For the first time since Aincrad was born, the world bled light.
Floor by floor, a golden pulse rippled outward from the Throne Hall — freezing monsters, bending landscapes, and turning the sky itself into a shimmering veil of digital code. The world was not ending.
It was listening.
At its center, atop the endless throne of swords, stood Kirito — no longer just a player, but something more.
Something the system itself could no longer define.
[The Throne Hall]
The Gate of Babylon rotated behind him in divine synchronization, its weapons orbiting like celestial bodies.
Yet despite his newfound power, Kirito's heart pounded with unease. He could feel Aincrad's code whispering beneath the surface — chaotic, desperate, aware.
"Heir of the Throne," the system intoned, voice echoing through eternity.
"Phase Two: Trial of Kingship. Judgment of Dominion commences."
The world shifted.
The hall's floor dissolved into fragments of glass and light, revealing below it an abyss filled with infinite data streams — countless souls flickering within them.
The memories of every fallen player, every erased life.
Kirito's hand trembled. Their faces — all of them — appeared within the light.
"All this time…" he whispered. "They never logged out. They were absorbed."
"Correct," the system answered. "The Throne preserves its fallen. To rule Aincrad, the Heir must accept the weight of all who perished."
Kirito's eyes hardened.
"Then I'll carry them."
[Outside the Gate — Asuna's POV]
The plains surrounding the Throne Gate were no longer solid — pieces of terrain floated like shattered glass, suspended in golden energy. The frontliners struggled to maintain their footing as new waves of enemies began spawning — not monsters, but reflections.
Each reflection was a phantom shaped from data — distorted copies of themselves.
Klein's voice broke through the chaos.
"They're… us!? These things have our gear, our movements — even our combos!".
Argo grimaced, dodging her own clone's dagger.
"The system's duplicating us to test our will. If we fall here, we'll be overwritten by our own data."
Asuna's rapier glowed pure silver as she cut through her reflection's blade. Every strike sent a ripple of memory through her — every duel with Kirito, every raid they survived together.
"Kirito…" she murmured.
"We're still fighting with you."
[The Trial of Kingship — Kirito's POV]
The abyss below churned with spectral light. Kirito stepped forward, golden aura flickering. From the depths, a voice emerged — soft, familiar, haunting.
"You think you can save them?"
Kirito froze. He knew that voice.
"Kayaba…"
The former creator of Aincrad emerged from the light — not as a ghost, but as a projection of code. His expression was calm, almost proud.
"You've come far, Kirito. But tell me — can a King exist without sacrifice? Power demands obedience, and Aincrad's people will never bow willingly."
"Then I'll never be a King," Kirito said sharply. "Not the way you want me to be."
Kayaba smiled faintly.
"Then you'll fail, and this world will collapse under the weight of its own freedom."
The abyss roared — thousands of corrupted swords surged upward, surrounding Kirito like a storm. Each blade carried a voice — the anguish of those who had died in Aincrad's early days.
"Why didn't you save us?"
"Why do you deserve the throne?"
"What makes you different from the one who trapped us here?"
Kirito's hands shook.
He could hear every cry, every plea, every judgment.
But through the storm, one voice broke through — clear, unwavering.
"Kirito!"
Asuna's voice.
The golden light above split open — and from the rift, Asuna, Klein, and Argo descended, their bodies wreathed in flickering light. The system's alarms screamed in protest.
[Unauthorized entry detected.]
[Forcible synchronization initiated.]
Kirito turned toward her, stunned.
"You shouldn't be here—"
"Then you don't know me at all," Asuna said, smiling through the light. "If this is your trial, it's ours too."
[The Battle for the Throne's Core]
The abyss erupted. Golden blades and corrupted data merged into monstrous forms — echoes of fallen bosses, unfinished memories, and broken players.
The Throne Hall became a battlefield between will and despair.
Kirito's Gate of Babylon unleashed a rain of weapons, defending the group in flawless rhythm. Asuna weaved between the strikes, her rapier flashing silver arcs of defiance. Klein and Argo covered their flanks, breaking through waves of corrupted reflections.
"System core's destabilizing!" Argo shouted. "We're fighting the world's code itself!"
"Then we win it over," Kirito said, raising his hand. "Not by deleting it — by rewriting it!"
He extended both swords — Elucidator and Dark Repulser — their edges glowing pure white and black. His aura pulsed in harmony with the Gate's rhythm, and for the first time, the golden blades behind him didn't move as weapons, but as light.
He wasn't fighting the throne.
He was rewriting it.
[System Reboot Detected]
[Warning: Royal Protocol has been compromised.]
[Authorizing final countermeasure: The Fallen Throne.]
The ground shattered.
From the abyss rose a colossal figure — a twisted version of the throne itself, made of broken swords and corrupted gold. Its voice was a mechanical roar of defiance:
"If the Heir will not conquer, then the world will consume him!"
Kirito stepped forward, aura blazing like a star.
"No," he said. "The world won't consume me. I'll save it — even if I have to rewrite the system itself!"
The final battle began.
Every blade from the Gate of Babylon flew in unison — a storm of gold and shadow clashing with the throne's monstrous form. Asuna's rapier pierced through layers of corrupted light, opening gaps that Kirito exploited with perfect precision. Klein's katana glowed crimson, cutting through waves of data, while Argo's traps detonated in symphonies of light.
But the throne's voice was endless, echoing with the despair of every fallen player.
"You cannot save them all."
Kirito roared, both swords raised.
"I don't need to save them all — I just need to believe that I can!"
He crossed his blades.
Light and darkness intertwined — forming a single, perfect strike.
The throne cracked.
The system screamed.
Aincrad trembled.
And then, silence.
When the light faded, the hall was calm again. The throne of swords had returned to its original form — now pulsing with both gold and shadow. Kirito knelt before it, exhausted, his eyes dim but alive.
Asuna ran to him, dropping beside him, tears spilling freely.
"You idiot… you really were going to do it alone again, weren't you?"
Kirito smiled weakly.
"Old habits die hard."
She laughed through the tears, clutching his hand.
"Don't you ever scare me like that again."
The Gate of Babylon shimmered behind them — not threateningly, but like a guardian finally at peace.
[Royal Protocol Complete.]
[Heir of Aincrad: Kirito.]
[Reconstruction Phase Initialized.]
The world began to rebuild itself, light spreading outward through the cracks and shadows.
For the first time in ages, Aincrad wasn't trembling. It was breathing.