must shave.”
So, this city—this mechanical civilization so advanced… ...was a Naraka of beard hair... And on top of that...
“The amount of hair Dwarves have indicates the strength of their spiritual amplification and the amount of material they produce. Therefore, males intentionally leave some as a display of power, but since females have less to begin with, they generally shave it all.♪”
So the dudes in this abyss were originally fluffballs of a whole different order of magnitude. While even the girls were just shaving their beards. Sora collapsed.
...Oh... Oh, god...
Ocain, god of the forge...Old Deus who did create this race of sensibility...verily, you have no sense at all...!! ***Curse you...***
“But...dear me? If you lack hair, then would that not protect you from internal spirit overload due to the mithril and allow you to use magic without catalysts? Is it not advantageous in some ways?”
@@@
“It is not, it isn’t!! I don’t have the capability to use magic at all without boosts, I don’t!!”
“Y-you mean you have not just less hair, but no hair... You can’t even produce the minimum spiritual amplification required for magic?”
“I cannot, I can’t! But I can accidentally blow up the spirit arms I use for boosting, I can! Without boosts, I can’t use magic, because I have zero hair, I do! And at the same time, I have zero sensibility for making the spirit arms required for boosting, I do!! You may say I should have someone else make them for me, but we’re talking about spirit arms for the hopelessly hairless— it’s as incoherent a request as to make an underwater breathing apparatus for a fish, it is! No one will make such a thing, they won’t!! In conclusion, I’m sunk every which way, I aaam!!”
Til was announcing checkmate on herself, while Sora meanwhile saw a light at the end of the tunnel.
...Hopeless? What were these numbskulls talking about? Til, ah, Til alone was not hairy and bearded—!! The One True Brown Legal Loli Monster Girl, was she not?! Sora squinted and stared at the sparkle of hope down at the bottom of the deepest Naraka.
“...It’s okay... If you, believe...it will grow... ***Grow, growww!”***
...Yoink, yoink, yoink...
Then Sora heard Shiro chant a curse as she repeatedly stretched Til’s suspenders: Die, last hope. However Til interpreted it, Til spoke resolutely with a face reddened by shame—!!
“Heh. From the time I was a child, I looked in the mirror saying, It’ll grow, it will; at least one hair will grow, it will! I believed, I did, for more than seventy years—but not a single strand of peach fuzz grew, it didn’t!! Belief’s made a mockery of me, it has! If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you, I will!! Look at this smooth, hairless—”
“Heyyy, just to check, okay?! You are talking about your ***beard***— righhht?!”
Til put her hands on her panties with vigor, and with equal enthusiasm, Sora jumped forward and closed up her coat.
—What were you trying to do?! In public! D00d!!
Sora’s shoulders heaved, but...
@@@
“...Brother... I don’t...have any hair...either...you know...!”
“Oh, Master? I don’t—or rather, Flügel in general don’t, either.♥”
“...Why, even if Chlammy doesn’t, I’ll take you to the hereafter if you touch her, you knowww?”
“I—I have hair! At least on the peach-fuzz lev— Hey, Sora! I mean, Fi, how could you?!”
“S-Sir, are you one of those perverts who fancies them smooth and hairless?!”
“Look, we’re talking about BEARDS, right?! I can see that with my own eyes, and obviously it’s better if you don’t have them!! Guys who are into bearded ladies at the very least aren’t in the majority, right?! Why are you looking at me like that?!”
Sora tearfully defended himself against the gazes accusing him of being a pervert. But—
“...Sir. As you’ve seen, I’ve no place to go back to here, I’ve not.”
—Til’s eyes rested on the darkness of Sora’s, uncertain, weak, afraid, and fragile. But with great conviction...of her inferiority. She asked:
“Is it really all right? For me to make my place...with you...?”
Those orichalcum eyes shimmering with pale blue flame asked, Will you abandon me? I can’t do anything. Is it worth anything to have me with you? Is there anything I can do for you?
That was what Til’s eyes were asking. Til herself probably didn’t even know it as she looked to Sora with hope, and asked:
“Is it possible...for me to be something more than a chicken?”
“Sure it is, kid. You just gotta be deliciously enjoyed... Hic!”
It wasn’t Sora who answered. The booming voice was that of another man, who spoke Immanity with an awful accent and a filthy delight.
“You get on a man and beg, and he’ll blast right off... He’ll send you so high you’ll— Oh, but not that man. He’s a virgin. And a little flat-chested girl lover, and a sister-fancier... Ya swine, you’re a piece of work, ain’tcha?”
“Why are we using a chicken as a basis for comparison?! And why you gotta slander me with things that are half-true? It makes it really hard to argue with!”
Sora howled at the indecent proposal and the uncalled-for observation.
@@@
Before him were the ashes of a smoking pipe, a bottle of booze...and a faint, particulate afterglow.
“Oh, you want me so much you’re leapin’ for it? Ya flatter me, Niecey.”
“Nooooo! He’s caught me, he haaas!! Sir, Ma’am, help meee!!” The ironic laughter and the heartrending cry both came from right in front of Sora and Shiro.
They couldn’t follow it with their eyes, but Jibril explained later: Til came sailing through the air toward Sora and Shiro and ended up against the chest of a man who’d cut her off with something called a demi-shift.
There was no need to ask who this Dwarf was, nor to even guess. He grabbed the weeping, pleading Til with one hand and a large mechanical sword with the other.
“—‘Welcome to Hardenfell...’ I suppose that’s what I’m supposed to say, at least? Ya fockers.”
He talked down to them with a grin, making eye contact with just one orichalcum eye, dressed in the rags of a vagrant, covered in ratty gray hair… Hic. He rubbed Til with his cheek as he burbled drunkenly. That said it all.
“Yeah!! I’ll make a woman of ya, Niecey!! Ho, I’ll take you high—”
Partie 3
...He was a sex offender.
“Wha...? It’s not like that... I just came to say hello to my fockin’ niece, y’know?”
Regardless, he was still a sex offender. Nothing more, nothing less. So Jibril had posthaste severed the space to collect the testimony of this drifter they’d caught in the act. In the makeshift interrogation room, a stern-faced Sora questioned the trembling victim behind him.
“...Til? The perp claims to be your uncle. Is this true?”
“Eek...! I-I’m baffled, I am! He—just came out of nowhere... I don’t know what’s what anymore.”
“Oy, none o’ that shit, Niecey! I got no choice but to come t’you, or you’ll run away, won’t ye?!”
“Keep your voice down, pervert!! You want us to add an intimidation charge?!”
@@@
Sora shouted down the criminal who was protesting Til’s teary and terrified claim not to know him. He listened as Jibril, who’d been at the side writing down the testimony of the gray hairball, gave her take.
“He says he came to say hello. This indicates that he was aware of the victim’s movements... Master, does he not seem of the sort who might be deluded that he is her uncle? I would suggest looking into further charges… At the very least, there is a sound case for stalking—”
“Spit it out, asshole!! How did you know where Til would be?! Who are you really?!”
“I just had a hunch!! Who am I? Oy, Niecey! Didn’t you give them the letter?!”
“Wh-what are you talking about? The chieftain should be in the Chieftain’s Hall, he should. What head of state would greet guests looking like that?! It proves you’re a perfect stranger, you aaare!!”
Hearing the incoherent argument Til cried out, Sora got the picture.
So, this drunken gray hairball, this would-be sexual assailant, is the agent plenipotentiary of Dwarf—the chieftain of Hardenfell.
And from the testimony, it appeared that he was also Til’s uncle.
“...Hmm. Then let’s just suppose, for the sake of argument, that you’re the chieftain and Til’s uncle.”
“What do ye mean, suppose? I am, for fock’s sake!!”
“Doesn’t that just make it worse?! What kind of country do you have here? Is pressing your niece into carnal relations legal here?!”
“Oh... Ya see...I just got a little carried away by the booze... It was just a little joke, damn it—” Chlammy and the other women eyed his defense piercingly:
“...I was drunk. It was a joke.” The top two excuses of male scum.
“All right, then we’ll return to the victim. Ms. Tilvilg, what is your uncle like?”
“I—I certainly don’t remember being related to such a shabby hairball stinking of booze and smok — Oh, Chieftain, you ***reek***, you do!! You smell sooo bad, you do!!”
Prompted by Sora, Til went and admitted that he was the chieftain
@@@
It looked as though being repeatedly called stinky with such a pained and tear-stained face had a considerable impact on the chieftain, who slumped silently. Meanwhile, Shiro was lost in her own thoughts…
The uncle of the lowliest of Dwarves was the greatest of Dwarves. An embarrassing middle-aged ne’er-do-well who wouldn’t leave alone the unwelcoming girl disappointment.
...What if...? Shiro started thinking. Til was a cheap and easy potential heroine who naturally stirred the desire to protect—the kind you’d see in a visual novel. She’d assumed her to be her rival for the little sister role, fearsome for her characteristic of falling as soon as she appeared. But what if......she wasn’t a potential…
...NPC pairing flag...? Yeah... Enough circumstantial evidence. But not there yet...!
—What if she fell to someone other than Brother? Shiro shook her head, flustered. It was too early to make that call. A drunken hairball and a legal Loli—there were still some issues with the optics!
But, of course, no one else was aware of the new logical perspective Shiro had discovered.
“...Ahhh, ohhh... I remember nowww... I’m...faaake.”
The chieftain was finally coming out of the shock—
“I’ll go take a bath... Let’s say I was just the messenger...”
—but he didn’t seem quite to have recovered. He wobbled away.
—The one you just called stinky wasn’t me. Let’s just leave it at that, please. Sora and Shira nodded silently at the droopy hairball.
“Make sure you bring those guys to me—I mean, us. All right?”
“Sir! I was already doing that, I was!! Tell the chieftain there’s no need to send some smelly, suspicious stranger. I’ll have them at the Chieftain’s Hall forthwith, I will!! Shoo, shoo! Pft, pft!!”
Til dismissed him, Jibril unsevered the space, and the dejected hairball swung his great sword, a spirit arm, whereupon the blade split into multiple parts—or rather, countless dazzling short swords.
“Ahh, ya fockers. If my fockin’ niece runs off again, I’ll have to go get her, so you’ll have to wai—”
@@@
“Chieftain’s Hall, Floor Five-oh-eight!! I’ll take them with tears to the reception room right in front of the chieftain, I will!!”
As easily as breathing, the hairball saw right through Til’s full intention to wait nearby.
“Okay, you’re released. But what’s your name, Chief?”
Sora peered at him keenly just as the teary-eyed Til was doing.
The man tutted and left just a few words with the faint light as he vanished into thin air.
“Veig Drauvnir. Move your arses, fockin’ outsiders.”
Partie 4
The Chieftain’s Hall was a giant column piercing up through the city center. They stood in the elevator, heading up to Floor 508 to meet Veig.
“...Fi, I know it must be a strain on your magic to hold your emotions in check right now...but does that really calm you down?”
“Breathe, breathe... Why, I won’t frighten Chlammy... Breathe...”
“Such an emotionally unstable long-ears. What is it you’re giving birth to that requires Lamaze?♥”
“S-Sir, Ma’am, p-p-please don’t abandon me, please? You promised me, you did!”
Hearing the man’s name had not helped the party’s integrity. Til stood behind Sora and Shiro, gripping their clothes. They thought...
“Yeah, sure...but, Til, just to check: This is...”
“...the administrative center...of Hardenfell...right...?”
Through the window of the elevator, they watched the contents of the column fly by as they ascended.
Actually, they were looking at a particular, familiar object decorating the space.
“It’s not a military base, with this weapon of mass destruction? I mean, ***why are you still armed?!***”
Sora had seen this weapon in the Great War RTS. He wondered about that part of the Ten Covenants that claimed war was a thing of the past.
“Oh yes. No, Sir. That’s a memorial to a great ancestor of our chieftain— it’s only a decoration, it is.”
@@@
...Decoration? Ancestor? Sora blinked. Til started—
“It is the legacy of the first chieftain of Hardenfell, Lóni Drauvnir, it ***errrz?!***”
—but was interrupted by the explosion of Fiel’s wrath.
“Fi?! What’s wrong?! All right already, I’ll do it with you! Breaaathe!!”
Chlammy was right there at ground zero, trying to get things under control. Jibril seemed to find this quite amusing. Since Til was busy clutching Sora’s and Shiro’s clothes and shivering in a huddled mass, Jibril took over her story.
“Lóni Drauvnir is a famous personage in Dwarven history, reputed as an unprecedented genius...”
Apparently, he was the Dwarven leader toward the end of the War. He’d invented seal rites and put together spirit arms. A revolutionary craftsman.
Spirit arms—operated by synchronization with the cores of transforming machines built from countless catalysts. They allowed Dwarves to emulate the ability that had been exclusive to Elf—multi-casting. Along with the race’s natural dexterity, they allowed Dwarves to compile extremely precise and complex rites that even outdid the Elves’. Moreover, it was said that this man had well-nigh created all of the other weapons from the final period of the War single-handedly.
He was truly instrumental in making the Great War what it was. Even the Elves were forced to imitate the seal rites to defend themselves; I myself found his works useful when I went out to kill some dragons.♥”
...In other words, he’d indirectly made the Elves use seal rites and create Áka Si Anse. Basically, one of the leading war criminals who’d contributed to the total devastation of the planet. Right, and...?
“I hope this is just an optical illusion—but are you saying that is there because he created it?”
Sora and Shiro together pointed to it, their faces pale and their knees trembling. No doubt about it, it was what they’d seen in the Great War RTS... It hung there, exceedingly sloppily, without a modicum of thought. A bomb, just floating there like a cheap toy—
@@@
“Yes, Master. To detonate inactive essence... Truly, the E-bomb is a work of art.♥”
“What are these guys doing just casually hanging a weapon here that would totally blow nukes out of the water?!”
Yes... Sora pointed to the E-bomb, capable of destroying a continent in one blast. He shrieked in condemnation of this armament so excessive for a world in which all violence was forbidden.
...Why all the fuss over a powerful bomb, you ask? What about Flügel or Ex Machina, who are essentially walking, flying, warping superweapons? Let me stop you right there. Why?! Because while the Ten Covenants may cancel acts of malice!!
...They don’t cover mistakes—accidents!! And here was a bomb that could go off without malice should someone be careless—?
“It’s a bomb that could blow away a continent by accident. Shouldn’t you dispose of it, or at least store it under tight security?!”
So it was just unexploded ordnance. What were you doing just hanging it there?!
“Master, please be calm. The exhibits on display here—no longer function.”
Jibril got down on one knee before the teary-eyed, screaming Sora and Shiro.
—Ah... They recalled the literature they had read regarding Ex Machina.
“Since the Covenants, all mechanisms, spells, and the like that would harm spirits have been rendered inoperable.”
Ex Machina was said to have killed spirits as fuel to operate. But the Covenants had forbidden them from killing spirits—Elementals—so they’d switched to a new system or something... In other words, she was saying these weapons that continued to go by as the elevator rose were not unexploded ordnance, but basically just models. Sora and Shiro sighed in relief and followed Jibril’s gaze upward. Then they all looked confused. Up there was just one thing they’d never seen before. Til picked up on their bafflement.
@@@
“...Oh... Th-there is one...exception to what you were saying, there is...that...”
Looking up with them...Til explained calmly.
“...That is a work from after the war—Lóni Drauvnir’s posthumous masterpiece, it is.”
So—the final work of a genius unprecedented in the history of Dwarf. No
—
“The ultimate spirit arm, which they say no one can ever outdo...it is.”
—the be-all, end-all, a work no one had been able to equal in six thousand years.
—Hmm... His masterpiece, even leaving the E-bomb behind? Sora’s face twitched as he laughed at the majesty of the giant humanoid machine before his eyes.
“...So, what... That giant robot is a spirit arm...?”
“Well, a spirit arm, essentially, is a single-operator machine, a system that integrates multiple catalytic seal rites implemented through synchronization with a core. It could be a hammer, or it could be like that. In principle, form and size are not at issue...”
Warped in shape, girded with black masses of metal, probably tens of meters tall. An imposingly hard and solid body covered in seal rites reminiscent of electronic circuits. Its shoulders carried what looked to be superheavy weapons off the charts even for the size of the frame. It was a giant robot clearly made for war—yet if it had been made after the war, then presumably it would still work...
“But I cannot think it possible that a Dwarf could possess enough spirits to operate a spirit arm of such a scale.”
“Yes, yes. I certainly don’t, and it’s far beyond the ability of even a normal Dwarf to even turn on, it is...”
Sora was secretly relieved to learn that no one could operate it, apparently.
“So, what nefarious purpose was this giant humanoid robot made for?”
The ground wasn’t enough? Now you’re gonna bust up the heavens? When Til answered Sora’s snark, Jibril was consequently rendered speechless, her expression wiped away like sand on a beach.
“The shoulder-mounted unit is a spirit arm for conceptual rewriting, it is.”
@@@
......
“I’m told it’s a conceptual rewrite machine, which repurposes inactive essence used in the E-bomb...the materialized fossil of a divine concept. It uses seal rites to alter the underlying concept. So it depends on false essence, it does...”
..................
The response was silence. Sora and Shiro narrowed their eyes to speak for themselves—and for Chlammy and perhaps all Immanity, or perhaps everyone with common sense, while they were at it. Yes...
“Jibril... Around what level of holy shit is your holy-shit meter clocking in at?”
“...Is it at...holy shit...or holy fucking shit...or fuck this shit, I’m out?”
Ah, I see—that’s some incomprehensible shit!!
So it altered the bullshit of the bullshit with some other bullshit... Well, then. That was about as boldly heartburn-inducing as putting meat inside meat inside meat and calling it a hamburger.
—So what you’re saying is it’s bullshit, said the vulgar two with world- weary eyes.
“Well said, Master. It is a sacred progenitor, sublime bearer, and superlative apotheosis of feces.♥”
Jibril, representing those to whom common sense was foreign, laughed that Til’s brain was rather divinely shit.
“If that were possible, then it should be equally possible to simply make one’s opponent lose conceptually.”
Having finally got the concept, Sora and Shiro silently went, Ah...
—Conceptually—i.e., in fundamental meaning...
......you could rewrite your opponent’s concepts......?
“Huh? What, so you’re saying they could just rewrite you as the loser and then you’d lose unconditionally?”
It would just become the case that you lost, without regard for process, circumstance, or cause and effect...? No wonder Ms. Bullshit herself was calling it bullshit... I mean, what? D00d. That was already beyond the level of cheats or exploits. That was like you just ran any code you wanted. This shit wasn’t even a game anymore, Sora suspected. But:
@@@
“You are correct, you are... It is without exaggeration a divine spirit arm, it is.”
Til looked straight back at him and nodded. She continued regardless of Sora’s dumbfounded shock.
“That said, it is a system to virtually revive inactive essence for conceptual rewrite with the target, it is. That means that, when it stops, all reverts to normal, it does—and it can only rewrite the concept specified in the false essence, it can.”
And, most importantly... The elevator had gone past the giant humanoid robot, at which Til now looked far down...as she gave an empty smile and murmured flatly.
“That—is no great shakes, it’s not.”
“...Masters. It seems she was correct in describing herself as less than a mole. Please do not take her seriously...”
Jibril called Til out for acting so as to deceive her masters. Sora thought.
“To begin with, no one has ever been able to elucidate what essence is.”
...Indeed. Even Holou, an Old Deus herself, had agonized over it for hundreds of millions of years.
“And she says they falsify it...? I have never heard such presumptuous rubbish even in jest.”
...Indeed. She was saying they’d already uncovered it six thousand years ago, even used it, and had kept even a rumor of it from reaching Jibril...while putting it on display so carelessly? Bullshit. That was impossible. Jibril was right, he thought...but—
“...You’re right, you are. We’ve not explained it, we’ve not. Goes without saying, it does.”
—Sora was sure that Til, speaking so plainly, wasn’t lying, either.
“...It’s a product of that divine realm only one...Lóni Drauvnir...ever laid eyes on, it is...”
In that case, there were two possibilities. Either Til was mistaken, and it was impossible...or......
@@@
“Oy, Niecey. Talkin’ shit, are ye? Take that back.”
The doors hummed open as the elevator stopped on the 508th floor. And from beyond, the man’s booming voice spoke the truth. Yes, the atmosphere surrounding the man who loomed before them once again, now on a mechanical throne, his chin on his hand, spoke the truth. A different man from the drunkard they’d seen, now smiling with the brutal might of one at the top, spoke the truth. The orichalcum eye burning red-hot from within the messily cut, gray—no, mithril—hair, accompanied by the fitting raiment and the lethargic attitude of a man whose arrogance is well justified, spoke the truth:
“Only one ever laid eyes on that divine realm before—”
A genius unprecedented in the history of Dwarves had gotten there—but he wasn’t the last. His greatsword leaning against the throne, the current chieftain of Hardenfell crossed his legs proudly. Veig Drauvnir spoke… The alternative was someone had made the impossible possible.
“Before I bust into this world. Fockin’ pathetic. Tell ’em.”
He spoke the truth—that he himself was the second, and that was all there was to it…
Références
| Revenir au Chapitre 1 | Retourner au Sommaire | Passer au Chapitre 3 |
