Because I Am Surtr

She rose to her feet and walked toward the other side of the secret base.

"Are you leaving?"

Frostnova's voice came from behind her. She turned her head and happened to see the maiden pull the thin blanket covering her head down to the bridge of her nose. Her clear eyes flickered, and her pair of white rabbit ears twitched.

So jumpy. She really was a little bunny.

"No, I'll be right outside. Get some proper rest." Miss Surtr waved a hand. "It'll be dark soon. Your companions will find this place tomorrow morning. You can leave with them then, but I wouldn't advise you to show up on Chernobog's battlefield again."

"Don't you plan to meet them?" Frostnova propped herself up slightly, a faint hope showing between her brows. "I... you helped us a great deal three years ago. Big Bear has always wanted to have another drinking contest with that 'Fire Giant King.'"

"We just fought. It'd be awkward meeting again. Besides..." She tilted her head slightly. "This is a secret between you and me. If my plan fails, at least you'll still have room to make another choice."

She nodded and was about to continue outside.

"Hey!"

A piece of candy flew at her from behind—without much force, but she reached back and caught it.

"Try my new candy."

She smiled and popped the candy into her mouth. The sharply spreading taste of alcohol and spiciness made her brow twitch. But compared to the Primordial Fire she had experienced just last Monday, this little trick was clearly still lacking in heat.

"Tastes good," the flame-haired Sarkaz softly praised—it really did taste quite good to her.

Then the maiden's faint murmur came from behind her.

"I believe now that you... bear me goodwill. My family would never eat a second piece after trying the first."

"You gave it to me. Why wouldn't I eat it?" Miss Surtr chuckled, then left.

Only the cool maiden remained, lying back down on the bed and staring at the ceiling, her eyes filled with confusion.

"You didn't even finish that one three years ago... liar." Her pointed ears drooped soundlessly. Then, subconsciously, she pulled the thin blanket a little higher to hide her faintly reddened face.

"...Liar."

A few minutes later, outside the base.

Feeling mentally exhausted, Miss Surtr sat down on the sofa she had prepared long ago. Her relaxed posture made her look as though she were seated high upon a throne. She raised a hand and released Laevateinn, allowing the burning Flame Sword to circle at her side as it did every night.

"I'll leave the night watch to you." She gently stroked the blade, and the fire dancing at her fingertips gave her an affirmative signal.

Then she leaned against the backrest. Like a monarch, she rested her right arm on the armrest and used it to support her temple.

She slept.

Within sleep, she beheld worlds.

Women really were too troublesome.

I'm going to play games/save the world right now!

Actually, Games Aren't Much Fun Either

Within darkness, she beheld light.

Within chaos, she beheld worlds.

Beneath the swirling entanglement of countless dreams and whispers, layer upon layer of invisible barriers were pierced in her perception.

Then she sank.

Surtr opened her eyes.

Before her lay a dim sky. Lowering her gaze, she saw overlapping graveyards and forests. Strange, twisted dead trees stretched out leafless branches like the claws of evil ghosts, swaying slightly despite the absence of wind.

The air smelled of burning, and faint scraps of ash drifted down from the heavens. At the edge of her vision, gaunt figures swayed ceaselessly like ghosts.

"New world, new job." Miss Surtr cleared her throat and found that her voice had not become strange or distorted. She raised a hand, and with a faint sense of weight, a rust-covered gauntlet came into view.

The distant cries of crows could be heard—

"Withered vines, old trees, dusk crows."

"Graveyards, corpses, deaf and blind."

She sighed and straightened up, wisps of dust falling from the gaps in her armor. Great. Very familiar. Though she had never been to this world before, she recognized some of its iconic features.

"Dark Souls III, huh? Damn it, why couldn't it have been DS2, which I liked better? At least in DS2's era, I'd get to see more living people. And I wouldn't have to rush around saving the world."

The beautiful girl pressed a hand to her forehead, turned her head, and unsurprisingly picked up a longsword from within her stone coffin.

"I am Surtr." She touched her face. Its features felt somewhat familiar, but the Sarkaz horns atop her head had vanished without a trace. That was normal, because Terra was the main world, where her true body resided. This place was a dream—or rather, a secondary world. Only her will had arrived here.

She would gain a new body here. Death or waking up in Terra would return her to where she had fallen asleep. And before she successfully resolved whichever world was obviously troubled, when she entered a dream for the second time, there was a high—very high—chance that she would arrive in the same place.

"I am Surtr." She stood and moved her limbs—this body gave her a familiar feeling. She was especially strong when she swung her sword—and she could jump, too. One leap could send her as high as the treetops.

She could not control which world she would reach in her dreams. Still, there would always be a world waiting for her, and she usually retained a rough impression of it from the Arknights of her previous life. Some worlds had simple problems and easy lives. For example, the Kancolle World, where she could serve as a commander at the naval base with a group of Dido-class maids attending her. She called those beautiful dreams. Yet most worlds were basically tragic and miserable, like that damn Warhammer 40,000 and that bastard Plague Inc... Heaven knew how much time and effort she had spent to fix even a small part of that terrible mess!

"I am Surtr." With that third affirmation, her form and will stabilized. Strength and fighting spirit filled both body and mind, and she decided to throw herself into her work at once.

Handing in the goods, huh? How could a woman say she couldn't do it?

Wasn't it just Dark Souls? A world where, as long as she kept trying and refused to give up, she could eventually reach the ideal ending could practically be called a dream to her. And she already had a rough idea of how to handle it.

"Speedrun!" She nodded firmly.

"There are no fog gates in the real world. I'll fight my way to the High Wall, deal with that crazed dragon, then ride it straight to Lothric. Beat the Twin Princes, then take care of the Undead Legion and Pontiff Sulyvahn. Finally, kill the Giant King and link the fire!"

She thought it was a good plan, and she did not think she would fail. The armor she wore gave her a familiar feeling. So she casually reached into her clothes, and with a faint rustle, a rough, old talisman fell into her hand.

It was made of cloth and looked rather crude. On its surface was a hand-drawn symbol of a strange-looking sun-faced man. When she turned the talisman over, she found a line of dark little words along the edge of the fabric, their marks blurred with age.

She softly read the words aloud.

—"May the sun shine upon you, my friend."

"Solaire." She smiled nostalgically.

She still remembered that battle from a week and a half—or perhaps thousands upon thousands of years—ago. Within the Kiln of the First Flame, she and the Sun Warrior who had journeyed alongside her had stood shoulder to shoulder against the Ashen One, eroded by the First Flame.