kscans

Chapter 218 - An Unlikely Pair of Friends

"Been a while since you and I have faced off on the battlefield like this, eh?"

Goldow murmured wistfully, his hand rising out of habit to stroke his chin—only to remember that his right arm was gone from the elbow down. A smirk tugged at his lips as he snorted.

"They really did a number on me… I can just picture Mi-na complaining up a storm about this."

Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh, the General Commander found himself face-to-face with a figure who was the very antithesis of his own large, sturdy frame: a slender and lovely young girl.

Her unearthly beauty was marked by a faint, almost nonexistent expression, yet her presence rivaled, if not surpassed, that of the giant man before her. Clad in white dress armor, she tilted her head slightly, her silver-blue hair swaying with the movement.

It was not a gesture of curiosity, but one of undisguised exasperation.

"There's no 'they did a number on you' about it. You people just kept jumping into the fray, one after another."

It was true that the southern invasion force had employed some tricks in their assault on the eastern base—but it was Istia that had joyfully thrown themselves into every single one.

First, they sent a lone ranker as a greeting. Istia's response? A full-scale welcome party from the entire defense force, all shouting things like, It's our turn! Don't let them escape! Surround them!.

As a result, as Istia's members swarmed in with gleeful abandon, Uni, the Heavy Tank, used his hidden trump card to immobilize them… Stage one, cleared.

Next, as the second wave, they sent a battalion of mages down the passage to the eastern base. While fending off the counterattack from the 'Eastern Wings,' they pushed forward, cutting the duo off from the main defensive force… Stage two, cleared.

Finally, with little choice left, the enemy commander came to the front lines himself, only to be forcibly dragged here by her—Iris, the Sword Queen, who had been hiding among the mages… Stage three was also cleared.

Honestly, what was she supposed to think? To see them run headfirst at full speed into a series of impromptu tactics that could barely be called a strategy.

"Helena is exasperated, too. She said the East should learn to be a bit more thoughtful."

"Hah! We don't need her concern. This is how we do things—and it's how we win."

"You should say that after you have a winning record against us."

"Kakka! If we actually managed to get a winning record, that would be a problem in and of itself, wouldn't it?"

A burly man of imposing stature and a delicate girl who could be mistaken for an angel or a fairy. With the temperatures of their expressions being worlds apart, the sight of them facing each other was bizarre, to say the least.

And yet, the words they exchanged were spoken with a practiced ease. Anyone who knew Iris well would notice it—the slight softening of her cheeks as she traded lighthearted banter with her 'friend.'

"…So, how long are you going to keep up this little chat to stall for time?"

"As long as you'll let me—is what I'd like to say, but the audience is probably getting impatient by now."

"The two behind you might give out before the audience does."

"Doesn't look like we can expect reinforcements, either. They really did us in, didn't they?"

Goldow glanced back, but his gaze was not fixed on the path leading to the maze. Instead, he looked toward Ruvalest, their war-time base.

Normally, the belligerent players of the East would be constantly respawning after death, but for a while now, that 'normal' had come to a dead stop.

"Trying to hold back my guys without killing them… What a pain in the ass that must be."

"One should make effective use of superior numbers."

In the Four Pillar War, death for a regular player does not mean game over. As long as you aren't a ranker or a commander, you're revived at your faction's castle base when you fall.

This meant that if one wanted to rush back to the base to help with an emergency, the fastest way was to 'be killed by an enemy.'

The crucial point was that you needed to be killed. For all sorts of ethical reasons, Arcadia had many restrictions, but among them, 'suicide' was a taboo that carried a massive penalty.

This restriction naturally applied during wartime. If you tried to shortcut your way back to base by taking your own life, you'd be slapped with a respawn timer of over an hour, plus a status debuff so severe it would render you combat-ineffective.

Of course, that would defeat the whole purpose. Therefore, holding the enemy back without killing them was a fundamental tactic for isolating a base.

She'd mentioned numerical superiority, and that was likely why not a single Northern or Southern player, besides the mages, had appeared here. Inside the maze, a mixed force of melee fighters and healers was probably executing a thorough containment strategy against the Istia players.

Needless to say, pulling that off against the formidable warriors of the East was no mean feat.

It couldn't last forever—but that went for both sides. The 'Eastern Wings' couldn't afford to waste their trump cards with Iris right in front of them, and they would surely reach their limit eventually.

…But, well.

"It'll work out somehow. Some spirited youngster will come flying in eventually."

"…I see."

As if drawn by Goldow's gaze, Iris glanced back toward the maze entrance once—and after that small murmur, she said no more.

She was striving to appear uninterested.

"I thought for sure you'd take the bait after all that commotion… You've gotten stiff, haven't you?"

"…I've just gotten a little smarter, that's all."

As if to shake off the faint emotion stirring deep within her heart.

She closed her eyes, then opened them—and the Sword Queen took up her sword.

There was no scabbard at her waist, nor on her back.

If she simply willed it… the 'sword' would rush to her hand.

A double-edged straight sword of terrifying beauty.

A singular, ultimate brilliance that needed no other description.

[Xultiomart-type Calibur]—this blade with its unusual name was the one and only divine weapon, gifted from the 'World' to the 'Strongest.'

—And to her, it was nothing more than a useless object, the very embodiment of a detestable curse.

Every time Goldow saw it, he was captivated by its beauty… and knowing the heart of its master, Iris, he always wished for the same thing.

Hey, God, if you're listening, I'm begging you.

If someone just wants to have fun from the bottom of their heart, then please, just let them have their fun.

"The pleasantries are over. Why don't you put on your suit?"

Whether she knew of the inner turmoil of Goldow, who was trying to swallow a sigh for the virtual reality that tormented a girl younger than his own daughter, was unclear. With an emotionless voice, the Sword Queen urged him to fight.

Even with others to support her, in the end, she stood alone at the summit.

Never quite breaking, she continued to stand in solitude—and even he could not truly understand the heart of such a girl.

He had known that for a long time now.

And that is precisely why…

"Don't be in such a rush… In any era, a good transformation has to be dramatic, you know?"

Even if he couldn't understand, even if his strength fell short—laughing and playing along to pass the time was what it meant to be a 'friend,' wasn't it?

A single smile, and he raised his right arm—the one that had been blown off at the very start of their encounter.

Beyond the game-like, censored cross-section, he clenched his lost right hand tightly… and a golden light manifested.

It formed a right arm, covered his shoulder, spread across his torso, and flowed down to his legs… until a hero's mask concealed his ferocious, smiling face.

Too angular to be called clothing, yet too sleek to be called armor—it was, just as Iris had said, most accurately described as a 'suit.'

[Gordion, the Golden Armor of Heroes]—the pride of the Eastern Faction's third-ranked General Commander, and the only Seventh-Tier Anima currently in Arcadia.

Then, a crown appeared in his raised right hand.

Among the many crowns of the rankers, this was the purest and most majestic great crown of gold—and it clicked into place atop his mask as if it were custom-made.

"[Golden Hour: The Roar of the Gilded Lion]… There. Kept you waiting, did I?"

The golden armor was already blinding, but now, brilliant rays of golden light pulsed across it. To top it all off, a magnificent cape had appeared to coincide with his coronation.

Beneath the helmet, the General Commander wore a triumphant, smug expression. Unbeknownst to him, even the Sword Queen squinted at the glare, a faint, wry smile touching her lips.

"You're the only one whose aesthetic feels like it's from a completely different world."

"Don't say that. It's a huge hit with the kids, you know?"

He had no weapon; the suit he wore was his weapon. Adopting a sleek, heroic pose, he made sure to give his cape a dramatic flourish for the fans.

"Now then—Iris, I have no intention of losing."

"…I see. In that case, neither do I."

Heat began to glow in her clear, garnet eyes.

Make no mistake.

Though she may be tormented by loneliness, though her spirit may wane, though her hopes may fade—

"I'll try my very best, okay?"

More than anyone else in this world, probably.

Deep in the heart of the girl who had yearned, and yearned, and yearned for her dream before diving into this virtual world—the small flame that continued to burn flickered on, never to be extinguished.