Chapter 372 - The White Lingering Dream, Swaying in Slumber - Part 1
The raid composition for the battle against [Tsarkalv of the White Throne] was a 60/40 split between frontline and backline. The backline was further divided evenly between damage dealers and healer supports.
When it came to the balance of our formation, I had no choice but to trust Helena-san and the rest of the top brass. As a newcomer, I had no room to doubt them; this had to be the best possible team.
Incidentally, I spotted a few familiar faces, including Rotta and Zoh-san.
It was one thing for my friend, ElephantThree-san, to be entrusted with leading a tank party as an all-purpose vanguard, but the fact that my other friend was casually participating as a healer left me with nothing but retorts.
Weren't you mowing down multiple melee players single-handedly in the selection qualifiers? What do you mean your main job is a pure healer and not even a magic knight? Give me a break.
Putting that aside—since our roles were clearly defined, the standard procedure would be to form up and challenge the mighty boss as a cohesive raid party.
Perhaps because the players were accustomed to their designated positions, they naturally established a vanguard-rearguard formation as they triumphantly stepped into the crater.
Yes, they had.
The moment the one hundred and ten members of the raid party set foot in the combat zone, that anomaly occurred before anyone could even react to the change in the air.
It was the same as always—that bizarre teleportation.
It wasn't accompanied by the light effects of a transfer gate; instead, it felt as though we were forcefully dragged and pulled by an unseen hand—the work of a divine messenger.
My vision blurred, space warped… and what spread before my eyes was…
"—Here we go… Sheesh."
…the form of the white incarnation, an avatar of pure, overwhelming weight.
I quickly scanned my surroundings. It seemed the opening forced teleport had warped everyone to a spot right in front of the beast. However, our formation and ranks were now a complete mess.
It had already begun.
There was no time to stand around dazed. To get the setup done, I needed to meet up with Sora as soon as possible—before that thing opened its eyes and started to move.
"—Alright, move it, you lot! Get fired up, we're gonna tear it a new one!"
Of course, there were no newbies here who would be stunned into inaction by a simple teleport. As soon as the General Commander's voice roared like a starting gun…
"Vanguard, push up! First hit's coming, tanks get ready!"
"Run, you bastards, get outta here, backline! Full retreat first, just get some distance!"
To a man, the players who burst into motion were the absolute elite, standing at the apex of this virtual world. While they might not be the absolute top one hundred—having been selected with their compatibility against the White Throne in mind—they were undoubtedly a handpicked group of heroes from the top few tenths of a percent.
A gathering of self-sufficient players from every field who had mastered their individual combat prowess—which is to say, there wasn't a single person here who couldn't think and act for themselves.
"Everyone set their timers, right? Nobody forgot, I hope!"
"Mages, group up and keep your incantations ready! We're layering them from the first shot!"
Each person assessed the situation, and those best suited for the moment gave orders without hesitation.
The absolute prerequisite for the White Throne battle, which forced us into an unreasonable state of flux, was adaptability. For that purpose, they had assembled a raid of one hundred captains—or rather, a raid where all one hundred members were captains.
"—They're so reliable, it feels like we can't possibly lose."
"…It's only just begun, you know."
Weaving through the raid force that had sprung into sharp motion, I safely rendezvoused with Sora using my radar. The face of my partner, whom I found amidst the crowd, was… a little tense, perhaps.
The earth-shattering tremor that had once caught me off guard and sent me tumbling to the ground now shook my avatar.
As if responding to the players who began to run forward without flinching despite being dragged before it, the white giant lifted its head.
Its eyelids opened slowly, and the milky-white pupils behind them—glared down upon all of us.
Here it comes.
The White One's opening move is a sweeping attack with its massive tail.
"—Goldow!"
"—You got it!"
It was the first blow of the battle. The tail swung down with a roar, and slipping past the tank squad poised to prevent the aftershock from reaching the backline—a silver-blue and a golden blur charged forward.
One held a 'sword.' A single blade in this virtual world, a divine weapon that embodied the extraordinary.
One brandished a 'fist.' A single suit of armor in this virtual world, an Anima that had reached the seventh tier.
Extra-Class Equipment [Xultiomart-type Calibur]—a category error, an exceptional sword.
Anima [Gordion, Golden Armor of Heroes]—number one in the weapon category of the Anima rankings, a supreme battle garment.
"——————————"
"Hmph, h—…!"
"UOOORAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"
In that instant, white, silver-blue, and gold collided—and space distorted, not as a metaphor, but literally.
A great cascade of sound and impact, which could only be described as a roar, easily rocked the avatars that had transcended human limits. It was the White Throne's first attack against the two small standard-bearers who challenged it.
The victors—were the small ones who had combined their strength.
"—Tch… Now!!"
"—FOLLOOW UUUUUUUUPPP!!"
How could anyone not be fired up by the command of their own representatives, who had magnificently knocked back the tail and sent the giant beast staggering? The true signal to begin battle erupted in war cries from all around.
And then, a welcoming barrage of artillery fire slammed into the White Throne.
"—…………Hah…"
She must have run through countless mental simulations on her own.
My partner is serious and diligent, after all. It wasn't hard to imagine that she had prepared for this day by watching the archives over and over.
But still, yeah.
It's only natural, I suppose—but I can laugh at how well I understand the feeling of being overwhelmed, of being rendered speechless by a certain kind of awe.
Tiny figures challenging a colossal dragon.
Explosions bursting, sword light flashing.
Look right, look left, and all you see is pure fantasy overflowing.
—This is the best. You'd never see a sight like this in the real world.
"Sora."
"…………"
When I called out to her, my partner, who had been holding her breath with the scene before us reflected in her wide eyes, turned to look at me. Seeing her slightly flushed cheeks—I could read her heart like an open book.
It's not like we're just standing around dazed. We're just waiting for our turn to fulfill our given 'role'.
Seeing off our comrades as they charge the White Throne one after another, waiting for our time to shine.
Right, partner? Good grief, for a lady of the esteemed Yotsuya family—you've got such an excited look on your face, as if you can't wait another second.
In that case—[Construction].
I summoned the greatshield, a pair that made a whole: [Twaibolt Mirari]. The two warped shields combined to form a single round shield of pale blue mirrored armor, and I slipped my right arm through one half.
If you can't wait, let's just get ready ahead of time.
"Let me make a prediction—this is going to be insanely fun."
"…My heart might just explode."
As if to calm her racing pulse, the girl placed a hand on her chest once… then slipped her proffered left hand into the blue shield tailored for her.
Simultaneous equipping in a combined state—condition met.
""—[Crossing (Reflecting the Other Half)]!""
Our key phrase was acknowledged, and a radiant golden chain shot forth from the separated shields.
The fine chain that connected 'White' and 'Blue' vanished in a flash—but the connection itself clearly conveyed the other's presence to each of our hands.
Not just their presence… but their power as well, most certainly.
[Twaibolt Mirari]—one of the abilities hidden within the exclusive paired equipment for Sora and me is STR status integration and partial sensory resonance.
As for the status integration, our STR scores are simply added together and applied to both of us. That means in our base states, my 250 STR and Sora's 100 STR are combined, allowing us both to wield a STR of 350—
"[Scareless]."
…and just like that… when Sora adds her little trump card on top, two strength-freaks with 650 STR are born in an instant.
Even with that, Sora's Mind (MID) stat is higher, so she just barely avoids being labeled a muscle-head. Safe. As for me, I'm an even split and welcome the muscle-headedness, so I'll happily let my muscles do the talking.
As for the sensory resonance, it has a variety of uses, but in a chaotic battle, it's especially convenient for coordinating as a pair.
To put it simply, we always know where the other is without relying on radar or sight.
For the new coordinated tactic we developed to fulfill our 'role' this time, it's an absolutely essential piece of the puzzle, as Sora needs to know my exact position.
My, my, what a splendid job, [Playful Fire Person]—I'll be sure to make full use of it, my dear exclusive magi-crafter.
Now, the White Throne battle continues with an aggressive assault from the players' side right from the start, but the fact that our progress is unknown feels incredibly strange for someone accustomed to the blessings of a system interface.
The HP gauge isn't visible—which is natural, or rather, to be expected in a realistic sense, but from a gaming perspective, it's an extremely inconvenient, un-RPG-like setting.
The fact that it's a system that exists for other enemies, including bosses, makes the strangeness all the more pronounced. I suppose this is another way in which the 'Colored Monsters' are special—and just as I was thinking that…
Beep, beep, beep… A faint alarm echoed in my mind.
It was nothing special, just a convenient little feature available to all players… a system clock set to repeat, announcing that the count had reached zero.
It was nothing less than our lifeline in this raid.
"—Forced teleport, it's coming!"
A warning cry from someone, serving as an extra precaution, reached my ears.
One hundred seconds counted. The first gimmick activates. It's the second signal flare, signifying the true start of the battle with the White Throne, now awakened from its slumber… beyond the opening clash.
A premonitory static ran through my senses.
The world blurred and shifted, and in that moment—the look we exchanged was more than enough to communicate our intentions.
Even if we're separated, even if we lose sight of each other… as long as this golden chain—this bond—connects us…
"—Let's do our best!"
"—Yeah, let's have fun!"
…on this battlefield, we will always be side by side.