Chapter 234 - The Sword That Wishes, The Sword That Hopes, The One Awaited is Here, Part Five
—From the day I threw myself into this virtual world, I alone was different from everyone else.
When you first start, just standing and walking without feeling awkward is a struggle. Running takes quite a bit of getting used to—but everyone else was having fun with that 'inconvenience.' I was the exception.
"I can't swing my sword the way I want!" "I can't even beat a regular mob, let alone a boss!"—the ones who could enjoy the chaotic chorus of the early days were also everyone but me.
I ran without looking back, lost in the moment, running and running and running—and it was only when I happened to glance behind me one day that I realized the world was divided into 'me' and 'everyone else.'
—Isn't she weird?
—Maybe she's using a bug or a glitch?
—Isn't that cheating? If not, then what is it?
Faster than anyone else who raised those voices, I contacted the GMs of [Arcadia].
'Is there something wrong with me?'
'Why am I so different from everyone else?'
'If it's a bug or something, could you please fix it?'
The answer to the flood of inquiries, including my own... I remember it perfectly, word for word, without fail.
—The uniqueness of the player [Iris] is entirely due to her own 'Talent.'
—There are no bugs in the game, nor have any illicit means been used.
—Please understand that we have no intention of altering an individual's 'Talent.'
It took a little time for the criticism and whispers to stop.
I don't think it was anyone's fault. My 'strangeness,' even from my own perspective, could only be described as 'unfair.'
And I understood that it would be abnormal if everyone around me, having been shown that, could swallow that 'inequity' without a single complaint.
As for the GMs' statement, if this 'power' truly was nothing more than my 'Talent,' then they could never commit the ultimate taboo of game management: taking special measures for a single player.
So, if I had to answer the question of 'who was at fault,'
I suppose it was me—that my 'luck' was just bad.
I couldn't give up, so I decided to at least prove myself.
Looking forward, never looking down, I swung my sword with all my heart—to show that this 'power,' called a 'Talent,' was not a lie, but truly my own.
I knew that 'results' wouldn't be proof enough, so I focused solely on my conduct.
I would be there when I was needed, where I was needed, showing them the person they wanted to see.
A month passed, then two—and by the third month of my continuous sprint, around the time the title of 'King' was forced upon me, I had managed to turn the voices of criticism into cheers.
A major factor was likely the emergence of other title holders who were also far above the average player.
The individual differences caused by 'Talents' in the virtual world became widely recognized, and for every criticism I had received, I was now flooded with twice as many apologies.
I understood it all. I held no grudges, nothing of the sort.
After all, I myself was jealous of 'normal everyone' for being 'unfair,' too.
And so—the only thing that remained incomprehensible was my own Talent.
They say I'm special—I suppose so.
They say I'm the strongest—I suppose so.
They say no one can match me—I suppose so.
"————"
Is there anyone who can walk with me?
"—, ————"
Is there anyone who can hold my hand?
"—...Hk! ——————Aah!!"
Is there no one who will even try to catch up to my side—
"————————I've caught up to you, damn it!!"
—just when I had started to give up hope.
"————... ...hk..."
Every time our eyes meet, every time we take a step, every time our swords clash—as if leaping up a flight of stairs in a single bound, he chases after me, never, ever giving up, and his hand grazes my fingertips.
Even if I bat him away, he doesn't stop.
Even if I strike him down, his fighting spirit doesn't die.
No matter how many times I push him back—that childish smile never leaves his face.
"—...Hk, ...No..."
I'm scared.
I'm sure I won't be able to bear it this time.
If that happens... if, like all the times before—if he's different, too.
...I was supposed to have been seeking only results and facts all this time, yet,
"—... ...who... you...?"
My racing heart desperately demands a guarantee in words, so,
"—...will... you give it to me...?"
I catch his relentless blade as if desperately trying to hold on to it—
"—Will you be the one to stand beside me...?"
What is this heat streaming down my cheeks?
Unsure, I threw my terribly faint, screaming question at 'him'—
"Hh—... For a while now, you've been muttering this and that...!"
With an unchanging smile and a heat of battle that never wavered, the young man,
"No, seriously...! I'm sorry from the bottom of my heart, but————like hell I care!!"
He roared, and sent my 'sword,' which had been clinging to his as if for dear life, flying.
※Note: He didn't say something cruel without reading the mood. He'll make up for it right away, because he's the protagonist.