Level: 90.
One-Handed Curved Sword, Proficiency: 890, Unique Sword, Cantusa: Blade of the Ancient Scroll +50.
One-Handed Sword, Proficiency: 840, Unique Sword, Sakura Fang +48.
Rapier, Proficiency: 800, Sange and Yasha +45.
Dagger, Proficiency: 800, Queen of the Night +43.
One-Handed Scimitar, Proficiency: 800, Himester's Plunder +41.
Underlayer: Vladmir's Offering +13.
Upper Garment: Veil of Discord +13.
Outerwear: Glimmer Cape +10.
Gauntlets: Armlet of Mordiggian +9.
Belt: Mekansm +10.
Lower Garment: Rod of Atos +8.
Greaves: Wraith's Lament +10.
Boots: Greaves of a Hundred Battles +11.
Accessories: Ring of Aquila, Ring of Basilius.
Amulet: Eye of Skadi.
Engravings: Heart of Tarrasque, Sacred Bloodstone.
...This is me.
Satoru sat on the edge of the inn's single bed, the red light of the setting sun filtering through layers of smoke from outside the window. He stared silently at his character status window and inventory, then, after a long while, gave a faint, soundless smile.
This was what a mediocre power-leveler had built over nearly two years in Aincrad.
The existence known as Yurnero.
No matter how one looked at it, this character had already reached the edge of the so-called enhancement limit.
Every item he possessed was rare, and each provided a considerable boost. He had abandoned the clutter of complicated derivative skills and, in the end, chosen to focus on five weapon skill lines. Their combined skill proficiency had long since broken past a terrifying total of eight thousand. The only everyday skills left were Hiding and Search.
He had pushed himself day and night, pouring everything into combat, until he reached where he was now.
The Glimmer Cape had the ability to alter one's appearance.
So even clad in what could only be called top-tier gear, he looked utterly unimpressive.
"Honestly, this is insane. Maybe I've already gotten used to spending day and night in the Labyrinth Tower, with my heart hanging in my throat the whole time."
Even after leaving this place and returning to the real world, would he still be able to sit calmly in front of a computer?
His right hand, once used to holding a mouse, had long since grown used to gripping a sword hilt.
Could he still go back...?
The howls of beasts. The footsteps echoing through the Labyrinth Tower. Shadows wavering in the lamplight. Sword Skills tearing through the air. Tremors rising from deep within his nerves. The sharp, thrilling sensation of the body itself.
This was the experience of this game.
What, then, could that god gain from observing and experiencing these sensations?
Reach the hundredth floor, and liberation would come.
He had known that concrete goal for so long, and yet... it did not feel like the answer.
This floating castle suspended in the sky was also a new world. It was also a miraculous bond, where these virtual new lives had met one another.
The moment Satoru was freed would also be the moment Yurnero was killed.
It truly was a strange fate.
The real sense of struggling to survive, the crushing weight of bearing the shackles of destiny. Those were things this virtual fantasy world had made feel even more real.
It truly was a helpless bond.
He closed the window, slowly stood, and looked out at the sinking sun.
The expeditionary force had already set out that afternoon. A brief message from Heathcliff had informed him of the floor where Laughing Coffin had taken root.
The 36th Floor.
The Thousand Mirror Gate.
He should have guessed it long ago.
That place was deeply connected to both them and him.
Just as he had not wanted to go to the Steel City, perhaps he had always avoided returning there because it, too, was the burial ground where a certain man had seen his life off.
Even though that man had been nothing more than a passing figure in his life.
Even if that passing figure had once bared his soul to him as they fought to the death.
It truly was a bitter fate.
Or perhaps, a bitter bond.
Then... in that burial ground, he would bury a few more.
He pushed the door open, only to be surprised to find a blonde girl already standing outside.
"Going out at this hour?" Sheeta asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow morning. When I am, let's go to that cake shop you've been talking about for the past few days," Satoru said with a smile.
"Sure."
"Then get some rest early."
After waving to Sheeta, Satoru passed by her and headed down the stairs.
"Come back early, okay? I'm going to wake up very early."
Her reminder came from behind him.
"Of course."
Satoru raised his voice, answering without looking back.
...
Walls, narrow paths, and the ceiling were all pieced together from mirrors.
Chaotic figures crossed and overlapped, their reflections refracting into one another. The voices that had once sounded righteous and resolute had long since turned into heart-rending screams as swords continued to swing. The cries tearing out of their lungs sounded more like the familiar roars of monsters.
Yes.
Even the force behind their strikes was the same.
Whatever composure or mercy they had carried with them had already fallen apart. With the same brutality they used against monsters that could respawn forever, players tore savagely into other players.
Human against human.
They treated others as monsters, while they themselves had already become no different from monsters.
The orderly formation they had arrived in had long since been scattered by the ambush. No one paid attention to the commander's orders anymore.
Their enemies were alive.
They were no longer fixed-pattern monsters that could be countered to death once their habits were figured out.
They dodged.
They fled.
And after barely scraping away a sliver of your HP, they let out mocking laughter that made your blood boil.
The human heart could not measure another human heart.
But the terror carried on an enemy's blade, the certainty that he wanted to kill you, needed no understanding.
The enemy was not stupid.
The red and blue, the members of the Knights of the Blood and the Divine Dragons Alliance, were not attacked heavily. They were held in place by just enough opponents.
The rest of the red players targeted the slightly weaker members of the Assault Team, and under their frenzied assault, launched with almost no regard for cost, casualties appeared within minutes.
They had an instinct for who was easy to kill, and who was hard to be killed by.
And once the fear of seeing comrades die began to spread, the encounter had only just begun.
One side had been arrogant from the start, as if pumped full of stimulants.
The other was frantic and breaking down after being forced into yellow HP.
The appointed commander had already given up on command.
There was no commanding a battle like this.
All that remained was to swing with brute force at anyone who was not an ally.
"Hahahahaha! Good, this is good! What a rare spectacle!"
Amid the tangled roars, the rapier user laughed loudly, his eyes glowing crimson like bloodlight. His entire body and mind were intoxicated by the freedom of slaughter.
"Is it you? Are you next?!"
He crashed without hesitation into a player dressed in the equipment of the Knights of the Blood, not caring in the slightest whether the man was several Levels above him or had far stronger gear. His iron-blue rapier thrust forward at reckless, death-defying speed, pouring out terrifying pressure.
"You can't block it! You can't block it! You can't keep up with my speed!"
The rapier's sharpness was brought out to the fullest in his hands. The Knights of the Blood player, caught off guard, retreated again and again. Even his hurried counterattacks were dodged with ease, as if the rapier user had already calculated exactly how he would resist.
The dim rapier danced in continuous thrusts, carving out a path of death.
"Faster! Is this all a member of the top Guild can do?! Have you been fighting piles of brainless monsters so long that your own brain has turned into data too?!"
XaXa, having carved away his opponent's HP, shouted in fierce dissatisfaction. His expression was twisted to the extreme, as if only an equally grievous blow from his opponent would be enough to satisfy him.
I won't give you a second to catch your breath... I'm far more dangerous than a Floor Boss. I've killed more people than one, too!
XaXa grinned with all his strength, malice aimed straight at the Knights of the Blood player.
But his ferocious rapier was knocked away with brute force.
"Oh?"
With a single step back, XaXa skillfully dispersed most of the stun. He raised his eyes slightly and looked at the person who had suddenly stepped in to help.
"You're... I think you're..."
"Thanks... Kirito."
The Knights of the Blood player gasped for breath, speaking softly to the young man wearing the same uniform as him.
"Calm down. We're stronger to begin with. As long as we keep calm..."
Kirito said that, but his own face was just as pale.
"Oh, you get it, don't you? Yeah, yeah, that's it. Facing a real fight head-on without turning brainless. That's the fun of PK."
XaXa let out a mocking laugh, but his voice immediately turned cold.
"But isn't it a little arrogant to declare that you're stronger?"
Boom!
His whole body shot forward like the tip of a needle.
Kirito hurriedly turned sideways and swung his sword, but a line of blood appeared across his cheek.
How could he be this fast...?!
He was almost approaching Asuna's sword speed.
"So? What do you think of this sword skill I practiced day and night? One month, half a year, one year. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times!"
A cold laugh rang out.
"All of it was prepared for him, for that man who always stands one step ahead of thought itself. If the speed of my mind can't keep up, then I'll drive him into a corner with this purer form of speed! After all, if I want to kill him, I can't possibly do it unless I reach this level. If Didos's power wasn't enough, then I'll use my speed!"
"What kind of nonsense are you talking about?"
"Don't get in my way, you mere frontliner."
XaXa roared.
"Where is Yurnero?! Come out!"
"Isn't this chaotic backdrop the perfect stage prepared for the two of us?!"
"Do you still think you can do whatever you want?!"
"You want to stop me? Fine. Then I'll kill you first!"
Kirito, his expression tense, clashed with XaXa.
...
Words held tremendous power. Like the eyes, they could convey what was in the heart. What made them even better was that they could speak with genuine sincerity, or they could weave lies. They could stir people's hearts and incite their emotions. It was truly fascinating. With nothing more than a bit of wasted saliva, one could achieve exactly the desired result.
The man, who habitually wore a black cloak like a raincoat, lowered his head as if he did not want to reveal the sinister smile on his face.
Both the state of the situation and the choice of words required careful thought.
What was the point of constantly setting lethal traps for powerless, boring low-level players who could not even resist?
Even if their screams and desperate eyes were different each time, the impact was too weak. Too fragile. They were not even worth savoring.
This game had already reached this point. The time of liberation was getting closer and closer. How could he allow things to continue so peacefully?
As expected, the only thing that could be called a grand movement was that one time.
What a pity. The continuation of that piece had become rather dull.
If the plot was lacking, then he would fill it out with the number of actors and the scale of the scene.
Using Laughing Coffin, which he had created with his own hands, and the frontliners, he would stage a killing that both sides would remember deep in their hearts.
The faint roars drifting to his ears pleased him greatly.
"This really is the best..."
Before he could finish muttering to himself, another voice suddenly sounded from the side and continued his sentence.
"The best place to watch from, right? PoH."
PoH snapped his head aside and looked toward the man hidden in the shadows, arms crossed as he leaned against the mirrored wall. Beneath the brim of his hat, his gaze shifted slightly.
"Your Hiding skill is quite high. Or has it already been maxed out?"
His voice was smooth and pleasant, close in tone to that of a skilled opera singer.
"It's been a long time, Yurnero."
"You're the one who's been avoiding meeting me. I caused you people plenty of trouble before."
"True. Even XaXa could hardly hold himself back, until I told him there would be an opportunity today."
"You leaked this location to the Knights of the Blood, and then you told your comrades that they would come. Same as ever, only moving your mouth."
"That's also one way to play this game."
"There are many ways to play this game. I'm quite free today, so I'll play something else with you."
"Oh? Straight to the main topic already? I thought you'd have more to say."
PoH smiled calmly.
"I do have one question."
Satoru slowly stepped out of the shadows.
"I'm wondering whether the tricks you use to kill people yourself can compare to those of the people you incited."
"An improvised addition to the program? Not bad... at all!"
PoH suddenly charged straight at him. From beneath the billowing hem of his raincoat appeared a crude weapon like a kitchen cleaver. His low dive, almost skimming the ground, made his movements look deeply strange. Even the black, shadow-like glow of the sword skill trailing behind the cleaver seemed unlike anything seen before.
Satoru opened his eyes, and deep within them, golden fire seemed to burn.
Clang!!
The bizarre cleaver pressed tightly against the slender pitch-black katana.
"This really is unexpected."
The two were extremely close. Satoru looked down at PoH.
"That weapon is short sword class, isn't it? But I don't know any skill like that."
"Someone like you... can also obtain a so-called Unique Skill, huh?"
"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you."
PoH licked the corner of his mouth.
"Low-grade methods and a low-grade Unique Skill. They suit each other perfectly."
Satoru smiled coldly.
"So, what next?"
The Blade of the Ancient Scroll sent PoH flying back, but Satoru did not press the attack. He simply stood where he was.
"Even if we're in the same place, can you give me the same pressure Didos did?"
"You really are strange. Still obsessed with someone who died by your hand."
PoH slowly circled around him, seemingly searching for an opening.
"That man kept talking about protecting comrades like you," Satoru said flatly. "The way I see it, he was just a man who had accomplished nothing his entire life, finding recognition in people like you who could carry out such unsavory obsessions. After all, you don't often see obsessive lunatics who torment others for the sake of it."
PoH let out a low laugh.
"That guy was a useful piece," he said. "As a comrade, he was excellent. But to me, that kind of thing is still a little too childish. He had lost his value long ago. The moment you killed him, I cleared him from my list. If you hadn't brought him up, I doubt I would even remember that such a person existed."
"Ha. I'd love to let him hear that. Let that boring guy who achieved nothing his whole life and only became strong when he was about to die hear it for himself."
"From the way you speak, you seem to understand him quite well. Were you old acquaintances?"
"Yes... If you had the same eyes as him, you'd be able to see it."
Satoru sighed.
"At the very least, I'll let you see it too. The pressure he gave me back then, and the pressure I gave him."
As his words fell, his pupils abruptly widened, and fierce golden killing intent flared into view.