Chapter 4: Not just unacceptable—this was bottom-of-the-barrel bad.

"Dark Lord?"

"Yeah. The Primordial Ruin Dark Lord, Bad End! That has to be what’s behind all of this!"

After begrudgingly dragging along the annoyingly persistent pickup artist Siegfried, Ririka the cat-eared maid and I returned to the tavern. Figuring that even someone like him might know something, we tossed the topic his way—and he came back with a name so blunt it was hard to tell whether it was meant to be ominous or just lazy.

"It popped up out of nowhere as the final event right before the service shut down, nya. No buildup, no foreshadowing. But in the end, it was never defeated, nya."

"Exactly. If the Dark Lord was defeated, the service would continue. If not, the game would shut down. It was the management’s last desperate gamble. But even after extending the event period twice, they couldn’t even gather a raid party to challenge it. In the end, this world was swallowed by darkness and collapsed, and the game’s service ended… or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go."

I’d heard it was a dead game, but this sounded even more miserable than I’d imagined.
I felt a little sorry for the devs.

"It was an obvious cash-grab event that required paid gear with blatant bonus effects, nya. They probably planned to grab the money and run, then shut down the service anyway, nya."

Never mind. I couldn’t sympathize after all.

"But surely the resentment of the undefeated Dark Lord turned into a curse that summoned us players into this world! If we defeat the Dark Lord, it’ll be a happy ending and we’ll return to the real world!"

What kind of resentment does an undefeated Dark Lord even have?
And the idea that real people were dragged into the game world because of an in-game Dark Lord—whether as a system element or a character—just felt wrong.
Still, it was also true that we had absolutely no other plan.

"Hmm. Compared to aimlessly killing time in this world with no idea when—or if—we’ll ever get back to reality, maybe it’s slightly better?"

"You’re going to believe what this pickup artist says, nya? Ririka doesn’t buy it, nya. And that Dark Lord’s name is so half-hearted it kills any motivation, nya."

Apparently, the cat ears had judged the Dark Lord’s name to be lazy.

"Yeah. The ‘curse of an undefeated Dark Lord’ doesn’t sound very convincing."

"What are you two saying?! Now is the time for us to join forces and set out on a journey to defeat the Primordial Ruin Dark Lord, Bad End! And for that, we need to recruit one more girl who can use healing magic!"

This guy just wants to form a harem party and go adventuring, doesn’t he?
Ignoring the painfully obvious ulterior motive of the pickup artist, I did find myself a little curious about this so-called Dark Lord. Quietly, I asked Erika.

"Erika, apparently there’s something called a Dark Lord. Can you detect any powerful life-forms or suspicious activity from orbit?"

『Dark Lord. There is a record of an individual who used that title while leading Aristera-type aliens in the Omega F334 system, but no matching entity has been confirmed on this planet. However, between the mountain ranges of the central continent, I have detected a cluster of native creatures rated Danger Level B−, along with groups rated C− or lower. A single bombardment from the bow railgun of a Bahamut-class battleship from orbit would be sufficient to annihilate them.』

"...Let’s just leave it alone for now."

『Acknowledged. Please request bombardment at any time if necessary. Additionally, based on biometric scans, the native male in front of you currently has an erect genital organ. He appears to be in a state of sexual arousal. Please avoid unnecessary physical contact.』

This pickup artist works fast.

While I was covertly communicating with Erika, Ririka—who’d apparently been staring down at the table, deep in thought—raised her head.

"I don’t care about the Dark Lord, but recruiting a healer and taking on some light quests might be a good idea, nya. That old man… Clarice is still level 1, nya. If we’re going to be stuck in this world for a while, it’s inconvenient—and honestly pitiful—to not even be able to walk outside town alone, even if he’s a perverted old man, nya."

"What?! Still level 1?! You must’ve logged in right before the service ended just to take screenshots, right?! I get how you feel!"

"No, that’s not it. And stop leaning in. Don’t come closer. Don’t look at me."

"Aw, don’t be so cold. When a friend gets turned into a girl, the standard trope is to confide your worries about your body and entrust both mind and body to them, right?"

"We’re not friends, and that ‘trope’ only exists in badly warped adult comics."

"Don’t talk about that in front of a minor, nya! Anyway, let’s find a companion who can heal, nya!"

The words Who are you calling a minor? almost slipped out, but judging by her speech and behavior, Ririka seemed to be the hardcore role-play type who cared deeply about staying in character. I decided it wasn’t wise to upset her and kept my mouth shut.
At least until I confirmed whether I could safely operate outside the city on my own, sticking together was probably the smarter choice.

Still, having only a cat-eared role-playing old man and a constantly aroused pickup artist as allies was completely unacceptable. No—worse than unacceptable. It was the absolute worst.
I agreed that we needed to find other companions.

But we didn’t find any.

Apparently, a party had already gone outside the city and fought monsters, and word quickly spread among the players that “taking damage actually hurts.” As a result, demand for anyone capable of using healing magic skyrocketed.
With no new companions found, the sun set and night fell.

Huh. So the sun sets normally here too.
Warped as it may be, this place is still shaped like a planet.

We stayed at the inn on the second floor of the tavern, but I couldn’t figure out how to pay using the money I was supposedly carrying according to my status. In the end, Ririka paid for my room.
Other players apparently had an “item box” section in their status, allowing them to store and retrieve items—including money. I couldn’t even view my status, let alone use it.

Wondering whether being unable to access basic system functionality meant I was seriously screwed, I felt a bit depressed as I wrapped myself in a blanket on the surprisingly clean bed of the medieval fantasy inn.
And betraying my faint hope that I might wake up back in my real-world life, morning came as expected in the fantasy world.

"We’re going to the city of Glassport, nya!"

The next morning, as we gathered in the first-floor tavern for breakfast, the cat-eared maid—now wearing an indecent pastel-green maid outfit—suddenly declared that.
For the record, breakfast was bread-based, but genuinely good.

"Where’s that? Is there something there?"

"It’s a small city in the mountainous region past the forest and fortress north of here. It should have hot springs."

Siegfried explained it, since I had no idea what city she was talking about.
I appreciated the clarification, but I really wished he’d keep his distance.

"That’s right, nya! Hot springs, nya! Baths, nya! I can’t stand this city anymore, nya!"

Ah. I see. The inn would let you use a large tub of hot water if you asked, but there was no proper bath. I could understand missing that.

"But you couldn’t actually enter the hot springs in Glassport when it was still a game, right? The entrance was clearly divided into men’s and women’s baths, and you could even see the interior graphics. That was frustrating…"

"If we’re talking about game limitations, you couldn’t even use the toilet, nya! I didn’t want to know it was just a hole, nya! And on top of that, NPCs scooped the contents out with buckets and carried it somewhere, nya! What were they planning to do with that, nya?!"

"Probably spread it on fields… though I don’t know where the fields are."

"This completely ruins the sword-and-magic fantasy, nya… magic should handle that sort of thing, nya…"

"Is there magic for that?"

"There isn’t, nya…"

"Then I guess that’s just how it is."

"Hahaha. In time-travel alt-history stories, that’s usually where they extract saltpeter and make guns."

"Don’t laugh, nya! Anyway, we’re going to Glassport, nya! Clarice might be level 1, but Ririka is a level 120 magic fist fighter, nya! Even without a healer, we won’t lose to the monsters around here, nya!"

As I listened, something clicked.

The women’s bath.
So that’s what this is about. Looks like you’ve finally shown your true colors, old man—planning to freely enter the women’s bath now that you’re in a cat-eared girl’s body, huh?
That said, I’m currently in the body of a blonde girl myself. In that case… I might as well go along with his scheme for now.

"What are you grinning about, nya. Ririka is absolutely not bathing together with Clarice, whose inside is a perverted old man, nya."

What an incredibly rude old man—saying that while completely ignoring his own situation.

"Seriously, men have it so easy in situations like this, nya. But baths aside, didn’t the toilet bother you, nya? You didn’t do the big one, did you, nya? No toilet paper at all—way too unsanitary, nya."

As for me, I’d actually asked Erika at dawn to land a Dragoon transport outside the city. I used its compact toilet and shower there. You’d never use—or even know about—it in-game, but this Western title was so excessively overdesigned that it even received official novelizations back home. Since the Dragoon transport was also meant for troop transport, its interior was fully equipped with the necessities of daily life.

Thank you, developers.

"I had a bunch of useless duplicate outfits from bad gacha pulls, so I tore them up and used the fabric."

The pickup artist’s solution was unexpectedly clever—and refreshingly straightforward.

Hearing that, the cat ears froze in shock, her face stiff with disbelief.

Anyway, after hastily finishing our preparations, the thoroughly unconvincing party—me, Clarice; the cat-eared Ririka; and the pickup artist Siegfried—set out from the city, heading toward a place called Glassport.

"Clarice-nyan, is that really all your equipment, nya? You don’t have a weapon, nya?"

Ririka asked after we’d walked a short distance outside the city.

At the moment, I was wearing a lightly armored electromagnetic shield suit that looked suspiciously close to a full-body tights outfit. Magnetically attached to my waist were a handgun and spare magazines, and slung over my back by a strap was an assault rifle. With its grip and barrel folded in, the rifle looked like nothing more than a thin rectangular box. In-game, the transformation animation every time you equipped or stowed it was nothing but pointless flair—but in a situation like this, it was incredibly convenient.

"Is that gun-looking thing a collaboration item too, nya? There aren’t any gun-category weapons in Sword Blade Online, nya. You can’t use it anyway, right?"

"Well, I figured I’d keep it on me."

"So you couldn’t buy a proper weapon at the weapon shop after all, nya?"

"I can’t exactly help it if I can’t take money out."

"Level 1 with no skills and no gear is just too pitiful, nya. Fine, I’ll give you this, nya."

Saying that, Ririka pulled a sword out of thin air and handed it to me.

So that’s the item box.
Honestly, I’m jealous.

The sword she handed me was richly decorated, and the blade emitted a faint glow.

"It’s a magic sword from a monster drop, nya. Ririka doesn’t need it, but it should be a fairly decent blade, nya. Be grateful, nya."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it—but doesn’t it have a scabbard?"

"It doesn’t, nya."

You want me to carry it around bare? That’s dangerous.

"And do something about that outfit too, nya. Don’t go outside wearing underwear-category tights, nya. You should be more aware that your body is an idol-type blonde beauty now, old man. Sieg is leaning forward again, nya."

She handed me a pink poncho as well.
Couldn’t the color have been anything else?

So that bastard was quiet because he was erect again? That’s revolting. Once we find other companions, I want to ditch him as fast as possible.

But when I looked down at myself again, I realized the assault rifle’s strap was pulling my chest into a diagonal “boob-sling” situation.

…Well, maybe some things just can’t be helped.

As I fumbled with the poncho, Ririka suddenly shouted.

"Enemy, nya!"

Looking ahead, three large but round-looking rats—like the ones we’d seen in the forest—were blocking the road.

No, their color was slightly different.
The forest ones were more grayish.
These were more brown.

"Glass Rats, nya. They’re the weakest monsters there are, so they’re perfect, nya. Go on, Clarice-nyan—try fighting one, nya."

"Ugh… when they look like that, it feels kind of cruel to slash them with a sword…"

"You’re level 1—what are you even saying, nya. Beginners defeat monsters like those to level up, nya."

"Alright, I’ll give it a shot."

It was a decent chance to test my abilities.

I gripped the bare sword with both hands and ran toward the rat.
The blade felt surprisingly heavy—solid, with real weight behind it.

Honestly, it looked more like something you’d want to pet than fight, but mercy had no place here.
I steeled myself and swung the sword down at the middle rat.

"Uoryaaah!"

I’d meant it as a fierce battle cry, but passing through the vocal cords of an idol-tier blonde girl, it came out… kind of cute.

The sword slammed into the rat’s round body—and bounced off with a dull boing.

"Take this! And this! Hyaa! Toh! Oraah! Dieee!"

Boing.
Boing.
Boing.
Boing.
Boing.
Boing.

『Master, what are you doing? If your intent is to kill that native organism, I recommend using the Gladius .45-caliber low-recoil electromagnetic barrel pistol rather than that primitive striking weapon.』

"Right now—this—is—fine!"

Boing.
Boing.
Boing.

I could hear the exasperation in Erika’s voice, but I kept swinging anyway.

No matter how many times I hit it, there was no sign of damage.
The rat was far tougher than expected, and that impressive-looking sword turned out to be completely dull.

I finally gave up and turned around.

Ririka was staring at me in utter disbelief, while the pickup artist was grinning like an idiot.

"What was that, nya? You’re way too weak, nya. How did you even allocate your stats, nya?"

"What… are my stats like, anyway?"

"You can’t see other people’s stats, nya. Even at level 1, that magic sword should’ve taken down a Glass Rat in one hit, nya. Sieg, try using the sword for a second, nya."

"Got it—leave it to me. I’ll show you my cool side."

"It’s a Glass Rat—what are you bragging for, nya."

The pickup artist took the sword from me and casually pointed it at the rat with one hand.

"Heheh. Honestly, that earlier part was kinda cute."

Don’t melt over it.

When he swung the sword, a glowing slash-shaped effect cut across the rat’s body. A moment later, it let out a shrill, very un-ratlike "Piiiii!" before bursting into sparkling particles and vanishing. In its place, a rainbow-colored crystal-like stone and several coins scattered onto the ground.

Seeing that, the remaining two rats panicked and scurried off into the nearby grass.

"Yeah, it’s a pretty decent sword."

"It should be, nya. Clarice-nyan, your status ailment section was garbled too—maybe buffs don’t apply to you either, nya? If that’s the case, this is really bad, nya. You might have no choice but to live quietly inside the city, nya."

That was brutal.

A sword-and-magic fantasy world where neither swords nor magic worked for me.
The unfairness of it all finally sank in. I wrapped myself in the pink poncho and crouched down, feeling utterly miserable.

Ririka gently placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke, her eyes strangely kind.

"We’re already in this together, nya. Ririka will take you as far as Glassport, so don’t worry, nya. According to the setting, that city has a theater where girls dance in sexy outfits at night, nya. After that, you can earn your daily bread there and live on, nya. It’s perfect for a perverted old man like you, nya."

Her eyes were gentle.
What she was saying absolutely was not.