Chapter 9: Roar of the Festival
Chapter 9: Roar of the Festival
(Oliver’s Point of View — narrative tone)
Deep within the virtual realm lay Machida City, a metropolis built upon digital strata — a city on the edge of electronic madness, now being swallowed whole by chaos.
I—seated upon a floating throne under the avatar of Maharaja Walker—watched the scene below in silence.
By my side stood Rafaela, and our four children, each surrounded by shimmering ghostly barriers that pulsed with spectral light.
And our enemies were—the citizens of Machida.
They were furious.
They had realized that the data assets they’d hoarded within the Matrix were being manipulated—controlled—by us, the Jones family.
To them, this world was paradise.
They didn’t want to leave.
No—what they truly desired was to remain here forever.
That desperate wish radiated from the crowd like heat, and yet—I looked down on them with something between pity and amusement.
“Why aren’t they all rushing in at once?”
My voice made the metal frame of the throne hum faintly.
It wasn’t anger. Not mockery either—just cold observation.
“Amateurs at group warfare…”
Hachikō barked softly beside me, his tone sharp with irritation—
the kind only a seasoned tactician would understand.
“Well, I suppose that’s expected. Humanity hasn’t fought a real war in over a century.”
But then—
⸻
From the crowd came a strange chant:
“Rassera! Rassera! Rasse rasse rasseraaa!!”
A sound that was part festival cry, part battle scream.
Machida’s collective spirit had reached a boiling point—
and someone, somewhere, had just lit the fuse.
And then—music.
The unmistakable soundtrack from the legendary Ōtomo anime, AKARI, began to play.
The atmosphere flipped in an instant.
“It’s AKARI!!”
Julius and Nero shouted in excitement.
Unbelievable—still so full of energy, even now.
A massive fan emblazoned with the kanji for Festival appeared in the sky,
unleashing cyclones that blew away everything except us.
“That’s powerful… Stay back, all of you.”
I ordered Julius, Nero, Mireille, and Noah to retreat behind the shield.
And in that same moment, the citizens unleashed their ultimate weapon—
A wave of pure energy, straight out of AKARI itself—capable of annihilating entire cities.
This wasn’t a game anymore.
The virtual world burned.
Machida’s outer sectors—the Matrix perimeter, the digital foundations—all disintegrated in the blast.
The ranked fighters survived as data,
but in the real world, monitors shattered and neural links collapsed one after another.
And amidst that chaos—a voice rose.
“Emil Monarch! Why… why did you save me!?”
It was Bianchi’s scream.
Emil had shielded him from the blast, pulling him off the front lines.
Bianchi’s voice was filled with confusion, rage—and something like sorrow.
But I—
I spread my arms wide and roared toward the heavens:
“Ghosts—lend me your power!!”
And from the depths of the digital abyss came a reply—
a countless chorus, like a tidal wave of souls.
“Understood, Lord Oliver the Great Demon King!!”
That was no mere sound.
It was the roar of the dead.
Ghost players—souls who could no longer log out,
those who had digitized their consciousness,
those who had lost their physical forms—
they answered my call.
They rose.
And their numbers dwarfed the citizens of Machida—by billions.
I spoke quietly, almost kindly.
“You didn’t know, did you?”
“Even if you combined every living human being on Earth,
you still wouldn’t match a third of the souls who dwell in this game.”
The force was overwhelming.
The ghosts formed a colossal barrier,
absorbing and reflecting every ounce of the citizens’ rage.
There was no need to strike back.
All we had to do was endure, accept—and overpower.
And at last, the citizens of Machida—
bowed their heads before the united dead.
The riot ended.
And I—without moving a single step—
claimed victory.
⸻
A cold wind swept through the void,
stirring the ashes of a vanished city’s memories.
Hachikō raised his head and let out a long, triumphant howl.
No one could lay a finger on the Jones family.
That day—
the Battle of Machida City became a legend.
