Loner High-School Girl And The God-Tier Game — Golden Age (2)

I’m transported into a dim room that reeks of cigarette smoke. Across from me, one elbow propped on a lavish table, sits a man in sunglasses, the very picture of an Italian mafia boss. Black-suited men stand lined up around me, boxing me in.

My communication disorder may be off the charts, but I don’t get twitchy in front of an NPC. Obviously not.

“Shiki. I have a favor to ask, and it’s your skill I’m counting on.”

The man in the sunglasses signals with a finger, and one of the black suits sets an attaché case down on the table.

“Take this to the usual place.”

A red icon drops onto my MAP, marking the ‘usual place.’ Call it 2.5 km out.

“What’s inside?”

“Asking a thing like that is bad manners.”

“Heh heh heh…” The man in the sunglasses chuckles, his cigar bobbing.

I see. So in this Special Mission, I play the ‘courier.’

“Every mafia in this city wants what’s in that case. One moment’s carelessness and you’re dead.”

“Yes.”

“I’m counting on you. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Roger, Boss.”

I throw in a salute to match the setting, then take the attaché case. It converts to data and goes into my item pouch.

I step out into the hallway. A staircase sits a little way ahead, and that’s where I’m headed. Once I’m out of the building, that’s probably when the mission starts for real.

Walking the red carpet, I check my belongings. Armaments: nothing but the M1911. Item pouch: twenty magazines, 140 rounds. Nothing else at all.

Let’s check my status too.

It isn’t just that my Level has dropped; my stats have been slashed to pieces too. But Radar is still alive, and enemy icons are showing up on my MAP.

“Ehhh…”

Enemy icons within a 250 m radius: 72.

“This is really ba—”

— Crack!!

And a shock drove straight through my skull.

“Wha…?!”

It happened as I was passing a window in the hallway. A bullet smashed through the glass and buried itself in my right temple.

From the layout of the enemy icons, I’d figured a shot from the right was all but impossible. A complete misread. Why didn’t I account for a sniper firing from beyond 250 m?

This one’s on me. Strolling past a window like that…!

My vision drops into darkness. Game over. A system message asks whether I want to retry.

YES, obviously.

“…!”

I restart from the point where I stepped out into the hallway. This time I mind the windows, take the stairs down, and head for the back door.

I’ve got a decent guess where the sniper is. Move with the firing lines in mind.

Even once I’m outside, the enemy icons don’t move. They probably won’t come at me until somebody spots me. Fire a single shot and every enemy out there converges on me, no question about it.

Watching for snipers, I look out the window. Beyond the glass sprawls a cityscape modeled on 1900s Italy. A main street runs past the front of this office, and the rooftops along it are crawling with icons. Take the main street and I get riddled with holes, guaranteed.

I keep an eye on the enemies and check outside through the window set into the back door. The back alley gets no sun, so it’s all in shadow. Fewer enemy icons, too. Is going that way the smart move?

No good. The back has its own problem: no cover. There’s no getting through this unseen.
Fine, then. I force my way out through the back alley!
3, 2, 1.

I burst out of the back door.

Seven icons react. On the rooftops, in the buildings’ shadows, behind the trash cans. I can pin down every single position, and that’s my one huge advantage.

The instant a head pops out, I put an M1911 headshot through it, one after another. Seven down. Magazine swapped.

“Over here!!”

“Don’t let her get away!!”

Enemy icons appear ahead of me and behind me. I duck into a building’s shadow and climb to the roof, using window ledges and tanks and whatever else as footholds.

Up on the roof. The sniping is frightening, but this is the easiest place for me to work.

Sure enough, a sniper round comes flying in, but I dodge that one with a jerk of my head.

With a Space Girl’s reflexes, as long as it’s in my field of view I can react to a sniper round.

I move roof to roof, dropping enemies as I go.

“No way…!”

Directly opposite me, on the rooftop across the main street, a man has a Gatling gun leveled and ready.

“Bwahahaha! This is as far as you go!”

Shoot him— I won’t make it in time!!

“Drop dead!!”

Gatling rounds bearing down on me, sniper rounds, gunfire out of the back alley. The only way to dodge all of it was to roll off the roof.

This is too much…!

I roll off the roof and drop into the main street.

— Beep beep. A sound comes from the ground where I land.

“Huh.”

The next instant, my body was blown to pieces.

A landmine.

Nothing from this era carries that kind of firepower. The blast is strong enough to level a whole building, and there’s no way to see something like that coming. A pure first-timer killer.

This mission is out for blood.

All that, and I advanced a grand total of 200 m. 2.3 km left to go.

“Th-this feeling… this is a ‘Ventage.’ No question about it.”

‘Ventage’ is short for Stress-Venting Stage.

A developer builds one in a fit of despair, thinking ‘Balance and all the rest of it, what a pain in the ass!’ An outlet for their own stress, nothing more. Which means there is not one shred of intent in it to entertain the player. If anything, a stage like this exists so the developer can wallow in the pleasure of making players suffer…!

“Th-they’ve got some nerve…!”

I retry, and start over again from the hallway.

Infinity-Space. I’d heard it called a god-tier game, but this is one hell of a sadistic trash game. Now isn’t that interesting.

“I am absolutely going to beat this.”