~2nd Year of Inganock, Unknown Season. Fantasy City~
---This is before he ascended the Golden Spiral Staircase.
The Death of Embers, Red King. Dragon. If the Grand Duke reigns the upper tiers, Dragon can be thought of as the ruler of the large engines deep in the lower tiers.
The other king of the Fantasy City. The Fantasy King, Critter Dragon.
Of the 41 Critters which scattered death throughout Inganock, which became distorted two years ago, there was not one person who didn't know the name of the one who called themself King. An absolutely immortal, absolutely physically impenetrable information body. All heavy weapons, including artillery used by tanks, and even the Phenomena Equation that could distort the laws of physics did not apply to one of the 41 Critters that devoured people, of the 41 great terrors that covered all of the city's lower tiers by scattering death 20 months ago. That was the Underground King.
But at this moment.
In Inganock's 2nd year in an unknown year. Late at night at 3 hours, 33 minutes, and 3 seconds.
Approximately 14000 hours after Critter Dragon's first appearance.
This was something no one would have imagined.
A giant laying in the underground darkness. Nobody. No one.
How could anyone imagine Critter Dragon, feared as the city's greatest threat, had been unknowingly turned into a silent skeleton in the underground large engine depot where it resided. That was impossible. It was fully armored. It had an impenetrable information body. The body, which could not be swayed even by the Main guns of the Mobile Fortress that once raged in a Great War in a foreign distant land was invincible. It was something that human means could not overcome. That is the Critter. The Lords of Terror, those who were bound in the depths of those who were distorted into fantasies. Dragon was the one who controlled those terrors as their only King.
But at this moment.
The epidermis that should have repelled everything, the information body that should have been blessed was torn asunder.
In the underground large engine depot with countless conductor tubes, inside in the depths of the vast underground space in darkness, there was no doubt the corpse of the Red King cut in two. There were traces of destruction in the surrounding area as though there was a large engine explosion. The mouth of the giant dragon where flames were spat out was torn vertically and carbonized, and the "Eye of Fear" which let out a glittering eye that binds the movement of all living beings and inanimate objects was torn apart by the sonic booms brought about by the two cuts. There wasn't even a shadow of the imposing figure of the one who called themself the Other King of the City. It was just a corpse of a beast.
A fantasy.
It was dead. The one who called itself King was dead.
It was dead. No. Rather, it was killed. By someone.
If that's the case...
Who killed the Dragon?
Not just anyone could have done it.
Intangible deaths cannot just be killed.
Critters were absolute. That's just how it was. That's how it should have been the city of Inganock's fate, a law set by the Clown that dances at the edge of everyone's vision in the city. A physical thing that enforced the City's Law of Death by trailless execution all over the lower tiers. An intangible cage that enforced hopelessness and despair. A guillotine. It could not have been a person. And yet.
Someone killed it. The laid-down body of the King. The ruins of the Red King. Its corpse.
That was it. But who, there was not an answer. No answer to it.
Even so, there were "two" who were in the bottommost tier of the Fantasy City of Inganock, underground in a large engine section where traces of the fierce Critter battle remained. They endured the stench of death lingering in the air, the high heat that was the embodiment of heat death still emanating from the Dragon's corpse, and the sooty air characteristic of the area around the underground large engine. Once inhaled into the lungs, everyone would die. No one, regardless of how much of a fantasy they were, could not withstand it without proper organs. Just a single intake was all it took to die.
And yet, "they" were "there", enduring the deadly heat and the atmosphere.
One was a man. The man was Crack Chrome.
The other was a shadow.
The only fairy tale left in a city that lost all other illusions.
They were steel figures of all colors.
Its name was Kikai.
A shadow of steel that was not human.
A blade of flame that crushed fantasies.
The only thing that can bring about "beautiful things" to the people in this city...
"...Ah. It's alright, now."
The man called out to the "other one" behind him.
They were invisible to him. Only the touch of a small little hand to his cheek could he feel it. It was a white hand. Though it should have really been a steel hand of all colors, to the man it was closer to the truth in the city as a white hand. The hand of "she" who stood behind him. The right hand reached out.
The man who sat amongst the countless debris of engine machinery filling the underground large engine depot calling himself Crack Chrome may have smiled a little. Just slightly, feeling the existence of "her" behind him. Even if he could not see her clearly. Even if his "Left Eye" which could see everything did not perceive her. His "Left Eye" was an Equation Eye, capable of perceiving all phenomena. It was certainly possible to perceive the debris of the underground large engine that lay asleep and the ruins of the Dragon that had become a skeleton in his surroundings, even memorize the elements that make up its structure. Yet he could not see them, the sole true figure of "her" behind him. Only with the feel of his "heart" could they be seen to him that she was human. It wasn't quite certain, but it was faint for him that the hand was of a pure white girl.
There was none. He had already abandoned his name.
This was a man who carried on his back the sole remaining fairy tale, wielding a long black sword with so-called swordsmanship in hand. This was a man who continued to slay many large monsters while not serving the Great Duke Astaire, who controls all of the vast lower tiers from the city's upper tiers. That is to say, he does not receive orders from anyone. This was a man who continued on fighting to expand the sphere of survival possible for those who lost many areas to the swarms of Monsters and Critters. He had no name, but the people still gave him one. They called him the Fantasy City's sole noble Street Knight.
He had yet to have a clock in his hand.
Wailing and sobbing lingered in his mind as he wandered through the city at night.
He threw away the powerlessness and physicality of being human, embedding himself in countless steel to evade the claws and blades of Monsters, strengthened his cranial nerves through the newly made Crack Engines to fight off the terror of Critters, someone who squeezed every last bit in his heart to continue a battle that will not end no matter how many blades he carries, resembling a dance with burnt shoes...believing he had no choice but to go forward.
A man who kept on going the path of the sword while being called the Strongest and Fastest.
He was alone.
In a sea of sand, continuing to find a single grain of gold.
"No need to worry. I will start rebooting right away."
"...But.
...The truth is, you..."
"The left arm will have to be purged. The walking function can be restored..."
"...But.
...The truth is, you..."
She may have been whispering something to him, but...
The man couldn't hear it.
The man couldn't understand it.
That is why her whispering words were always like half a monologue.
Smiling softly at "she" behind him, he closed his eyes once more. A small screen appeared on his eye, a bodily function that had been replaced with steel separate from his Equation Eye. The wounds he sustained from the fearsome Critter Dragon were far more than he could bear, even if he were made out of tough chrome. Had he been an ordinary person, he would have died many times over. It would take some time for him to reboot and get up.
It was clear that the battle was fierce. The aftermath of the unimaginative battle devasted the surrounding area. On top of the claws and fangs that wreaked havoc, parts of Dragon's surroundings were still bubbling from its "heat wave" ability to melt all matter. The iron was bubbling.
With his back against the long black sword propped up on the floor, feeling "her" behind him who should have been further away from the blade, he who had yet to see the clock, Crack Chrome, gently opened his eyes.
Slowly.
It rose in the dark.
It trembled, like some sort of newborn lifeform...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~Inganock 2nd Year, Unknown Season. Fantasy City~
...Who?
...Who killed the Dragon?
7th tier of the city's lower tiers. The main street, which will later be known as the Infinite Crowded Street, is called the "Junkie Street" as of Inganock's 2nd Year. The reason was clear. This was due to the widespread use of illegal drugs. It was the suicide Death Drug, which brought about pleasure while destroying brain cells instead of alcohol that is become popular not just with a few but even many buildings have scribbles that talk of escaping the despair of the Fantasy City, preferring death according to the phrase. There was always a habit and bustle where someone goes insane and dies. It was the showiest main street in the City. Companies and individuals who wanted to make suicidal people enjoy the last of their lives and squeeze out shillings that weren't needed built many pleasure shops, and the momentum hasn't stopped there. Yesterday, a Shelob Man who was wielding a blade on his last pleasure died after killing 33 people. According to autopsy reports of the city's administration, the man was already in a brain-dead like state when several Runners in the area crushed the man's body.
However.
However, no one talked about the killings of 33 people.
This was different from the numbness of the senses as it had merely been two years since the abominable Revival. While that might have been the case, the rumor that filled Junkie Street, one of the largest downtown areas in the lower tiers, wasn't of the 33 killed but of the hero's latest work. That being the Dragon Killer.
The Red King was killed.
The Black Dragon was killed.
The news that Critter Dragon had been killed in the City's lower-tier Underground Large Engine Depot ran through the enclosed city, even reaching Junkie Street. Everyone spoke about it. Dragon was killed. There was a man who killed Dragon. But they shouldn't be able to kill a Critter. Even the Upper Tier Soldiers, rumored to have been developed in the upper tiers, could only throw in so many of the heavy engine knights at one of the small Critters to the point of forcing them to think "this is troublesome" and retreat at best. But they cannot kill it. It was game over if a mid-sized or large-sized Critter appears. Death and destruction was all that would befall on the districts. However, what was done in was "that" Dragon, the biggest of the large-sized Critters and even their King at that!
This was a feat said to be impossible to accomplish. But only one man could have done it. The Street Knight said to the city's fastest, the Steel Equation User, Crack Chrome. But...but...why? Even if he was said to be the fastest, he was still only human.
So why was he able to kill the Critter?
Why, in truth, could he kill the Critter?
No one could have known the reason behind it. However, someone had said it. Someone whispered about it. It was the last fairy tale left in the city. In this Fantasy City, where every illusion has fangs to kill, fairy tales have vanished. Thus, it was the last. The sole fairy tale. In other ones, shadows of steel that change into all colors. Its name was Kikai. Steel shadows that were not human. The city's last hope to bring about "beautiful things" to the people.
"The Street Knight must have a Kikai."
"Does the hero truly have such a thing?"
"They gotta. For that, I will sing praise until the day I die."
The madman on Junkie Street said as such and embodied joy, but those who chose death would have already lost the word "hope". The Street Knight had a Kikai. There were certainly whispers about it, but it didn't remain as a rumor that flowed and vanish in the city. Dozens of Critters still exist in the city, and the Critter disaster and rampage of Monsters still shook the city. The overwhelming negative reality was more than enough to wither out that little hope, and eventually the fairy tale returned to being as such. That being the Kikai was the city's last hope, that the Street Knight had one yet it was unknown if that were the case.
It had already become as such days after the rumors of Dragon's destruction.
Suicides went on as usual on Junkie Street.
But still...
Still, there was one woman in an opium den that threw away the rumors told as rumors. Her name was Oona. She was a tall woman, a woman with high pride. One of the few who retained a "human" form in Inganock, where many have turned into fantasies. She was a female runner.
Runners. Two years after the city's Revival, some weirdos showed up among the people. They took up their own blades and guns not for self-defense or taking down Monsters and expanding the city's living areas, but for profit. They bet on their own life for the money any company brings. This was completely different from the Street Knight, the "hero" said to be the greatest eccentric. Running through the city's shadows by themself, soaring through the first tiers skyscrapers, often being corporate zones, they were more suited to the city than the lone Street Knight, and many that were new to it did it without discomfort. They were insane people who endangered their own life by working as corporate dogs for money, sometimes going off to take down Monsters to acquire a living space. Some insane scholars screamed out the Death Drug was automatically refined in the cerebrum, but they were one of the crazy ones. No one cared. Being a runner was a necessary job in the city. If anyone were to forfeit their life, the chances of somebody else surviving would probably go up, not that they would die to protect someone. Only "heroes" could do such an insane thing. To put it simply, this was due to the quantity production of bread was fixed. If someone died, somebody else will live.
Yet Oona was still alive.
The average life expectancy of many Runners who strongly survived in this situation was "two weeks after getting the job". She replaced both arms with Crack Engines, gaining the strength to crush Monsters. If it were just a mere human, both her white left arm and black right arm could tear it in no time.
Oona was strong. She was strong. Although she was agile and good at survival before the surgery, she became different after it. Her only drawback was her beautiful skin, which had no visible mutations being left with scars from the surgery's mistake. Said scars which looked as though they were human bodies pieced together, were painfully etched onto her beautiful face, beautiful breasts, and beautiful thighs. It was said that she would rather die for it and bare her skin...
But in any case, Oona was a strong woman.
Thus, many people didn't think of things they could not think of. For she was strong that she would not run away even for hidden facts that were tragic unless her life was in physical danger.
For that, she did not dismiss rumors as rumors.
Why did the Street Knight kill Critter Dragon, who was in a state of inactivity, nearly asleep even, after the great disaster and carnage from 10 years ago? Why did he have to kill it?
The woman wondered to herself.
And for her, she knew how to answer the question to an extent.
...And so, Oona came into contact with the "hero". Many of the higher-ups and ambitious start-ups have tried to look for the Street Knight, but she was the only one who could reach him. She had owed a few favors for the skillful A-class Hacker K, was drinking buddies with her friend and fellow runner Morii. And above all, she was more relentless than the Monster Naga that all of the hidden truths in the shadows of skyscrapers would be revealed to her.
The City Skyscraper. Oona smiled when she saw the "hero" connected to an automatic repair machine for regeneration in an unmanned quarantine area in the far end of the second temporary engine factory in the upper management. Indeed, it appears the rumors of the Knight being a Heavy Engine Human were true. She thought in a corner of her mind that she were to spread rumors of this in improving the upper tiers mentality, it could even help to improve citizenship. She smiled. The Knight was connected, but his consciousness remained as he turned slightly to gaze at her.
A Knight that was hung down to the point of being defenseless...
The Knight. The Street Knight. No one knew of his true figure.
Shortly after the terrifying Revival, the lower tiers were full of pain, tears, screams, and moans. Just before the tears of people died, only then did people pray for a little hope. They prayed for the Street Knight, who confronted Critters and Monsters with a sword and protects the lower tiers without concern for fear and death.
Thus, he took up the sword in his own.
Thus, he dyed his radiant sword in red and black while scrapping his boots.
But for the Runner, Oona...
This was just a man who was hurt, tired, and on the verge of collapsing. He did not feel any emotion. Anyone who was a knight realist would have gone mad if he were to tell them "he is the knight" they were looking after. The slightest hope would have vanished there. But not for Oona. She simply held her favorite smoke pipe that was as distorted as the city had changed for, and quietly asked...
"...Ah..."
"So why did you come up with the idea to kill Dragon? What for?"
"...Why..."
"Yes? Why, what?"
"It's because....someday...someone will do the same..."
(To be continued)
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