The town of Tolbana sat quietly beneath a pale moon.
Its stone walls stretched like shadows across the cobblestone streets, whispering echoes of lives lost in the climb to freedom.
The plaza—once filled with laughter, chatter, and the sound of clashing steel—was now silent.
For most players, Tolbana was merely a resting point before returning to the deadly labyrinth.
But for Kirito, it had become something else entirely.
He stood atop a roof overlooking the empty square.
A faint golden shimmer glinted from his right hand.
When his fingers clenched, a dozen golden portals shimmered into existence behind him—each humming with quiet, divine energy.
Blades of every shape and size hovered in the air: curved scimitars, massive greatswords, elegant rapiers, and ancient spears.
Weapons that whispered.
Weapons that remembered.
Kirito closed his eyes.
They feel heavier today.
He could feel them—the weight of countless souls.
Each weapon carried a story: of heroes who had fought for love, of kings who had ruled through blood, of warriors who had died for pride.
Now, they belonged to him.
The self-proclaimed King of Blades of this virtual world.
A soft voice broke the stillness.
"You've been practicing again."
Kirito turned.
The portals behind him flickered and vanished like fireflies fading into the night.
Asuna stood at the edge of the roof, arms crossed, her chestnut hair dancing in the wind.
Her rapier, Lambent Light, gleamed beneath the silver moon.
"You never sleep," she said quietly. "Do you even know how long it's been since you logged off?"
Kirito let out a small, humorless laugh.
"None of us can log off, remember?"
Her expression softened.
"You know what I mean."
Silence fell between them.
Below, a group of new players huddled near a campfire, nervously checking their gear. The first-floor boss had fallen only two days ago—but already, rumors were spreading.
Rumors about him.
The Black Swordsman.
The player who had slain the boss with a rain of golden weapons.
"They're afraid of you," Asuna finally said. "Some think you're a hacker. Others say you made a deal with Kayaba himself."
Kirito tilted his head slightly.
"And what do you think?"
She hesitated.
"I think… you're something different. I've seen players with rare skills before, but nothing like yours."
Kirito looked away.
"It's not a skill," he murmured. "It's… something else."
He raised his right hand again.
A faint, golden, key-shaped sigil shimmered on the back of his palm.
"The Gate of Babylon. A vault that holds the weapons of countless heroes. Every time I summon it… I can feel them. Their pride. Their ambition. Their rage."
Asuna's voice softened.
"That sounds… lonely."
Kirito smiled faintly, but his eyes were distant.
"A king is always alone."
Before she could respond, a deep horn echoed across the town.
Both of them turned toward the main gate.
"Monsters?" she asked, her hand gripping her rapier.
"No," Kirito said, narrowing his eyes. "Players."
A group of red-clad figures marched into Tolbana, their armor gleaming crimson beneath torchlight.
The Laughing Coffin emblem was crudely painted on several shields—though the guild was still young, its violent reputation had already begun to spread.
At their front strode a tall man with messy blond hair and a blood-red cloak flowing behind him.
His eyes gleamed with arrogance and hunger.
"Kirito!" he shouted, his voice booming through the streets. "The so-called Black Swordsman! I've heard of your divine power. Why don't you show us how godly you really are?"
Asuna stepped forward, her stance guarded.
"Who are you?"
"Name's Kain, leader of Crimson Fang," he said with a smirk. "We don't take kindly to players who hoard rare powers while others die trying to survive."
Kirito's eyes darkened.
"So you came to steal from me."
"Think of it as… redistribution."
At his signal, a dozen players drew their blades.
Steel flashed in the torchlight.
Asuna moved beside Kirito, her rapier steady.
"We're outnumbered."
Kirito's tone didn't change.
"Numbers don't matter… to a king."
He raised his hand.
The air trembled.
And then—
BOOM.
A storm of golden portals exploded open behind him like a field of blooming suns.
Swords, spears, axes, and halberds floated in a perfect circle, humming with divine resonance.
The players froze, their confidence turning to dread.
"What… what is that!?"
"He's cheating! He's hacking—!"
Kirito's eyes glowed faintly gold.
"No. This is justice… from a higher realm."
He pointed forward.
"Gate of Babylon—Open!"
The air screamed.
Weapons rained down like divine punishment—each strike precise, deliberate, and absolute.
Blades slammed into the ground mere inches from their targets, shattering weapons and armor without dealing a single killing blow.
When the light faded, the square was silent.
Every enemy stood trembling, disarmed and broken.
Kirito lowered his hand.
"Leave," he said coldly. "And remember this—there is no glory in taking another's strength. Only shame."
Kain staggered back, his arrogance gone.
"Y-You think this makes you a hero?"
Kirito turned his back on him.
"Heroes die forgotten."
"Kings endure."
Asuna watched him walk away, golden sparks trailing from his fingertips.
For the first time, she truly saw it—not just power, but burden.
The power to rule.
The power to destroy.
The power to be utterly, hopelessly alone.
And as the night wind carried away the scent of ozone and fear, she whispered:
"Kirito… what are you becoming?"