Chapter 218 - An Unlikely Pair of Friends
“—It's been a while since you and I have faced off on the battlefield like this, huh?”
Muttering nostalgically, he went to stroke his chin out of habit—and then, remembering his right arm was missing from the elbow down, Goldow curled his lip into a smirk and snorted.
“They really got me good… I can just picture Mi-na complaining up a storm.”
Shaking his head with a sigh as if to say, what a mess, the [General Commander] stood opposite—a figure so delicate and lovely she could be called the antithesis of the large, sturdy man.
Though the expression on her inhumanly beautiful face was faint, her presence was equal to, if not greater than, that of the giant man before her. Dressed in white-based dress armor, she tilted her head slightly, her silver-blue hair swaying.
It wasn't a question, but an expression of pure exasperation.
“There's nothing to ‘get you’ about. You guys just kept jumping in, one after another, all on your own.”
It was true that the South's invasion force had used some tricks in their attack on the East's base—however, it was Istia that had gleefully thrown themselves into every single one.
First, they sent a single ranker as a greeting, and the entire defense force came out to meet them, shouting about how it was their turn and not to let them escape.
As a result, as they swarmed out gleefully, Uni, the [Heavy Tank], incapacitated them with his hidden ace… Phase one, complete.
Next, as a second wave, they sent a battalion of mages down the path to the East’s base. By advancing while fending off the ‘Wings’’ counterattack, they cut them off from the defense force… Phase two, complete.
Finally, the enemy general, having no choice but to step up to the front line, was forcibly dragged here by her—the [Sword Queen], Iris—who had been hiding among the mages… Phase three was also complete.
Honestly, it was absurd. That they would come tumbling at full speed into such a slapdash, impromptu plan.
“Helena is exasperated too. She says the East should be a bit more thoughtful.”
“Hah! Mind your own business. This is how we do things—and we win this way.”
“You should say that after you have a winning record.”
“—Hah ha! Well, if we actually managed to get a winning record, that would be a problem in its own right.”
The imposing, rugged giant and the delicate girl who could be mistaken for an angel or a fairy. The contrast in their expressions made their face-off a bizarre sight to behold.
However, the words they exchanged were those of people completely used to one another—and anyone who knew Iris well would notice that as she traded lighthearted banter with her ‘friend,’ the corners of her mouth were relaxed, ever so slightly.
“…So, how long are you going to keep up this stalling chat?”
“As long as you want—is what I’d like to say, but the audience is probably getting impatient by now.”
“The two in the back might give out before the audience does.”
“Reinforcements don’t look likely… They really did a number on us.”
Goldow looked not toward the path leading into the maze, but behind him—toward their wartime base, Ruvalest.
Normally, the battle-hungry players of the East would be constantly respawning after dying, but for a while now, that ‘normality’ had come to a complete halt.
“Going to the trouble of a non-lethal stall against our guys… what a pain in the ass.”
“One should use a numerical advantage effectively.”
In the Four Pillar War, death for a regular player doesn’t mean game over. As long as they aren’t a ranker or a general, they are revived at their base fortress upon defeat.
This meant that the quickest way to rush to the aid of the base was to be ‘killed by the enemy.’
What’s important is the need to be killed. Arcadia has various restrictions for ethical reasons, but ‘suicide’ is a particular taboo that carries a massive penalty.
That restriction naturally applies during the war… If one tried to shortcut back to base by taking their own life, they would be hit with a revival wait time of over an hour, plus a status debuff that would render them effectively useless in combat.
Of course, that would defeat the whole purpose—which is why a non-lethal stall is a prerequisite for any base isolation strategy.
Though he mentioned a numerical advantage, that was likely why not a single player from the North or South, aside from the mages, had appeared. Inside the maze, a mixed force of melee and healer types was probably implementing a thorough delay tactic against the Istia players.
Needless to say, pulling that off against the powerful warriors of the East would be no small feat.
It couldn’t last forever—but that was true for both sides. The ‘Wings,’ unable to waste their trump cards with Iris, their primary target, right in front of them, would eventually reach their limit.
…But, well.
“—It’ll work out somehow. Some fresh-faced kid will come flying in eventually.”
“…I see.”
As if drawn by Goldow’s gaze, Iris glanced back once toward the maze entrance—then replied with a small murmur, and that was it.
Deliberately, as if she had no interest.
“I thought she’d take the bait after all that commotion… You’ve gotten pretty stubborn, too.”
“…Not really. I just got a little smarter.”
As if to shake off the faint emotion buried deep in her heart.
She closed her eyes, then opened them—and the [Sword Queen] took up her sword.
There was no sheath at her waist, nor on her back.
But if she simply willed it… the ‘sword’ would rush to her hand.
A double-edged straight sword of terrifying beauty.
It was a radiance so singular and ultimate that it needed no other description.
[Xultiomart -type Calibur-]—that sword with an unusual name was a one-of-a-kind divine weapon, gifted from the ‘world’ to the ‘strongest.’
—To her, it was both a useless burden and the embodiment of a hated curse.
Every time he saw it, he was captivated… and Goldow, knowing the heart of its master, Iris, simultaneously wished for the same thing every time.
—Hey, God, please.
If someone wants to have fun from the bottom of their heart, just let them have their fun.
“The chitchat is over. Why don’t you put on your ‘suit’?”
Whether she knew Goldow's inner thoughts as he mentally sighed at the virtual reality that tormented a girl younger than his own daughter, the [Sword Queen] prompted him to fight in a voice devoid of emotion.
Even with someone to support her, in the end, she stands alone at the peak.
Barely holding on, standing against the solitude—not even he could truly understand her heart.
He had known that for a long time.
That’s precisely why…
“Don’t be in such a hurry… In any era, you’ve got to draw out the transformation, right?”
Even if he couldn't understand, even if his strength fell short—laughing and playing along to kill time is what a ‘friend’ is for.
With a grin, he raised his right arm—the one that had been blown off at the start of their encounter.
Beyond the game-like, censored stump, he clenched his lost right hand tightly—and a golden light manifested.
It formed his right arm, covered his shoulder, ran down his torso, reached his legs… and a hero-like mask concealed his ferocious, smiling face.
Too angular to be clothing, too sleek to be armor—the word Iris had just used, ‘suit,’ was indeed the most accurate description.
[Gordion, Golden Armor of the Hero]—the pride of the Eastern Faction’s third-ranked [General Commander], and currently the only seventh-tier Anima in Arcadia.
And appearing in his raised right hand was a crown.
Among the many crowns of the rankers, the purest and most majestic great crown of gold—as if custom-made, it fit perfectly onto the top of his mask with a click.
“[Golden Hour, The Roar of the Golden Lion]—Alright, sorry to keep you waiting.”
As if his already dazzling golden armor wasn't enough, even brighter rays of golden light now coursed through it… and to top it off, a dazzling cape appeared to coincide with his coronation.
Ignoring the [General Commander], who was surely making a smug face under his helmet, even the [Sword Queen] narrowed her eyes at the brightness and let out a faint, wry smile.
“As always, your aesthetic is from a different world.”
“Don’t say that. It’s a big hit with the kids, you know?”
He had no weapon; his own body, clad in the suit, was his weapon. Taking a sleek, hero-like stance, he made sure not to forget the fan service, dramatically flapping his cape.
“Now—Iris, I have no intention of fighting to lose.”
“…I see. Then, neither do I.”
Heat ignited in her clear garnet eyes.
Make no mistake.
Even if she was tormented by solitude, even if she lost her spirit, even if her hopes faded—
“I’ll do my best, for real.”
More than likely, more than anyone else in this world.
Deep in the heart of the girl who had yearned, and yearned, and yearned for a dream, and leaped into this virtual world—the small flame that continued to burn flickered on, never to be extinguished.