I am Red. My real name is Red; I despise fictional names.

　　In the Midgard system, every guild has its own elite frontrunners. Their strength isn’t necessarily the highest, but the roles they play are certainly the most vital, second only to the guild’s Chairman. In the Order of Holy Knights, this position is occupied by us, the “Red and Blue” duo. The other guy is Blue—don’t worry, he’ll show up in the next part to say hello.

　　Some people think our personalities are mismatched. I don’t blame them; you can see it just from our names. Furthermore, I am the Regional Operations Director for Coca-Cola, while he is the Regional Operations Manager for the competitor, Pepsi. I won’t disclose exactly which regions. If someone said we were as close as brothers during our daily lives, almost no one would believe them.

　　The relationship we present to others is that of partners, friends, rivals, and market competitors. Thus, the missions we receive are also bound together, as the Chairman says it’s “safer” that way. As if I didn’t know—he actually does it to save on paying a second person for a job that requires two. If we couldn’t even figure that out, we might as well quit being regional operations directors and go back to drinking a bottle of Coke.

　　That day, I had just reached my office, and my seat wasn’t even warm yet, when I received a barrage of frantic messages from the Guild Chairman. One after another, the content of each message was basically the same: urging me to log on and take a job.

　　I asked him, “Don’t you have anything else to do all day? Don’t you need a life?”

　　He answered me point-blank, “What could a fishing enthusiast have to do? Every day I set up my rod and log on. My wife watches it for me, and when I come back, I even get to eat grilled fish…”

　　If you’re going to talk, talk. Why suddenly brag in the middle of it? What’s so great about having a wife?

　　I frowned and told him, “Tell me what it’s about first. I’ll see if I can make some time to evaporate from the human world for a bit.”

　　“You know about the Pervert Party, right?”

　　“What party?”

　　I was sure I hadn’t misheard.

　　“Pervert. You didn’t mishear—pervert. As the name suggests, it’s a club formed by ‘perverts.’ The club leader is a well-known ‘Lust’ female rogue, an alluring tramp. She loves taking her group of ‘perverts’ into the Digital World to harass anyone with a decent appearance, acting as stalkers and flashers. Their targets are invariably anyone with a hint of sexiness. Apparently, they’ve been making quite a stir lately, and the higher-ups told me to send someone to clean them up. So I found you. No problem, right?”

　　Of course there was a problem.

　　I wasn’t about to be polite with him either and asked directly, “Where do you get the confidence that our ‘Red and Blue’ duo can handle this?”

　　“Well, you are the guild’s face. If not you, then who?”

　　“Why don’t you go yourself?”

　　He laughed a few times and stated calmly, “If I go, who’s going to manage the guild’s affairs? Think about it—I even offloaded a mission to transport Belphemon to another guild. Do you think I’d have time to deal with a third-rate club? Wake up; I’m not that free.”

　　So that Belphemon matter was his doing.

　　I knew it. How could a sleeping Demon Lord-type Digimon appear in the Sylvan Garden’s territory for no reason? Someone definitely offloaded it on purpose. Passing the troubles assigned from above to others—that’s his usual style. I’d long since ceased to be surprised by it.

　　“How long will this take, roughly?”

　　“For you two, I estimate no more than two days (two minutes). By the way, I’ve already notified Blue. He’ll be waiting for you at the rendezvous point. I’ll send you the specific coordinates later. I wish you a swift resolution and a triumphant return. That is all.”

　　The messages from his end stopped. I hadn’t even said I was free. Dammit, played again. Now I’d have to find a chance to take my equipment to the restroom.

　　Participant ID: NO.00017

　　Holder: Red Parke

　　Gender: Male

　　Age: 33

　　Participant Identity: Red

　　Digimon: Dukemon

　　Affiliated Guild: Order of Holy Knights

　　Confirm Login

　　[ YES ] / [ NO ]

　　I made sure the restroom door was locked from the inside and clicked on the left to successfully log in.

　　After passing through the Midgard public area and reaching the firewall, I looked up and saw a Garudamon returning from outside. Passing through the firewall, it turned into an old acquaintance of mine. His name is Heath, my drinking buddy and the club leader of the Birdramon Commune. He spends all day leading a bunch of Birdramon on patrols in the Digital World. He rescues people in distress and helps Digimon in danger. In short, he carries out the word “chivalry” to the end—they have the best reputation of any club in the entire Midgard system.

　　“Yo, look who it is—the daring truant Red.”

　　He walked over and high-fived me, then gave my rear a smack. “Next time, you’re buying the drinks. Pay back the money you owe me from last time! The boss recently hired a new bartender; I want the most expensive one!”

　　“Whatever you want, but I’m only ordering one glass.”

　　For the same 330ml, a single glass of the cheapest booze in the entire bar costs the equivalent of twenty-three cans of Coca-Cola. It’s hard not to admit that Chairman Adam is anything but a shark.

　　After parting ways with him, I rushed to the designated location to meet up with Blue. When I arrived, I found he had already taken the form of UlforceV-dramon and charged alone into the Pervert Party’s venue (headquarters), having himself a grand time. Specifically, he swept up all the Etemon in the middle of their revelry in one fell swoop, then drew the Ulforce Saber from his V-Bracelet and sent the Kinkakumon and Ginkakumon who came to block him packing with a single stroke, while also using Shining V-Force to take out a portion of the WaruMonzaemon he had knocked unconscious earlier.

　　“—Final Elysion!”

　　I helped him clean up a portion of the Gryzmon who were planning to escape, as well as a group of Gerbemon who were attempting to fire Poop Bazookas at him.

　　“You’re late.”

　　The moment we met, he displayed such an attitude, as if I owed him something.

　　I told him helplessly, “I have to control the time I spend in the restroom so a cleaner doesn’t find the stall empty but still locked from the inside and think it’s haunted.”

　　“Do you usually squat or sit?”

　　“Duh, toilets were invented to be sat on… You squat?”

　　“Yeah. My legs get numb if I squat too long.”

　　“Ha, same if you sit too long.”

　　The topic suddenly took a strange turn, but fortunately, we both realized it at the same time.

　　Following the dilapidated castle deeper and deeper inside: encountered Devidramon—killed. Encountered Phantomon—killed. Encountered Nanimon—killed. You ask me why there’s no process? I’ll tell you: a Vanguard doesn’t need a process, only results. Because the process is but a single instant—too fast to put into words.

　　Along the way, we saw many people who had been kidnapped by these perverts and brought here. There were men and women, all given new appearances. Seeing lingerie-style outfits on Digimon felt more than a little jarring.

　　He reminded me, “Focus. Don’t let your eyes wander.”

　　I was speechless. “Didn’t you look too? And so closely… Hey, I’m talking to you, give me a response.”

　　See? This guy is petty and applies absurdly double standards to everything. Let me give the simplest example: when you go to a cinema, you normally buy popcorn and a drink at the counter; the price is usually a bit higher than what’s sold outside. If the drink he gets happens to be from the Coca-Cola company, he’ll be miserable all day. Conversely, if it’s a Pepsi brand, no matter how expensive, he’ll think it’s worth it. So sometimes I really feel like he just targets me on purpose—no reason, no motive, purely to vent and feel good about it.

　　Coming to a fork in the path further ahead, it split into two directions: one going up, leading directly to the castle’s rooftop, and one going down, leading to the castle’s dungeon. He had wings, so he naturally went up. I couldn’t fly, so I automatically went down. Throughout the entire process, there was no verbal exchange—that’s what you call a silent understanding.

　　The pitch-black underground space was vast and slippery, so I slowed down my pace. Soon, I discovered a figure hiding in the darkness—he wore a crown on his head and wrapped his body in a cape. He appeared to be a KingEtemon. Something was glowing behind his cape, flashing rhythmically, and he was humming a strange melody as if preparing something. Every now and then, he would chuckle to himself, letting out a few sinister laughs that made one’s spine tingle.

　　I asked him, “What are you alone in there laughing about?”

　　“Hee hee hee,” he chuckled. “Preparing a meeting gift for you.”

　　With that, he suddenly threw open his cape, and subsequently, the entire underground illuminated with colored lights he had pre-arranged. The scene was entirely like a party venue; he was the host, and I was the only guest.

　　“Let us welcome today’s VIP with a warm round of applause: Dukemon—!”

　　He flashed the two characters for “Great King” emblazoned on his chest. Accompanied by music that was more noise than melody, the vibe completely failed to heat up—probably because I was too cold to react. Thrown off by this, he lost his composure, gritting his teeth in frustration and tossing out a gift custom-made for me—his ultimate move.

　　“—Photon Destroyer!”

　　The glowing sphere hit my shield, and absolutely nothing happened. The scene instantly became very awkward.

　　At this, I huffed coldly and said, “Is that it?”

　　He then extended a finger and wagged it in front of my eyes. “NO, NO, NO. This is just the foreplay. The good stuff is yet to come. For example… hee hee… see the environment here? There’s a breach!—King Monkey Kick!”

　　Taking a step to the left and holding up my shield, I smoothly and easily avoided it.

　　“Ah… this…”

　　Dammit, how did I let him speak first this time? This shouldn’t be happening.

　　In front of him, I offered my mockery, asking, “Don’t you have that kind of extremely powerful skill that can stir up a person’s tension and make them deal with you seriously?”

　　He pretended to think for a moment and then answered, “I do. For example, now…”

　　He bared his teeth at me, and still, absolutely nothing happened. Never mind him; even I felt embarrassed for him. If there were a crack in the ground right now, I guarantee the first one to dive into it wouldn’t be him, but me.

　　What a joke.

　　“Ah, I can’t take this anymore!” I, the dutiful audience member, couldn’t help but lodge a complaint. “You useless thing—‘performing a monkey show’ means you make a monkey out of others, not be the monkey yourself and play yourself. Just die already.”

　　Thrusting out the lance in my right hand, I initiated Royal Saber. He stood there, not even dodging, and obediently let me pierce his chest. He turned into a mass of data residue and vanished forever from this world.

　　So, what exactly was I expecting?