"I'm sorry, but I can't accept this request."
That's what Frenfitz heard as soon as he stopped by the fixer's office.
Osburn Russell, an older gentleman with ash-colored hair, was one of the most veteran brokers in the business.
He spoke in a calm, soothing tone, but his words were blunt, with no room for maneuvering.
After a long moment of staring at the snowball, Frenfitz took a deep breath and asked.
"Why?"
"If you're asking because you think I don't know it's even worse."
Osburn said, adjusting his rimless glasses with his white-gloved hands.
"You're trying to hire us to solve the current case, the attempted assassination of Princess Orlea."
"Is that a problem? If you're short on funds, I'll give you more.""Perhaps you underestimate our sources a bit too much. Is it because all the fixers you've already hired have failed?"
Frenfitz fell silent at the stinging words.
"You knew the assassination of Princess Orlea was going to happen, but you kept it a secret and brought in the fixers on commission."
"That's......."
"That alone should be grounds for a fine, and yet here you are, soliciting referrals."
Osburn Russell's eyes flashed.
Gone was the gentlemanly old gentleman, replaced by the charisma of an old-school broker.
"Did you ever think our industry was so ridiculous?"
"......."
Frenfitz broke out in a cold sweat.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't see it as ridiculous, because he'd never thought of them as more than just a bunch of hired guns who swap out parts.
"We have eyes to see and ears to hear. If anything, we have to be more sensitive than anyone else to survive in a place like this."
To quench his thirst, Russell lifted the wine glass in front of him and took a sip.
Setting the glass down, he wiped his lips with a crisp white handkerchief before speaking.
"It's no secret that the military is involved in this, and that's bad enough, but what's worse is the men they've hired."
Surprisingly, the military has hired criminals.
The problem is, they're not the kind of criminals you'd find on the street.
"Uluaz prison, you've heard of it."
Tirna is a big city, with a lot of people and, of course, a lot of crime.
The City of Freedom is a great name but the shadows beneath that freedom are also deep and dark.
If the average citizen is a threat with a gun, what happens when high-level mutants, sorcerers, and warlocks become criminals?
Uluaz Prison was a prison built to hold only such special criminals.
Each and every one of its inmates was a threat but the military had brought them into this.
"The fixers you hired were also all killed by criminals from Uluaz Prison...except for one, of course."
"If there was one......."
"You're pretending to know something you don't. There's a fixer who is currently saving Princess Orlea from an assassination threat."
An image of Ossian flashed through Frenfitz's mind.
He bit his lip hard, but Osburn didn't seem to mind the reaction and spoke.
"Since he's staying, why not hope for the best?"
"You think he's going to make it?"
"The answer to that question, sir, is not one I dare to give, but there is a suitable replacement."
"The right person?"
Osburn didn't answer.
Instead, a distant clatter of boots echoed in the distance.
Turning, Frenfitz's face twisted as he recognized the man.
"Ronan Rolland."
A handsome man with blond hair, piercing eyes, and an immaculate suit.
Ronan Rolland joined the table.
"Well, well. Mr. Frenfitz, you seem to be in a lot of trouble. Things aren't going well?"
Fists clenched, Frenfitz calmed his anger and spoke.
"Then you're the one who's in trouble, you don't know what's going on, do you, your pampered fixer, how long do you think he'll last?"
"You shouldn't worry too much. Mr. Osian is a very capable man. We should be thinking about the aftermath."
"Hah. Aftermath? Didn't you hear the story? With those vicious criminals involved, it's only a matter of time before your fixer dies, too. If you don't send someone new right away......."
"Want to bet?"
Frenfitz's jaw dropped at Ronan's words.
"I'm confident. If it's Mr. Osian, I'm sure he'll pull this off."
"......Didn't you hear me, don't you realize that among those criminals right now are madmen who worship a heretical god?"
"I am aware. The Slurring Sisters, who worship some forgotten ancient god, are well known."
"That's not all, Marquis de Debussy will take it upon himself to nip the problem in the bud. The military will continue their search. Do you really think a single fixer can survive that?"
"So I told you, let's make a wager, and I'll bet on Mr. Osian succeeding."
"Are you stupid, or have you lost your head, because if the fixer succeeds, it'll be a good thing for me?"
Ronan smirked and held out a piece of paper to Frenfitz.
"On the contrary, Mr. Frenfitz should be praying that we fail."
Frenfitz's face hardened as he scanned the contents.
"This......."
"You must think the fixer industry is ridiculous. You've been intentionally hiding the risks and throwing referrals in here and there. Even worse, the [Union] is thinking of suing you over this. Don't worry. The broker's union has a lot of money, and we're going to make an example out of you."
"What? What's that.......?"
"So, to summarize what I'm saying."
Ronan gave him a stern glare.
"Is that whether this thing succeeds or fails, you're done."
*
Tentacles spilling out.
It was like the legs of a deformed octopus, with suckers running through it, their tips splitting and sprouting sharp spines.
The sight of dozens of legs oozing mucus over slippery skin, oozing out from between the widths of the skirt, seemed far removed from reality.
It's easy to be overwhelmed by a disgusting sight.
Princess Orlea's complexion turned pale as she watched the countless octopus tentacles rush toward her like a torrent.
At that moment, Osian stepped forward and a pure white light surged from the tip of his drawn sword.
A sword filled with stellar power swung sideways, tearing through space in a white blur.
Anything in its path was torn apart and the countless octopus tentacles were no exception.
"Heh, heh, heh! Uh, how......!"
It was Attila, the younger of the slurring sisters, who was rather horrified by the sight.
Beyond the ineffectiveness of her own attacks, the sight of the starlight bursting from the tip of Osian's sword filled her with an unknown terror.
"Hah! You still have faith, don't you?"
At that moment, it was Croix, the older sister, who approached from behind.
With a swift movement, she caught up to Osian's back, clenched her right hand into a fist, and thrust it towards him.
The top of her fist glowed green, and the head of a deep-sea anglerfish popped out, sinking its teeth into Osian but Croix's fist didn't quite reach him.
Streaks of pure white light were now binding her body.
"What?"
Osian's cloak of starlight split into several pieces, binding every part of Croix's body.
Sensing that this was no ordinary energy, Croix didn't make a fist, but instead stomped her foot.
-Hmph.
Her soles hit the ground, and instead of a dull thud, the ground crackled like a surface, spreading out in concentric circles.
The head of a giant green shark emerged from the solid ground, swallowing Osian in a single bite but Croix's smile hardened in an instant and she immediately threw herself backwards.
-Boom!
A vertical, white flash of light sliced through the shark like firewood, splitting it in two.
Amidst the shark's scattered remains, which cracked left and right, Osian emerged, unharmed.
Croix felt her heart sink at the sight.
‘What the hell was that?’
She couldn't believe how calmly he had reacted to her sister’s attack, and how unfazed she was by the sight of Attila.
Normally, even a heart of steel would be mentally overwhelmed by the sight of countless bundles of tentacles, but Osian's face had remained expressionless the entire time.
‘What's up with his strength, and what's with that pure white light? Our powers are completely ineffective against it."
Croix looked at her trembling fist and clicked her tongue.
She didn't know what the light that Osian used was but she did know that it's very different from the power they use.
It's not the same as a paladin's holy power.
If holy power was bestowed upon someone, then that was pure power honed by a single individual.
"Uh, sis, he's dangerous."
Attila gripped her shoulders with both hands and shuddered while Croix's expression hardened gravely.
The two of them had been strengthened by the ancient gods.
The younger of the two, Attila, was the god's favorite and therefore the most gifted, and as such, she was able to read his will.
The fact that Attila was so terrified meant that she had used her keen spirituality to determine the level of her opponent's strength.
"Ugh."
Just looking at those black eyes staring at her right now, she couldn't read what he was thinking.
Croix realized that her balled fists were damp with sweat.
"Hmmm."
In truth, Osian was finding the sisters Croix and Attila quite intriguing.
'That power. I thought they looked familiar, so that's it.'
There were beings in the game that wielded such power.
An ancient god, a foreign entity from an unknown world, it is said to be something that is mind-boggling and hard to describe.
It was an eventual boss created by the game company through homages and arrangements of famous elements in the subculture.
‘It had nothing to do with the main story, it was just an event, a short story, but it had a lot of impact.’
The monsters in the game look horrifying, causing many players to swear profusely.
The difficulty of the event was so high and the rewards so low that you wondered if it was meant to be beaten.
The final boss of the event is an incarnation of an ancient god, and its difficulty is so extreme that it's often ranked among the worst bosses in the game.
Osian had taken on countless challenges to beat it, too.
Osian was overwhelmed with emotion as he realized that even in a completely different world, the elements of the game he loved and enjoyed so much had survived.
The two sisters shuddered at the realization.
"Uh, big sister, is that......."
"Yeah. That guy."
Croix said, swallowing hard.
"He's having fun right now."
He was not amazed at their power in the service of an ancient god, but was enjoying it?
"Uh, sister. Let's run. This is a losing battle."
"If we run away, we'll just stay in that cold prison. This is our chance, our chance to live free."
"Ha, but not like this......."
"We've fought this whole time just to live a normal life. We can't walk away from this, Attila, please."
"......Alright, if that's what you want."
Attila nodded and hardened her heart at Croix's words.
They were serving a heretical god, but not because they wanted to.
Humans have no right to choose their gods.
The gods choose the humans they like.
In that sense, the fate of the two sisters, chosen by the Ancient One, would be irrevocably twisted from that moment on.
So the sisters made a decision the moment they gained this power.
They decided to survive and live happily ever after but to do that, they had to defeat the man in front of them.
Attila closed her eyes and concentrated.
"Come."
At that moment, she heard the sound of something beating.
Attila's eyes snapped open, her body arched like a bow, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she shook like an epileptic.
Princess Orlea swallowed hard as she watched.
It's coming. Something is coming.
Above Attila's head a popping sound was heard and a tiny crack in space appeared.
A tiny tentacle shot out of the crack, and in an instant, it grew in size, transforming into something massive.
At the center of it all was a large, darting eye.
Around that eye, the flesh twisted and bunched together like a web, forming the overall shape of a giant starfish.
The flesh of an ancient god had descended.
The air around them sank heavily as the incarnation appeared.
Breathing became difficult and chills ran down the skin, as if one had fallen into the depths of a cold ocean.
The incarnation's eyes fluttered open as it stared at Osian with rolling eyes.
And then it saw him.
......!
His pupils shrank to tiny size, as if in shock.