[540] That Problem (4)
As Marsha darted out of the engine room and tore down the tunnel, a furious roar came from behind.
"I'll kill you!"
She threw herself into the narrow space between the tracks and the platform.
At least I stabbed once.
So far she'd used two of the Daggers of Impiety. Once they materialize, the tattoos vanish and can't be recreated for twenty-four hours.
Four left.
She shoved her hand deep into her left thigh and pulled out another dagger.
The gas vented at one percent per minute; at that rate it would take a hundred minutes to exhaust it—a lifetime here.
At least two more stabs.
If the emission rate rose to three percent per minute, even at saturation it would only take about thirty-three minutes to drain it.
When the tunnel shimmered with an unstable red light, Marsha flung herself to the opposite side.
A massive fireball tore through the train at the same moment.
"Damn...!"
Her guts went cold. Marsha scrambled up onto the platform and sprinted through the maze of walkways.
"You think you can run away!"
Molta teleported up onto the platform.
At that instant the gas stopped venting and the black smoke dispersed.
"What the—?"
The last visible trail of smoke had gone around the corner, but Marsha didn't dare follow.
The wounds are still there.
So it was an application of an unregulated technique, just like Molta suspected.
As predicted, Marsha had paused her magic and hidden beneath the escalator. If the Spirit Zone is blocked, the Daggers of Impiety disappear and the gas stops venting.
Three left now...
One dagger had disappeared before she could use it, but that was hindsight.
"Get out! Coward—just like someone from the streets!"
What nonsense.
As if to prove it was a provocation, Molta wrapped himself in passive magic and probed the area using only the Spirit Zone.
He's increasing the responsiveness of his counterattacks.
When Marsha teleported in and activated a Dagger of Impiety, the gas began venting again.
She rolled like a cat to avoid Molta's magic and, as she passed, slashed his ankle—another wound opened.
Did it pierce Earth Skin?
The Dagger of Impiety ignores physical defense.
"Aaagh!"
A powerful Air Press pinned Marsha to the ground. The impact felt like her spine might snap, but facing the blazing fireball in Molta's hand, she had no time to register the pain.
There was a boom as it exploded, and Marsha tackled Molta's waist to drag them both out of the blast radius.
At this distance he can't cast area magic.
The dagger sank with a dull thud into Molta's flank.
"Annoying brat!"
Molta punched Marsha in the jaw, grabbed her wrist, and ripped it free. Marsha twisted her other hand behind her back and drew a Dagger of Impiety from the hollow of her hip.
"Waaaaah!"
She drove it wildly into his side. Instantly four more sheaths appeared.
"Damn it!"
Prepared to take the hit, Molta cast flame magic. There was a boom and the two of them were sent flying to the opposite wall.
"Huuuugh..."
Marsha trembled, skin burning as if melting.
Seven now.
With gas venting at seven percent per minute, Molta would be finished in roughly ten minutes.
"Wooooooh!"
Black gas poured from his whole body—terrifying for the one experiencing it.
Molta poured everything into hellfire and incinerated the subway interior.
"Hah! Hah!"
As time went on and his strength drained, Molta finally had an inkling of what this unregulated method did.
So that's it.
Running out of time, he pressed harder and finally drove Marsha into a dead end against the wall.
"Die, you fool!"
Two enormous columns of flame twisted together like braided ropes and gathered above Molta's head.
"Uhhh!"
Molta's eyes went wide—then his magic vanished.
"Time's up."
He'd vented all the gas and collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud, spent as if he'd run up a mountain all day.
"Guh! I can't believe I—because of you..."
Marsha clutched her burned right arm and stepped forward. She stared at Molta for a moment, then kicked his jaw hard.
"Ugh!"
With no strength left, he toppled backward and hit the ground, knocked out.
"What are you waiting for? Tie his hands!"
Marsha sighed and dragged Molta toward the engine room.
When the group reassembled, Marsha treated her burned arm using Fermi's recovery magic.
At Marsha's accusation, Miro ordered Rian to fetch the wife who'd been locked in a room and make her kneel before her husband.
"Honey! What's going on? Honey!"
Even if she were fake, Molta couldn't bring himself to say those things in front of his wife.
"It seems your husband harbored ill intentions toward our party. Has this happened before?"
At Fermi's words, the wife looked stunned and dazed.
"Honey. Is it true? Did he really... really that woman...?"
Molta glared and shouted, "What are you doing now! Just kill me! I'm sick of living in this damn world anyway!"
"That's out of the question. This is a valuable case."
Miro turned to Fermi. "What do you intend to do?"
"Leave it to me. It's a good chance to see how Minority Conception combines information. I'll torture Molta and observe his wife's reactions. We'll try the opposite scenario as well."
"No."
Rian opposed immediately.
"You can't? Why not?"
"Because it's cruelty."
"Hahahaha!"
Fermi laughed in disbelief. "Aren't you missing something? It's not about punishment. This place has no law. It's simply a good opportunity to predict Shirone's condition."
"I never thought of that. What matters is my wife didn't do anything wrong." Molta protested, painfully defensive.
"Then think for a moment. Don't say stupid things."
Fermi tapped his temple as he spoke. "We know this place is fake. In other words, it's in an 'open state'. Meanwhile, Molta's wife is in a 'trapped state'."
Only being trapped is the truth.
"The quality of information someone receives differs completely depending on their state. So what about Shirone? She's in a 'trapped state'. She's taking in this world's information meaningfully. Therefore the Shirone we know could differ in personality and temperament."
Fermi pointed at Molta's wife. "Even while living with her husband, the information wasn't perfectly restored because she's trapped. So we have no choice but to give a bigger shock than a mere encounter."
He clicked his tongue as if tired and grabbed the woman's hair. "I'll take her to a room first. There I will—"
A greatsword suddenly appeared before his eyes. Fermi froze and turned cold.
"No. No matter how I think about it, this is wrong."
"...Are you truly stupid? You're not a microbe. How can you think from an open state as if you were trapped?"
"It's not about state. Real or fake, I cannot allow myself to torment someone who's done nothing wrong."
"If you're this uncooperative, it'll be troublesome."
"I'll cooperate. I'll give my life if I must to bring Shirone back. So this time, won't you trust me?"
Rian and Fermi locked eyes for a long moment.
"Phew."
Finally Fermi raised both hands in surrender and backed off. "All right. This is really frustrating. Is she Shirone's friend?"
"Shirone is smart and cold-headed. I'm sure she's more so than you. But..."
Rian sheathed his greatsword. "If it were Shirone, she would make the same judgment I did."
Silence stretched.
"Fair point. I apologize for doubting your friendship."
Fermi stepped back, then suddenly spun around. "But I am not Shirone."
When Fermi cast Air Cut, Molta's throat was sliced clean through.
"Honeeeey!"
Ignoring the wife's scream, Fermi seized Molta by the hair and forced his face up close. "See? This is your husband's face. He died because of you. Does anything come to mind now?"
"Aaaaargh! Aaaaargh!"
"You may scream all you like. But think— you are the fake. The real one is already dead."
"N-no! That can't be! I—I..."
The wife stared up at the ceiling in shock.
"A vegetable...?"
Fermi's eyes glittered. This is it.
When the wife immediately lost consciousness and collapsed, Fermi propped his chin on his hand and muttered as if disappointed. "A shock approaching death, or more. It's difficult, but at least..."
"You bastard!"
Rian charged with his greatsword, but Marsha leapt in and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Wait, Rian! Hold on!"
"Let go! Are you really siding with that man?"
"I thought the same as you! But it's already been done! Be cold-headed! If it can't be undone, then—"
"Gyaaah!"
Rian shrugged Marsha off and ran.
Be cold! Be cold! Efficient! Efficient!
A mage's logic is always right.
But what are you supposed to do with the emotion boiling in your chest that wants to explode?
"I won't forgive this!"
As the greatsword fell toward Fermi, dozens of phantom hands appeared and gripped the blade.
When Miro spread his arms, Rian—flung to the far end of the parlor—landed in a guarded stance with his sword leveled.
"What is it? If you're going to say be cold-headed—"
"No. I understand how you feel. But you should know this: if you kill Fermi, Shirone will never come back."
"No. I will save Shirone."
"Then all the more reason to stop. Time's short."
Rian lowered his sword. "What do you mean?"
"Even if Shirone's information were restored one hundred percent, I can't guarantee the signature on the contract would remain valid," Fermi said.
"Right. The first thing I realized when I came here is that even in a virtual world, avatar and the Law can be separated. So there are two reasons to find Shirone as quickly as possible."
Fermi held up two fingers. "First, if Shirone has an accident or dies, recombining her information becomes impossible. We can verify that by killing Molta's wife."
Before Rian could snap at him, Fermi continued, "But that's extremely unlikely. Actually, Shirone will likely be discovered sooner or later even if we don't search. She's absurdly quick at assessing situations. Dump her in a desert and she'd build a sandcastle and survive."
Rian had to admit it.
"The Apocalypse data will constantly change Shirone, because she's trapped. In a dangerous world, magic is likely to manifest. She might even reach a point where she can use magic as freely as in the real world."
"But even then, it wouldn't be the real Shirone," Marsha said.
"She'd survive by exploiting the situation to the fullest. I would do the same. If she had breathing room she might actively scheme. In any case you'll meet her—but she'll be Shirone of Apocalypse."
"Phew."
Fermi glanced at Rian, who sighed. "Now you understand? Molta's wife is important. If Shirone is perfectly reconstructed in Apocalypse, the only way is to make her realize this place is fake. But that's definitely insane."
Miro added, "Put it into reality: if someone told us the real world was false, we'd never accept it."
Fermi shrugged. "Yes. That's the issue."