The morning sun rose slowly over the steel plains of Aincrad, its light spilling across the endless fields of metal and stone. Every blade of grass shimmered like silver, every ripple of the river caught the reflection of a false sky. To most players, it was beautiful—a reminder that even inside a prison of code, the illusion of life could still breathe.
To Kirito, it was nothing more than a battlefield waiting to happen.
He sat alone beside the riverbank, boots half submerged in the cool water, a single sword lying across his knees. It wasn't one of his summoned weapons—it was his original blade, Anneal Blade, the first he'd forged with his own hands. He had always preferred it for its simplicity, for the way it responded purely to his intent rather than divine code.
But lately, it felt… silent.
He stared at the reflection in the water—his own eyes, glowing faintly gold.
Ever since the Gate of Babylon had awakened within him, something in his code had changed. His avatar's data readings—speed, strength, focus—had all spiked beyond normal player limits. He had tried to hide it, suppress it, but the game itself seemed to want him to grow.
"You've been sitting here for hours."
Asuna's voice broke his thoughts. She approached quietly, a light breeze lifting strands of her hair. In her hand, she carried a small wrapped meal.
"You'll starve yourself if you keep brooding like that," she said, kneeling beside him and handing over the food.
Kirito managed a faint smile.
"I'm not hungry."
"Liar. You said that yesterday."
She unwrapped the meal and placed it in his hands. He hesitated, then took a bite—partly out of gratitude, partly because he knew she wouldn't leave otherwise.
"You've been different lately," Asuna said softly. "Since the battle in Tolbana. The way you fought… the way you spared them."
"They weren't worth killing."
"That's not what I mean. You could've destroyed them completely, and yet… you held back. That wasn't like you."
Kirito looked at her.
"Would you rather I hadn't?"
"No." She shook her head, eyes meeting his. "But I need to understand. Where is this power coming from, Kirito? And why does it feel like it's consuming you?"
He looked down at his reflection again. The golden flicker in his eyes pulsed once.
"I don't know," he admitted. "When I first joined the beta, I was just another solo player. Then, after Kayaba trapped us here, I started hearing… something. A voice, deep in the system. It called me Heir. Said I had inherited a throne that didn't belong in this world."
"A throne?"
He nodded.
"I thought it was a bug at first. But when I touched a broken weapon in the labyrinth, it disintegrated into light—and the system recognized it as part of something called Bab-ilu Codex. That's when I saw them for the first time."
Asuna frowned.
"Them?"
"The weapons of heroes. Not from Aincrad. From other worlds. The Gate of Babylon."
He stood, and as he did, the air behind him shimmered gold. The portals unfolded slowly, not in aggression this time—but reverence. Ancient weapons floated in quiet orbit around him—each glowing faintly, whispering echoes of stories long forgotten.
"Every one of these blades carries a name," Kirito said, his voice distant. "Durandal. Gae Bolg. Gram. Each belonged to a king, a hero, or a god. And somehow, the system made me their master."
Asuna took a cautious step forward.
"Then maybe it's more than a system glitch. Maybe Kayaba built something… divine. Something that recognized you."
"Recognized me as what?"
"As a king."
Kirito turned to her, half-smiling.
"A king of what? A thousand trapped souls?"
Before she could answer, a faint tremor rippled through the ground. Then another. The air shimmered—and a red notification flashed across their vision.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Unauthorized Zone Activity Detected – Floor 3, Southern Ruins.]
Asuna's eyes widened.
"That's near the frontline party!"
Kirito's expression hardened. He closed his hand, and the portals behind him vanished.
"If it's unauthorized, that means someone's tampering with the core data."
"You think it's Kayaba?"
"No," Kirito muttered, summoning a teleport crystal. "This doesn't feel like him. It feels like… something else."
He crushed the crystal.
"Teleport—South Ruins."
Golden light engulfed him.
The Southern Ruins were a labyrinth of shattered pillars and broken marble walls, remnants of a civilization that never existed. The air was thick with static, the code of the area visibly unstable. Lightning crackled across the ruins as Kirito materialized on a crumbling platform.
He drew Anneal Blade instinctively—and then froze.
At the center of the ruins stood a single figure, cloaked in white and gold, its face hidden beneath a hood. The ground around them pulsed with golden energy identical to his own.
"So you're the anomaly," the stranger said, their voice distorted but strangely regal. "The one who wields what should not exist."
Kirito raised his sword.
"Who are you?"
"A fragment. A remnant of the true king whose vault you now desecrate."
The figure raised their hand—and a golden circle opened behind them, identical to Kirito's Gate. A thousand swords appeared in answer, each trembling with divine rage.
Kirito's eyes widened.
"Impossible… you have it too?"
"Not have," the stranger corrected. "I am it."
The air ignited with golden light as both Gates expanded, their weapons locking onto one another like armies poised for war.
"Let us see, false heir," the stranger said. "If your soul is worthy of a king's throne."
Kirito smirked, eyes blazing gold.
"Then let's see whose treasury runs deeper."
The night erupted.
Blades rained from the heavens, clashing midair in explosions of divine light. The battlefield became a symphony of chaos—swords meeting swords, spears piercing the air, axes cleaving through radiant dust. Every impact shook the ruins, every clash echoed like thunder through Aincrad.
Kirito spun through the storm, weaving between attacks, his own weapons countering perfectly as if guided by instinct. The stranger matched him blow for blow, their movements impossibly precise.
"You fight well for a counterfeit!" the stranger shouted.
"And you talk too much!" Kirito snapped back, summoning a barrage of twin swords from his Gate.
The stranger countered with a spiral of daggers, deflecting every strike. For a brief second, their hood slipped—and Kirito caught a glimpse of a face not human at all. Eyes of radiant gold, skin of light itself.
"You're… code."
"I am the will of Babylon," the entity said, their voice merging with the system itself. "And you, Kirito, are the vessel that should never have been."
The battle reached its peak—both unleashed their full arsenals, filling the sky with golden storms.
Then, suddenly, silence.
A final explosion ripped through the ruins, and both were thrown back. Kirito crashed against a wall, vision blurring, his HP dangerously low. When the dust cleared, the figure was gone—leaving behind a single glowing fragment floating in the air.
Kirito staggered forward, reaching for it.
[Item Acquired: Fragment of the True King.]
The moment he touched it, a voice echoed deep in his mind—calm, ancient, commanding.
"Awaken the Throne, my heir. The time of kings draws near."
His eyes widened.
"What the hell does that mean?"
The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the faint sound of swords clashing far away. Kirito clenched his fist around the fragment, determination burning in his gaze.
"Then I'll find out. And if there's a throne waiting…"
He looked toward the false horizon of Aincrad's steel sky.
"…I'll decide what kind of king sits on it."