“—So for this one, instead of our usual upload, we’ll be doing a live broadcast. We might need to edit it afterward, depending on what happens, but unless something really major occurs, we’d like to keep it streaming all the way through. Thank you for your understanding.”
Watching Anthem’s saint, Midou Airi, bow politely on the screen, Kawai Sakiho found herself unable to settle down.
The usual Sugai Dungeon branch office.
The usual reception counter.
As usual, the section chief had not come in. As usual, she had opened the branch herself, sat in her usual seat, and, just like always, was watching an explorer’s stream on her mobile device.
And that “usual,” for some reason, had arrived again today.
According to a message from Section Chief Sadoyama, there was apparently work with a higher priority than deciding Sakiho’s future. He had even encouraged her to slack off with a “Just watch Anthem’s stream or something,” but in the first place, there was hardly any real work to be done at this branch.
Normally, Hayasaka Tooru would come in and handle the lending of body cameras, but he hadn’t shown up today. Maybe he never would again.
Then again, it wasn’t as if Sakiho herself knew how much longer she would be coming here, either.
“Good morning, Anthem~”
“Glad Airi’s okay!”
“After yesterday, SNS went totally quiet—I was worried.”
“Live broadcast?”
“Wait, Megu-tan and Chii-chan are safe, right? Why is Airi the only one streaming solo?”
“One comment about Chizuru’s ‘girly voice,’ please.”
Despite it being a weekday afternoon, the chat was moving faster than usual. It seemed that not only the regular Anthem fans were present—there were also plenty of newcomers drawn in by the recent buzz.
As someone who had been following Anthem closely for a long time, Sakiho’s feelings were complicated. But today, even aside from the stream, her emotions were restless to begin with, and she couldn’t quite tell what she herself was feeling anymore. Still, she was glad they were safe.
“Oh, it’s one o’clock now. All right, we’ll be switching to the live feed.”
As soon as Airi said that, the screen changed.
It was footage from a surveillance camera—or rather, a fixed camera. The location looked like some kind of conference room, with long tables arranged in a square.
On the near left side of the camera, Saitou Megumi and Kagurazaka Chizuru of Anthem were seated, with one of their managers, Hamamatsu Nanami, visible close by.
At the far side of the table, directly facing the camera, sat several elderly men who looked important. Mixed in among them was a single man who appeared to be in his late thirties.
“…Ah. That’s the mayor.”
Since Sakiho was, at least nominally, a civil servant, she naturally knew what the mayor looked like. Using that as a reference point, she could infer that the elderly men were city councilors, prefectural assembly members, and officials from the Dungeon Agency. She couldn’t recall their names, of course, but—
“What is this?”
“A conference room? A fixed camera?”
“Looks like a bunch of big shots.”
“Can they even see our comments?”
“Megu-tan and Chii-chan are there. They’re not looking at the camera.”
“Is this some kind of hidden-camera footage?”
While the video itself was filled with nothing but silence, the chat scrolled by with comments fired off at will. No one was going to recognize the face of a mayor from some regional city in XX Prefecture, S City, anyway. Holding her breath, Sakiho kept her eyes fixed on the screen.
Before long, the sound of a door opening echoed through the room—and though they weren’t visible on-screen due to the camera angle—Hayasaka Tooru and that swordswoman appeared. The two were guided to the right side of the frame, set their luggage down heavily on the long table, and then took their seats.
“Isn’t that the worksite bro!?”
“The swordswoman’s there too. She’s wearing something like a foreign ethnic outfit.”
“Well, I guess wearing armor in town would be weird.”
“She’s insanely beautiful.”
“I’m a Chii-chan loyalist, okay? Don’t underestimate me.”
“Huh? Megu-tan isn’t losing either.”
“Hmm, I’m still voting for the worksite bro.”
“He’s not dressed like he’s on-site anymore.”
“Jeans, T-shirt, jacket. Neither good nor bad.”
Sakiho couldn’t help but laugh at Hayasaka Tooru being dubbed “Worksite Bro” by the internet. No one would ever guess that the person who had gone massively viral overnight was actually a “cleaner” ranked below even D-class explorers.
The meeting was led by Hamamatsu Nanami, Anthem’s manager, and though it was frequently interrupted by the disgraceful behavior of the city and prefectural councilors, it somehow progressed—if only in a vague, hard-to-follow way.
“Old raccoon geezer getting destroyed, lol.”
“Don’t slam the table, you old man.”
“Do they even know this is being broadcast?”
“If not, that’s hilarious.”
“So Anthem’s side is seriously pissed, huh.”
“Obviously. S City invited Anthem while sitting on the investigation report, then dumped them into a dungeon that ended up mutating.”
“None of them even look sorry. That’s the worst part.”
“I’m gonna look these guys up.”
“Wait, worksite bro is yawning.”
“Can’t blame him. This talk is boring.”
“Learn from Megu-tan and Chii-chan, worksite bro.”
“Anthem’s doing this as part of their job, though.”
“And what about him?”
“Oh, looks like he’s about to explain what happened.”
“Geezer B just got wrecked by the worksite bro, lol.”
“False-molesting accuser geezer has been born.”
“Worksite bro’s taunting skills are insane, lol.”
The chat seemed to be enjoying the dull meeting, but the city and prefectural councilors’ attitudes were so atrocious that Sakiho gradually started to worry.
At present, the live stream had surpassed thirty thousand viewers.
Yesterday’s boss-room segment had drawn even more, but this was still drawing a great deal of attention. Plenty of people would be unable to watch the live broadcast due to work. Archive views—no, more likely, countless clipped videos—were bound to start circulating.
From here on out, the names and faces of the prefectural and city assembly members who had been parading their disgrace would surely be exposed alongside the clipped videos.
Incompetent, grotesque tax thieves who had nearly gotten Anthem killed—the all-star lineup of XX Prefecture’s S City.
They would probably be mocked like that.
A thoroughly unremarkable regional city, turned into the internet’s plaything in just two days.
〈Uh… yeah, so, starting with the ringing in my ears. Let’s see—counting from today, that was three days ago. That day, I was doing my usual trash-mob cleanup in the Sugai Dungeon… Oh, right, I’m a ‘cleaner.’ I’ve been cleaning the Sugai Dungeon for about three years now.〉
On-screen, Hayasaka Tooru began explaining the circumstances in a voice that sounded about thirty percent more lethargic than usual. Naturally, he didn’t hesitate to mention that his report had been ignored by the branch—Sakiho’s mistake included. He said it with such utter indifference, as if it were genuinely trivial.
“So the worksite bro really was worksite bro.”
“A D-rank dungeon ‘cleaner’—so he doesn’t even have an explorer’s license?”
“Damn! Three years as a cleaner—that’s a veteran!”
“That ringing in the ears sounds ominous. A sign of dungeon mutation?”
“He thought he saw someone and chased after them? Dude, are you suicidal?”
“If you sense something off in a dungeon, you retreat immediately, duh.”
“Yeah, but that report got buried, remember?”
“…Huh? A hidden room?”
“Things just got interesting.”
From a hidden room in the Sugai Dungeon, he apparently triggered a teleport trap and was sent into a long corridor. There, he encountered a black ogre. Fleeing for his life, Hayasaka Tooru once again saw the “figure in hakama.” Guided by that figure, he passed through another “illusory wall,” and in yet another hidden chamber, he found them—
Two swords.
〈And I was freaking out pretty badly, so I grabbed both of them and yanked them out, and then I passed out. When I woke up, this one was there. Says she’s a spirit possessing the holy sword.〉
In the same lethargic tone he’d used from the start, Hayasaka Tooru spoke the crux of the matter.
It was a statement that was hard to believe—but judging by their reactions, the people in the conference room felt the same way. The assembly members in particular erupted, veins bulging on their foreheads as they raised their voices in protest.
In the same lethargic tone he’d used when he started speaking, Hayasaka Tooru delivered the heart of the matter.
It was a claim that was hard to believe at face value—but judging from their reactions, the people in the conference room seemed to feel the same way. The assembly members in particular erupted, veins bulging on their foreheads as they shouted over one another.
“LMAO, the geezers are losing it.”
“Okay, but… is this actually for real?”
“Going by the worksite bro’s tone, it doesn’t feel like he’s lying.”
“Sure, buddy. Nice lie.”
“But pulling a Cursed Sword out of his hand and cutting down the Black Knight was real, though.”
“Fortune comes whether you want it or not.”
“Another geezer’s demanding evidence now.”
“Here comes the mysterious fainting-and-stretcher combo again?”
“Ah.”
“Oh?”
“Ah.”
Smoothly, the swordswoman rose to her feet and picked up the bundle she had placed on the long table. It appeared to have been wrapped in a towel—her sword.
She stripped the towel away, gripped the hilt in her right hand, and swung the mass of metal—its blade alone easily over a meter long—as lightly as if it were a twig, whirling it around once, twice… then stopped dead, the tip leveled at the elderly men.
Then she spoke.
“It seems Tooru has no intention of playing word games, so I’ll be straightforward as well. It’s easier that way. I’m Tia. I was once a swordswoman who wielded the Holy Sword ‘Lightbringer,’ and now I’m something like a Spirit bound to Lightbringer.”
Her voice was clear and resolute, carrying straight to the listener’s heart.
It was like a hero rallying soldiers on a battlefield… Even Sakiho, listening to Tia’s voice through the stream alone, felt as though she herself were being emboldened.
And yet, after a brief moment of stunned silence, the elderly men began hurling insults at Tia.
〈A Spirit? Really now—don’t insult us adults with such nonsense. This is exactly why I despise explorers. A bunch of brutes who’ve done nothing but grow strong, and they think they’re contributing to society? You worker ants should just crawl into those incomprehensible dungeons and bring back magic cores!〉
“Ah…”
“Oh no.”
“Trash-tier remark.”
“The definition of a stick-in-the-mud geezer.”
“You mean ‘THE’ definition.”
“More like stick-in-the-butt.”
“Nice one.”1
“Identification complete. Takesamori, prefectural assembly member from XX Prefecture. Ruling party. Second son of a local landowning family. Apparently the eldest son is the director of the local general hospital. Posting this on SNS.”
“Work speed is insane, lol.”
“You were totally researching him this whole time.”
“Never thought I’d see something like this on an Anthem stream.”
“That was absolutely something you must never say.”
“So this is what ‘disappointment’ feels like.”
“Might be the same in our hometowns, honestly.”
“All our taxes getting shoveled into people like this, for real?”
“For real.”
“Ah.”
While Sakiho was following comments that all seemed to say well, of course this is how it ends, the situation suddenly moved. Just as Tia—still carrying the Holy Sword—started to take a step forward, Sadoyama moved. Apparently, he had returned at some point and was standing near the door.
Like the shadow of a bird dropping to the ground, he shot forward in a blur—whap—landing right in front of Assemblyman Sasamori, snapping his hand up to strike the old man’s jaw and knock him unconscious, then grabbing him by the scruff of the neck as an afterthought——and slamming him into the floor.
The movements were so fast and precise that until Sasamori hit the ground, there was barely any sound at all.
Sadoyama kicked the head of the fallen assemblyman a few times with the toe of his shoe, waited until he confirmed the man had regained consciousness, and then planted his foot squarely on his back.
A croaking, frog-like groan escaped him.
〈Hey, old man. You just crossed a line. Who do you think is out there exploring dungeons for your sake, huh? A sly fox that’s only managed to grow old—I could string you up right here and no one would care. You sit in on maybe eighty regular sessions a year, spend the rest of the time lording it over everyone, and still get paid a ridiculous amount. Try living a little more apologetically, yeah?〉
〈Ghk—y-you… you bastard…!〉
〈What was that, pig? Speak up. Didn’t know? For us explorers, wiping out fossils like you would be easy. All the money in the world won’t buy you decent bodyguards. That’s because you look down on explorers. No connections, right? Go on—use your money and hire one. Right now. Find yourself an explorer guard who could stop a former A-rank like me.〉
Grrrk! She could tell he’d put real weight into the foot pressing down on the man’s back—because Assemblyman Sasamori was visibly writhing, choking out pitiful sobs.
“This is insane, lol.”
“That old man totally snapped.”
“Did he just say former A-rank explorer?”
“But honestly, this is reality. Those kinds of fossils only get power because they’re entrusted with politics—once an explorer actually moves like this, there’s nothing they can do.”
“I hear overseas it’s becoming pretty standard for politicians to be former explorers.”
“Yeah, but in Japan explorers don’t really want anything to do with politics.”
“So it’s more like they just outsource governance to politicians?”
“That’s how the structure’s been from the start. Go redo compulsory education.”
“Honestly, he brought it on himself.”
“Even so, this isn’t something I wanted to see on an Anthem stream.”
“Megu-tan and Chii-chan are looking at that old man with pure contempt.”
“Haa… haa… uh, can I go to the bathroom?”
“Lowest of the low, lol.”
〈Senpai—!〉
Hamamatsu Nanami cried out.
Maybe she knew Section Chief Sadoyama personally?
〈Sorry, Nanami-chan. I know it’s not professional, but there are some things you just can’t ignore. I held back as long as I could—bo—goh—!?〉
What had been a wry, cool-sounding line from Section Chief Sadoyama cut off abruptly as he vanished from the screen. No—he hadn’t vanished. He was embedded in the wall beyond the elderly men.
In his place—standing where Sadoyama had been just moments ago—was Tia.
“Wha!?”
“Why did she send him flying!?”
“This escalated way too fast.”
“And she one-shot a former A-rank explorer…?”
“As expected of a dragon slayer.”
“He’s alive, right?”
〈Sorry, Sadoyama. I understand how you feel, but that wasn’t okay. If we do it that way, it just means everyone has to obey whoever has the most power. That’s not how this world developed, is it?〉
Her voice carried cleanly—to the ears, to the chest, to the heart.
The way she said it was unbearably sorrowful.
Just what was this person who called herself Tia? She claimed to be something like a Spirit bound to the Holy Sword that Hayasaka Tooru had drawn…
Thinking that, Sakiho looked at Hayasaka Tooru on the screen—and was so shocked her thoughts ground to a halt.
Because he was wearing an expression that looked profoundly, utterly fed up.
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