2 Chapter 1.1

I enter into a wide square that's bustling with travelers: most of them uniformed students, in their Charming Forms--coming and going on missions and promo matches, or standing in line to have their teleportation travel documents stamped and verified by the clerks--all of whom, are, naturally, also inhabiting their Charming Forms.

A cheery voice greets me from an overhead speaker:

"Welcome to Kanazawa City Terminal."

"Hi, hi, big brother!" The little girl at the counter leans forward and says to me, with a cutesy wink--her obscenely large, bouncing breasts squished against the flat surface.

Wincing, I slide over my travel documents, not saying a word--wanting to get this shit over with, as quickly as possible. The clerks here give me the creeps, with how they're always giggling and cutting flirtatious remarks, despite looking like children.

Times like this...I seriously begin to wonder if the whole world has gone mad.

Why do so many people use Charm Rings?

I can understand if it's used in a life or death situation, or even in a competitive fight, because of the powers a Charming Form grants you...however...

As an ordinary, mundane desk worker?

A cashier at a grocery store?

A barber? A doctor?

For regular day-to-day life, at all times?

Is it just to look more..."appealing?"

Does it give the person some kind of perverted pleasure?!

It's basically a fashion fad, these days.

I feel sick to my stomach, thinking about it.

While the clerk is busy checking my things, and I'm pondering all this--while looking around, to avoid her occasional sultry glances--I can overhear the all-too-familiar gossip of other travelers:

"Look, look! It's the Z Rank Loser!

"I didn't know that guy goes to our school!

"What a fucking disgrace..."

I draw my hood, trying to conceal myself, but it's of no use.

Not when the voices all sound like anime VAs.

...

...

With my travel documents cleared, I proceed to one of the Transport Pods lined up in a row against a far wall: one-per-person metal chambers, entered into via an automatic, glass-panneled hydraulic door.

It's the one designated for "Old Tokyo."

I step inside, leaning my back against the hard steel wall, as a cheery voice communicates to me through an inbuilt speaker:

"Please remain calm."

"Refrain from exiting once the countdown begins."

"Fracturing will commence in..."

"Five...four..three..."

"Two...:

"O--"

Everything goes black, as in an instant, the whole world around me has disintegrated.

What's happened, is that my entire being has been broken apart into billions of atoms, and whisked away at light speed across the vast, global supernetwork called the "virtual plane," traveling incredible distances within the span of mere seconds: all of it overseen by a crew of technicians, working around the clock to direct and coordinate all incoming teleportation traffic, to prevent any...mishaps.

What kind of mishaps? Well...

Hmm, remember that movie "The Fly?"

Of course, I'm not consciously aware of any of this happening: for me, it is simply like falling asleep on a train, just as it's leaving the station, and waking up at a different stop.

At the end, I am rematerialized inside of the confines of another Transport Pod.

However, when the pod door slides open and I step out of it: unlike the vibrant, bustling terminal square of Kanazawa, I am met with a dingy, dark environment that was converted for use out of a subway station of old, which now lay crumbling in disrepair.

There is no cheery voice to greet me through any speakers, and the clerks at the front desk don't even glance up at me--some of them smoking cigarettes, or playing cards.

A pair of Vorpal Knights stand guard at the entrance, and along the disused tracks.

With a soft hiss, the pod closes behind me.

Other than that...there is no sound.

An escalator raises me out of this dreary place--from out of the cold, inhospitable darkness, into the warm embrace of a blindingly bright sun.

I have embarked into the old capitol city...

Or should I say, what's left of it.

These are the crumbling streets of Old Tokyo, which lay mostly abandoned since the collapse: as people began to favor the more wide open, isolated rural districts, in order to limit the spread of Tea Time; as now, barely anyone walks through Old Tokyo anymore, except us F Rank scrubs--as only C Rank or higher is allowed to teleport directly to the academy terminal, due to traffic concerns. Even though it's dangerous.

We low ranks are truly the footsoldiers of the Vorpal Knight agency: the many, and disposable.

It's not something I like to think about.

I remember Anklebreaker's advice, and I start to wonder...

Maybe it's time I finally face the truth.

I'm totally useless as a Vorpal Knight, if I don't use my Charm Ring.

So, what's the point of even going back?

Just to be mocked and ridiculed by everyone for my latest perfect defeat?

I originally signed on to the academy thinking it was a normal military school, inspired by a parade I watched one day while my family was visiting the city. I saw rows upon rows of students, dressed neatly in their matching deep purple uniforms with gold embroidery, marching lockstep down a cherry blossom laden street, brandishing these awesome, sci-fi looking swords.

They looked so strong. Proud. Like a force for real, positive change in our broken country.

Unfortunately, I had enrolled just when the Charm Ring craze was catching on, as before I knew it, most of the student body was reduced to little girls--with only myself, and a few others, still holding on to our true selves.

Still...I wouldn't want to return home, with nothing to show, for my semester and a half spent at Irorihiro.

I made this decision, so I need to stick with it.

Groan. Or maybe not? It's hardly the same institution as when I joined...

Through the course of shuttered storefronts, crumbling skyscrapers, and stripped down automobiles, I notice the heaps of bright pink fliers advertising the grand opening of the "Wonderland" virtual reality server, still littering the place--like scattered invitations to a birthday party everyone was invited to years ago, that no one was left behind to pick up. A party that's still going on, to this very day, without conceivable end.

What if I had chosen to go to that place, after all? How would my life be different?

Blitz might be sad if I did...but I'll only continue to be a disappointing older brother to her, at this rate. A constant, F Rank thorn in her respectably B Rank side. It's practically written in the Big Brother Code that I should be the one over-excelling, and yet I've been a total flop.

I've fallen to my lowest point--literally fallen, in the middle of the dusty street, curling up my knees against my face in a pathetic heap--when, suddenly, I hear...

The last thing I'd expect, in downtown Tokyo, no matter if it's "Old" or "New."

That being, a cow's plaintive moo.

A whole chorus of them, in actuality, as a small herd of about a dozen bovines slowly ambles past me on the street--while I remain just sitting there, too existentially disparaged to move, not even to avoid the gut-wrenching stench.

Until, I sense a presence looming over me.

Turning my head slowly...I find myself staring up the barrel of a rifle, in the hands of a person draped in a tattered brown cloak, their features obscured by a dusty camo gas mask.

I jump backward, startled, unto my feet.

"Where'd you come from?!"

Looking around, I see nothing but ruins.

Ah, it must be one of the natives.

I've never met one personally, but apparently there's people still living in this shithole, existing only in small pockets of civilization scattered among the desolation, like zombies in a haystack.

Peering more closely, I catch a glimpse of what my newly acquainted savage is wearing underneath their cloak: snakeskin boots and baggy camo pants, with a short-cropped black tanktop over a smooth, nicely toned, caramel-toasted torso--

"Ah! You're actually a cute girl hiding

underneath there, aren't you?"

A girl that actually looks to be around my age!

Curious, I try to lean closer for a better look, my hormone-laden blood cells pumping out eager somersaults in my veins, as she backs away, her grasp on the gun noticeably trembling--because truly, the post-apocalyptic raider is more afraid of you, than you are of it!

"Sh-shuddup, you creepy fucker!" She blares, sticking her rifle in my face amid my semi-distressed blinks. "I'll blow your fucking head off, if you start creepily hitting on me!"

Sighing, I realize I've come on too strong. That there's no other recourse but to...

"Go ahead and shoot me, then." I tell her.

"H-huh?" She lowers the gun, shifting away in confusion.

"After all, I already hit on you. It's too late."

"Hold on a secon--"

"To be honest, I was already having bad thoughts, and because I can't be of any use to anyone, in this sorry state--by shooting me, you'd only be doing me and the world a favor."

I know I'm tugging on her heartstrings.

I know she couldn't possibly bring herself to shoot at such a sad, pathetic bastard.

Her tone noticeably softens, when she frustratedly says, "stop talking all this crap!" Lowers her gun, then grabs me, shaking me by the shoulders--and, by this point, I know she's feeling pity for me, just like everyone else...

Ah, I know it's pathetic...

Then again, so am I--with how warped things have become in the world.

A world in which simply feeling the touch, and smelling the hair of a girl who doesn't call me 'oni-chan...' brings me the greatest sense of arousal and satisfaction I've experienced in a long, long time.

I guess you can say: S Rank mission accomplished!

The masked girl shoves me unto the ground.

"You're screwed in the head!" She snaps, furiously pointing.

I scurry to my feet, bowing my head in apology. "Ah, I don't know what came over me! My name is Alex Strangelove, and I was just on my way to school."

"School?" She tilts her head, like an inquisitive dog.

"Yes, Irorishiro Academy. It's close by."

She scowls, scratching her head. "I don't know..."

"W-w-what about you? What's your name?"

"My name...it's Dusk Fujikawa." She says, sounding reticent.

"You're a cattle herder?"

"No...these are my neighbor's. I rustle them between the parks to graze some days, in exchange for meal pills."

"Oh! How interesting."

"Umm...not really. It's just a job, so I do it."

Shit. I'm trying so hard to strike up a decent conversation with this girl--but it's like drawing blood from stone, as they say.

Still, I really want to see what's hidden under that mask...

I laugh, but it comes out nervous.

"Anyway..." She says. "You'd better go on."

"Old Tokyo will chew a wimp like you up, and spit you out."

Ouch.

"Oh, yeah?!" I say to her, striking up a pose-- showing off my non-existent muscles. "Well, what if I told you I was an S Tier Vorpal Knight?"

"Vorpal Knight? What's that..."

"Eh!? Do you seriously have no idea?"

She shakes her head, as I let out a sigh.

There goes my trump card.

"Clearly, you've been living under a rock." I tell her, frustratedly adjusting my glasses--this being the first time I'd met someone who didn't know about Vorpal Knights.

"Well, if that's all, I really do need to get going--"

So I start to leave, but she grabs me arm.

Trembling, I turn to stare into the eyes of her mask, questioning if I'd incurred her wrath again, as a tense moment passes, with nothing to be heard but the shrill cry of an eagle soaring overhead.

"If you're a knight..."

"Does that mean you slay dragons?"