chapter01 · 016-ep15

Episode 15: Screaming My Dark History in Front of an Audience

The examination was set for three days later, at the dungeon in Chikusa Ward.

The Chikusa dungeon is D-rank, recommended level up to 100. Close enough from home to bike to, but of course, this was my first time inside.

Kanayama's door stands alone inside a fence. Here, the door sits in a building that houses an entire Guild branch — reception, buyback counter, equipment shop, everything. As crowded as a shopping mall on a weekend.

At that entrance, I met up with the two of them. One was my sister, in full gear again today. The other was a woman I was meeting for the first time.

"I am Shibasaki of the Guild's Nagoya headquarters, presiding over today's examination."

Mid-thirties maybe, not a single wrinkle in her uniform. Even the business card she offered had its corners dead square.

"Pleased to be in your care."

"Pleased to be in yours."

"I will explain today's procedure. You will proceed to Floor 3. Any combat along the way is, in principle, yours to handle. Only if we judge there to be genuine danger will I or Ichinose Rinka-sama intervene."

So flat I couldn't read a single thought off her. A completely different animal from Mishima-san.

More pressing: the "intervene" part. I tugged my sister's sleeve and lowered my voice with a request.

"Big sis. Only if it's REALLY dangerous, okay."

"I know."

...Does she, though? Does she really, this person.

"Additionally, the full course of the examination will be recorded."

Shibasaki-san indicated a small camera at her chest.

"Recorded?"

"Yes. It must be kept as the basis for the verdict."

Two witnesses was already hell, and now there's footage too.

"Um — will people watch that later?"

"The examination department and headquarters management will review it. It will not be released to the public."

Even the Guild bigwigs will see it... the worst. No, wait — bigwigs are busy people. For a rookie's exam they'll just skim it at double speed. Right? Please be that.

My plan was set before I even left the house. No declaring my name, no Magic Eyes — go in as plain me.

At Lv 68 with STR 48, plus three years of martial arts. The shallow layers of a D-rank should be passable on that alone. Not that I have any other card to play.

Floor 1 of the D-rank was a different world from Kanayama.

Halls and ceilings both wide, the glow from the walls strong enough that torches were unnecessary. Marker stakes driven into the floor at even intervals — clearly kept up by human hands.

My first D-rank, and honestly, I'm a little thrilled. If this weren't an exam, I'd probably be bouncing off the walls.

The monsters were different from Kanayama's too.

"An orc."

Shibasaki-san informed me, tapping something into a recording tablet.

Down the passage stood a gray thing like a goblin scaled up two sizes, an iron club in its hand.

"A standard Floor 1 specimen for a D-rank. Please respond."

Right. Here we go.

I re-gripped the borrowed sword and stepped forward.

Behind me, my sister just stood there, arms crossed, watching. Honestly, scarier than the orc.

The orc bellowed and charged.

Every footstep transmitted a heavy thud up through the floor. Nothing like the light patter of goblins. With a rough snort, the raised iron club came bearing down.

Fast. But watch the shoulders and the feet and you can tell which way the swing comes from. The dojo drilled that into me until I was sick of it.

Half a step back — the club swept empty air and smashed the floor, a dull boom reaching me through my soles.

Stepping in on the recovery, I swung the sword sideways.

Harder than a goblin, but the edge passed through without stopping.

The orc snarled and swept the club in horizontally, hand pressed to its flank.

I caught it with the sword. The impact banged down my arms, and my feet skidded half a step.

Whoa, heavy. But not unblockable.

I let the club slide up the blade and drove the point into the exposed throat.

The second strike folded the orc. Where it turned to sand, a single gray fang dropped.

No sound from behind me. When I glanced back, Shibasaki-san was tapping at her tablet, and my sister stood watching, arms still crossed.

Before I could stop myself, I raised my eyebrows at her. Well? That was pretty good just now, right?

"Don't ask me without words. It affects the judgment."

She said it deadpan. But I'm fairly sure this particular deadpan is the pleased one. Fifteen years of reading this sister's straight faces — I'm qualified.

Through Floor 2, smooth sailing. Four orcs down, plus two run-ins with wolf-types along the way.

Wolf-types are gray beasts the size of a big dog, and unlike orcs, nearly silent at a run. Before I knew it, they had flanked me in the passage.

The right one leapt first.

I set the sword vertical and let its fangs bite at throat height. The clank of teeth on iron. Flinging it sideways, the light body tumbled away toward the wall.

The left came in low, going for my legs.

I hopped it, and on landing brought the sword down on the back that had just passed me.

The right one, back on its feet at the wall, charged head-on this time.

Not backward — forward. I slipped under its leaping belly and cut upward from below.

All of this on the borrowed sword. Shibasaki-san just kept silently tapping, no clue whether any of it was good or bad.

And then, the problem — right after we descended to Floor 3.

Two of them at the end of the passage. Orcs, definitely, but visually nothing like the earlier ones. Tall, wearing what amounted to armor, axes with real blades in hand. With every move, the armor plates grated — a metallic clatter. The axe blades flashed white in the wall-light; getting hit by those would not end at "painful."

"Orc Soldiers."

Shibasaki-san, even-toned as ever.

"Standard Floor 3 specimens. Armored, and thus harder than the ones above."

My bad feeling landed the instant I cut at the first one.

The blade skidded off the armor. Metal on metal, a dull shock rebounding into my wrist. And not one scratch on it.

"Ngh...!"

I leapt an axe sweeping in from the side — and straight into the second one charging my landing point.

I caught the falling axe on my sword.

The iron sword shrieked, pressing my arms down. My soles skidded across the floor, numbness racing from elbow to shoulder.

This is a shoving match I lose.

I tilted the blade diagonal, let the axe-edge slip outward, and with that motion hammered the second one's flank.

Skidded again. You're kidding me.

But one thing I had seen. The instant it raised the axe, the armor seam parted under its arm. A gap two, maybe three fingers wide.

Through there, maybe... no. Even if I reach it, this sword won't bite. This is bad.

At the edge of my vision, my sister was starting to move. If she steps in, the exam ends right there.

Kicking off the wall to make distance, I sucked in a breath.

"—No..."

The first word snagged in my throat.

My sister is watching.

Half a step into motion, eyes straight on me. And beside her, the camera on Shibasaki-san's chest had its red light glowing.

In front of my family — in front of a camera that keeps records — I'm supposed to say this?

My face went hot all at once.

But the Orc Soldier was not going to wait out my embarrassment.

The axe fell straight down; I rolled sideways. It burst sparks off the floor right beside me.

Oh, whatever! Who cares who's watching!

"—No inscription, no meaning — cut, Nameless."

Having snagged once, this time the voice came up from the bottom of my gut. Face still burning. But I meant every word.

Space split, black particles swirling into a vortex. An unsheathed katana settled into my hand.

I shifted the borrowed sword to my left hand and gripped the katana in my right.

My sister's feet stopped, right there.

The first one heaved its axe up. Under its arm, the armor seam opened.

Come on.

I stepped inside the arc before the axe could fall, and slid the katana into the gap beneath its raised arm.

The blade that had skidded off everything passed through the seam like nothing. The impact ran straight back up to my elbow.

The first one sank to a knee, axe still raised.

And as I pulled the katana free, wind came at my back.

The second one's axe, sweeping in horizontal at waist height.

I ducked; the blade howled over my head.

Right in front of me — its knee. The armor stops at the thigh; below the knee, only leather.

I ran the katana through there.

The knee buckled, and the giant toppled forward. Between helm and breastplate, the neck seam dropped to exactly my eye level.

One more cut into that seam.

The black blade sank in without a sound; a beat later, the axe fell from its hand. A heavy clang rolled down the passage, and then it was quiet.

Both of them crumbled away into sand.

Once I'd caught my breath, it finally landed on me. ...That whole thing. They saw all of it, right?

When I turned around, my sister and Shibasaki-san were staring at the exact same spot, in perfect sync. The katana in my right hand. Well. Fair.

"Ichinose-sama."

Shibasaki-san lifted her face from the tablet.

"That weapon."

Here it comes.

"Um, that's—"

"There is nothing matching it in your registered equipment. Nor is it a loan item."

Of course not. That katana existed only in a notebook from back then.

Brain, full speed.

"It's a skill."

"A skill."

"From my Job. The kind that brings out weapons."

Well — it isn't a lie. It IS a skill.

"It was blank at your appraisal. Something that grew in with levels?"

"Yes. Exactly."

That one passed without a fuss.

"Your skill name, please."

The single question I wanted least.

'The Words I Wrote Are No Idle Words' — not if you split my mouth open.

"Weapon Summoning."

"Weapon Summoning."

"Yes. That's the name. It summons weapons, so."

"Exactly as the name says."

...Right. Exactly as the name says. Which explains absolutely nothing.

Shibasaki-san studied me in silence. What, am I suspected? — and then her fingers simply started moving on the tablet again.

"Then, the name of that weapon."

If I answered "Nameless," she'd absolutely ask why it has no name. And "because I never got around to deciding" was not an answer I could give.

"That's the thing. There isn't one."

"There isn't."

"It seems there's no name."

"Understood."

Shibasaki-san's fingers moved on the tablet again.

In my heart, I pressed my hands together for my past self. Because you never picked a name, I got through today without lying once.

Feeling a gaze, I looked over — my sister, watching. Saying nothing, but her eyebrows were up a fraction. ...What's with those eyebrows.

This person knows exactly what I was like back then. And on top of that, she just heard that chant.

Our eyes stayed locked; I had nothing either. After a moment, she turned her gaze forward and said exactly one thing.

"Let's keep moving."