Fully Armed (3)
While Shirone sat lost in thought, the mafia crew were exchanging covert comms.
- What do we do? Stick to the plan?
- Kinda feel bad about it. We already got our cut—do we really have to go this far?
- Can't help it. It's Dongguk. Some jerk stirred things up on the forum and public opinion turned against us.
Their public statement of intent to settle accounts had helped, but the real problem was the Western-only board.
People who disliked helping Dongguk users started denouncing the mafia crew.
There were even rumors they were Dongguk spies, and some suggested they should be wiped out.
- If the West puts a target on us, we're screwed. What good are great parts if we can't go hunting?
- Right. And if some major guild issues an execution order, we'll have no choice but to drop High Gear.
After reaching that conclusion, the mafia crew turned to Shirone, who was still deep in thought.
Sona said, "How about turning Donatello off? That part eats a lot of power."
"Ah, right."
Yahweh2's power was at 16 percent.
'I'll need the auxiliary charger to get back.'
As Shirone prepared to leave, the mafia watched Yahweh2's gait closely.
- Did he switch it off?
- Dunno. There's no sign at all.
Because Donatello was handled so skillfully, there was no outward way to tell.
- Let's just do it. We shoot on three.
They synchronized over comms and leveled their weapons at Yahweh2's head.
Gunfire rang out.
Shirone launched himself, rolled across the white sand, and dropped to one knee.
A mafioso clicked his tongue and asked, "Donatello—were you keeping it on this whole time?" Shirone stayed silent.
The idea the mafia might betray him had only become serious after Fermi's comm.
'I wanted to check I was okay.' A victory pose?
'The almost-only way to send me something when direct comms aren't possible.'
There could be things happening outside that Shirone didn't know about.
What could they be?
'A traitor in the West. The news, or the forum…'
It wasn't hard to draw that conclusion.
Dexgamseong said, "Judging by the reaction, no explanation's needed. Still, thanks for settling up neat. So—how about you just die? We won't touch the loot."
It was only a level-100 part anyway, and legendary items couldn't drop.
"If you want me dead, then kill me."
Shirone said.
"Mutual trust only lasts until the deal's done. You paid—now you're just the enemy."
Shirone activated the Michelan Gun and smiled.
"Begin, High Gear."
The mafia crew thought, 'He's not a bad sort.'
Even if the terms were against him, he drew a clear line between right and wrong.
'Makes a man feel ashamed. He'd be something else in the real world. But because of that…'
They aimed again.
'I won't feel guilty about it.'
Firepower well over level 200 rained down, and Yahweh2 leapt through space in an instant.
'Damn! That technique…!'
The impact was nothing like watching footage.
Moon Island's white sands filled with smoke and mist; gunfire hammered the beach without pause.
A flash struck a comrade squarely.
Boom!
With missile-level force the craft was torn apart, and the remaining six cranked their outputs higher.
- Turn on infrared! Get visual first!
Shirone puffed his cheek.
'Phew. A 150-level gap really hurts.'
If it were a boss creature you could read patterns, but user combat lived in a different sphere.
If you didn't already have the senses of Siok or Bakji, you couldn't even compete—such a huge gulf.
And that was why the mafia crew were shocked.
'What the hell is this?'
They dodged nearly every round, and when they tried to overwhelm him with output, he simply jumped across space.
'Goddamn it! Having 15 extra Selective options isn't an advantage here either.'
Still, counterattacks continued, and another man fell.
- Hey! Use grenades too! How do we beat an attack like that if it just keeps on firing?
- Wait. There's one chance. It's not unlimited fire.
- Power limits are unavoidable. We'll catch him when he plugs in the auxiliary charger.
The fight went on and two more died.
- Hey! What are you going to do?
- Wait.
The mafiosi were nervous too, but from now on it was a test of patience.
A red warning flashed in Shirone's AR.
'Remaining power: 2 percent.'
Knowing what the enemy wanted, he held out as long as he could, but he couldn't delay any longer.
"Damn!"
Shirone threw a flare to trigger an explosion, slipped behind a rock, and took out the auxiliary charger.
- Now!
The frames of the mafia, Dexgamseong, and Sona all opened and their equipped grenades flew out.
'Homing comms.'
The grenades trailed smoke as they flew toward the spot Shirone was hiding—then suddenly detonated.
"Huh?"
At the same time, Shirone, having attached the auxiliary charger, slipped out from behind the rock.
"All right! Now we'll fight properly…!"
When the mist cleared, a slight frame stood with a sword raised, torso bent in a striking pose.
"Operator?"
Her skill—cutting every grenade to pieces with a black-bladed longsword—was breathtaking regardless of allegiance.
"R-Really an Operator."
She straightened slowly, sheathed the sword, and looked at Shirone. "Finally met you?"
The Operator, tense because she was from the West, leapt at the mafia crew.
"Uh—"
Before the sentence finished, her fist slammed into a mafioso's face.
Crack!
A penetrating blow shattered the face, and Dexgamseong and Sona were flung aside.
- What the—? Why'd she attack us?
- How should I know? Probably an execution order. Get out of here!
The Operator, who had been watching coolly, drew the sword from her back again.
"Collapse."
She drove the blade into the white sand and a magnetic sphere began pulling the craft toward it.
"Aaaaah!"
Though only a meter across, the sphere hauled Dexgamseong and Sona in at terrifying speed until they collided.
Kraaaang!
The impact was so violent limbs were torn off; Shirone felt his blood run cold.
'Some sneaky, insidious ability.'
Only a face left, Dexgamseong croaked, "W-why… why us…?"
"I'll finish this now. I won't execute you, but don't betray the West again. You can post that on the forum if you want."
Hearing that, Dexgamseong fell silent, and the dead vanished obediently as well.
With only the loot they'd left behind remaining, the Operator turned back to Shirone.
With a soft pop she evaporated.
'Behind!'
Following the position Donatello had locked onto, Shirone spun around and the Operator's face suddenly loomed close.
"Ugh!"
More embarrassed than afraid, Shirone ducked his head—and then, after a beat, found himself admiring her speed.
'Incredibly fast.'
Is this the speed of the overall rank one?
"Let's go somewhere quiet."
Before he could answer, the Operator lifted Shirone's frame effortlessly.
"Huh?"
It was Shirone's first time being carried like this by a woman; the feeling was strange.
He stared up at the Operator's face in her arms, momentarily dazed by how pretty she was—then, Kuuuuung!
She shoved off the ground with enormous force and rocketed into the sky like a rocket.
One leap later she landed on the highest cliff of Moon Island and set Shirone down.
"I saw the news." Shirone, who'd been taking in the view, turned to her.
"Ah, don't worry about it too much. Actually, I had some misunderstandings, and—" The Operator pointed to the ground. "Apologize to me in person." A breeze stirred.
'She really is a bit four-dimensional.'
There was no reason not to apologize twice for one apology, so Shirone opened his mouth obediently.
"Sorry for the harsh words back then. After trying High Gear myself, I understand what you meant."
He awkwardly withdrew his hand; that was all his reply, but he looked oddly pleased.
"Sorry I underestimated you."
"No, that's okay."
"I knew. Arian Shirone. From Alpheas School of Magic. They call you the Yahweh of the age."
Shirone flinched in surprise.
"Could it be that I—"
"No. It's my first time meeting you. But I saw you in dreams. You appear in many people's dreams. The Michelan Gun was realized based on that image." The Operator looked up at the moon.
"To create a world you need a lot of inspiration. I don't go out much, so I get most of my inspiration from people's dreams. Dreamers don't like that, but the world with High Gear is illegal anyway."
"Why don't you want to go outside?" Shirone asked. Without bringing the Operator into reality, he couldn't explore the Apocalypse.
"I woke every day to my parents fighting. Their hatred was so huge they ignored someone like me. Or maybe that hatred was aimed at me—because having me made them a proper married couple. I bought an annex and set up a workshop. Money? You can earn as much as you want with an Undercoder."
Shirone listened in silence.
"I hated reality so much I needed a perfect world to run away to. That's when I started designing High Gear. Do you know the worst part? No matter how long you live here, when you open your eyes hardly any time has passed. So the less I wanted to go out, and eventually I became rank one."
She turned to Shirone.
"I know far worse things happen in the real world than what I endure. But do I have to suffer worrying about those things? Even if the answer is yes, why don't my parents care about my pain?"
"No one can blame you. There's no right to be tormented—no qualifications for that in this world."
Shirone's words seemed to please her; the Operator kept murmuring in that small voice of hers.
"The one who gave you the West free pass—the little witch? Her identity's probably Kashan's former queen."
"...Right."
If she could hack dreams, lies wouldn't fly.
"A guildmate got hurt in the real world. It sounds simple, but syncing the outside world to the Undercoder is really difficult."
She must have used time magic.
"They might know my location too. They're cruel—could kill me."
"Don't worry. They won't take that route without asking your consent. Like the promise we made at first."
"Hmph, I don't care. Do what you want. Ignoring it wasn't out of fear. One minute in reality is almost thirty minutes here. If someone outside gets injured, you might miss the Sun War."
"You really love High Gear." For the first time, a smile tugged at the Operator's mouth.
"To be honest, I was glad—you praised my world. It felt like comfort. Michelan and Donatello, I'll leave them to you. Try your best until the Sun War."
"If I win, you'll help me."
"That won't happen, but…"
The Operator turned slowly to Shirone.
"If I win, want to live with me?"
"Huh?"
"I'll give you what you want to see, what you want to have, what you want to do. I can make anything. You're having a hard time in reality. Travel beautiful places with me. Play High Gear together. Time here is slower than reality. No need to care about other people. Don't you want to put everything down for a while and rest?"
The reason Shirone couldn't refuse outright was that what she said had truth to it.
He shook his head.
"Sorry. Your world is beautiful, but it doesn't feel real to me. My heart is in the real world."
"...Right."
She accepted it quietly.
"I saw it in dreams. You fought so fiercely to save the real world. Everything here would be fake to you, like the real world is to me."
Slowly the Operator leaned in and kissed Shirone.
After a brief kiss she stepped back; Shirone's eyes asked the question.
"A reward for the praise. In High Gear everyone enjoys freely, but I've never given this to anyone. Think of it as the fake world's salute to you."
She leapt up, and with Shirone in her arms she slipped into the moonlit haze.
"See you at the Sun War."