The sun hung low over the plains of Floor One, casting long shadows across the tall grass. Kirito moved with his usual calm efficiency, the black coat of the "Black Swordsman" rustling with each step. His hand brushed against the Golden Key in his pocket — a subtle pulse reminded him that the Gate of Babylon still lingered, waiting for his command.
Ever since the Treasury had awakened, his nights had been restless. Sleep brought visions of golden halls, hovering weapons, and whispers that were neither his own nor entirely foreign. He had glimpsed the King of Heroes — a presence that exuded power, arrogance, and knowledge beyond human measure. Each day, he felt a subtle change in himself. Decisions came faster, movements sharper, and confidence bled into arrogance.
Yet even as he acknowledged it, a fragment of caution remained. The Gate was powerful, yes — but it was also hungry. It demanded mastery, obedience, and subtle control. And Kirito knew that one wrong step could consume him entirely.
By mid-morning, a small guild had spotted him near the riverbank. Their leader, a tall swordsman with a polished blade, stepped forward with a smirk.
"Kirito, isn't it?" the man said, voice carrying over the clearing. "You've been clearing mobs faster than anyone. But how about a real fight?"
Kirito's eyes narrowed slightly. He assessed the guild members quickly — five in total, all skilled enough to challenge ordinary players but none capable of rivaling him. Still, he knew that every skirmish could teach him something new, and the Gate, subtle as ever, hummed in anticipation.
"Very well," Kirito replied calmly. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
The first swordsman lunged, his blade catching the sunlight. Kirito's reflexes, sharpened by countless battles, allowed him to dodge effortlessly. Yet he didn't simply block or parry — he began commanding the Gate subtly. A single spear from the Treasury appeared midair, striking the swordsman's shoulder and forcing him to stagger back.
The guild froze. Whispers of awe and fear spread instantly.
"Did he… summon that?" one of them muttered.
Kirito's lips curved in a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Yes. And there's much more.
The fight escalated quickly. Swords clashed, spears flew, axes hovered and spun, all under the silent command of Kirito's will. Each attack was precise, unerring, and breathtakingly beautiful. The guild members struggled to land a hit, the overwhelming aura of golden weapons constantly redirecting their movements.
Finally, the last swordsman fell, sprawling on the grass. Kirito sheathed his sword, the floating weapons dissolving back into the ether of the Gate.
The guild leader, kneeling, stared at him with a mixture of fear and respect. "I… I've never seen anything like that. You're… not human."
Kirito simply nodded. "I'm just a swordsman who survives."
Later, as the sun dipped closer to the horizon, Kirito returned to his inn, exhaustion only barely masked by the calm he projected. The Golden Key pulsed warmly, and he could feel the Gate stirring, whispering words of pride and caution.
"Well done, O King. You command the Treasury with skill unmatched. Yet this is only the beginning. Will you wield it as a hero… or as a ruler?"
Kirito clenched his fists. "I wield it to survive… for now."
But a strange sensation crept through him. Each battle, each victory, seemed to inflate his confidence. The other players watched him as if he were a god, and in moments of triumph, he felt a thrill unlike any he had known.
Power… the word echoed in his mind. It's intoxicating.
It was late evening when he spotted her — Asuna Yuuki, moving gracefully along the riverbank, her rapier glinting in the dying sunlight. She was fighting her own skirmish, small monsters attacking a group of fledgling players. Kirito approached silently, watching her technique, the elegance and efficiency in her every move.
When she noticed him, she sheathed her blade and gave a polite nod. "Kirito," she said softly. "I've heard… about what you did today."
Kirito's gaze met hers. "I merely fought to survive," he replied.
Her eyes, however, held something deeper — a mixture of curiosity, caution, and a hint of concern. "Some say you're… different now. That your power… isn't like anyone else's."
Kirito's fingers brushed the Key in his pocket. She doesn't understand. Not yet.
"I'm still me," he said quietly, though even he wasn't entirely certain. The whispers of the Gate, the King of Heroes, and the intoxicating pull of his newfound abilities gnawed at the edges of his identity.
Asuna gave him a small smile, then turned to continue helping the struggling players. But Kirito felt it — the first rift forming, subtle and slow, between him and the people he once cared about. The Gate had awakened something within him, and even now, it was changing him in ways he couldn't fully control.
That night, Kirito sat alone under the stars, the soft hum of the Key echoing in his mind. Golden visions danced behind his eyelids: weapons, thrones, halls, and the distant figure of the King of Heroes. The thrill of power coursed through him, yet a small part of his heart whispered caution.
This is just the beginning, he thought. I have the Treasury, I have the Gate… and soon, I will understand what it truly means to wield it.
The world of Aincrad stretched endlessly before him, filled with danger, allies, and unknown treasures. And somewhere deep in the code, the Gate of Babylon pulsed eagerly, waiting for its King to step forward.
Kirito's black sword gleamed faintly in the moonlight. He smiled, a mix of resolve, pride, and something darker — a hint of what was to come.
The Treasury has chosen its King.