chapter02 · 048-ep42
Episode 42: Kicking Off the Sky on a Trail of Stardust
Golden Week, Day Six.
The alarm was set for four-thirty.
I was awake before it rang.
"All right!"
Today was the last diveable day of Golden Week. Tomorrow is the "study day" big sis added to the plan. Written in THAT handwriting, resistance felt out of the question.
In other words: today, or never.
The targets: Toda, Floor 125.
And after that, Lv 150.
Last night in bed I ran the numbers over and over. Currently Lv 122. Twenty-eight to go. Thought about normally, that is not a one-day number.
But at Toda, the deeper you go, the stronger the monsters. The stronger they are, the richer the XP. And past Floor 75 was depth I had never once touched.
Doable. Probably.
No — doing it.
Five rice balls Mom made me, packed into the bag. Two more than usual.
"Saku — you're eating all of those?"
"I am, I am. Today's a long day."
"...In moderation, remember."
Big sis, drinking barley tea beside Mom, glanced over.
"Tomorrow."
"I know, I know. I'll study properly."
"Hm."
That was all.
But as I was putting on my shoes at the door, one line flew at my back.
"Go have fun."
"Yeah. I'm off!"
In front of the Toda dungeon, even in Golden Week's final stretch, there were plenty of people.
"Ah — Dungeon Strolls!"
"What's today's weapon—?"
"Staff?! Dual blades—?!"
"Thank you very much."
It was routine by now. Smile, wave, no stopping, through the door.
I jumped to the Floor 75 transfer circle, and on an empty levee path, opened the Vault of Tomes.
Today's weapon — already decided.
The romance-weapons page of the weapons volume. Written in the same spirit as the Twin-Pole Blades of Light, back in that winter of second-year middle school when I lived on an online game.
【Trail of Stardust】 — the reading: Stardust Trail
Less a weapon than — boots.
Black-and-white armored boots with a yellow line. And extending backward from the feet, any number of pale-blue light blades. The shape was like a stack of skate blades, scaled up to absurdity.
The page says:
- Fights floating in the air, feet never touching the earth
- Every kick is, itself, a cutting strike
- A trail of stardust remains where it has run
In the page's margin, written small:
- Fighting with your feet instead of a sword is, if anything, cooler
"'If anything, cooler.'"
Past-me — what were you even fighting?
But today's goal was depth, above all. I wanted the fastest-moving weapon I had. If it could fight while airborne, then waterlogged Toda meant nothing.
On that front, these were perfect.
Probably.
One deep breath.
"—Leg armor, linked. Light blades, deployed. The ground: not needed"
My feet glowed.
The sneakers I wore were wrapped in light and began to change shape. Black-and-white armor assembled itself from ankle to shin. The yellow line snapped into place.
And at the last, with a shnk, shnk, the pale-blue light blades extended, one after another.
"—Soar. Draw it. 'Trail of Stardust!'"
The instant I finished the second line—
My body lifted.
"Whoa—?!"
Not a floaty drift.
A hard, upward GUNNHH.
Off the levee path, up about two meters in one go.
"Wait wait wait wait!"
No balance. My body tipped forward. I swung my legs back to correct — and tipped backward instead.
I did a full spin.
"WAAAAH?!"
I hung there in the air, upside down.
My reflection in the water looked back at me.
It had an incredibly dumb look on its face.
It took thirty minutes to get the hang of floating.
Here's what I learned.
One. The foot-blades hold me up on their own. Do nothing, and I bob around about a meter off the ground.
Two. "Kick" the air, and I move in the opposite direction of the kick. A little like pushing off the wall of a pool underwater.
Three. Kick too hard, and you spin.
Four. The ceiling is lower than you think.
"Owww..."
Lesson four, I learned with my head.
Rubbing the lump, I kicked the air once more.
Lightly, this time.
My body glided smoothly forward.
"Oh?"
Again.
Another smooth glide.
Behind my feet, pale-blue grains of light lingered, glittering.
A trail of stardust.
"Oooh...!"
Kick. Glide. Kick. Glide.
The rhythm came to me, little by little. Right, left, right. Each kick sent my body sliding forward. A meter above the water, touching nothing at all.
"—It WORKS!"
From there, it was nothing but kicking through the sky.
Levee paths? Never used them again. I cut straight across the paddies. No fear of falling in the water. No snagging on the rice.
Floor 76.
Floor 77.
"—Whoops."
A Mud Toad leapt from the water.
Still airborne, I twisted. Roundhouse.
The light blade on my foot drew a pale-blue arc.
The frog split in two the instant the kick landed, and went back to mud.
The impact lingered in my sole. Nothing like a katana cut — closer to kicked clean through.
"Kicks that CUT! That is WAY too cool!"
The surface heaved in two more places.
Two at once.
I kicked the first one's head. The reaction slid me the other way — and right where I slid, the second one leapt.
Knee drawn to my chest, I kicked through with the force of the extension.
The second one went to mud too.
Not a single landing.
Fun.
Different from the sword, the dual blades, the staff. The feel of fighting with my own legs echoes straight through the body. The impact of each kick climbs from my soles up my spine.
And no worrying about the ground.
Kick while floating, float again off the kick's recoil, land another kick on the next enemy. Third, fourth — I kicked them down in one unbroken flow.
"I can chain combos in midair FOREVER...!"
I finally understood what past-me meant, writing "feet never touching the earth."
Probably saw an online-game character kicking endlessly in midair and thought it looked cool.
Present-me also thinks it looks cool.
Floor 80.
The deeper it went, the more the paddies transformed. Water deepened to the waist; rice grew tall enough to touch the ceiling; there were floors where the channels fell away in terraces like waterfalls.
"Whoa..."
I rode down the waterfall terraces, floating. Spray and stardust scattered together as grains of light.
Part of why I dive is to see things like this.
The same rice paddies — and not one floor the same. The deeper it goes, the more scenery I've never seen.
On Floor 85, the air changed.
Overhead — a great BASA. A single long shadow crossed the water.
I looked up.
Heron Knight Difficulty: D (higher)
A heron in armor. From its long neck to its body, dull silver plates overlapped like scales. Its long beak was sharpened like a spear.
And — it was flying.
"It FLIES?!"
Up to now, the air had been mine alone.
The heron wheeled, up near the ceiling.
Its beak leveled dead at me.
Coming.
Wings folded, it dove in a straight line. The wind-cutting sound pierced my ears, shrill.
I kicked off the air, jumped sideways. The beak pierced the space I'd just left — went on to stab into the water, throwing up a column of spray my own height.
Beyond the spray, the heron was already rising.
I turned and hammered a kick into its neck. The light blade skated across the armor. A horrible GRRITCH — sparks flew. The shock of kicking an iron plate with everything came right back up my knee.
"HARD."
One hit wasn't dropping it.
The heron spread its wings and banked. I kicked after it.
It became a game of tag in the sky.
I loop right. The heron flees left. I chase. The heron cuts an abrupt turn. Kicking too hard to keep up, I went into a full spin.
Over-kick and you spin. Lesson one, basically.
By the time I frantically righted myself, the heron had climbed back near the ceiling.
Skimming the ceiling, the heron flipped. Wings wide, the whole body rolling over — and in that instant, the plate at the base of its neck shifted. Between it and the wing-root, a glimpse of gray feather.
There.
The flipped heron came plunging again.
I twisted aside the beak. The silver neck whisked past my cheek.
Through the armor, no blade passes. If I'm kicking — the flip. Only that instant when the wings spread and the plates shift.
The heron fled upward again.
This time, I cut it off.
The ceiling's height — the heron had taught me twice. What happens on collision, I'd learned with my head. I kicked my way up to just shy of it.
The heron rose. Just below me, it began to spread its wings to flip.
The plate shifted.
Gray feather.
Come.
I kicked the air with everything. Deliberately — too hard.
My body spun. Riding the spin's momentum, the light blade on my foot swept a huge arc — and was drawn into the gap at the neck's base.
This time, the blade bit.
One armor plate fell away, tumbling down ahead of the rest.
And following it down, the heron hit the water, scattering feathers.
On the water floated gray feathers, more than a few.
Hovering, I looked down at my right leg. The knee that had kicked the armor was still half numb. My heart was hammering.
Strong. Clearly a different world above Floor 75.
But — in proportion—
Lv: 125 → Lv: 126
"Ohh — it went up."
And the way it went up — nothing alike either.
Floor 88.
Floor 89.
Heron Knights began coming in packs — two, three.
Aerial combat is fun.
Fun — but alone, your back goes unwatched.
On Floor 89, I was pinched between two.
Chasing the one in front, kicking through the air. Waiting for the flip. Wings spread. Plates shift. Got it—
The instant I thought it, a wingbeat sounded directly behind me.
No time to turn. Halfway through a twist, the beak arrived.
Something sharp grazed my left shoulder. Fabric ripped.
Not fully dodged.
The passing heron's wings filled my whole vision. The slam of its wingbeat gust carried my body away.
Spinning. Once, twice. Up and down gone. In the corner of my vision, the water rushed closer.
Waist-deep water. Fall in, and the water and mud seize my feet — and before I can stand, two beaks rain down from above.
Kick. But which way.
In the center of my upside-down vision, my reflection in the water met my eyes.
That's the water.
At my own face, I kicked the air with everything.
My body bounced up, grazing the surface. The light blade slapped the water; spray exploded. I took it square from the waist down.
Didn't fall.
Face up — two herons were plunging down at me, side by side.
"Give me a BREAK!"
I kicked sideways. Two beaks stabbed the water where I'd been, one after the other.
Show them my back and they'll come again.
I retreated until both were in view and kicked back whichever came first. While chasing one, the other looped for my back. Turn, kick. Meanwhile the first circled around.
By the time I finally put both in the water, I'd lost count of my turns.
"Rough."
At the bottom of the Floor 90 stairs, I finally caught a breath.
I landed at the edge of a levee path and sat down. Chewed into a rice ball.
Through the torn shoulder came a chill of wind. I peeled the fabric back with a finger — on the skin, nothing but a single red line.
A graze, only.
But shift it a hair, and I'd have been in the water.
I looked around.
Not a trace of anyone. Since passing Floor 75, I hadn't crossed paths with a soul.
"Alone, huh."
I murmured it and tossed the rest of the rice ball into my mouth.
Diving alone is fun. Unseen by anyone — float as much as I like, kick as much as I like.
But — like with that heron pack — if there were someone I could leave my back to.
No — wait.
Why not just call one? There's no one here.
I opened my status.
Lv: 129
The Summoning skill sat right there.
What can be called at once: one.
The Shadow Servant can't fight. The soldier probably can't keep up with speed in the air.
So — who.
I opened the Vault of Tomes and paged through The Book of the King.
The King's retainers. The Twelve Seats. ...Those are still impossible. My heart isn't ready.
I paged further on. At one page, my hand stopped.
The beasts in the King's direct service.
Beasts that take no human form, that stay beside the King.
And among them, one:
A white wolf that chases the moon, forever.
"This one."
A wolf that runs the sky, chasing the moon. For speed — it probably yields to no one.
I packed the rice-ball wrapper into my bag and stood.
At my feet, the light blades gave a soft, glowing pulse.