kscans

Chapter 374 - The White Lingering Dream, Swaying in Slumber - Part 3

—Two years have passed since I first visited this virtual world.

And a little over a year since I was burdened with the unsuitable title of ranker.

Starting with the last 'White Throne' battle, which felt like my debut, I've already grown accustomed to placing myself in the out-of-place arena of great wars.

It's truly against my will—I got into [Arcadia] seeking a carefree solo journey, so this is beyond unexpected.

Is it good fortune or misfortune that the build I created to thoroughly avoid battles has somehow proven effective on various battlefields…

Whining and using my age as an excuse would be troublesome and, above all, uncool. Until a junior truly worthy of being an 'Eastern Ranker' finally ousts me, I'll just play the part of the seat that's been pushed on me, getting by moderately, appropriately—

I was aware that, from the perspective of others, this might make me look like a cynical child, uncool, or sarcastic.

Fortunately, the inhabitants of this world were all mature adults, no matter where I looked.

Those who were clearly several years older, and those who were around my own age. They were all fun-loving, considerate, and skilled at 'getting along with others.'

It's a comfortable world where the constraints of the real world seem foolish. A world where you are affirmed, never denied.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the management who created this utopia, Arcadia, through their strict entry screening, and to the 'Princess' who made them recognize its specialness through her very being.

If the atmosphere weren't what it is now, I would have undoubtedly left the virtual world the moment I was saddled with something as troublesome as being a ranker.

If that had happened—I wouldn't be here now, with an uncharacteristic smile on my face, witnessing this dumbfounding sight before me.

It's a scene of great battle that I've grown accustomed to, albeit reluctantly. However, I have no memory of a crazy festival this insane.

Numerous warriors challenging a 'dragon' with a massive body that makes my neck hurt to look up at.

Above its head, where countless weapons flash and explosions fly, a swarm of freely soaring sand swords that seem to fill the sky like a canopy.

And weaving through the barrage of bullets fired from the 'White's' turrets and the rain of blades, a pure white trail (contrail) that zips across the heavens at a speed that's impossible to follow with the naked eye.

I'm not the only one looking up, waiting for my turn.

"Oh my god, that person is actually flying!!"

"It looks so fun, I'm so jealous, I want to do that too!"

"His partner is insane, was there a rank update!?"

"German! He was shouting something German-like!"

"So if I can fly, I can get a cute partner too!!"

"I don't get what you mean!—Here it comes, tank squad, brace yourselves!!"

"""Let's gooooo!!"""

Shouting all sorts of incomprehensible nonsense, the frontline warriors, who didn't miss the preparatory motion, intercepted the swinging tail of the 'White Throne,' their skill effects trailing behind them.

While they couldn't match the two otherworldly representatives, the seven of them working together managed to stop the massive object—even if they couldn't make it waver, their work was more than enough.

Instantly, the magic of the artillery squad rained down on the head and torso of the 'White Throne,' which had stopped moving—and bursting through the remnants and aftershocks, the otherworldly ones charged in.

[Peerless]'s first sword slash ripped open its throat,

The fists of [Twin Fists] and the greatsword of [Adamant] simultaneously caught its snout as they leaped forward side by side,

The silver-blue of the [Sword Queen] and the gold of the [General Commander] once again made the 'White' tremble.

And,

"Copy it!!"

"As you wish…!"

The follow-up was immediate. As if in response to Goldow's command, who had slammed his combined fists onto its crown, several golden figures appeared above his head.

There were five of them—translucent, with no faces behind their masks, copied dolls.

"`Quintet`!!"

The follow-up attack from the dolls summoned by [Full Auto (Automata)] landed. Although inferior to the original, a five-fold simultaneous attack could potentially surpass it in total damage.

And so, the 'White Throne,' which had been subjected to a fierce assault by the 'monsters' who were like grains of sand in comparison, was—was it working, or not?

Its body trembled, raising a tremor, and it let out a whale-like roar,

"—`First Bullet, Awakening Blink`."

No signal, no warning, was needed or necessary. Following the flow of the instantly constructed coordination without any prior arrangement, all the players distanced themselves from the 'White Throne' in an instant.

A massive heat ray, far surpassing the simultaneous barrage of the mages, erupted as if to push back the roar that shook space itself.

The first shot—the start-up of the Anima [Nova Rescellerate, Mirror Illuminating Six Stars]—fired without hesitation from behind me, who was keeping to the very center of the battlefield, was a clean hit.

When I looked back, a wink flew from the direction of our matched gazes.

My senior, [Scorching Heat Gaze], with whom I'm often paired as a buddy due to our excellent compatibility—the former fourth-ranked player who was praised as the greatest long-range firepower until the rise of the 'Eastern Wings' with their rule-breaking artillery power.

And, a secret from the person herself, someone who has secured an unshakable position as a person you don't want to anger—well then, it's about time I got to work too.

If I'm suspected of slacking off, even by chance, it wouldn't look good.

Ninth Rank, [Undying]—winning without fighting, or rather, not fighting at all, and therefore not dying.

It's a style that's not very Istia-like, but I've never once doubted the build I created solely for a carefree solo journey.

It's a problem that the system ended up giving me its 'seal of approval'—but now that I have the opportunity to join this festival as a 'linchpin.'

"I don't like to stand out… but having fun isn't so bad."

No, it's not bad—it's hard to call him a 'mature adult,' but I've made a junior (senpai) who seems to be having more fun than anyone else.

The unexpected outcome of me, who had prized solo play above all and acted aloof, joining a clan on a whim.

Well, it seems like it'll be a lot of fun—the fact that I can genuinely look forward to the game ahead like this.

It's not bad. So, I don't think of this as troublesome or unwilling.

Without warning, but at a predicted timing, a single sand sword descended from the sky and stabbed into the ground before me.

A signal from my other junior, who is dutiful, honest, and so pure it makes me worry.

She probably tried her best to live up to the lighthearted remark I made before the battle. The way it stabbed into the ground with such force, at a speed that left little room for error, made a faint smile escape my lips.

"Understood, leave it to me—Dazzle Release."

Darkness spilled out, and shadows spread.

Black feathers danced, and an invisible hand reached out.

When I gripped the hilt of the sword before me, I followed the shadow and the battlefield was in the palm of my hand.

…When I confirmed that again, I couldn't help but laugh. I had an idea of the materials used, but I never thought such a coincidence could exist.

Although there's a difference between a normal species and a rare species. For the three of us who gathered to form a clan to be unintentionally wearing similar equipment is quite a probability.

Haru's [El-Gran Series]… or rather, [El-Gran Stasia, Azure Sky Six Flowers - White Cloud].

Sora's [Dress of El-Clelia].

And the Terror Armament that has become half of Tetra for the past year, born from a variant of the [White-Shining Bird of Fortune]—[Per=Fe Grim, True Theory: Shadow Cloth Looking Up to Black Wings].

The coincidental commonality of our battle garments being made from the feathers of beings that govern the same 'luck' feels like a very deliberate fate… it's embarrassing and makes me fidgety.

It's completely out of character. I know it's out of character, but—no matter how much I pretend to be an adult and act aloof, I guess I was still just a fifteen-year-old (a kid) after all.

"Embrace—`Grimnote, Black Sky Roc Wings`."

Somehow, the elements that build up the excitement are off the charts.

I can't help but let my cheeks relax into a childish grin.