Asuna dropped to her knees beside her. Her hands trembled as she opened her inventory, searching desperately. Potions. The best she had. Rank B. Rank C.
They weren't enough.
Tears fell uncontrollably. Rumiko looked at her for a moment… then turned her gaze to the snowflakes drifting down slowly. A soft breath escaped her lips.
The snow changed.
A fogged window. A child's warm breath drawing shapes on the glass. A clock ticking patiently. A wooden house—warm, sheltered from the cold. Little Rumiko crossing the room as an adult voice warned:
"Rumiko, be careful not to fall from running so much."
"Yes, Mom."
The girl reached a room. An old man was placing small pieces onto a nearly finished frame. Rumiko sat beside him, resting her hands on the table, bored.
"Oh, Rumiko… is something wrong, little one?"
"I'm bored. The snow won't let me go outside and play. It's not fair."
The old man kept assembling the puzzle.
"Would you like to help me? It can be fun."
Rumiko hesitated. It didn't seem interesting.
"I'd rather do something else… this is confusing and boring."
Only a few pieces remained.
"It can be difficult," he said. "Difficult like studying, like training, like living. But that's why it's special. With a puzzle, we create unique pictures of our lives."
The puzzle was completed: he and his wife, smiling in front of a house.
"Everyone creates their own picture. It can be chaotic or imperfect—but it's theirs."
The vision faded.
Rumiko smiled the same way she had then—even broken, even lying on the snow.
"Asuna-chan… it's not your fault."
Shouts came from behind. Four players were calling for help. Asuna trembled—anger, guilt, fear. She felt a hand against her chest.
"Choose what your heart has always wanted to do."
Asuna clenched her teeth. She stood.
"I'm going now…"
Her voice broke—barely a thread amid the battle noise and the freezing wind.
Rumiko looked at her. There was no reproach in her expression. No visible sadness. Only that calm of hers—almost unfair for the moment.
"Take good care of yourself, Asuna-chan."
She said nothing else.
There was no need.
Asuna stood frozen for a second, her mouth wanting to say something—but it was as if her body refused to obey. Then she clenched her teeth, turned, and started running—without looking back. If she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to move again.
Rumiko watched her go.
Then her body began to glow.
Cracks of light traced her figure slowly, as if the system were waiting for her to accept the inevitable. Rumiko closed her eyes. In that final instant, memories flooded in uninvited—shared battles, improvised meals, silly laughter, pointless races with the others… simple moments that now felt immense.
In her mind, a picture appeared.
The five of them walking together down an unknown path, smiling, moving toward an adventure that would never end.
(It's a beautiful picture… and I was one of the pieces.)
The light intensified.
Rumiko dissolved into particles that the wind gently carried away, vanishing into the snow. On Asuna's HUD, a name disappeared.
That didn't stop her.
Nicholas the Renegade was still laughing.
Not far away, Aomine stood trembling on the snow. Sweat ran down his face despite the cold, and his legs barely held him up. Part of him wanted to turn around. Leave. Pretend he'd never been there.
Then someone ran past him.
Aomine startled as his eyes followed the person who had just overtaken him.
Black clothing, sword steady in hand, black hair—
It was Kirito, charging straight at the monster. No hesitation. No looking back.
A second later, Asuna joined him.
They both ran forward as chaos raged around them, and amid explosions, screams, and roars, their voices rose together—clear, furious.
"Stop laughing already!"
The shout hit Aomine like a blow to the chest.
The laughter.
He remembered the old man striking him, scolding that fake smile. He remembered himself smiling when he didn't want to, staying quiet when he felt differently, always giving in just to avoid trouble. He remembered how—even among friends—he never said what he truly felt.
And then a face appeared in his mind.
Michael.
A sincere smile.
"Thank you."
The memory burned his chest.
The monsters laughed better than he ever did.
That enraged him.
He clenched his teeth, struck his own legs hard, forcing them to respond.
"I… don't want to regret this later."
So he started running—not to escape, but to return to the battle.
Aomine moved through the chaos, helping two of the last remaining members of Asuna's group. He shouted short commands, pointed out openings, shoved them into motion when they hesitated. They didn't want to obey him—they didn't trust him—but they had no choice. The battlefield left no room for pride.
Shouts mixed with clashing steel and the boss's roar.
At the front, Asuna and Kirito attacked in unison. Her speed and his determination intersected again and again, pressing relentlessly—
Until Nicholas the Renegade finally gave in.
Then it was over.
A message appeared overhead:
"Congratulations."
Silence fell instantly.
The survivors lay sprawled across the snow, exhausted, breathing heavily. No one celebrated. No one spoke. The fatigue was deep—but the anger and emptiness were deeper still. Out of seventeen players, only three were alive.
Aomine remained standing.
He looked around, trying to process the end. He saw Asuna in the distance, lying on the snow, covering her face with her arms. She seemed to be crying. Or maybe just trying to pull herself together. Aomine didn't approach. He didn't want to confirm it.
The air was heavy with anger, frustration, loss.
Then he searched with his eyes.
Kirito.
He spotted him farther away, walking off with something in his hand. He didn't stop. Didn't look back. He simply kept walking.
Aomine watched him for barely a second.
Then he followed.
He still wanted that item.
He left Asuna's group behind—their empty stares, their restrained tears, their silent rage—and walked after Kirito through the snow.
Snow continued to fall with an eerie calm, as if the world hadn't quite accepted that the event boss had been defeated. Aomine advanced through the forest at a measured pace, careful with each step so Kirito wouldn't notice him. He didn't want to get too close. He didn't want to raise suspicion.
After passing several more trees, he finally spotted him. Just as Aomine was about to step out and speak, he noticed movement ahead. Several figures were gathered in a clearing. He stopped and hid again among the snow and tree shadows, watching.
It was Klein's team.
They were exhausted. Some sat on the ground, others leaned on their knees, breathing heavily. No wonder—they'd ended up fighting the Divine Dragon Alliance before even reaching the event. Still, none of them seemed to have died.
Klein noticed Kirito first. His face brightened at first—but the expression faded almost immediately when he looked more closely. Something was different. His eyes, usually lively, seemed sunken, as if carrying a weight unseen.
Klein opened his mouth to speak—but Kirito acted first. He threw an object. Klein caught it on reflex, though it nearly slipped from his hands.
"That's the resurrection item."
Kirito's voice was firm—but cracked at a nearly imperceptible point. Klein looked down and activated the item's interface.
<<<"The target player you wish to resurrect must still be in the first stage before death. Minimum activation time: ten seconds. Resurrection cannot be interrupted. All damage received during that interval will be ignored, granting infinite life for thirty seconds before disappearing completely.">>>
Klein frowned.
"These rules suck… only ten seconds."
Before he could say more, Kirito spoke again.
"Use it on the next person you see die in front of you, Klein."
With that, he turned and took a few steps to leave.
He didn't get far.
Klein grabbed his clothes. Kirito didn't turn—he didn't need to. Still, he tilted his head slightly, confirming what he already knew.
"Kirito!" Klein's voice shook. "I know I don't know you that well—just since the first day—but… but survive. You have to survive. Please… I don't want to lose a friend."
His words broke along with his voice. Klein cried openly.
Kirito didn't respond.
He simply kept walking.
From a distance, Aomine saw everything. He hesitated. For a moment, he thought about leaving. But something inside pushed him forward. He moved carefully toward the group.
Klein's teammates noticed him immediately. They went on guard—weapons raised, eyes tense. Aomine slowly raised both hands, making it clear he meant no harm.
"Sorry to bother you… I just wanted to come and negotiate a bit."
His voice was nervous—but firm. No one answered right away. Klein steadied himself, stepped forward, and studied him carefully.
Aomine swallowed.
(Facing Klein like this now feels strange… I'm no longer in the raids, I don't talk to him anymore. I have to watch every word.)
"You said negotiate, right?" Klein asked.
"Yes… I came to buy something."
"You don't have anything to offer," Klein replied immediately, blocking him.
Aomine took a deep breath.
"The guy who just left—Kirito. He's the one who got the rare item from the event boss and gave it to you. I wanted to negotiate for it. I can offer col… or an S-class healing position."
Klein looked down at the object in his hand—a smooth, cold blue core that emitted a faint pulse, as if something still lived inside it.
"You mean this? I'm sor—"
"Please," Aomine interrupted. "I really need it. I'm alone. I need something that gives me another chance… help me."
Klein was about to refuse. The insistence made him uncomfortable. That item could save a life.
His life—or one of his friends'.
He refused in his mind.
Then the cold struck his face.
And with it—another memory.
A younger Klein walking down the street with a little girl on his back. Hunger gnawed at them. His sister knew it.
"Oni-chan… I'm hungry."
He had no money. He kept walking until he stopped against a wall. He hugged her to keep her warm. In front of them—a ramen stand. Laughter. Drunk voices. The noise scared the girl.
"It's okay, I'm here, Kita."
"I'm scared…"
The laughter died down with complaints. Klein closed his eyes.
Then a voice called out.
When he opened them, he saw an older man—gray-haired, posture firm—motioning to them.
He hesitated.
But he stepped forward.
A hot bowl of ramen appeared in front of them.
Then another.
They ate without asking.
"It was delicious!" they said at the same time.
Klein tensed.
"Why are you helping us?"
The old man kept washing the dishes without looking at him.
"What a suspicious kid," he said in a deep voice. "If you can't accept something without hidden intentions, you'll die full of doubts. I only helped two children who were desperate to keep living. That's all."
The memory faded with the icy wind.
Klein returned to the present and scratched his head, letting out a sigh.
"I'll accept that S-class healing position."
Aomine reacted instantly, pulling the item out from his HUD. It was the only thing he had left.
"Are you sure, Klein?" Kunimittz asked, doubtful.
"Yeah," Klein said. "If we keep this, we'll get complacent. And helping someone who's desperate isn't wrong. We've come this far on our own merit."
His companions smiled.
The trade was completed. Aomine vanished into the snow, leaving without looking back. Klein watched him for a few more seconds.
(I guess I gave someone hope… the same way someone once did for me. I just hope he doesn't become someone horrible because of it.)
Then he turned back to his friends, talking about food and rest, while the cold closed in around them again—like nothing had happened.