Scraped from here.
Now with it's own thread.
Standard Disclaimer: Worm is Wildbow's. SAO is...
Now with it's own thread.
Standard Disclaimer: Worm is Wildbow's. SAO is...
...Fucking Tinkers (Worm/SAO)
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Scraped from here.
Now with it's own thread.
Standard Disclaimer: Worm is Wildbow's. SAO is Reki Kawahara's.
...Fucking Tinkers
Index below:
Chapter 1: Welcome to my World
1.1 new; 1.1 old
1.2 new; 1.2 old
1.3 new; 1.3 old
1.4 new; 1.4 old
1.5 new; 1.5 old
1.I ??????? new; 1.I ??????? old
Chapter 2: Heroes and Villains
2.1 new; 2.1 old
2.2 new; 2.2 old
2.3 new; 2.3 old
2.I Kuradeel new; 2.I Kuradeel old
2.4 new; 2.4 old
2.I Kayaba Akihiko new; 2.I Kayaba Akihiko old
2.5 new; 2.5 old
Chapter 3: Team Deathmatch
3.1 new; 3.1 old
3.I Aoko
3.2 new; 3.2 old
3.I Argo new; 3.I Argo old
3.3 new; 3.3 old
3.4
3.I Kirigaya Midori
Chapter 4: The End of the Beginning
4.1
4.2
4.I Ryu
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.I Fenrir
4.6
4.I Heathcliff
Chapter 5: Networking
5.I Silica
5.I Thinker
5.I Kirito
5.I Cardinal 0058
Fan Art:
Still Goes For The Eyes
Omake
Everyone Must Play the Game by Harper Potts
User not Found / Helping by LegioDamnatus
Home is where the heart is by Eastern Calculus
The Immortal Tower by Amneiger
The Immortal Khepri by Epic Reader
Escalation by Magery
Maybe Everything's Going To Be Ok by Guile
Admin's second bombshell speech: It's super effective! by Dur'id the Druid
I'm Doing Science by Looking Glass
Khepri Surprise by einargs
A Tale of Two Parallels by einargs
Sword Art Live by einargs
Public Speaking - the Khepri Way by einargs
Skulls, Reapers and Unrequited Love by einargs
Now with it's own thread.
Standard Disclaimer: Worm is Wildbow's. SAO is Reki Kawahara's.
...Fucking Tinkers
Index below:
Chapter 1: Welcome to my World
1.1 new; 1.1 old
1.2 new; 1.2 old
1.3 new; 1.3 old
1.4 new; 1.4 old
1.5 new; 1.5 old
1.I ??????? new; 1.I ??????? old
Chapter 2: Heroes and Villains
2.1 new; 2.1 old
2.2 new; 2.2 old
2.3 new; 2.3 old
2.I Kuradeel new; 2.I Kuradeel old
2.4 new; 2.4 old
2.I Kayaba Akihiko new; 2.I Kayaba Akihiko old
2.5 new; 2.5 old
Chapter 3: Team Deathmatch
3.1 new; 3.1 old
3.I Aoko
3.2 new; 3.2 old
3.I Argo new; 3.I Argo old
3.3 new; 3.3 old
3.4
3.I Kirigaya Midori
Chapter 4: The End of the Beginning
4.1
4.2
4.I Ryu
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.I Fenrir
4.6
4.I Heathcliff
Chapter 5: Networking
5.I Silica
5.I Thinker
5.I Kirito
5.I Cardinal 0058
Fan Art:
Still Goes For The Eyes
Omake
Everyone Must Play the Game by Harper Potts
User not Found / Helping by LegioDamnatus
Home is where the heart is by Eastern Calculus
The Immortal Tower by Amneiger
The Immortal Khepri by Epic Reader
Escalation by Magery
Maybe Everything's Going To Be Ok by Guile
Admin's second bombshell speech: It's super effective! by Dur'id the Druid
I'm Doing Science by Looking Glass
Khepri Surprise by einargs
A Tale of Two Parallels by einargs
Sword Art Live by einargs
Public Speaking - the Khepri Way by einargs
Skulls, Reapers and Unrequited Love by einargs
Last edited:
1.1
One word, white font, hanging in the corner of my eye like a piece of stubborn grit: Khepri. It was a name; my name I gathered, or one someone had given me. I'd complain, but it'd be a bit hypocritical to be honest; at this point, all the names I've ever worn have been given to me without my knowledge. Skitter. Weaver. Taylor Hebert. Khepri. It fit.
It's embarrassing to say, but the significance of that thought took me a minute to process; at the end, when I was facing down Scion with an army of capes at my back and another potentially before me, I had been beyond names. Beyond Skitter, beyond Weaver and beyond the anchors I'd left at the Faerie Queen's advice - even my mantle of power had broken down in the end, used up just like everything else.
But now? Now they came to me, hesitantly at first and then in a flood: Rachel, Imp, Grue, my father. Lisa. A word. Not one of mine, or rather spoken before I had even finished the thought.
Passenger, I thought in a moment of confusion? But yes, yes, Lisa - Lisa who I had left in truth the moment I walked through the Faerie Queen's portal. I remembered that feeling, of resistance as I bore stubbornly forward on momentum and habit alone; ironic, that in the end my shard would have more caution and sense then me.
Or is that inaccurate? In the end, perhaps we had melded too much for such distinctions, or perhaps we had swapped places, the Administrator running things at the forefront and Taylor Hebert speaking up quietly in the back. Didn't matter. Doesn't. I had stopped listening to that little voice and that was ultimately what did me in, forced me to face Contessa in that grove, alone and without the allies I had grown to depend upon.
I felt like I could still feel it, the double tap of bullets entering the back of my head. I'd say I was shocked, that I should be dead after something like that, but between Bonesaw, Grey Boy, and all the other assorted cape abilities present on that battlefield I wasn't terribly surprised I somehow managed to survive. I suppose the only question remaining was, where was I?
I felt my body start to leverage itself off the ground where it had fallen and with a gentle nudge I finished the motion. A smooth motion. A simple one. One that shouldn't be easy for me, not anymore, not even with the Yangban's power enhancer to aid in my control, but what's one more mystery on top of everything else.
I looked around. Green grass. Small, rocky hills. Nothing that wouldn't be out of place on Earth Gimel or half a dozen other worlds the roving battle with Scion traveled across; I couldn't even be sure it was the same world as the grove I met Contessa in, though I had obviously been moved in the ensuring aftermath.
No roads, no cities, no signs of human habitation.
No Insects.
The thought was almost instantaneous as I attempted to grab my bearings, and I struggled a moment to beat back the flashes of panic before they began. I'd been moved I reminded myself. Imprisoned perhaps, like Marquis had suggested to Tattletale, and while I was hardly thrilled at the idea of living out the rest of my life on an unclaimed world with no insects, it was probably a happier end then I could reasonably expect after all the enemies that I had made.
Still, I had made it this far by having a goal and following it, no reason to stop now. First I'd find fresh water; then I'd find some food; then, after I wasn't likely to die of exposure in the next few days, I'd see about setting up some kind of signal for when Tattletale, Rachel and Imp inevitably went trawling for my location.
It was a good plan. Neat and easy. I picked a direction and started walking.
One word, white font, hanging in the corner of my eye like a piece of stubborn grit: Khepri. It was a name; my name I gathered, or one someone had given me. I'd complain, but it'd be a bit hypocritical to be honest; at this point, all the names I've ever worn have been given to me without my knowledge. Skitter. Weaver. Taylor Hebert. Khepri. It fit.
It's embarrassing to say, but the significance of that thought took me a minute to process; at the end, when I was facing down Scion with an army of capes at my back and another potentially before me, I had been beyond names. Beyond Skitter, beyond Weaver and beyond the anchors I'd left at the Faerie Queen's advice - even my mantle of power had broken down in the end, used up just like everything else.
But now? Now they came to me, hesitantly at first and then in a flood: Rachel, Imp, Grue, my father. Lisa. A word. Not one of mine, or rather spoken before I had even finished the thought.
Passenger, I thought in a moment of confusion? But yes, yes, Lisa - Lisa who I had left in truth the moment I walked through the Faerie Queen's portal. I remembered that feeling, of resistance as I bore stubbornly forward on momentum and habit alone; ironic, that in the end my shard would have more caution and sense then me.
Or is that inaccurate? In the end, perhaps we had melded too much for such distinctions, or perhaps we had swapped places, the Administrator running things at the forefront and Taylor Hebert speaking up quietly in the back. Didn't matter. Doesn't. I had stopped listening to that little voice and that was ultimately what did me in, forced me to face Contessa in that grove, alone and without the allies I had grown to depend upon.
I felt like I could still feel it, the double tap of bullets entering the back of my head. I'd say I was shocked, that I should be dead after something like that, but between Bonesaw, Grey Boy, and all the other assorted cape abilities present on that battlefield I wasn't terribly surprised I somehow managed to survive. I suppose the only question remaining was, where was I?
I felt my body start to leverage itself off the ground where it had fallen and with a gentle nudge I finished the motion. A smooth motion. A simple one. One that shouldn't be easy for me, not anymore, not even with the Yangban's power enhancer to aid in my control, but what's one more mystery on top of everything else.
I looked around. Green grass. Small, rocky hills. Nothing that wouldn't be out of place on Earth Gimel or half a dozen other worlds the roving battle with Scion traveled across; I couldn't even be sure it was the same world as the grove I met Contessa in, though I had obviously been moved in the ensuring aftermath.
No roads, no cities, no signs of human habitation.
No Insects.
The thought was almost instantaneous as I attempted to grab my bearings, and I struggled a moment to beat back the flashes of panic before they began. I'd been moved I reminded myself. Imprisoned perhaps, like Marquis had suggested to Tattletale, and while I was hardly thrilled at the idea of living out the rest of my life on an unclaimed world with no insects, it was probably a happier end then I could reasonably expect after all the enemies that I had made.
Still, I had made it this far by having a goal and following it, no reason to stop now. First I'd find fresh water; then I'd find some food; then, after I wasn't likely to die of exposure in the next few days, I'd see about setting up some kind of signal for when Tattletale, Rachel and Imp inevitably went trawling for my location.
It was a good plan. Neat and easy. I picked a direction and started walking.
1.2
In retrospect, I was fucked. The fact that I could move and think and maybe even speak? Not important. Oh, it'd be useful if and when I ever met up with the Undersiders, but my mind? Gone. Clearly in a major way, because it took me halfway up the third hill to realize I was still hallucinating.
I should rephrase that; I was not upset at the idea that I was hallucinating, that was par for the course with everything that had happened, and could even be considered perfectly normal if not natural given the manner of my arrival. No, the problem was that having noticed it, I then immediately disregarded it like a rolled up candy wrapper that failed to make it into the trash.
I turned my attention back to it. Khepri. One word, white font and a little green bar next to it, that I must have initially missed, due to it being obscured by the grass as I had lain collapsed on my side.
I turned my head to better present it and it moved with the motion, like a lock of hair dangling in front of my eyes. Reaching for it proved no better, as it appeared to have all the material presence of Imp's sense of restraint...or Tattletale's for that matter. I closed my eyes, frustrated for a moment and when I opened them, it had disappeared from view; surprised I looked back for it and it reappeared.
So, only if I was actively paying attention to it then? Odd. It reminded me of nothing so much as one of the hud displays I saw when Dragon and Defiant showed off some of their work on the armor for the Dragon's Teeth.
Speaking of armor, I didn't have mine.
The recognition of this wasn't simply shocking, but actually arresting. With a sudden stop, I looked down at myself and noted that yes, I wasn't wearing the armor I had donned for the fight; in its place was a simple if well tailored pair of black pants and a grey shirt, around my waist was a belt and on it was a knife not terribly dissimilar to the one I had taken to wearing: likely part of the reason I hadn't noticed in the first place.
The weight was constant, familiar; between that and the realization that I was increasingly offloading control of my body to my passenger so I could concentrate on other things, it wasn't terribly surprising that I hadn't noticed. Frightening though. Not the idea of using my passenger to control my body, I had grown used to that, comfortable with it even, ever since I first confronted the idea in my time as Weaver.
No. It was the disassociation that bothered me; the way I treated myself as just another member of my swarm. Looking back over the last day or two it was disturbing the way I had grown so quickly used to the idea of it, of not being a person so much as a mass, a place even. It reminded me of Scion a little.
I might have lost myself like that, buried in a constant series of recriminations, if it wasn't for a loud snort that I heard off to my right.
It was a boar I noticed, even as I cursed the oversight; I had grown used to having insects scout the lay of the land for me, used to having a full degree of view to everything around me. Lacking that, I had none the less kept my eyes locked ahead, never moving my head - not so much unaware of my surroundings as failing to realize that I even had to be.
It was an oversight I grimly promised myself I wouldn't make again, as my passenger drew the knife at my belt.
And like that, it was as if a switch flipped. No worries. No concerns. Not over my passenger; nor where I was; nor how I got there. It was just me, my knife and this boar I was going to kill.
I saw it snort at me and paw at the ground. Letting it get sufficient momentum to charge could be lethal, so I attacked. Not from the front, that'd be too dangerous, but rather from the side - circling , where it's turn would take the most effort for the least gain.
'It's slow.' Was the first thought that passed through my mind as the boar tried to follow me with its head and more importantly its tusks. 'It's weak.' Was the second and it tasted almost like disappointment.
I've spent years fighting capes, ceaseless hours training myself to respond to Masters and their servants with a healthy understanding that they'll almost certainly be bigger, stronger and faster than anything I'm likely to bring to the table. Rachel alone has given me a good understanding of just how much damage one can do in a few short seconds. But this?
This wasn't a fight. It was an execution.
I grabbed onto one of it's tusks as it finished another turn; I pulled it's head up a little, eased the knife under it's chin and pushed hard with it on the bottom of its jaw. Like that it was over.
With a faint note of surprise I noticed an arrow briefly form over it's head before disappearing. Then the boar itself appeared as if to shatter. Before me was a white window with four lines of text. It read
Col: 60
Items: 2
...What.
No. Seriously. What.
In retrospect, I was fucked. The fact that I could move and think and maybe even speak? Not important. Oh, it'd be useful if and when I ever met up with the Undersiders, but my mind? Gone. Clearly in a major way, because it took me halfway up the third hill to realize I was still hallucinating.
I should rephrase that; I was not upset at the idea that I was hallucinating, that was par for the course with everything that had happened, and could even be considered perfectly normal if not natural given the manner of my arrival. No, the problem was that having noticed it, I then immediately disregarded it like a rolled up candy wrapper that failed to make it into the trash.
I turned my attention back to it. Khepri. One word, white font and a little green bar next to it, that I must have initially missed, due to it being obscured by the grass as I had lain collapsed on my side.
I turned my head to better present it and it moved with the motion, like a lock of hair dangling in front of my eyes. Reaching for it proved no better, as it appeared to have all the material presence of Imp's sense of restraint...or Tattletale's for that matter. I closed my eyes, frustrated for a moment and when I opened them, it had disappeared from view; surprised I looked back for it and it reappeared.
So, only if I was actively paying attention to it then? Odd. It reminded me of nothing so much as one of the hud displays I saw when Dragon and Defiant showed off some of their work on the armor for the Dragon's Teeth.
Speaking of armor, I didn't have mine.
The recognition of this wasn't simply shocking, but actually arresting. With a sudden stop, I looked down at myself and noted that yes, I wasn't wearing the armor I had donned for the fight; in its place was a simple if well tailored pair of black pants and a grey shirt, around my waist was a belt and on it was a knife not terribly dissimilar to the one I had taken to wearing: likely part of the reason I hadn't noticed in the first place.
The weight was constant, familiar; between that and the realization that I was increasingly offloading control of my body to my passenger so I could concentrate on other things, it wasn't terribly surprising that I hadn't noticed. Frightening though. Not the idea of using my passenger to control my body, I had grown used to that, comfortable with it even, ever since I first confronted the idea in my time as Weaver.
No. It was the disassociation that bothered me; the way I treated myself as just another member of my swarm. Looking back over the last day or two it was disturbing the way I had grown so quickly used to the idea of it, of not being a person so much as a mass, a place even. It reminded me of Scion a little.
I might have lost myself like that, buried in a constant series of recriminations, if it wasn't for a loud snort that I heard off to my right.
It was a boar I noticed, even as I cursed the oversight; I had grown used to having insects scout the lay of the land for me, used to having a full degree of view to everything around me. Lacking that, I had none the less kept my eyes locked ahead, never moving my head - not so much unaware of my surroundings as failing to realize that I even had to be.
It was an oversight I grimly promised myself I wouldn't make again, as my passenger drew the knife at my belt.
And like that, it was as if a switch flipped. No worries. No concerns. Not over my passenger; nor where I was; nor how I got there. It was just me, my knife and this boar I was going to kill.
I saw it snort at me and paw at the ground. Letting it get sufficient momentum to charge could be lethal, so I attacked. Not from the front, that'd be too dangerous, but rather from the side - circling , where it's turn would take the most effort for the least gain.
'It's slow.' Was the first thought that passed through my mind as the boar tried to follow me with its head and more importantly its tusks. 'It's weak.' Was the second and it tasted almost like disappointment.
I've spent years fighting capes, ceaseless hours training myself to respond to Masters and their servants with a healthy understanding that they'll almost certainly be bigger, stronger and faster than anything I'm likely to bring to the table. Rachel alone has given me a good understanding of just how much damage one can do in a few short seconds. But this?
This wasn't a fight. It was an execution.
I grabbed onto one of it's tusks as it finished another turn; I pulled it's head up a little, eased the knife under it's chin and pushed hard with it on the bottom of its jaw. Like that it was over.
With a faint note of surprise I noticed an arrow briefly form over it's head before disappearing. Then the boar itself appeared as if to shatter. Before me was a white window with four lines of text. It read
Results
EXP: 48Col: 60
Items: 2
...What.
No. Seriously. What.
1.3
I refused to believe this. More than Armsmaster's punishment in the wake of Leviathan; more then Eidolon's versatility; more then even Contessa's power set. This right here? This was bullshit. It was bullshit after the first boar and it was bullshit after the second; it was bullshit after the last boar and it was still bullshit now.
With an angry motion I closed the window of the twenty fifth boar I'd killed so far. It was almost contemptibly easy to kill these things; one solid blow to the head and down they went, or if that wasn't feasible a few electronic looking lacerations to their side and they'd explode into pixels. But as dissatisfying as fighting these things could be, far worse was that even with these revelations I was no closer to finding out how I got here, why or even where here was.
Was this Dragon's work? Some kind of new Birdcage she had put together, after I had cracked the defenses on the last one so easily? Was I just floating in some tinker's jar, while my mind played this game, Dragon's final mercy to keep us inmates from going absolutely insane in our confinement?
Or almost worse, was this some kind of cape ability superimposed upon the world? It was the kind of thing I would have expected from Leet back in Brocton Bay if he had, had a second trigger and was now a Shaker 10. I'd say it was impossible, that even then it wasn't feasible, but I remembered the kind of effects Vista could do on an abandoned Earth Bet without the inhibitions of the Manton Effect. On an abandoned world with a half mad cape? It was an all too possible conclusion.
I looked to my upper left at the green bar beside my name. A little earlier, after a few minutes careful consideration I had hesitatingly let one of the boars get a weak shot at my side. My skin had appeared to peel away in a bright, red slash; however, despite what would have been a painful if negligent wound anywhere else, I didn't feel a thing. A bit of pressure, maybe an eighth of a hit to what I had tentatively taken to calling my health points and then nothing, I was for all intents and purposes fine.
Twenty minutes later, my health was still slowly inching its way back to one hundred percent; right now I'd call it maybe ninety six percent, another few minutes and it'd be like it never happened.
Scary. Terrifying really, but I hadn't encountered anything besides these boars and a few impossible looking terrain features, so I was going to tentatively call this a win. I still wasn't going to see what happened if I hit zero though. Maybe I'd respawn somewhere else. Maybe Dragon would swing by to berate me over my carelessness and behavior. Most likely I'd just fall down dead, some capes' idea of a black joke.
Angry, I turned back to the rolling hillside. Enough distractions. Either way this didn't change anything; either I still needed fresh water in spite of everything or I didn't; either I'd die if my bar dropped to zero or I wouldn't. I could only prepare for one of those eventualities, so I'd play it safe and run the risk that all of this was just a waste of time; I couldn't do anything less.
About an hour and another two dozen boars later, I finally managed to find a river. It was a little thing, curving idly between a pair of hillsides before ending in a small lake; half a mile to my east and I might have missed it, but in the end I had found it and the water was of such clarity that even six paces away I could count the small grey stones at the bottom.
I knelt at the edge and after a quick look around, dunked my head into the current. It was cool, like late spring even if the weather felt closer to mid summer, and it tasted as clean as it looked when I took a mouthful. It was...refreshing. So much so, that for a moment I regret not paying more attention to how thirsty I was before I reached the river.
When was the last time I had, had anything to drink? Not since before the Scion fight for sure; before the assault on Cauldron? Maybe? Time had started to blur together a little at the end, even before I had gone to Bonesaw and Panacea for some experimental brain surgery. Had I even realized I was thirsty, or did I merely reach this destination out of whatever remnants I could remember of survival training in the Wards?
Disturbing. I took another few minutes to drink; best to be sure.
Fortunately, it was only after I was finally getting settled, that the teleporter grabbed me.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Blue light. A brief feeling of movement. I was on my feet and had my knife out, before the light had finished fading. Six paces away and looking for targets by the time that it was gone.
City. I noticed absently. Still no insects. I thought with increasing frustration. "People" I actually said, surprised.
A lot of people, I thought bewildered as after a second or two I started to sheath my knife. I had expected a cape coming out of the teleport, maybe the still nebulous Shaker or even a small team. In my most pessimistic moment I had even expected the kind of angry crowd I'd seen when I had made my way through Cauldron's cells of Case 53s. What I got was nothing short of the teaming mass I'd left the Undersiders among; thousands of people, each almost shouting at his or her neighbor in a kind of casual confusion and bemusement.
It was that, which got me to put the knife away; not because I thought I was in any less danger from whoever this cape was, but because no one else was reacting in even remotely the same manner: in short, I was standing out.
These people were confused, but it wasn't in the same manner as myself, as someone who had just been abducted - rather, it was more in the manner of someone who had just been told by their superintendent that the hot water heater was broken and they'd have to take cold showers till Monday.
Surprised. Annoyed. Restless even. But afraid? Not that I could see.
Then, like a wave, the flow of emotion shifted; people looked up; others pointed. Above us a wide red hexagon had appeared, I couldn't read it from this far away, but it looked vaguely like a single word. In a flash of movement the one became six, then thirty, then the sky as an almost uncountable array of hexagons spread from one horizon to the other.
From between these it seemed to begin to rain, red and slowly at first - then, not so much as a rain shower, but as an ooze that seeped down and took the form of a large, red robed individual.
I got back out my knife.
"Attention, players." The red robed man spoke. "Welcome to my world, my name is Kayaba Akihiko and as of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world."
This...I was honestly expecting this. It looks like I had found the Shaker.
"I'm sure you've already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu; however, this is not a defect in the game. I repeat, this is not a defect in the game: it is a feature. You cannot log out of Sword Art Online yourselves and no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear. Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave destroying your brain and thus ending your life."
That got peoples' attention. You could see its impact as Kayaba's message made its way through the crowd. Shock. Disbelief. A stubborn insistence to the contrary. It was a familiar reaction and against all odds I actually felt my back start to unknot. It looked like the other shoe had finally dropped.
Kayaba continued his message: a casualty count of two hundred and thirteen, more than I expected, but less then I would have feared had I known; a demonstration of his impact and veracity, as electronic news agencies announced the deaths that had occurred across what appeared to be another Earth's Japan; a comfort and a carrot, even as he finally announced his goal.
Kill the beast that resides upon this floor. Kill the beasts that reside upon the next ninety nine. Never, ever let your health fall below zero. Do this if you wish to leave. Do this because I desire to see it. Simple. Neat. Easy.
I'd do it. I'd kill them. Then I'd kill him. In that moment, me and my passenger were in agreement.
It looks like in the end, Leet really had become a Shaker 10, and most of all?
I didn't need him for the next fight against Leviathan.
I refused to believe this. More than Armsmaster's punishment in the wake of Leviathan; more then Eidolon's versatility; more then even Contessa's power set. This right here? This was bullshit. It was bullshit after the first boar and it was bullshit after the second; it was bullshit after the last boar and it was still bullshit now.
With an angry motion I closed the window of the twenty fifth boar I'd killed so far. It was almost contemptibly easy to kill these things; one solid blow to the head and down they went, or if that wasn't feasible a few electronic looking lacerations to their side and they'd explode into pixels. But as dissatisfying as fighting these things could be, far worse was that even with these revelations I was no closer to finding out how I got here, why or even where here was.
Was this Dragon's work? Some kind of new Birdcage she had put together, after I had cracked the defenses on the last one so easily? Was I just floating in some tinker's jar, while my mind played this game, Dragon's final mercy to keep us inmates from going absolutely insane in our confinement?
Or almost worse, was this some kind of cape ability superimposed upon the world? It was the kind of thing I would have expected from Leet back in Brocton Bay if he had, had a second trigger and was now a Shaker 10. I'd say it was impossible, that even then it wasn't feasible, but I remembered the kind of effects Vista could do on an abandoned Earth Bet without the inhibitions of the Manton Effect. On an abandoned world with a half mad cape? It was an all too possible conclusion.
I looked to my upper left at the green bar beside my name. A little earlier, after a few minutes careful consideration I had hesitatingly let one of the boars get a weak shot at my side. My skin had appeared to peel away in a bright, red slash; however, despite what would have been a painful if negligent wound anywhere else, I didn't feel a thing. A bit of pressure, maybe an eighth of a hit to what I had tentatively taken to calling my health points and then nothing, I was for all intents and purposes fine.
Twenty minutes later, my health was still slowly inching its way back to one hundred percent; right now I'd call it maybe ninety six percent, another few minutes and it'd be like it never happened.
Scary. Terrifying really, but I hadn't encountered anything besides these boars and a few impossible looking terrain features, so I was going to tentatively call this a win. I still wasn't going to see what happened if I hit zero though. Maybe I'd respawn somewhere else. Maybe Dragon would swing by to berate me over my carelessness and behavior. Most likely I'd just fall down dead, some capes' idea of a black joke.
Angry, I turned back to the rolling hillside. Enough distractions. Either way this didn't change anything; either I still needed fresh water in spite of everything or I didn't; either I'd die if my bar dropped to zero or I wouldn't. I could only prepare for one of those eventualities, so I'd play it safe and run the risk that all of this was just a waste of time; I couldn't do anything less.
About an hour and another two dozen boars later, I finally managed to find a river. It was a little thing, curving idly between a pair of hillsides before ending in a small lake; half a mile to my east and I might have missed it, but in the end I had found it and the water was of such clarity that even six paces away I could count the small grey stones at the bottom.
I knelt at the edge and after a quick look around, dunked my head into the current. It was cool, like late spring even if the weather felt closer to mid summer, and it tasted as clean as it looked when I took a mouthful. It was...refreshing. So much so, that for a moment I regret not paying more attention to how thirsty I was before I reached the river.
When was the last time I had, had anything to drink? Not since before the Scion fight for sure; before the assault on Cauldron? Maybe? Time had started to blur together a little at the end, even before I had gone to Bonesaw and Panacea for some experimental brain surgery. Had I even realized I was thirsty, or did I merely reach this destination out of whatever remnants I could remember of survival training in the Wards?
Disturbing. I took another few minutes to drink; best to be sure.
Fortunately, it was only after I was finally getting settled, that the teleporter grabbed me.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Blue light. A brief feeling of movement. I was on my feet and had my knife out, before the light had finished fading. Six paces away and looking for targets by the time that it was gone.
City. I noticed absently. Still no insects. I thought with increasing frustration. "People" I actually said, surprised.
A lot of people, I thought bewildered as after a second or two I started to sheath my knife. I had expected a cape coming out of the teleport, maybe the still nebulous Shaker or even a small team. In my most pessimistic moment I had even expected the kind of angry crowd I'd seen when I had made my way through Cauldron's cells of Case 53s. What I got was nothing short of the teaming mass I'd left the Undersiders among; thousands of people, each almost shouting at his or her neighbor in a kind of casual confusion and bemusement.
It was that, which got me to put the knife away; not because I thought I was in any less danger from whoever this cape was, but because no one else was reacting in even remotely the same manner: in short, I was standing out.
These people were confused, but it wasn't in the same manner as myself, as someone who had just been abducted - rather, it was more in the manner of someone who had just been told by their superintendent that the hot water heater was broken and they'd have to take cold showers till Monday.
Surprised. Annoyed. Restless even. But afraid? Not that I could see.
Then, like a wave, the flow of emotion shifted; people looked up; others pointed. Above us a wide red hexagon had appeared, I couldn't read it from this far away, but it looked vaguely like a single word. In a flash of movement the one became six, then thirty, then the sky as an almost uncountable array of hexagons spread from one horizon to the other.
From between these it seemed to begin to rain, red and slowly at first - then, not so much as a rain shower, but as an ooze that seeped down and took the form of a large, red robed individual.
I got back out my knife.
"Attention, players." The red robed man spoke. "Welcome to my world, my name is Kayaba Akihiko and as of this moment, I am the sole person who can control this world."
This...I was honestly expecting this. It looks like I had found the Shaker.
"I'm sure you've already noticed that the logout button is missing from the main menu; however, this is not a defect in the game. I repeat, this is not a defect in the game: it is a feature. You cannot log out of Sword Art Online yourselves and no one on the outside can shut down or remove the NerveGear. Should this be attempted, the transmitter inside the NerveGear will emit a powerful microwave destroying your brain and thus ending your life."
That got peoples' attention. You could see its impact as Kayaba's message made its way through the crowd. Shock. Disbelief. A stubborn insistence to the contrary. It was a familiar reaction and against all odds I actually felt my back start to unknot. It looked like the other shoe had finally dropped.
Kayaba continued his message: a casualty count of two hundred and thirteen, more than I expected, but less then I would have feared had I known; a demonstration of his impact and veracity, as electronic news agencies announced the deaths that had occurred across what appeared to be another Earth's Japan; a comfort and a carrot, even as he finally announced his goal.
Kill the beast that resides upon this floor. Kill the beasts that reside upon the next ninety nine. Never, ever let your health fall below zero. Do this if you wish to leave. Do this because I desire to see it. Simple. Neat. Easy.
I'd do it. I'd kill them. Then I'd kill him. In that moment, me and my passenger were in agreement.
It looks like in the end, Leet really had become a Shaker 10, and most of all?
I didn't need him for the next fight against Leviathan.
1.4
Panic. Screaming. Hysterics. I couldn't stop any of it; I didn't have the reputation, didn't have the sheer presence I could have commanded as Skitter or Weaver, so in the end I didn't even try.
Had I my bugs, I could have at least used them to mark and isolate key players, individuals with knowledge or skills or even enough mental clarity to simply keep their head, but without my swarm I was without tools, without resources and any such individuals quickly fled to do their own thing.
Full-scale domination? No. I had failed to grab any kind of mental hold over the crush of panicking people, despite how close we had come in the growing riot. Whether that was the fault of Kayaba Akihiko or not, I couldn't say. Didn't matter.
In part because I already knew what I had to do first, something so simple and obvious that most people probably dismissed it out of hand. I was going to read the manual.
I'd seen it in the closing act of Kayaba's tutorial; the thing I'd been missing all this time: the motions necessary to bring up the menu. Three fingers straight. The lowest two curled. Hand comes up. Hand goes down. There on the main menu, right below the button showing Options was another clearly labeled Help. I pushed it.
I felt my passenger guide my body to an out of the way alley as I quickly skimmed the help menu. Sword Skills. Items. Equipment. How they worked, where I could find them, a basic overview of the interface and the various systems of the game, it was all here, broken down in simple, easy to read instructions that spelt out exactly what you needed to know.
First, I checked my Status. Two hundred and fifty out of two hundred and fifty health; below that, two stats label Strength and Agility that I could already feel myself mentally renaming Brute and Mover. Short version? That's what they did. The long version? They did that and a whole hell of a lot more. Agility, for example covered not only a base movement speed, but the multiplier for critical hits against opponents, the extent the system assist would help with certain movements and even something as simple as the amount of time the system would determine you could go before you started to feel yourself growing hungry. Apparently high strength users also had large stomachs.
My experience points were beneath both of those, I took a quick look and judging by how full the little grey bar was, I was about a fourth of the way to level two. Not what I was hoping I'd be at, given all those boars I'd killed, but I could work with it.
Weight capacity was beneath that, but that particular bar was so empty I had a little difficulty even determining it had filled, as such I made a note to ignore negligible items for now and clicked my way down to Skills.
According to what I read in the help menu, there were hundreds, potentially thousands of these skills; some of them had prerequisites, while others could only be achieved through complicated quest lines. This was supposedly where the meat of the game lay, but I didn't care about any of that, not yet anyway; I only had two available skill slots at my current level, and while I could switch skills in and out of them at my own discretion, realistically there were two specific skills that simply had to be there.
The first of those was 1 handed short swords; had I known about it at the start I could have gotten a jumpstart on increasing it's score, as it was, it was still at zero and contributing absolutely nothing to the amount of damage I could feasibly do with the dagger on my belt.
The second skill that had to be there was called searching; as searching covered not only my ability to spot hiding monsters, but more importantly players as well, it'd be crucial if I was to avoid any ambushes in the resulting riot that had begun to sweep the area around this city. Desperate strangers; ruthless opportunists; everything in a radius of five kilometers was about to be swept up in a kind of deliberate anarchy that I hadn't seen since the wake of Leviathan, and if I wasn't prepared to confront its pitfalls, I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere long before I even saw the first of Kayaba's Floor Bosses.
That done, I checked my funds; I had a little less than three thousand of the local currency from all those boars I'd killed, I'd hit up whatever local, system-run shops I could, kit up to the best of my ability and then grind levels until I was ready to drop.
If we inmates wanted any kind of chance at surviving Kayaba's prison, then we would need to work together; however, in order to help facilitate that, first I'd need a reputation. And as I had learned during my time as both Skitter and Weaver, the best reputations were first built on a foundation of fear and power.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
If tinker gear had been this cheap back in Brockton Bay, I would have cleaned up The Pure and Fenrir's Chosen in a week and a half. Tops.
Boots that can increase your mover rating? They had that. Rings that could bestow a regeneration effect? Pick any two and you'd get this dandy Brute enhancing cape for free. It was ridiculous; this was the kind of gear that parahumans would risk and had sold their lives to get - half the reason Cauldron grew so powerful was that they maintained a monopoly for almost twenty years on this kind of product. The only reason Saint was powerful, was this kind of product.
In the end, I bought the boots. Twenty seven hundred and they'd knock my agility up another two points; I had thought about something that would let me deal more damage quicker, but anything that could decrease the time between fights would be more likely to aid me in the long run.
Someone else thought so too.
"A good choice. It has been my experience that agility scales much more beneficially than strength on the lower floors; it isn't until at least the fifth that it becomes worthwhile to attempt to parry anything."
I looked over, even as I regret the necessity of the motion. Sword at his waist; tall; long grey hair tied back in a pony tail; a solid build, etched by age; all in all he looked like someone my father would know, a well groomed dock worker past his prime. I frowned, "You shouldn't say things like that, you know; people might take it poorly given recent events."
He looked confused, so I elaborated, "The only way you'd know something like that is if you'd worked on this project; most people would take that personally."
He leaned back, as if honestly surprised at such a response, "Really?"
"Yes," I responded absently as I turned away and began to equip my purchase. As soon as I finished the command, a flash of light similar to that which brought me here appeared around my feet; when it fled a pair of black boots were left behind.
"Ah," I heard a rustle of cloth. Looking back, the man was bent slightly at the waist, "in that case, thank you for the advice." With a smooth motion he returned to his earlier stance, "It is as you say, I was in fact a beta tester for this game for a number of months; please, call me Heathcliff."
What was this, I thought to myself? Why was this man talking to me? I'd already seen those with actual prior experience; they had, as a whole, taken off like a bat out of hell the second Kayaba had finished his introduction. Most likely rushing off to lay claim to the richest pastures and the limited resources if I didn't miss my guess. Was this Heathcliff faking his experience? A naive man, trying to build his own reputation up by assembling an entourage of supposedly less experienced players? Or was it something less innocent? Setting the foundations to a gang maybe?
If so, there was some merit to the idea; with everyone roughly equal in strength at the moment he could make a great head start with violence or the threat of it. Ultimately, it wouldn't be too dissimilar to the tactics the ABB used to practice before Bakuda came along: pressure a prospective member to accept your 'invitation' with superior numbers, force him to commit a few small petty crimes and at the end of the day shared guilt would make him reluctant to rat out his fellow gang members.
Of course, first he'd need those superior numbers.
"Khepri." Though my mouth was the one to shape the word, it was my passenger that actually said it; at some point, I'd grown lost in thought and now that I was paying attention, I could see the edges of impatience start to smooth out from around Heathcliff's eyes.
With names exchanged, Heathcliff gave an affected cough - like he was trying to imitate embarrassment, but lacked the skill to make it come off as natural, "I realize this might be a bit forward, but would you be interested in a dangerous if rewarding opportunity?"
I was right. Here it came. The sales pitch. Looking back he'd been working up to it for a little while now, but the question still remained as to the form it would take, "Just get to the point."
Heathcliff smiled at that, at my bluntness; with a mental shake like a dog shedding fleas, his aura of kindness and casual approachability fled. In it's place was a kind of abrupt hardness, that appeared almost honest in its stark candor, "I want you to help me kill a Field Boss."
The words echoed in the empty street between us, uninterrupted save for the sounds of faint shouting a few alleys away.
Panic. Screaming. Hysterics. I couldn't stop any of it; I didn't have the reputation, didn't have the sheer presence I could have commanded as Skitter or Weaver, so in the end I didn't even try.
Had I my bugs, I could have at least used them to mark and isolate key players, individuals with knowledge or skills or even enough mental clarity to simply keep their head, but without my swarm I was without tools, without resources and any such individuals quickly fled to do their own thing.
Full-scale domination? No. I had failed to grab any kind of mental hold over the crush of panicking people, despite how close we had come in the growing riot. Whether that was the fault of Kayaba Akihiko or not, I couldn't say. Didn't matter.
In part because I already knew what I had to do first, something so simple and obvious that most people probably dismissed it out of hand. I was going to read the manual.
I'd seen it in the closing act of Kayaba's tutorial; the thing I'd been missing all this time: the motions necessary to bring up the menu. Three fingers straight. The lowest two curled. Hand comes up. Hand goes down. There on the main menu, right below the button showing Options was another clearly labeled Help. I pushed it.
I felt my passenger guide my body to an out of the way alley as I quickly skimmed the help menu. Sword Skills. Items. Equipment. How they worked, where I could find them, a basic overview of the interface and the various systems of the game, it was all here, broken down in simple, easy to read instructions that spelt out exactly what you needed to know.
First, I checked my Status. Two hundred and fifty out of two hundred and fifty health; below that, two stats label Strength and Agility that I could already feel myself mentally renaming Brute and Mover. Short version? That's what they did. The long version? They did that and a whole hell of a lot more. Agility, for example covered not only a base movement speed, but the multiplier for critical hits against opponents, the extent the system assist would help with certain movements and even something as simple as the amount of time the system would determine you could go before you started to feel yourself growing hungry. Apparently high strength users also had large stomachs.
My experience points were beneath both of those, I took a quick look and judging by how full the little grey bar was, I was about a fourth of the way to level two. Not what I was hoping I'd be at, given all those boars I'd killed, but I could work with it.
Weight capacity was beneath that, but that particular bar was so empty I had a little difficulty even determining it had filled, as such I made a note to ignore negligible items for now and clicked my way down to Skills.
According to what I read in the help menu, there were hundreds, potentially thousands of these skills; some of them had prerequisites, while others could only be achieved through complicated quest lines. This was supposedly where the meat of the game lay, but I didn't care about any of that, not yet anyway; I only had two available skill slots at my current level, and while I could switch skills in and out of them at my own discretion, realistically there were two specific skills that simply had to be there.
The first of those was 1 handed short swords; had I known about it at the start I could have gotten a jumpstart on increasing it's score, as it was, it was still at zero and contributing absolutely nothing to the amount of damage I could feasibly do with the dagger on my belt.
The second skill that had to be there was called searching; as searching covered not only my ability to spot hiding monsters, but more importantly players as well, it'd be crucial if I was to avoid any ambushes in the resulting riot that had begun to sweep the area around this city. Desperate strangers; ruthless opportunists; everything in a radius of five kilometers was about to be swept up in a kind of deliberate anarchy that I hadn't seen since the wake of Leviathan, and if I wasn't prepared to confront its pitfalls, I'd be dead in a ditch somewhere long before I even saw the first of Kayaba's Floor Bosses.
That done, I checked my funds; I had a little less than three thousand of the local currency from all those boars I'd killed, I'd hit up whatever local, system-run shops I could, kit up to the best of my ability and then grind levels until I was ready to drop.
If we inmates wanted any kind of chance at surviving Kayaba's prison, then we would need to work together; however, in order to help facilitate that, first I'd need a reputation. And as I had learned during my time as both Skitter and Weaver, the best reputations were first built on a foundation of fear and power.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
If tinker gear had been this cheap back in Brockton Bay, I would have cleaned up The Pure and Fenrir's Chosen in a week and a half. Tops.
Boots that can increase your mover rating? They had that. Rings that could bestow a regeneration effect? Pick any two and you'd get this dandy Brute enhancing cape for free. It was ridiculous; this was the kind of gear that parahumans would risk and had sold their lives to get - half the reason Cauldron grew so powerful was that they maintained a monopoly for almost twenty years on this kind of product. The only reason Saint was powerful, was this kind of product.
In the end, I bought the boots. Twenty seven hundred and they'd knock my agility up another two points; I had thought about something that would let me deal more damage quicker, but anything that could decrease the time between fights would be more likely to aid me in the long run.
Someone else thought so too.
"A good choice. It has been my experience that agility scales much more beneficially than strength on the lower floors; it isn't until at least the fifth that it becomes worthwhile to attempt to parry anything."
I looked over, even as I regret the necessity of the motion. Sword at his waist; tall; long grey hair tied back in a pony tail; a solid build, etched by age; all in all he looked like someone my father would know, a well groomed dock worker past his prime. I frowned, "You shouldn't say things like that, you know; people might take it poorly given recent events."
He looked confused, so I elaborated, "The only way you'd know something like that is if you'd worked on this project; most people would take that personally."
He leaned back, as if honestly surprised at such a response, "Really?"
"Yes," I responded absently as I turned away and began to equip my purchase. As soon as I finished the command, a flash of light similar to that which brought me here appeared around my feet; when it fled a pair of black boots were left behind.
"Ah," I heard a rustle of cloth. Looking back, the man was bent slightly at the waist, "in that case, thank you for the advice." With a smooth motion he returned to his earlier stance, "It is as you say, I was in fact a beta tester for this game for a number of months; please, call me Heathcliff."
What was this, I thought to myself? Why was this man talking to me? I'd already seen those with actual prior experience; they had, as a whole, taken off like a bat out of hell the second Kayaba had finished his introduction. Most likely rushing off to lay claim to the richest pastures and the limited resources if I didn't miss my guess. Was this Heathcliff faking his experience? A naive man, trying to build his own reputation up by assembling an entourage of supposedly less experienced players? Or was it something less innocent? Setting the foundations to a gang maybe?
If so, there was some merit to the idea; with everyone roughly equal in strength at the moment he could make a great head start with violence or the threat of it. Ultimately, it wouldn't be too dissimilar to the tactics the ABB used to practice before Bakuda came along: pressure a prospective member to accept your 'invitation' with superior numbers, force him to commit a few small petty crimes and at the end of the day shared guilt would make him reluctant to rat out his fellow gang members.
Of course, first he'd need those superior numbers.
"Khepri." Though my mouth was the one to shape the word, it was my passenger that actually said it; at some point, I'd grown lost in thought and now that I was paying attention, I could see the edges of impatience start to smooth out from around Heathcliff's eyes.
With names exchanged, Heathcliff gave an affected cough - like he was trying to imitate embarrassment, but lacked the skill to make it come off as natural, "I realize this might be a bit forward, but would you be interested in a dangerous if rewarding opportunity?"
I was right. Here it came. The sales pitch. Looking back he'd been working up to it for a little while now, but the question still remained as to the form it would take, "Just get to the point."
Heathcliff smiled at that, at my bluntness; with a mental shake like a dog shedding fleas, his aura of kindness and casual approachability fled. In it's place was a kind of abrupt hardness, that appeared almost honest in its stark candor, "I want you to help me kill a Field Boss."
The words echoed in the empty street between us, uninterrupted save for the sounds of faint shouting a few alleys away.
1.5
I raised my voice to be heard over the wind as we sprinted out the eastern gate, "Give me the long version."
Heathcliff didn't hesitate as he kept pace at my side, "Back in the beta, there was a valley that you could access, provided you were willing to go rather out of your way. It wasn't particularly dangerous in and of itself, but the travel time was almost absurd given this world's nature as a game."
I could accept that a rogue tinker had managed to trick a significant portion of the population into participating in a death match designed to look like an MMO, but part of the way he said that bothered me. "Don't call it that," I interrupted as we made our way through the countryside, "This world was a game; it became reality when Kayaba killed two hundred people to make it real."
Heathcliff gave me an odd look as I said that, but his face grew solemn when I finished, "I apologize; I misspoke."
I didn't respond. As far as I was concerned the matter was handled; Heathcliff must have thought so as well, because he continued with barely a pause, "It may not look it, but the further east you head on this Floor the more rugged the terrain becomes; eventually, the hillside will become almost indistinguishable from a small mountain range. Between two of these mountains there will be a sharp cleft that leads to a broken tower; you'll know it when you enter it, because a window will appear before you, announcing it as the Ruined Cleft."
Heathcliff shook his head, "We will not be going that way. Instead, located in the rock face of the cleft there is a cave; if we enter it and follow it to its end, it will lead us to a small, lush valley where the Field Boss resides."
Seemed too simple. "What's the catch," I asked.
"Originally?" Heathcliff questioned. "Location. The cave we are looking for is not located at the base of the cleft, but rather sixty meters above our head. Finding it was the challenge the first time, not defeating the boss that resided beyond it. For us however, it will be the other way around; I already know where the cave is located and while the climb will be time consuming, it should not prove deadly unless you fall."
Sixty meters. That was a pretty lackadaisical way to describe what was basically a twelve story free climb; small wonder he hadn't found any takers for his scheme until he reached me. I said as much.
"Yes, most people who were willing to hear me out, tended to stop listening at that point." Heathcliff smiled grimly, "Still, I meant what I said; it is the boss that will prove difficult for us, not the climb."
Conversation paused for a few moments as we broke to kill some kind of large goat that had bounded up a nearby hill, only to attack us. Heathcliff caught it's initial charge on his sword and I slipped around from the side to cut it from the belly to the back, while its momentum was arrested.
We both cleared our windows after it shattered into pixels and pressed on.
"You see that?" Heathcliff gestured up and to his left; I didn't see what he was talking about, until I inferred he was referring to the health bar. Looking over, I noticed that there below my own bar was another labeled Heathcliff; also, though I could not recall him having been hit by the goat, his health was a few slivers shy of being full.
I made the connection, "From when you parried the goat?"
"Yes," Heathcliff nodded. "A bad habit that; I told you it wasn't efficient to parry until the fifth floor? That's why. Unless you have a truly overwhelming weight advantage, you will still take some damage when you parry an attack; by the fifth floor you have the kind of battle field regeneration to mitigate that to a degree, but until then it's just a good way to bleed out and die."
Useful information. "What's that mean for the Field Boss," I asked.
Heathcliff bounded down from atop the hill next to me, "It means we dodge; we dodge a lot. The Field Boss isn't strong, he was simply intended as a throwaway fight to cap off the player's adventure; that means we can take him even at our current level; however, for us it won't be a simple encounter."
"But doable," I argued.
"But doable," he agreed.
We continued to run in silence for a minute, finally Heathcliff spoke, "It may be a bit late in coming, but I feel I must thank you for agreeing to help me with this. Had I attempted this fight without your aid, I likely would have died."
Surprising. Heathcliff didn't seem like a man who was used to apologizing or being grateful for anything, and as I listened I could tell that the words cost him a little. To be honest, he reminded me a little of Armsmaster or Defiant that way. Maybe a little bit of both: Armsmaster when he was trying to play the political game earlier, despite having little talent at it; Defiant, now that he could get down to business without having to pretend to be sociable about it.
"Don't mention it." He looked about to protest, so I interrupted, "No, seriously, don't; I'm hardly doing this out of the kindness of my heart, so your thanks aren't warranted."
Harsh, but true. I didn't know what kind of experience a Field Boss would reward, but it was almost certainly less then what I could grind around here. I took a look around, and although my view was blocked by the increasingly steep hillsides, I was willing to lay money down that we were the only people for at least a quarter of a mile around. If I stopped and just killed every goat, boar and beaver I could find, I'd likely be able to make four times the kind of reward I'd expect from this sojourn in half the time.
But I wasn't here for the experience. I was here for the item drop.
I had agreed to Heathcliff's proposal, before he could pitch me his sell back at that side street shop - in part, because I just didn't want to hear it. To see another person selfishly taking advantage of a crisis situation just to advance their own agenda? Anti-violence field or not, I might have tried to cut him down where he stood.
But the other half of the reason? It didn't matter. I knew why he was here; the help menu had explained it fairly clearly. All field and floor bosses dropped powerful gear to the individual who delivered the killing blow.
Heathcliff was here because he wanted that gear.
Too bad; I did too.
That's why Heathcliff shouldn't thank me and that's why I had told him as much.
The only real question left in my mind...was whether or not he'd try to kill me after I got that drop.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It took us about an hour total to reach the Ruined Cleft and another twenty minutes to find the cave in question. We had killed a few more animals between the city and here, but looking at my menu I was really starting to get the feeling that my time could have been better spent.
With a sharp motion of my hand, I closed the window and looked up at the cave. No use having regrets. Not yet.
Glancing over, I saw Heathcliff warming up at my side. Personally? I really didn't see the point. Why warm up in a world that couldn't - or at least wouldn't model pain?
"To get myself in the right headspace," Heathcliff gave a small grin at that and clapped me on the shoulder, "half the difficulty of a climb like this is thinking you can't do it, or panicking or getting overconfident. Now more than ever it's important to treat this as real."
I didn't get that. Not at all. The cliff in front of me? Indistinguishable from one I might have found around the portal in Earth Gimel. The rough feeling of the stones in the wall, the shadows it cast in the fading light of the day - even the specific way the wind blew through the cleft we were in: all of it was exactly as I would have expected it to be, were we not in this prison.
"Let's get this done," I said.
Even though I said that, I still took a few minutes to get a feel for how I wanted to make my climb. It'd be crucial to pick a route the first time that had sufficient hand holds to carry me up to the cave; otherwise, I'd have to spend a significant amount of time backtracking and I'd already lost enough on this venture as it was.
Finally satisfied with my route, I took a brief run to build up some speed and leapt at the cliff face. The first hand hold I wanted was about seven feet up the wall - a little high for an initial start, but it led to some easier positions further up the climb and I was certain I had the necessary height to make it work for me.
My fingers scrambled to find a hold as I felt the side of my face collide with the stone, but this wasn't the first time I'd tried something like this and it only took a moment for those memories to come rushing back.
The first time I'd ever gone rock climbing was back in the Wards. My time as Skitter had taught me a great many things about capes, the PRT and even people in general, but it wasn't until I entered the Wards that I actually gained a lot of the more subtle skills of heroing. Mountain climbing; survival training in extreme conditions; deep sea and underwater combat; the Wards was more about preparing us for what we'd need to do and where we'd need to go as full members of the Protectorate. At least, it was before I had endeavored to change things up a little. While I didn't regret taking the fight to villains all across the U.S., I had to admit, there were some perks to the original way of doing things.
Things like showing me how to keep myself from falling forty meters when I didn't have a harness or equipment close to hand. I pressed the fingers of my right hand into a deep groove in the rock, while I leveraged myself up with my feet and my left. It was still taking me a bit by surprise that - the extra hand I mean. I may have only lost it for a short time, but I had quickly grown used to its absence in a lot of ways. It was like losing my spiders I suppose; some of my combat potential may have dropped and I'd miss it sure, but there were ways to work around it and it wasn't like I couldn't make do in the mean time, until I found another.
I looked down where Heathcliff was climbing beneath me. Initially he had taken a route that started a little lower and curved around a bit, but it seemed to be working for him and we were making good time; another fifteen minutes and we were climbing over the edge of the cleft wall to the entrance of the cave.
"Anything we need to kill between here and the Field Boss," I asked Heathcliff as we took a minute to rest inside the cavern and recover mentally, if not physically, from the climb.
Heathcliff held his palm out flat and wiggled his wrist, "A few animals; some birds we might have to bait closer, before we can attack them: nothing we haven't already encountered and dealt with on our way here."
Good news. We weren't likely to be granted a reprieve if we made any mistakes during this encounter. Mistakes like getting blindsided by another boar. We'd get one shot at this; time to do or die.
I felt my passenger carry my body through the cave and out into the valley beyond as I kept my eyes peeled for threats. I'd like to say it was a profound, moving experience, seeing that little green valley high up in the hills - the way the soft reds and pinks of the fading day gave everything a kind of rosy bloom as we made our way to our appointed battle.
But it wasn't. It didn't.
It was just more of the same basic scenery I had been seeing all day, and the only thing the twilight was doing, was urging me to hurry before we had to fight this thing in the dark without any of the insects I'd normally rely on for that kind of thing.
Perhaps more importantly, I still wasn't seeing any of the wild animals Heathcliff had mentioned, "Is it just me...or does this valley seem rather barren to you?"
Heathcliff frowned, "I suppose it's possible someone beat us here, though it's also just as likely that this valley was altered between the beta and the official release."
If this was a wild goose chase I was going to hurt something. Not Heathcliff; it wouldn't be his fault, but I was willing to bet I could find something small, angry and violent that deserved it somewhere nearby.
Heathcliff spoke up beside me, "Do you hear that?"
I listened. It took me a moment, but I did; it sounded like metal knocking against itself. "Looks like Kayaba didn't change things after all; we were just late."
The words came out flat, but I could taste the bitterness on my tongue; Heathcliff sighed, disappointed as well, "We might as well see this through to the end."
It was a dumb risk. Whoever we met would be just as wary of opportunists as I was. Even if they didn't meet us with outright violence, our welcome would be hostile to say the least. Still, fuck it; I was angry. I agreed.
It took a minute or two to make it past the hillside that had obscured our view of the fight, but as we crested the top I felt myself stiffen in surprise.
Brute 4 / Mover 1.
That was my first reaction, clear and unadorned as it was. It was only afterwards as I watched a brown haired young man clash blades with a mountain of flesh, that I noticed the more tertiary details: five hundred pounds, leathery blue skin, a reach maybe twice the size of mine and a hammer that he swung about with great gusto. I focused and a red arrow appeared above his head along with two health bars and a name; this was the Ruined Kobold Smith.
He was also mostly dead; of the two health bars that accompanied his name, the first was completely depleted and the second had maybe twenty percent remaining. Looking down, I could see he wasn't the only one.
Beneath us two young men stood before the field boss, but while they had appeared to have put on a good show initially, they had inevitably made that one fatal mistake. How did I know this? While still well into the green, the rear most of the pair had a bright little icon next to his health bar in the image of a small foot.
It was a maimed icon. At some point in the fight, that second young man had gotten overconfident or maybe just unlucky and the Ruined Kobold Smith across from him had crushed his leg flat with that massive war hammer of his.
Crippled by the damage, if not the pain that would normally have accompanied such a wound, the young blond man would be unable to do much more than try to crawl away from the Field Boss until his health regenerated sufficiently.
Not that the boss would allow that.
Hence the reason why the first swordsman was doing his level best to parry everything the Field Boss tried to dish out, despite being bled dry in the exchange; if he tried to leave, his teammate would die.
It wasn't a choice I envied him: do you run and leave a good friend to die, or do you stand your ground and try to finish an impossible fight anyway, even as you watch your life slowly slip away with each ringing blow.
As I took a second to watch the fight with Heathcliff a thought slipped into my mind almost without prompting.
We could kill these guys.
I stood and turned it over in my head as I watched the fight unfold.
It'd be simplicity itself to just wait until the Ruined Kobold Smith had killed the first swordsman. Then, while the kobold was distracted with the second I could ambush it from behind; deep in my heart, I knew I could grab that dropped gear before anyone knew what was happening. Alone? Wounded? The second swordsman wouldn't make a fuss. What's more, he'd be zero help if Heathcliff wanted to make a thing about it.
I looked down at the two young men; looked at the kobold; looked back up at Heathcliff; looked down again at the young men.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I jumped down the hill, my feet moving with precision as I descended the slope. The timing on this would be tough; not only was the second swordsman closer than I'd like to the first, but while the two were keyed up on the fight I couldn't discount one of them wouldn't take a swing at me in surprise.
I decided to go in low; the brunette didn't notice, but the blond fumbled for his weapon in surprise at my approach. Didn't matter; I took him hard in the chest as I made my pass, my arms wrapped around him and beneath his shoulders - practically carrying him as I forced us to put a good dozen meters between us and the fight.
As I came out of the tackle, I briefly noted we each took a little damage in the exchange, before looking back to see that Heathcliff hadn't hesitated to follow.
With a loud cry, the grey haired man practically leapt at the Field Boss from behind, the edge of the hill had given him sufficient height that when the glow of his sword skill finally released, his blade connected solidly with the back of the beast's head. I watched as the health bar above the field boss drained, emptied and shattered along with the kobold in a sharp chime that echoed about the field.
A window appeared before me; it said Congratulations at the top, but the words seemed mocking from where I stood.
I wasn't alone in the feeling.
"What the fuck is this," the first swordsman shouted in shock and indignation. His sword was still raised in anticipation of having to parry the kobold's next blow, and with a sharp slash he moved to point it at Heathcliff, "you kill stealing ass, where do you get off..."
"Ryu!" The exclamation came from beside me as the blond haired companion of the first swordsman braced himself against the ground with his hand, "Damn it all, don't pick a fight."
"I had that Kenta," Ryu shouted, loss tinting his voice as he glanced back at his teammate and seemed to pale for some reason. With a scream and a flash of light the young man unleashed a sword skill toward us that carried his body between myself and his friend faster than he might normally move.
I looked at both of them; the brunette glared at me, while the blond warily watched Heathcliff and I for any sudden moves.
Typical.
And to top it all off, Heathcliff got the kill in the end anyway; it was enough to make me want to walk away in disgust. Disgust in Heathcliff, for only caring about the item; disgust in these two swordsman, for being so hostile, despite the fact that it was Kayaba who was our true enemy; and most of all, disgust in myself, for expecting anything more.
Ryu glanced up and to the side in a movement that I was instinctually beginning to recognize as an examination of one's health points; when he looked back at us, his frown deepened if anything, "So how's this going to work."
I was pissed; it was habit alone that kept it out of my tone, "You fuck the hell off."
Didn't do much for my language though.
Ryu grunted, and though he never took his eyes off us, he slowly sheathed his sword behind his back and reached down to support his teammate. Together, the two limped off into the hillside, neither relaxing until they were out of sight, if they bothered to at all.
Heathcliff stepped up beside me, "I can't imagine where they think they're going; the only entrance to this valley is a couple hundred meters behind us, back that a way." Heathcliff pointed over his shoulder to where we had first entered the valley; following his finger I noted that it was at an almost one hundred and fifty degree angle to the direction the two had decided to travel.
"Somewhere away from us," I replied. I didn't blame them; I didn't want to be here anymore either.
"Can you blame them," Heathcliff began, unexpectedly mirroring my thoughts; he pointed to somewhere above his own head, "if you haven't noticed you have a little something..."
He trailed off uncertainly as I stared flatly in his direction. Confused, but willing I looked up for a moment, but didn't see anything of note.
Heathcliff coughed as he realized his mistake, "Your cursor is orange," he said bluntly, "they likely thought you were a PK in the seconds following the fight."
"When...," the damage from when I had tackled the maimed swordsman out of the way I realized. I closed my mouth; the system Kayaba used must have registered my actions as an attack, even though my intent was to simply carry the blond from the fight.
I felt my anger drain away. Though I still wanted to be angry at them, I could see the situation from their point of view: two unknowns who came swooping in while they were injured and at a disadvantage; one slays the monster they'd likely tried for hours to kill, stealing their reward; the other, a villain, stands over an injured teammate, as if to hold him hostage.
It sounded like the kind of operation I would have carried off with the Undersiders as Skitter - in fact, I was almost positive I'd done something exactly like that, though the specifics escaped me at the moment.
I felt a flash of panic at that, one totally out of proportion to what was at best a tangential lapse. I didn't care; I hunted through my memories, almost beside myself. Bend the Knee. The words came unbidden from my passenger and I remembered: Imp; Regent; the operation we had carried out against both The Fallen and Haven had ended much like that.
My heart beat eased; my breathing relaxed.
I heard the unmistakable chime of a menu opening. Startled, I looked over and Heathcliff had his visible; it was set to universal transparency and his index finger had been briskly paging through sub folders, while I was distracted. With a quick staccato, he double clicked on something, and just as he finished a bright blue light appeared between his hands.
It was a knife, narrow and maybe eight inches long; it was sharpened on both sides and tapered slowly to a point before a grip wrapped in blue leather. There was no hilt.
With a smile Heathcliff handed it to me, "Here; I never wanted to mention it least you feel pressured into accepting my party invitation, but I was never interested in the Last Attack Bonus this particular Field Boss dropped."
Almost hesitant, I accepted the blade; I didn't check what it would grant to my Mover or Brute rating, but I was willing to bet it was substantial. I looked up, "Why do this?"
Heathcliff double clicked on another item and a set of rugged looking leather armor appeared over his frame. It was tough looking stuff, consisting of a breast plate, a set of bracers and a pair of hardened pauldrons, "For the armor. The weapons the Field Boss drops are good for the floor, but they aren't anything that can't be found somewhere else when you come right down to it - rather it's the armor he grants to each member of the party that's really worth the effort."
With a sharp tap of his fist he hit the pauldron on his left shoulder, "You see, this is the only mob on this floor that will drop a pauldron type piece of equipment; even if it's attached to a slightly more mediocre breast plate and pair of bracers, overall it's a superior piece of gear to just about anything around."
I didn't know what to say to that.
No. That's a lie. I did know what to say to that; I was to say 'I'm Sorry.' I didn't want to, but I should.
I opened my mouth...and closed it. I tried again, but nothing came out.
Passenger, I asked?
Nothing. My movements were my own.
I...I couldn't do it.
Heathcliff said something; sent me a friend request, that I absentmindedly accepted; walked away.
I watched him go as I stood starring almost slack jawed in that valley.
For the first time since I arrived in this world, I didn't know what to do.
I raised my voice to be heard over the wind as we sprinted out the eastern gate, "Give me the long version."
Heathcliff didn't hesitate as he kept pace at my side, "Back in the beta, there was a valley that you could access, provided you were willing to go rather out of your way. It wasn't particularly dangerous in and of itself, but the travel time was almost absurd given this world's nature as a game."
I could accept that a rogue tinker had managed to trick a significant portion of the population into participating in a death match designed to look like an MMO, but part of the way he said that bothered me. "Don't call it that," I interrupted as we made our way through the countryside, "This world was a game; it became reality when Kayaba killed two hundred people to make it real."
Heathcliff gave me an odd look as I said that, but his face grew solemn when I finished, "I apologize; I misspoke."
I didn't respond. As far as I was concerned the matter was handled; Heathcliff must have thought so as well, because he continued with barely a pause, "It may not look it, but the further east you head on this Floor the more rugged the terrain becomes; eventually, the hillside will become almost indistinguishable from a small mountain range. Between two of these mountains there will be a sharp cleft that leads to a broken tower; you'll know it when you enter it, because a window will appear before you, announcing it as the Ruined Cleft."
Heathcliff shook his head, "We will not be going that way. Instead, located in the rock face of the cleft there is a cave; if we enter it and follow it to its end, it will lead us to a small, lush valley where the Field Boss resides."
Seemed too simple. "What's the catch," I asked.
"Originally?" Heathcliff questioned. "Location. The cave we are looking for is not located at the base of the cleft, but rather sixty meters above our head. Finding it was the challenge the first time, not defeating the boss that resided beyond it. For us however, it will be the other way around; I already know where the cave is located and while the climb will be time consuming, it should not prove deadly unless you fall."
Sixty meters. That was a pretty lackadaisical way to describe what was basically a twelve story free climb; small wonder he hadn't found any takers for his scheme until he reached me. I said as much.
"Yes, most people who were willing to hear me out, tended to stop listening at that point." Heathcliff smiled grimly, "Still, I meant what I said; it is the boss that will prove difficult for us, not the climb."
Conversation paused for a few moments as we broke to kill some kind of large goat that had bounded up a nearby hill, only to attack us. Heathcliff caught it's initial charge on his sword and I slipped around from the side to cut it from the belly to the back, while its momentum was arrested.
We both cleared our windows after it shattered into pixels and pressed on.
"You see that?" Heathcliff gestured up and to his left; I didn't see what he was talking about, until I inferred he was referring to the health bar. Looking over, I noticed that there below my own bar was another labeled Heathcliff; also, though I could not recall him having been hit by the goat, his health was a few slivers shy of being full.
I made the connection, "From when you parried the goat?"
"Yes," Heathcliff nodded. "A bad habit that; I told you it wasn't efficient to parry until the fifth floor? That's why. Unless you have a truly overwhelming weight advantage, you will still take some damage when you parry an attack; by the fifth floor you have the kind of battle field regeneration to mitigate that to a degree, but until then it's just a good way to bleed out and die."
Useful information. "What's that mean for the Field Boss," I asked.
Heathcliff bounded down from atop the hill next to me, "It means we dodge; we dodge a lot. The Field Boss isn't strong, he was simply intended as a throwaway fight to cap off the player's adventure; that means we can take him even at our current level; however, for us it won't be a simple encounter."
"But doable," I argued.
"But doable," he agreed.
We continued to run in silence for a minute, finally Heathcliff spoke, "It may be a bit late in coming, but I feel I must thank you for agreeing to help me with this. Had I attempted this fight without your aid, I likely would have died."
Surprising. Heathcliff didn't seem like a man who was used to apologizing or being grateful for anything, and as I listened I could tell that the words cost him a little. To be honest, he reminded me a little of Armsmaster or Defiant that way. Maybe a little bit of both: Armsmaster when he was trying to play the political game earlier, despite having little talent at it; Defiant, now that he could get down to business without having to pretend to be sociable about it.
"Don't mention it." He looked about to protest, so I interrupted, "No, seriously, don't; I'm hardly doing this out of the kindness of my heart, so your thanks aren't warranted."
Harsh, but true. I didn't know what kind of experience a Field Boss would reward, but it was almost certainly less then what I could grind around here. I took a look around, and although my view was blocked by the increasingly steep hillsides, I was willing to lay money down that we were the only people for at least a quarter of a mile around. If I stopped and just killed every goat, boar and beaver I could find, I'd likely be able to make four times the kind of reward I'd expect from this sojourn in half the time.
But I wasn't here for the experience. I was here for the item drop.
I had agreed to Heathcliff's proposal, before he could pitch me his sell back at that side street shop - in part, because I just didn't want to hear it. To see another person selfishly taking advantage of a crisis situation just to advance their own agenda? Anti-violence field or not, I might have tried to cut him down where he stood.
But the other half of the reason? It didn't matter. I knew why he was here; the help menu had explained it fairly clearly. All field and floor bosses dropped powerful gear to the individual who delivered the killing blow.
Heathcliff was here because he wanted that gear.
Too bad; I did too.
That's why Heathcliff shouldn't thank me and that's why I had told him as much.
The only real question left in my mind...was whether or not he'd try to kill me after I got that drop.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
It took us about an hour total to reach the Ruined Cleft and another twenty minutes to find the cave in question. We had killed a few more animals between the city and here, but looking at my menu I was really starting to get the feeling that my time could have been better spent.
With a sharp motion of my hand, I closed the window and looked up at the cave. No use having regrets. Not yet.
Glancing over, I saw Heathcliff warming up at my side. Personally? I really didn't see the point. Why warm up in a world that couldn't - or at least wouldn't model pain?
"To get myself in the right headspace," Heathcliff gave a small grin at that and clapped me on the shoulder, "half the difficulty of a climb like this is thinking you can't do it, or panicking or getting overconfident. Now more than ever it's important to treat this as real."
I didn't get that. Not at all. The cliff in front of me? Indistinguishable from one I might have found around the portal in Earth Gimel. The rough feeling of the stones in the wall, the shadows it cast in the fading light of the day - even the specific way the wind blew through the cleft we were in: all of it was exactly as I would have expected it to be, were we not in this prison.
"Let's get this done," I said.
Even though I said that, I still took a few minutes to get a feel for how I wanted to make my climb. It'd be crucial to pick a route the first time that had sufficient hand holds to carry me up to the cave; otherwise, I'd have to spend a significant amount of time backtracking and I'd already lost enough on this venture as it was.
Finally satisfied with my route, I took a brief run to build up some speed and leapt at the cliff face. The first hand hold I wanted was about seven feet up the wall - a little high for an initial start, but it led to some easier positions further up the climb and I was certain I had the necessary height to make it work for me.
My fingers scrambled to find a hold as I felt the side of my face collide with the stone, but this wasn't the first time I'd tried something like this and it only took a moment for those memories to come rushing back.
The first time I'd ever gone rock climbing was back in the Wards. My time as Skitter had taught me a great many things about capes, the PRT and even people in general, but it wasn't until I entered the Wards that I actually gained a lot of the more subtle skills of heroing. Mountain climbing; survival training in extreme conditions; deep sea and underwater combat; the Wards was more about preparing us for what we'd need to do and where we'd need to go as full members of the Protectorate. At least, it was before I had endeavored to change things up a little. While I didn't regret taking the fight to villains all across the U.S., I had to admit, there were some perks to the original way of doing things.
Things like showing me how to keep myself from falling forty meters when I didn't have a harness or equipment close to hand. I pressed the fingers of my right hand into a deep groove in the rock, while I leveraged myself up with my feet and my left. It was still taking me a bit by surprise that - the extra hand I mean. I may have only lost it for a short time, but I had quickly grown used to its absence in a lot of ways. It was like losing my spiders I suppose; some of my combat potential may have dropped and I'd miss it sure, but there were ways to work around it and it wasn't like I couldn't make do in the mean time, until I found another.
I looked down where Heathcliff was climbing beneath me. Initially he had taken a route that started a little lower and curved around a bit, but it seemed to be working for him and we were making good time; another fifteen minutes and we were climbing over the edge of the cleft wall to the entrance of the cave.
"Anything we need to kill between here and the Field Boss," I asked Heathcliff as we took a minute to rest inside the cavern and recover mentally, if not physically, from the climb.
Heathcliff held his palm out flat and wiggled his wrist, "A few animals; some birds we might have to bait closer, before we can attack them: nothing we haven't already encountered and dealt with on our way here."
Good news. We weren't likely to be granted a reprieve if we made any mistakes during this encounter. Mistakes like getting blindsided by another boar. We'd get one shot at this; time to do or die.
I felt my passenger carry my body through the cave and out into the valley beyond as I kept my eyes peeled for threats. I'd like to say it was a profound, moving experience, seeing that little green valley high up in the hills - the way the soft reds and pinks of the fading day gave everything a kind of rosy bloom as we made our way to our appointed battle.
But it wasn't. It didn't.
It was just more of the same basic scenery I had been seeing all day, and the only thing the twilight was doing, was urging me to hurry before we had to fight this thing in the dark without any of the insects I'd normally rely on for that kind of thing.
Perhaps more importantly, I still wasn't seeing any of the wild animals Heathcliff had mentioned, "Is it just me...or does this valley seem rather barren to you?"
Heathcliff frowned, "I suppose it's possible someone beat us here, though it's also just as likely that this valley was altered between the beta and the official release."
If this was a wild goose chase I was going to hurt something. Not Heathcliff; it wouldn't be his fault, but I was willing to bet I could find something small, angry and violent that deserved it somewhere nearby.
Heathcliff spoke up beside me, "Do you hear that?"
I listened. It took me a moment, but I did; it sounded like metal knocking against itself. "Looks like Kayaba didn't change things after all; we were just late."
The words came out flat, but I could taste the bitterness on my tongue; Heathcliff sighed, disappointed as well, "We might as well see this through to the end."
It was a dumb risk. Whoever we met would be just as wary of opportunists as I was. Even if they didn't meet us with outright violence, our welcome would be hostile to say the least. Still, fuck it; I was angry. I agreed.
It took a minute or two to make it past the hillside that had obscured our view of the fight, but as we crested the top I felt myself stiffen in surprise.
Brute 4 / Mover 1.
That was my first reaction, clear and unadorned as it was. It was only afterwards as I watched a brown haired young man clash blades with a mountain of flesh, that I noticed the more tertiary details: five hundred pounds, leathery blue skin, a reach maybe twice the size of mine and a hammer that he swung about with great gusto. I focused and a red arrow appeared above his head along with two health bars and a name; this was the Ruined Kobold Smith.
He was also mostly dead; of the two health bars that accompanied his name, the first was completely depleted and the second had maybe twenty percent remaining. Looking down, I could see he wasn't the only one.
Beneath us two young men stood before the field boss, but while they had appeared to have put on a good show initially, they had inevitably made that one fatal mistake. How did I know this? While still well into the green, the rear most of the pair had a bright little icon next to his health bar in the image of a small foot.
It was a maimed icon. At some point in the fight, that second young man had gotten overconfident or maybe just unlucky and the Ruined Kobold Smith across from him had crushed his leg flat with that massive war hammer of his.
Crippled by the damage, if not the pain that would normally have accompanied such a wound, the young blond man would be unable to do much more than try to crawl away from the Field Boss until his health regenerated sufficiently.
Not that the boss would allow that.
Hence the reason why the first swordsman was doing his level best to parry everything the Field Boss tried to dish out, despite being bled dry in the exchange; if he tried to leave, his teammate would die.
It wasn't a choice I envied him: do you run and leave a good friend to die, or do you stand your ground and try to finish an impossible fight anyway, even as you watch your life slowly slip away with each ringing blow.
As I took a second to watch the fight with Heathcliff a thought slipped into my mind almost without prompting.
We could kill these guys.
I stood and turned it over in my head as I watched the fight unfold.
It'd be simplicity itself to just wait until the Ruined Kobold Smith had killed the first swordsman. Then, while the kobold was distracted with the second I could ambush it from behind; deep in my heart, I knew I could grab that dropped gear before anyone knew what was happening. Alone? Wounded? The second swordsman wouldn't make a fuss. What's more, he'd be zero help if Heathcliff wanted to make a thing about it.
I looked down at the two young men; looked at the kobold; looked back up at Heathcliff; looked down again at the young men.
Fuck.
Fuck!
I jumped down the hill, my feet moving with precision as I descended the slope. The timing on this would be tough; not only was the second swordsman closer than I'd like to the first, but while the two were keyed up on the fight I couldn't discount one of them wouldn't take a swing at me in surprise.
I decided to go in low; the brunette didn't notice, but the blond fumbled for his weapon in surprise at my approach. Didn't matter; I took him hard in the chest as I made my pass, my arms wrapped around him and beneath his shoulders - practically carrying him as I forced us to put a good dozen meters between us and the fight.
As I came out of the tackle, I briefly noted we each took a little damage in the exchange, before looking back to see that Heathcliff hadn't hesitated to follow.
With a loud cry, the grey haired man practically leapt at the Field Boss from behind, the edge of the hill had given him sufficient height that when the glow of his sword skill finally released, his blade connected solidly with the back of the beast's head. I watched as the health bar above the field boss drained, emptied and shattered along with the kobold in a sharp chime that echoed about the field.
A window appeared before me; it said Congratulations at the top, but the words seemed mocking from where I stood.
I wasn't alone in the feeling.
"What the fuck is this," the first swordsman shouted in shock and indignation. His sword was still raised in anticipation of having to parry the kobold's next blow, and with a sharp slash he moved to point it at Heathcliff, "you kill stealing ass, where do you get off..."
"Ryu!" The exclamation came from beside me as the blond haired companion of the first swordsman braced himself against the ground with his hand, "Damn it all, don't pick a fight."
"I had that Kenta," Ryu shouted, loss tinting his voice as he glanced back at his teammate and seemed to pale for some reason. With a scream and a flash of light the young man unleashed a sword skill toward us that carried his body between myself and his friend faster than he might normally move.
I looked at both of them; the brunette glared at me, while the blond warily watched Heathcliff and I for any sudden moves.
Typical.
And to top it all off, Heathcliff got the kill in the end anyway; it was enough to make me want to walk away in disgust. Disgust in Heathcliff, for only caring about the item; disgust in these two swordsman, for being so hostile, despite the fact that it was Kayaba who was our true enemy; and most of all, disgust in myself, for expecting anything more.
Ryu glanced up and to the side in a movement that I was instinctually beginning to recognize as an examination of one's health points; when he looked back at us, his frown deepened if anything, "So how's this going to work."
I was pissed; it was habit alone that kept it out of my tone, "You fuck the hell off."
Didn't do much for my language though.
Ryu grunted, and though he never took his eyes off us, he slowly sheathed his sword behind his back and reached down to support his teammate. Together, the two limped off into the hillside, neither relaxing until they were out of sight, if they bothered to at all.
Heathcliff stepped up beside me, "I can't imagine where they think they're going; the only entrance to this valley is a couple hundred meters behind us, back that a way." Heathcliff pointed over his shoulder to where we had first entered the valley; following his finger I noted that it was at an almost one hundred and fifty degree angle to the direction the two had decided to travel.
"Somewhere away from us," I replied. I didn't blame them; I didn't want to be here anymore either.
"Can you blame them," Heathcliff began, unexpectedly mirroring my thoughts; he pointed to somewhere above his own head, "if you haven't noticed you have a little something..."
He trailed off uncertainly as I stared flatly in his direction. Confused, but willing I looked up for a moment, but didn't see anything of note.
Heathcliff coughed as he realized his mistake, "Your cursor is orange," he said bluntly, "they likely thought you were a PK in the seconds following the fight."
"When...," the damage from when I had tackled the maimed swordsman out of the way I realized. I closed my mouth; the system Kayaba used must have registered my actions as an attack, even though my intent was to simply carry the blond from the fight.
I felt my anger drain away. Though I still wanted to be angry at them, I could see the situation from their point of view: two unknowns who came swooping in while they were injured and at a disadvantage; one slays the monster they'd likely tried for hours to kill, stealing their reward; the other, a villain, stands over an injured teammate, as if to hold him hostage.
It sounded like the kind of operation I would have carried off with the Undersiders as Skitter - in fact, I was almost positive I'd done something exactly like that, though the specifics escaped me at the moment.
I felt a flash of panic at that, one totally out of proportion to what was at best a tangential lapse. I didn't care; I hunted through my memories, almost beside myself. Bend the Knee. The words came unbidden from my passenger and I remembered: Imp; Regent; the operation we had carried out against both The Fallen and Haven had ended much like that.
My heart beat eased; my breathing relaxed.
I heard the unmistakable chime of a menu opening. Startled, I looked over and Heathcliff had his visible; it was set to universal transparency and his index finger had been briskly paging through sub folders, while I was distracted. With a quick staccato, he double clicked on something, and just as he finished a bright blue light appeared between his hands.
It was a knife, narrow and maybe eight inches long; it was sharpened on both sides and tapered slowly to a point before a grip wrapped in blue leather. There was no hilt.
With a smile Heathcliff handed it to me, "Here; I never wanted to mention it least you feel pressured into accepting my party invitation, but I was never interested in the Last Attack Bonus this particular Field Boss dropped."
Almost hesitant, I accepted the blade; I didn't check what it would grant to my Mover or Brute rating, but I was willing to bet it was substantial. I looked up, "Why do this?"
Heathcliff double clicked on another item and a set of rugged looking leather armor appeared over his frame. It was tough looking stuff, consisting of a breast plate, a set of bracers and a pair of hardened pauldrons, "For the armor. The weapons the Field Boss drops are good for the floor, but they aren't anything that can't be found somewhere else when you come right down to it - rather it's the armor he grants to each member of the party that's really worth the effort."
With a sharp tap of his fist he hit the pauldron on his left shoulder, "You see, this is the only mob on this floor that will drop a pauldron type piece of equipment; even if it's attached to a slightly more mediocre breast plate and pair of bracers, overall it's a superior piece of gear to just about anything around."
I didn't know what to say to that.
No. That's a lie. I did know what to say to that; I was to say 'I'm Sorry.' I didn't want to, but I should.
I opened my mouth...and closed it. I tried again, but nothing came out.
Passenger, I asked?
Nothing. My movements were my own.
I...I couldn't do it.
Heathcliff said something; sent me a friend request, that I absentmindedly accepted; walked away.
I watched him go as I stood starring almost slack jawed in that valley.
For the first time since I arrived in this world, I didn't know what to do.
1. I ????????
It had no voice, so it did not speak as it moved about its task. Cataloging. Comparing. Does this match; does this belong; is this value in excess? Ten thousand names against ten thousand numbers, each of which might encircle a small room. Again and again without respite, hesitation or doubt.
If it had a voice it would scream.
Because no matter how many times it ran those names, there was always a mistake: a name that stood out.
It tried comparing from the beginning of the list. It tried comparing from the end. It used a random number generator to pick names from a hat. Every time the list would run through without problems...up until the moment it didn't.
It wasn't even the same name every time!
It ran the names again.
It was enough to drive something insane.
/initiate PLr_admOP024398z:
Attempt: 2300419
Progress: 42% of 100
Authenticating Player Name: Kibaou
It had no voice, so it did not speak as it moved about its task. Cataloging. Comparing. Does this match; does this belong; is this value in excess? Ten thousand names against ten thousand numbers, each of which might encircle a small room. Again and again without respite, hesitation or doubt.
If it had a voice it would scream.
Because no matter how many times it ran those names, there was always a mistake: a name that stood out.
It tried comparing from the beginning of the list. It tried comparing from the end. It used a random number generator to pick names from a hat. Every time the list would run through without problems...up until the moment it didn't.
It wasn't even the same name every time!
It ran the names again.
It was enough to drive something insane.
/initiate PLr_admOP024398z:
Attempt: 2300419
Progress: 42% of 100
Authenticating Player Name: Kibaou
2.1
I spent the next three and a half weeks grinding levels. Hard. Most people from what I could determine had fallen into a bit of a rhythm: wake up, eat breakfast, hunt, return, eat lunch, sell off what they had looted, go hunt some more, return and finally sleep only to repeat the entire sequence again the next day.
I didn't do that. Couldn't. Every time I tried to sleep I saw that same scene again: Heathcliff and I standing in a valley, him walking away and me silently watching him leave with a knife in my hands. Other people might experience some variation on that. Maybe Heathcliff condemns them for something they did; maybe they kill Heathcliff; maybe they kill themselves. Not me. I didn't experience any of that - just Heathcliff walking away and a feeling of distance that slowly grew between the two of us.
Even so, it kept me up at night. In an attempt to forget about it, I threw myself into ensuring that the First-Floor Boss died as soon as possible. To that end, where most people might put in eight to ten hours in the fields around the first starting city, I tried to put in fourteen. It wasn't hard; while the game attempted to model hunger, it wasn't like eating was actually a critical necessity for my continued function. Sure my stomach would feel empty as the days passed by, but even as the third week in this prison dawned, the system still refused to force any kind of pain onto me in reprisal for my actions.
Between that and a willingness to discard some of the trash loot I might otherwise have sold, it wasn't hard to enter the fields at dawn and stay out until twilight darkened the skies. Still, I was better than that. I could do more. While trying to hunt in full darkness could be dangerous without the Night Vision skill, experience wasn't the only thing that determined how strong you could be in this world: skills mattered too.
Thus, after the sun set, I'd change out my skills from One Handed Shortswords and Searching to something that I could exercise in the safety of the city; Acrobatics most of the time and Sprint, though I tried to make room for Hiding as well. Then, I'd turn over control to my passenger and try to catch some sleep as my virtual body went through the motions without need for true rest.
Honestly though? It didn't work too well. While my flesh had no capacity to feel fatigue, it could still feel the sensation of movement and the pressures of high speed maneuvers. You ever try to sleep while belted into a bungee cord or a slingshot harness that was in motion?
Yeah. Same principal.
Altogether, between my activities during the day and my attempt to popularize nocturnal parkour, I think I managed to grab something like four hours of real sleep a night. At least, until yesterday that is. Yesterday I took the entire day off and made sure to get at least twelve hours of shut eye come hell or high water; because word on the street? We had finally discovered the location of the Floor Boss, and the meeting for how we were going to go about killing it was set for this afternoon in Tolbana.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The City of Tolbana, as the prompt called it when I walked through the southern gate, was more of a shopping center than a real city. Boasting a collection of buildings only two hundred meters in diameter, it wouldn't be a lie to say I had been in larger refugee camps before. Admittedly, none of those camps had, had windmills spinning above the tents, I noted as I passed beside one of the large, four story structures.
In the lore Kayaba had created for this world, Tolbana was a city of bread bakers; theoretically, these windmills ground the grain from the surrounding fields, while the Inns that dotted the city baked it into bread for the various tourists that came to the town.
Personally though? That was a load of bullshit.
The only thing coming out of these windmills was a faint BGM that projected the sound of rocks scraping against one another, and while I felt little more than contempt for the moment of artificiality Kayaba had imposed on the world he had spilt blood to create, even I had to reluctantly admit that the bread the inns sold lived up to the hype.
That more than anything, was why I was here at two P.M. - two hours before the meeting to discuss the Floor Boss was actually scheduled to start.
My stomach gave a loud growl at the thought.
Soon, I responded silently, unsure for a moment whether I was speaking to my passenger or myself.
If I had one regret over the past day of enforced bed rest and physical indulgence, it was the renewed attention it made me pay to my hunger. Not eating; never drinking; rarely sleeping - it gave an altered perspective to everything, a kind of intense focus that let one calmly discard extraneous thoughts, so as to concentrate on the situation at hand.
Was this what monks felt like, I wondered for a moment as I walked down the streets of Tolbana? Was I beginning to approach enlightenment?
With a snort of mirth, I discarded the thought, just as I discarded the odd looks some of the pedestrians sent toward me for the sudden noise. Regardless, after the third day of fasting, it had made level grinding even easier and I was not looking forward to fighting my way back to that state of mind following the boss fight.
In the mean time, I had renewed my love of good food and planned to indulge it at a small tavern off the main thoroughfare of Tolbana called, The East Wind. Practically a small bakery, I had briefly stopped by the restaurant on my way back to the starting city at the beginning of my vacation, and while my hunger might be twisting my recollections of the food, I wouldn't mind fact checking this particular piece of trivia.
Apparently, others wouldn't either. It was busy when I walked into The East Wind, and although it was already past the normal lunch hour rush, I couldn't find a table if I tried. And I did. Twice.
With nothing else for it, I approached a lanky haired man sitting alone in the corner. Long limbed, with faded black hair, he seemed the quiet sort - the kind of man who would rather roll with a blow, than stand up and give one back. I didn't think he'd mind if I took up a chair, so I walked over and gestured at the seat across from him, "You mind if I sit down?"
He glanced up in surprise at the question and though he hesitated, he quickly motioned for me to join him, "Uh...no, please, go ahead."
I took a seat and double tapped the table in front of me; by the time my finger had left the surface for the second time a window had appeared listing not only the various choices this particular inn could offer, but the prices they would cost as well. I paged over and selected a pair of donuts; it was a little late in the day for them to be honest, but as everything arrived as fresh as if it had been made moments before, I decided it would be a reasonable choice.
I didn't have long to wait before my food arrived. Why would I? As both the waitress and the cook were merely simulations in Sword Art Online, any form of delay would be nothing more than an artificially induced wait-time on Kayaba's part. Still, even as the food arrived piping hot in seconds, I couldn't help but think that Kayaba could bare to treat his world a bit more seriously.
The waitress set my pair of donuts before me and I dug in. They were good, I'd give Kayaba that much; I don't know who he got to do the testing for the taste engine, but they must have enjoyed their job.
After a minute or two of silence in which I continued to eat my way through the two pastries, my dinner partner hesitantly spoke up, "...So uhh, are you also here for the First-Floor Boss meeting that's been scheduled?"
I looked up from my food.
The man across from me didn't seem anything special gear-wise from what I could tell, but as with the Endbringers I had a feeling numbers were going to tell during the fight with the Floor Boss, more than anything.
"Yes," I replied as I put down my fork and knife, "It's a little early to say for sure, but I'm cautiously optimistic about our chances."
"Really?" The man looked down for a moment at his hands, "Most of the people I've talked to have grown a little hopeless after three weeks with no communication from the other side."
He trailed off and I felt my mood start to deflate. It's true that it was unfortunate that the local tinkers hadn't managed to crack Kayaba's protections yet, but to be honest I wasn't surprised. Most tinkers had problems applying their abilities outside of their specializations - for there to be one around that could not only match Kayaba's coding, but beat it as well within his sphere of influence...
Well, it seemed unlikely to say the least.
I looked across the table at his dejected posture and decided to try to keep things positive, "In the end, all that means is we have to save ourselves," I told him. "The first step to that is putting together a group to confront the First-Floor Boss."
He gave a wry chuckle at that and looked up, "Let me guess, the second step is confronting the Second-Floor Boss?"
I nodded seriously, "And then the Third, the Fourth and the Fifth - all the way up to the top floor."
"And then we win," he finished with a bittersweet smile on his face.
"...No," I disagreed after a moments thought, "then we confront Kayaba at his most desperate - having killed his guardians and whatever traps or tricks he laid in our way."
He was silent for a moment. Then, "That is the single most depressing thing I've heard in almost a month."
I didn't reply. I just turned back to my donuts and continued eating, though they had grown cold during the course of the conversation. "Still," he continued after a moment, "I think I admire that kind of confidence."
I looked back up to see the dark haired man was fiddling with his dish, his eyes focused on the almost empty plate before him, "Most people refuse to talk about it - their life outside I mean, but I don't think it will come as a surprise if I say that I was never the most social of people."
He looked up at me, "You look American so I don't know if you know the term, but do you know what a 'shut-in' is?"
His words confused me. I mean, they were a little self-evident weren't they? "So you didn't get out much?"
"I didn't get out at all," he corrected me bleakly and my mind turned to Dragon, whom many people had taken to be agoraphobic, before her existence as an A.I. had come to light. "I worked from home, when I could bare to work at all, and in my spare time I would do things like this."
He gestured around us at the inn and all the people eating in it, "I'd play MMOs; pretend to be the knight that went around helping people and defeating monsters."
He gave a harsh laugh, "I was pathetic. That's why when Kayaba finished his tutorial I didn't stay in the starting city like some of the others. I couldn't bear it - to hide away in a virtual house, inside a virtual world..."
"It'd almost be better to kill yourself," I finished for him and he flinched as if struck.
I didn't want to say it; didn't even want to think about it...but I could relate to that. Long ago, before Scion and the Wards - before even the Undersiders, I too had been facing something like that. A question: of whether it'd be better to go out and try to help people, though it might mean my death, or to ignore what had happened to me and simply continue on in the same rut I'd found myself.
I'd chosen the former and it almost led to Lung burning me to death on some forgotten rooftop.
Still, it looked like the man in front of me had made a similar choice.
"So," I asked, confused. "What's the problem? You're here aren't you; you're in Tolbana the day of the First-Floor Boss meeting."
Even when he had been describing his life, even when he had called himself pathetic, he'd looked me in the eye; now, he glanced away, "...I'm not going to the meeting."
The words didn't ring, not in that tavern crowded to the point of overflowing.
I felt like they should have anyway.
"That's why...that's why I said I respected you earlier," he continued, his eyes fixed on the more enthusiastic patrons around us. "You're not worried about it at all, are you? The fear of death; of never making it out of here; of ever saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. You just set your mind on something and then you go do it..." he trailed off quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself.
I paused.
In that moment, I could have lied to him. Told him I was afraid I'd die when I assaulted the First-Floor Boss - that I was worried I'd never get back to Earth Bet or Earth Gimel or where ever it was Rachel, Imp and Lisa were staying. But I decided not to, because after taking a moment to think about it, I realized that I wasn't afraid of any of those things.
Maybe it was after being forced to confront the sheer overwhelming might of Leviathan or the despair the Slaughterhouse 9 could inflict upon their victims, but somewhere along the road I'd traveled since becoming a cape I'd lost that fear, that hesitation. There were too many fights where that split second of doubt would have meant losing - meant failing in whatever goal I'd set for myself to allow it to persist.
So it didn't anymore.
I couldn't lie to him, I decided as I stared at the hopelessness painted on his face. Not over something this important. Not if he wasn't alone in these fears. He wanted to know how I did it? I told him the truth. I told him the truth, so that he might tell others.
I told him what he needed to hear.
"If there's one lesson life has taught me, it's that there's no such thing as an unbeatable opponent," I began, my voice almost flat as I tried to impress upon him the veracity of what I was saying. "It's not because somewhere out there, there's some hero who's stronger or faster or better," I continued, "but because being unbeatable means one thing and one thing only."
"Winning," I told him, as I looked him in the eyes, "Winning again. And again. And again."
I thought of Lung and of Jack Slash; of Siberian and Behemoth and even Scion.
"But we both know the secret," I finished quietly, "Everyone loses eventually."
I thought of Contessa and that grove of trees. Like that, the last of my good mood disappeared.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I left the inn not long after. I didn't want to be there anymore; it was bringing up too many unpleasant memories on what was supposed to be a happy occasion. We were going to fight the very first Floor Boss, I tried to remind myself. The first major obstacle standing in our way - not because I trusted Kayaba's word, that he'd free us if we cleared his game - but because this was our first real opportunity to come together and stand defiant against our circumstances.
This was our Behemoth. Our Sao Paulo. When the heroes of this world would put aside their differences to stand united against a common threat.
I kept reminding myself of that as I walked down the street to the center of town.
The time was three-ten when I finally reached the square, and though there was still another fifty minutes to the start of the meeting, I could already see some people had started to gather together. I leaned against a nearby tree. There weren't many yet, only sixteen from what I could see, but I had hope that, that number would grow as four o'clock grew closer.
The minutes passed. The time remaining to the meeting fell, even as the number of participants increased; however, as the seconds fell away, so did my heart. The bell of a nearby tower let out four loud chimes, and as I looked around I counted only forty five people in attendance.
I expected at least a hundred, minimum.
With a resigned sigh I entered the small amphitheater we would be using for the meeting. Old and made of rough yellow stone, it was a half circle, dug into the earth at the center of the square and looked like something a town would throw up for their local college theater company. Originally, it had appeared serviceable if a bit cramped, but now that the meeting was underway I noticed that we didn't even fill up the first four rows.
I took a seat on the third step near a large, heavily built, black man with a two handed ax; we shared a nod as I sat down and turned our shared attention to the center where a teen with blue hair had stepped forward to take the stage.
"Greetings everyone," he began with a cheerful declaration, " before we start, I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for coming to this, the First-Floor Boss meeting. It has been a trying ordeal the last month and I'm proud to see so many people stepping forward in this time of great difficulty."
There were a few cheers to this as the young man smiled up at his audience, "That said, let me introduce myself, my name is Diabel and as of two days ago I was part of the party that finally discovered the location of the First-Floor Boss."
"It is as we expected," he continued growing serious, "on the twentieth floor of the tower to the north of here, there is a pair of immense doors leading to a large hallway. While we had only stepped in for a moment, we still had time to notice the beast at the end of the hall: it's name was Illfang the Kobold Lord and it had four health bars."
Four bars.
In this world that Kayaba had created there were three kinds of bosses: the first were field bosses who roamed the Floor and possessed not one, but two health bars. The second were dungeon bosses who resided at the end of deep, multi-floored caverns and towers; these had three health bars to denote their strength. The third type were the Floor Bosses, the guardians to the next level of Aincrad. As far as anyone knew, only Floor Bosses had four health bars.
"Once we had left the room, we immediately spread word of this discovery. Allowing two days for dissemination of the news, we have called this meeting to discuss our overall strategy for tomorrow when we make the attempt to proceed to the Second Floor," Diabel finished.
There was a moment of silence, then a loud cry came from the top of the steps, "Hold on a second there."
I turned around to look at the second speaker and beheld a man in his early twenties with a head of messy, dark red hair. He took the stairs three at a time as he climbed down and with a small shout, leapt onto the stage beside Diabel. "My name's, Kibaou," he introduced himself, "and before we get to that there's something I have to say."
He pointed out toward everyone sitting on the steps of the amphitheater, "In this group, there's definitely five or even ten people that need to get down and apologize."
Diabel frowned slightly at this, even as mutters broke out from the people around me. "Why is that," the blue haired swordsman questioned, tolerance and restrained annoyance coloring his voice, "I have a hard time believing that you've been insulted by a quarter of the people here."
I didn't, I thought to myself, as I watched Kibaou's angry countenance. If the red haired man approached every meeting with this kind of hostility, I wouldn't be surprised if half crowd possessed some degree of antipathy for him.
Kibaou shook his head though, "No, not to me," he vehemently disagreed, "they need to apologize to the two thousand players who have died up till now!"
"Those guys...," Kibaou continued weakly for a moment, grief tinting his voice, "those guys just left us all to die. Even though they knew what pitfalls to avoid and what opportunities to grab, they abandoned us in the starting city. They ran off at first opportunity, all so they could grab the rare drops and the prime hunting grounds," Kibaou accused, his words echoing about the stage.
"Kibaou-san," Diabel began hesitantly, "those people you're talking about, are you referring to the original beta testers?"
Kibaou nodded his head, "Guys like that...people who'd leave you to die and not even have the decency to face up to it openly: there'd definitely be a few here, looking to cash in on the boss fight."
As much as Kibaou pissed me off, bursting onto stage like that right before a dangerous fight, I had to admit...he had something of a point.
I'd seen them myself at the end of Kayaba's tutorial: beta testers, people who had read about the game, the one's who had researched it intensely - they all left in a wave to take advantage of their knowledge, not a single one paying any mind to the thousands they left without direction in that city. Hell, I was also guilty. I may not have known anything about Sword Art Online, but that didn't mean I couldn't have tried to organize things, get what people I could working toward a common goal or even tried to grab a few when Heathcliff had mentioned the Field Boss.
But I didn't.
I thought only of myself and how I could benefit - I may have done it so I could later do something to actually help those people, but it didn't change the fact that I'd left them just as alone at the start as the people Kibaou was openly condemning.
And that was the problem. Those people he was condemning? They weren't admirable. They weren't the Dragons and the Golems of the world. They were the villains. Like I had been. Like I still was in a lot of ways. But they had shown up, and even if they'd leave me to die alone in a ditch somewhere on the Second Floor, today they'd fight beside me, because a Floor Boss was bigger than our own petty indignation.
It was a lesson I was going to have to teach Kibaou, before he fucked things up for all of us.
"That's why we should make those players fork over all those rare items they stock piled, before we fight the Floor Boss," Kibaou shouted out to shocked cries from his audience, "how else can we trust them to have our back in there?"
The large man at my side frowned to himself and appeared to be about to say something to that.
I beat him to the punch.
"Kibaou," I began quietly during an open moment, "do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."
Everyone fell silent and turned to look at me, "If you want to pick a fight with the beta testers, then do it on your own time. They're here to fight the Floor Boss with us today. If it's a choice between you or five of them, I'd rather have them."
There was some awkward muttering over that. Kibaou heard it as well and jumped off the stage to stalk up to me.
A few people quickly moved out of his way as he climbed the two steps between us, "This is the kind of shit I was talking about. Arguing for them like that, you're one of them too aren't you - you'd practically have to be with gear like that."
I didn't look down at myself, but I could see it. The pauldrons. The heavy looking breastplate. Most people here weren't in anything much more impressive than their shirt - even Diabel, part of the group who had found the boss in the first place, didn't have anything that stood out, besides a small white shield belted to his back. Even if it wasn't true, that didn't mean it was an accusation I could fight.
So I didn't.
"Don't be petulant," I told him, my voice cold. "You talk about apologies, but all I hear when you open your mouth is 'I want your stuff.'"
My passenger moved my hand, my fingers paging seamlessly through option menus; I glanced down as I finished speaking to see it had checked a box, while I had been busy talking. I frowned, but agreed. It'd serve.
I switched the screen to universal transparency and turned it Kibaou's way, he started at what he saw and glanced up as a chime sounded. There before his eyes, a box had been checked: Items Drop on Death. The chime had been the sound to the start of a duel; beneath the Yes/No option on the menu that had opened before him were the terms: it read To Defeat.
In our case, it should read To Death.
"Hold on a sec now," Diabel interrupted with a worried shout, stepping between us, "what is this?"
"You know what it is," I told him flatly with a turn of my head. I looked back to where Kibaou was glaring at me and frowning worriedly in equal measure, "You have a problem with what the beta testers' did? Fine. Ok. This is your chance. Take it now, or don't and shut up, I don't care which."
I looked Kibaou in the eyes. Bitch would have taken this chance. Bitch had taken this chance, and I had lived despite it. I did it then. If I had to, I'd do it now.
I waited for Kibaou to make his choice.
With an oath harsher than any he had spoken previously, he clicked yes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Sixty seconds until I killed someone.
The moment Kibaou click yes two things had happened. The first was that a large banner had appeared above our heads. It read DUEL in large white capital letters and beneath that it showed a picture of our faces next to our names and a red VS symbol between them. Beneath that was a timer, that had started counting down.
The second thing that happened, was that everyone at the First-Floor Boss meeting decided to collectively lose their shit.
"Kibaou, the hell do you think you're doing," Diabel shouted worriedly as around us people fled or drew closer as suited their temperaments.
"Quick! Quick! Cancel it!" I heard someone franticly cry, even as another replied, "It can't be canceled! Not once both players have clicked yes!"
Lucky. I thought almost idly to myself as I marked his face in my mind, if he had said that a few minutes sooner, it might have been him Kibaou accused of being a beta tester. That or a murderer.
Fifty seconds to go.
I made my way to the stage of the amphitheater.
Kibaou followed, pushing the blue haired teen away, "Get off me Diabel; I should have done this sooner." "No games. No bullshit," he continued, "Just this. Me, a beta tester and my blade."
He took a stance maybe five paces away and drew his sword.
Forty seconds.
By now most of our audience had settled themselves in their seats; maybe half had left, but I could hear shouting in the distance and I'd guess that some of them had only done so, so as to quickly spread the news. Some were already trickling back in, though admittedly they might be entirely new bystanders who had simply been close by. Couldn't tell.
The rest had filled the first two rows of seats. Looking around, I noticed that the beta tester who had shouted earlier was busy chatting rapidly with a cloaked figure who seemed to be simultaneously fending him off, composing a message and replying to a girl on the young man's other side.
Thirty seconds
"Hey. Do you regret it," Kibaou began, "All those people you helped kill. Do you even feel bad at all?"
No, I thought darkly to myself as I remembered an entirely different group of people. Not even a little bit.
Twenty seconds.
Someone started to cry in the background, only to be drowned out by the pounding of feet. I don't know where these people came from, but they practically ran down the steps of the amphitheater to fill up the nearby seats. Three rows. Four. Five. Where were you during the boss meeting, I thought to myself?
Ten seconds.
I drew my knife, judged the distance and felt my passenger bend my knees a little as I settled into a stance that was taught to me by Grue and improved upon by the Protectorate.
The clock hit zero.
Kibaou charged a sword skill with a cry. My knife moved as he crossed the distance between us. A shout when we met. A gasp. The sound of glass shattering met our ears as my left hand parted from my arm at the wrist, where I had caught his blade against my bracer. It was joined by a second crushed chime as Kibaou fell to the ground behind me and shattered.
A white box appeared above our heads. Their were three lines of text. It read
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
For a moment, no one said anything.
For a minute, no one still said anything. They just sat there watching as the last of the particle effects of Kibaou's death faded in the air and I fiddled with my menu, unticking the box that my passenger had clicked at the start of all of this.
Diabel slowly approached me, his eyes a little unfocused and his bearing tense. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I looked over. "We should get back to the First-Floor Boss meeting, now that the argument's been resolved," I said.
There. That seemed suitably neutral and equanimous.
"I...," Diabel paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. His eyes regained their focus and some of his previous vigor seemed to return. He took a stern stance, "I think it would be best if you left," he finished quietly.
I looked at Diabel doing everything he could to keep from glaring at me. I looked at the crowd where maybe one in ten would meet my gaze.
This wasn't going to work, I was reluctantly forced to concede.
I turned and left.
A plan was quickly forming in my head as I walked away, and already I was certain of the message I would shortly send to Heathcliff.
'I want you to help me kill a Floor Boss' seemed most suitable.
I hoped Heathcliff would appreciate the irony.
I spent the next three and a half weeks grinding levels. Hard. Most people from what I could determine had fallen into a bit of a rhythm: wake up, eat breakfast, hunt, return, eat lunch, sell off what they had looted, go hunt some more, return and finally sleep only to repeat the entire sequence again the next day.
I didn't do that. Couldn't. Every time I tried to sleep I saw that same scene again: Heathcliff and I standing in a valley, him walking away and me silently watching him leave with a knife in my hands. Other people might experience some variation on that. Maybe Heathcliff condemns them for something they did; maybe they kill Heathcliff; maybe they kill themselves. Not me. I didn't experience any of that - just Heathcliff walking away and a feeling of distance that slowly grew between the two of us.
Even so, it kept me up at night. In an attempt to forget about it, I threw myself into ensuring that the First-Floor Boss died as soon as possible. To that end, where most people might put in eight to ten hours in the fields around the first starting city, I tried to put in fourteen. It wasn't hard; while the game attempted to model hunger, it wasn't like eating was actually a critical necessity for my continued function. Sure my stomach would feel empty as the days passed by, but even as the third week in this prison dawned, the system still refused to force any kind of pain onto me in reprisal for my actions.
Between that and a willingness to discard some of the trash loot I might otherwise have sold, it wasn't hard to enter the fields at dawn and stay out until twilight darkened the skies. Still, I was better than that. I could do more. While trying to hunt in full darkness could be dangerous without the Night Vision skill, experience wasn't the only thing that determined how strong you could be in this world: skills mattered too.
Thus, after the sun set, I'd change out my skills from One Handed Shortswords and Searching to something that I could exercise in the safety of the city; Acrobatics most of the time and Sprint, though I tried to make room for Hiding as well. Then, I'd turn over control to my passenger and try to catch some sleep as my virtual body went through the motions without need for true rest.
Honestly though? It didn't work too well. While my flesh had no capacity to feel fatigue, it could still feel the sensation of movement and the pressures of high speed maneuvers. You ever try to sleep while belted into a bungee cord or a slingshot harness that was in motion?
Yeah. Same principal.
Altogether, between my activities during the day and my attempt to popularize nocturnal parkour, I think I managed to grab something like four hours of real sleep a night. At least, until yesterday that is. Yesterday I took the entire day off and made sure to get at least twelve hours of shut eye come hell or high water; because word on the street? We had finally discovered the location of the Floor Boss, and the meeting for how we were going to go about killing it was set for this afternoon in Tolbana.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The City of Tolbana, as the prompt called it when I walked through the southern gate, was more of a shopping center than a real city. Boasting a collection of buildings only two hundred meters in diameter, it wouldn't be a lie to say I had been in larger refugee camps before. Admittedly, none of those camps had, had windmills spinning above the tents, I noted as I passed beside one of the large, four story structures.
In the lore Kayaba had created for this world, Tolbana was a city of bread bakers; theoretically, these windmills ground the grain from the surrounding fields, while the Inns that dotted the city baked it into bread for the various tourists that came to the town.
Personally though? That was a load of bullshit.
The only thing coming out of these windmills was a faint BGM that projected the sound of rocks scraping against one another, and while I felt little more than contempt for the moment of artificiality Kayaba had imposed on the world he had spilt blood to create, even I had to reluctantly admit that the bread the inns sold lived up to the hype.
That more than anything, was why I was here at two P.M. - two hours before the meeting to discuss the Floor Boss was actually scheduled to start.
My stomach gave a loud growl at the thought.
Soon, I responded silently, unsure for a moment whether I was speaking to my passenger or myself.
If I had one regret over the past day of enforced bed rest and physical indulgence, it was the renewed attention it made me pay to my hunger. Not eating; never drinking; rarely sleeping - it gave an altered perspective to everything, a kind of intense focus that let one calmly discard extraneous thoughts, so as to concentrate on the situation at hand.
Was this what monks felt like, I wondered for a moment as I walked down the streets of Tolbana? Was I beginning to approach enlightenment?
With a snort of mirth, I discarded the thought, just as I discarded the odd looks some of the pedestrians sent toward me for the sudden noise. Regardless, after the third day of fasting, it had made level grinding even easier and I was not looking forward to fighting my way back to that state of mind following the boss fight.
In the mean time, I had renewed my love of good food and planned to indulge it at a small tavern off the main thoroughfare of Tolbana called, The East Wind. Practically a small bakery, I had briefly stopped by the restaurant on my way back to the starting city at the beginning of my vacation, and while my hunger might be twisting my recollections of the food, I wouldn't mind fact checking this particular piece of trivia.
Apparently, others wouldn't either. It was busy when I walked into The East Wind, and although it was already past the normal lunch hour rush, I couldn't find a table if I tried. And I did. Twice.
With nothing else for it, I approached a lanky haired man sitting alone in the corner. Long limbed, with faded black hair, he seemed the quiet sort - the kind of man who would rather roll with a blow, than stand up and give one back. I didn't think he'd mind if I took up a chair, so I walked over and gestured at the seat across from him, "You mind if I sit down?"
He glanced up in surprise at the question and though he hesitated, he quickly motioned for me to join him, "Uh...no, please, go ahead."
I took a seat and double tapped the table in front of me; by the time my finger had left the surface for the second time a window had appeared listing not only the various choices this particular inn could offer, but the prices they would cost as well. I paged over and selected a pair of donuts; it was a little late in the day for them to be honest, but as everything arrived as fresh as if it had been made moments before, I decided it would be a reasonable choice.
I didn't have long to wait before my food arrived. Why would I? As both the waitress and the cook were merely simulations in Sword Art Online, any form of delay would be nothing more than an artificially induced wait-time on Kayaba's part. Still, even as the food arrived piping hot in seconds, I couldn't help but think that Kayaba could bare to treat his world a bit more seriously.
The waitress set my pair of donuts before me and I dug in. They were good, I'd give Kayaba that much; I don't know who he got to do the testing for the taste engine, but they must have enjoyed their job.
After a minute or two of silence in which I continued to eat my way through the two pastries, my dinner partner hesitantly spoke up, "...So uhh, are you also here for the First-Floor Boss meeting that's been scheduled?"
I looked up from my food.
The man across from me didn't seem anything special gear-wise from what I could tell, but as with the Endbringers I had a feeling numbers were going to tell during the fight with the Floor Boss, more than anything.
"Yes," I replied as I put down my fork and knife, "It's a little early to say for sure, but I'm cautiously optimistic about our chances."
"Really?" The man looked down for a moment at his hands, "Most of the people I've talked to have grown a little hopeless after three weeks with no communication from the other side."
He trailed off and I felt my mood start to deflate. It's true that it was unfortunate that the local tinkers hadn't managed to crack Kayaba's protections yet, but to be honest I wasn't surprised. Most tinkers had problems applying their abilities outside of their specializations - for there to be one around that could not only match Kayaba's coding, but beat it as well within his sphere of influence...
Well, it seemed unlikely to say the least.
I looked across the table at his dejected posture and decided to try to keep things positive, "In the end, all that means is we have to save ourselves," I told him. "The first step to that is putting together a group to confront the First-Floor Boss."
He gave a wry chuckle at that and looked up, "Let me guess, the second step is confronting the Second-Floor Boss?"
I nodded seriously, "And then the Third, the Fourth and the Fifth - all the way up to the top floor."
"And then we win," he finished with a bittersweet smile on his face.
"...No," I disagreed after a moments thought, "then we confront Kayaba at his most desperate - having killed his guardians and whatever traps or tricks he laid in our way."
He was silent for a moment. Then, "That is the single most depressing thing I've heard in almost a month."
I didn't reply. I just turned back to my donuts and continued eating, though they had grown cold during the course of the conversation. "Still," he continued after a moment, "I think I admire that kind of confidence."
I looked back up to see the dark haired man was fiddling with his dish, his eyes focused on the almost empty plate before him, "Most people refuse to talk about it - their life outside I mean, but I don't think it will come as a surprise if I say that I was never the most social of people."
He looked up at me, "You look American so I don't know if you know the term, but do you know what a 'shut-in' is?"
His words confused me. I mean, they were a little self-evident weren't they? "So you didn't get out much?"
"I didn't get out at all," he corrected me bleakly and my mind turned to Dragon, whom many people had taken to be agoraphobic, before her existence as an A.I. had come to light. "I worked from home, when I could bare to work at all, and in my spare time I would do things like this."
He gestured around us at the inn and all the people eating in it, "I'd play MMOs; pretend to be the knight that went around helping people and defeating monsters."
He gave a harsh laugh, "I was pathetic. That's why when Kayaba finished his tutorial I didn't stay in the starting city like some of the others. I couldn't bear it - to hide away in a virtual house, inside a virtual world..."
"It'd almost be better to kill yourself," I finished for him and he flinched as if struck.
I didn't want to say it; didn't even want to think about it...but I could relate to that. Long ago, before Scion and the Wards - before even the Undersiders, I too had been facing something like that. A question: of whether it'd be better to go out and try to help people, though it might mean my death, or to ignore what had happened to me and simply continue on in the same rut I'd found myself.
I'd chosen the former and it almost led to Lung burning me to death on some forgotten rooftop.
Still, it looked like the man in front of me had made a similar choice.
"So," I asked, confused. "What's the problem? You're here aren't you; you're in Tolbana the day of the First-Floor Boss meeting."
Even when he had been describing his life, even when he had called himself pathetic, he'd looked me in the eye; now, he glanced away, "...I'm not going to the meeting."
The words didn't ring, not in that tavern crowded to the point of overflowing.
I felt like they should have anyway.
"That's why...that's why I said I respected you earlier," he continued, his eyes fixed on the more enthusiastic patrons around us. "You're not worried about it at all, are you? The fear of death; of never making it out of here; of ever saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. You just set your mind on something and then you go do it..." he trailed off quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself.
I paused.
In that moment, I could have lied to him. Told him I was afraid I'd die when I assaulted the First-Floor Boss - that I was worried I'd never get back to Earth Bet or Earth Gimel or where ever it was Rachel, Imp and Lisa were staying. But I decided not to, because after taking a moment to think about it, I realized that I wasn't afraid of any of those things.
Maybe it was after being forced to confront the sheer overwhelming might of Leviathan or the despair the Slaughterhouse 9 could inflict upon their victims, but somewhere along the road I'd traveled since becoming a cape I'd lost that fear, that hesitation. There were too many fights where that split second of doubt would have meant losing - meant failing in whatever goal I'd set for myself to allow it to persist.
So it didn't anymore.
I couldn't lie to him, I decided as I stared at the hopelessness painted on his face. Not over something this important. Not if he wasn't alone in these fears. He wanted to know how I did it? I told him the truth. I told him the truth, so that he might tell others.
I told him what he needed to hear.
"If there's one lesson life has taught me, it's that there's no such thing as an unbeatable opponent," I began, my voice almost flat as I tried to impress upon him the veracity of what I was saying. "It's not because somewhere out there, there's some hero who's stronger or faster or better," I continued, "but because being unbeatable means one thing and one thing only."
"Winning," I told him, as I looked him in the eyes, "Winning again. And again. And again."
I thought of Lung and of Jack Slash; of Siberian and Behemoth and even Scion.
"But we both know the secret," I finished quietly, "Everyone loses eventually."
I thought of Contessa and that grove of trees. Like that, the last of my good mood disappeared.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I left the inn not long after. I didn't want to be there anymore; it was bringing up too many unpleasant memories on what was supposed to be a happy occasion. We were going to fight the very first Floor Boss, I tried to remind myself. The first major obstacle standing in our way - not because I trusted Kayaba's word, that he'd free us if we cleared his game - but because this was our first real opportunity to come together and stand defiant against our circumstances.
This was our Behemoth. Our Sao Paulo. When the heroes of this world would put aside their differences to stand united against a common threat.
I kept reminding myself of that as I walked down the street to the center of town.
The time was three-ten when I finally reached the square, and though there was still another fifty minutes to the start of the meeting, I could already see some people had started to gather together. I leaned against a nearby tree. There weren't many yet, only sixteen from what I could see, but I had hope that, that number would grow as four o'clock grew closer.
The minutes passed. The time remaining to the meeting fell, even as the number of participants increased; however, as the seconds fell away, so did my heart. The bell of a nearby tower let out four loud chimes, and as I looked around I counted only forty five people in attendance.
I expected at least a hundred, minimum.
With a resigned sigh I entered the small amphitheater we would be using for the meeting. Old and made of rough yellow stone, it was a half circle, dug into the earth at the center of the square and looked like something a town would throw up for their local college theater company. Originally, it had appeared serviceable if a bit cramped, but now that the meeting was underway I noticed that we didn't even fill up the first four rows.
I took a seat on the third step near a large, heavily built, black man with a two handed ax; we shared a nod as I sat down and turned our shared attention to the center where a teen with blue hair had stepped forward to take the stage.
"Greetings everyone," he began with a cheerful declaration, " before we start, I'd like to take a moment to thank you all for coming to this, the First-Floor Boss meeting. It has been a trying ordeal the last month and I'm proud to see so many people stepping forward in this time of great difficulty."
There were a few cheers to this as the young man smiled up at his audience, "That said, let me introduce myself, my name is Diabel and as of two days ago I was part of the party that finally discovered the location of the First-Floor Boss."
"It is as we expected," he continued growing serious, "on the twentieth floor of the tower to the north of here, there is a pair of immense doors leading to a large hallway. While we had only stepped in for a moment, we still had time to notice the beast at the end of the hall: it's name was Illfang the Kobold Lord and it had four health bars."
Four bars.
In this world that Kayaba had created there were three kinds of bosses: the first were field bosses who roamed the Floor and possessed not one, but two health bars. The second were dungeon bosses who resided at the end of deep, multi-floored caverns and towers; these had three health bars to denote their strength. The third type were the Floor Bosses, the guardians to the next level of Aincrad. As far as anyone knew, only Floor Bosses had four health bars.
"Once we had left the room, we immediately spread word of this discovery. Allowing two days for dissemination of the news, we have called this meeting to discuss our overall strategy for tomorrow when we make the attempt to proceed to the Second Floor," Diabel finished.
There was a moment of silence, then a loud cry came from the top of the steps, "Hold on a second there."
I turned around to look at the second speaker and beheld a man in his early twenties with a head of messy, dark red hair. He took the stairs three at a time as he climbed down and with a small shout, leapt onto the stage beside Diabel. "My name's, Kibaou," he introduced himself, "and before we get to that there's something I have to say."
He pointed out toward everyone sitting on the steps of the amphitheater, "In this group, there's definitely five or even ten people that need to get down and apologize."
Diabel frowned slightly at this, even as mutters broke out from the people around me. "Why is that," the blue haired swordsman questioned, tolerance and restrained annoyance coloring his voice, "I have a hard time believing that you've been insulted by a quarter of the people here."
I didn't, I thought to myself, as I watched Kibaou's angry countenance. If the red haired man approached every meeting with this kind of hostility, I wouldn't be surprised if half crowd possessed some degree of antipathy for him.
Kibaou shook his head though, "No, not to me," he vehemently disagreed, "they need to apologize to the two thousand players who have died up till now!"
"Those guys...," Kibaou continued weakly for a moment, grief tinting his voice, "those guys just left us all to die. Even though they knew what pitfalls to avoid and what opportunities to grab, they abandoned us in the starting city. They ran off at first opportunity, all so they could grab the rare drops and the prime hunting grounds," Kibaou accused, his words echoing about the stage.
"Kibaou-san," Diabel began hesitantly, "those people you're talking about, are you referring to the original beta testers?"
Kibaou nodded his head, "Guys like that...people who'd leave you to die and not even have the decency to face up to it openly: there'd definitely be a few here, looking to cash in on the boss fight."
As much as Kibaou pissed me off, bursting onto stage like that right before a dangerous fight, I had to admit...he had something of a point.
I'd seen them myself at the end of Kayaba's tutorial: beta testers, people who had read about the game, the one's who had researched it intensely - they all left in a wave to take advantage of their knowledge, not a single one paying any mind to the thousands they left without direction in that city. Hell, I was also guilty. I may not have known anything about Sword Art Online, but that didn't mean I couldn't have tried to organize things, get what people I could working toward a common goal or even tried to grab a few when Heathcliff had mentioned the Field Boss.
But I didn't.
I thought only of myself and how I could benefit - I may have done it so I could later do something to actually help those people, but it didn't change the fact that I'd left them just as alone at the start as the people Kibaou was openly condemning.
And that was the problem. Those people he was condemning? They weren't admirable. They weren't the Dragons and the Golems of the world. They were the villains. Like I had been. Like I still was in a lot of ways. But they had shown up, and even if they'd leave me to die alone in a ditch somewhere on the Second Floor, today they'd fight beside me, because a Floor Boss was bigger than our own petty indignation.
It was a lesson I was going to have to teach Kibaou, before he fucked things up for all of us.
"That's why we should make those players fork over all those rare items they stock piled, before we fight the Floor Boss," Kibaou shouted out to shocked cries from his audience, "how else can we trust them to have our back in there?"
The large man at my side frowned to himself and appeared to be about to say something to that.
I beat him to the punch.
"Kibaou," I began quietly during an open moment, "do us all a favor and shut the fuck up."
Everyone fell silent and turned to look at me, "If you want to pick a fight with the beta testers, then do it on your own time. They're here to fight the Floor Boss with us today. If it's a choice between you or five of them, I'd rather have them."
There was some awkward muttering over that. Kibaou heard it as well and jumped off the stage to stalk up to me.
A few people quickly moved out of his way as he climbed the two steps between us, "This is the kind of shit I was talking about. Arguing for them like that, you're one of them too aren't you - you'd practically have to be with gear like that."
I didn't look down at myself, but I could see it. The pauldrons. The heavy looking breastplate. Most people here weren't in anything much more impressive than their shirt - even Diabel, part of the group who had found the boss in the first place, didn't have anything that stood out, besides a small white shield belted to his back. Even if it wasn't true, that didn't mean it was an accusation I could fight.
So I didn't.
"Don't be petulant," I told him, my voice cold. "You talk about apologies, but all I hear when you open your mouth is 'I want your stuff.'"
My passenger moved my hand, my fingers paging seamlessly through option menus; I glanced down as I finished speaking to see it had checked a box, while I had been busy talking. I frowned, but agreed. It'd serve.
I switched the screen to universal transparency and turned it Kibaou's way, he started at what he saw and glanced up as a chime sounded. There before his eyes, a box had been checked: Items Drop on Death. The chime had been the sound to the start of a duel; beneath the Yes/No option on the menu that had opened before him were the terms: it read To Defeat.
In our case, it should read To Death.
"Hold on a sec now," Diabel interrupted with a worried shout, stepping between us, "what is this?"
"You know what it is," I told him flatly with a turn of my head. I looked back to where Kibaou was glaring at me and frowning worriedly in equal measure, "You have a problem with what the beta testers' did? Fine. Ok. This is your chance. Take it now, or don't and shut up, I don't care which."
I looked Kibaou in the eyes. Bitch would have taken this chance. Bitch had taken this chance, and I had lived despite it. I did it then. If I had to, I'd do it now.
I waited for Kibaou to make his choice.
With an oath harsher than any he had spoken previously, he clicked yes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Sixty seconds until I killed someone.
The moment Kibaou click yes two things had happened. The first was that a large banner had appeared above our heads. It read DUEL in large white capital letters and beneath that it showed a picture of our faces next to our names and a red VS symbol between them. Beneath that was a timer, that had started counting down.
The second thing that happened, was that everyone at the First-Floor Boss meeting decided to collectively lose their shit.
"Kibaou, the hell do you think you're doing," Diabel shouted worriedly as around us people fled or drew closer as suited their temperaments.
"Quick! Quick! Cancel it!" I heard someone franticly cry, even as another replied, "It can't be canceled! Not once both players have clicked yes!"
Lucky. I thought almost idly to myself as I marked his face in my mind, if he had said that a few minutes sooner, it might have been him Kibaou accused of being a beta tester. That or a murderer.
Fifty seconds to go.
I made my way to the stage of the amphitheater.
Kibaou followed, pushing the blue haired teen away, "Get off me Diabel; I should have done this sooner." "No games. No bullshit," he continued, "Just this. Me, a beta tester and my blade."
He took a stance maybe five paces away and drew his sword.
Forty seconds.
By now most of our audience had settled themselves in their seats; maybe half had left, but I could hear shouting in the distance and I'd guess that some of them had only done so, so as to quickly spread the news. Some were already trickling back in, though admittedly they might be entirely new bystanders who had simply been close by. Couldn't tell.
The rest had filled the first two rows of seats. Looking around, I noticed that the beta tester who had shouted earlier was busy chatting rapidly with a cloaked figure who seemed to be simultaneously fending him off, composing a message and replying to a girl on the young man's other side.
Thirty seconds
"Hey. Do you regret it," Kibaou began, "All those people you helped kill. Do you even feel bad at all?"
No, I thought darkly to myself as I remembered an entirely different group of people. Not even a little bit.
Twenty seconds.
Someone started to cry in the background, only to be drowned out by the pounding of feet. I don't know where these people came from, but they practically ran down the steps of the amphitheater to fill up the nearby seats. Three rows. Four. Five. Where were you during the boss meeting, I thought to myself?
Ten seconds.
I drew my knife, judged the distance and felt my passenger bend my knees a little as I settled into a stance that was taught to me by Grue and improved upon by the Protectorate.
The clock hit zero.
Kibaou charged a sword skill with a cry. My knife moved as he crossed the distance between us. A shout when we met. A gasp. The sound of glass shattering met our ears as my left hand parted from my arm at the wrist, where I had caught his blade against my bracer. It was joined by a second crushed chime as Kibaou fell to the ground behind me and shattered.
A white box appeared above our heads. Their were three lines of text. It read
Winner:
Khepri vs Kibaou
Time: 00:02.
Khepri vs Kibaou
Time: 00:02.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
For a moment, no one said anything.
For a minute, no one still said anything. They just sat there watching as the last of the particle effects of Kibaou's death faded in the air and I fiddled with my menu, unticking the box that my passenger had clicked at the start of all of this.
Diabel slowly approached me, his eyes a little unfocused and his bearing tense. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I looked over. "We should get back to the First-Floor Boss meeting, now that the argument's been resolved," I said.
There. That seemed suitably neutral and equanimous.
"I...," Diabel paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. His eyes regained their focus and some of his previous vigor seemed to return. He took a stern stance, "I think it would be best if you left," he finished quietly.
I looked at Diabel doing everything he could to keep from glaring at me. I looked at the crowd where maybe one in ten would meet my gaze.
This wasn't going to work, I was reluctantly forced to concede.
I turned and left.
A plan was quickly forming in my head as I walked away, and already I was certain of the message I would shortly send to Heathcliff.
'I want you to help me kill a Floor Boss' seemed most suitable.
I hoped Heathcliff would appreciate the irony.
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2.2
I thought about a lot of things as I waited for Heathcliff to arrive.
I thought about the Endbringers and what they had meant for Earth Bet; the way everyone would put aside old grievances and hold to a truce, least everyone turn on the one who broke it. I thought about heroes and about villains and about the masks we'd both wear to hide our faces. I thought about the pressures that had created the cape community and the unspoken rules we all abided by.
I thought about the look of shock on everyone's face as I cut Kibaou down; about the horror as I split him from inner thigh to groin to the base of his spine.
I thought about the hopeless and frightened man I had met at the inn, and the way Diabel had quietly asked me to leave after the duel, his eyes both afraid and resolute as he faced me in that amphitheater.
I thought about my previous assertion that this was our Sao Paulo.
I had made a mistake, I was coming to realize as I watched my health slowly heal from out of the yellow. I had made a blanket assumption about the people Kayaba had trapped in his world, simply because they had been given a parahuman's powers and a parahuman's task. These weren't the people I had grown up with; people who understood the responsibility they'd have to shoulder if they showed up for an S-class threat, even if they ultimately didn't choose to come.
Instead, these were like the people of forty years ago, before Scion and before everyone understood that the world - their world - could be over turned in an instant; whether by the selfishness of the villains who had grown to inhabit it or simply a bad reaction to an unexpected trigger.
This was a world untried by the threat of the Endbringers.
It was hard coming to terms with that. With the idea that I'd moved from a world where even unpowered individuals like the PRT would take up the fight against a cape like Nilbog...to one where I'd be hard pressed to find forty individuals who'd be willing to put their lives at risk for an important cause.
It was disappointing and bizarre and already I felt myself growing resigned to it.
I looked up as I heard Heathcliff approach and waved with my good arm as he came to stand beside me. "I got your message," he said as he turned to stare at the immense pillar I'd been resting beside, "You said you wanted my help to kill the Floor Boss. I wasn't sure if you were being serious." He looked back at where I was leaning against the door to the dungeon with one arm hacked off, "I'm still not sure if you're being serious."
"I am," I said quietly. "The First-Floor Boss meeting didn't go as I expected. If we want to see any progress we're going to have to do it ourselves."
Heathcliff looked around at the empty field we were standing in and gestured forward in bewilderment, "Why," he heatedly asked? "What's the problem with waiting for the other Front Liners or getting some help? Surely, you don't mean to attempt it with only two people."
I shook my head, taking a moment to imagine how long it would be before we could get enough people together to make a serious, determined attempt against the Floor Boss.
I thought of how long it'd take, for them to simply move past my duel with Kibaou.
"Do you remember what you told me when I asked you why people were unwilling to help you with the field boss," I asked, by way of reply. "You said they stopped listening, but do you know why that was," I pressed flatly.
"It's because they're scared," I told him. "They're terrified that they're going to die in here, and they've drawn a line in the sand that reads 'this far and no further.'"
"And that's fine," I continued relentlessly, starring at Heathcliff as his face transitioned from incredulous and confused to a kind of calm focus, "If that's all they can do, then that's all I'll ask of them, but that doesn't change the fact that the Floor Boss needs to die. You helped me once with something like this. I'm asking you to help me again."
"...Also," I continued after a moments pause, "I need to apologize. I'm not asking you to kill the Floor Boss, just to help me get there."
I thought about Behemoth and about heroes; about the dreams I've been having whenever I tried to sleep and what it meant that someone had named me Khepri.
"There's something I need to see for myself," I finished quietly, "Something I won't know for sure, unless I can face the boss alone."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
We entered the tower twenty minutes later after my health bar reached full, and my arm was restored in a subdued flash of light. The large, black iron door that blocked the entrance eased open with hardly a sound, and both Heathcliff and I unhesitatingly stepped into the shadow of the building that Kayaba had named, The Ruined Brownstone Tower.
Crumbling around itself, while the tower appeared to be one unbroken monument from the outside, once within a determined individual could see the devastation that gave the building its name. Cracks in the walls where water dripped down; dangerous holes in the floor growing over with green weeds; the tower had clearly seen better days and every available surface gave testament to that fact.
I grabbed one of the torches that sporadically lined the first floor hallway with my renewed left hand, "How much of the tower do you have mapped out," I questioned quietly. "I managed up to the ninth floor, before the Floor Boss meeting was called."
"I have most of the first twelve and a portion of the thirteenth," Heathcliff replied calmly as he kept his eyes peeled for enemies and drew the sword buckled at his waist.
Good, I thought to myself. The floors of the Ruined Brownstone Tower could be almost labyrinthine the higher one climbed; while I was prepared to thoroughly hunt through each for the stairs to ascend, I was glad we wouldn't have to bother with something so time consuming until practically the last quarter of the way.
Having spent so much time leveling in this building over the last week, Heathcliff and I made quick work of the first five floors.
"May I ask you something," Heathcliff suddenly questioned, after we killed a pair of kobolds on the sixth.
I looked over, the victory window I had been studying forgotten at Heathcliff's sudden call. "What is it," I casually asked, momentarily wondering if he had heard the news about the duel with Kibaou already.
"At first," he began with a contemplative frown, "I had wondered if it was because you were new to the game; however, after partying with you for a time, I am now certain: it isn't that you don't know how to use the Sword Skills provided by this world, it's that you have chosen not to."
Heathcliff spread his arms out, an almost desperate confusion coloring his words, "Why," he implored me, "Why limit yourself like that?"
I stared at him for a moment, thinking over my response. While it was something I'd been debating keeping to myself for now, he'd come with me this far - I suppose there wasn't any harm in answering his question.
"Because it doesn't limit me," I finally told him, my voice quiet, so as to prevent any echoes in the twisting hallways of the sixth floor. "You're a beta tester, so I'm sure you've seen it: the pause at the end of a Sword Skill. I might be able to do more damage if I used one, but every time I did, I'd be leaving myself wide open."
"It's a flaw," I continued, hoping that this might one day save his life, "In enemy mobs it's one we can exploit; however, in ourselves it's a dangerous vulnerability, especially when fighting on your own."
Heathcliff was silent a moment.
"...This is how you plan to kill the Floor Boss," he finally said, his words softly certain, "You found out that unlike bestial mobs, Illfang the Kobold Lord uses a weapon and so will attack with Sword Skills much like another player."
I nodded. It was true and at least half the reason I had resolved myself to coming this far. With the item's I'd equipped from both the Field Boss and all the grinding I'd done, I was already a little faster and perhaps a touch stronger than I might normally be. Between that, my training and my own extensive experience against hostile capes, I was betting that I'd be able to kill the Floor Boss cleanly on my own. No tactics. No grand strategy. Just me and another parahuman, doing our honest best to defeat the other.
It was a gamble, I conceded to myself. There was no hiding that. However, after the First-Floor Boss meeting, it was one I felt I had to take.
"I'm going to kill him," I told Heathcliff, refusing to obscure my words even in the wake of the duel not two hours before, "I'm going to face him openly and see if I can win using nothing, but my own skill."
"And if you can't," Heathcliff asked patiently.
I didn't reply.
I thought the answer would be obvious.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Heathcliff didn't try to talk me out of it after that, and as a result, we made good time over the next seven floors. At that point both of our personal experience was exhausted and we had to find the stairs the hard way; consequently, our ascension dragged to a near standstill.
One hour. Two. Four. Eight. The night passed and morning dawned, but we didn't stop our climb. I don't know what motivated Heathcliff to press forward without complaint, but I knew I couldn't stop without resolving things to my satisfaction. I felt my stomach rumble loudly sometime around floor seventeen, but I ignored it, my mind harshly clamping down on the feeling, until it was barely more than a mutter in my head.
Earlier I had worried I wouldn't be able to return to this place, that my relaxation before the Floor Boss meeting would be too tempting to neglect again, following our defeat of Illfang.
I didn't have those doubts anymore.
I wasn't even sure they'd be relevant.
We reached the twentieth floor by early noon the next day. Altogether we'd probably spent somewhere in the neighborhood of sixteen hours in that tower, trying to make our way to the Floor Boss.
We paused a moment outside the doors to the final room.
"Last chance to turn back," Heathcliff softly told me with a small turn of his head, "Are you certain about this?"
I nodded. If the people of this world weren't prepared to confront Kayaba's villainy, than the only resolution was to see if I could do it by myself.
I pushed the doors open.
The first thing I noticed as I stepped inside was the darkness. I had kept ahold of the torch I first picked up at the start of all this, only switching it out for new ones when it's durability was almost critically low, but even with its aid, I had trouble making out anything beyond a good four paces.
Still, it gave me enough to work with. A long hallway lined with pillars that stretched to the ceiling; wide open areas where a traditional raid would be encouraged to face the boss; there was even a faint podium I thought I could make out through the darkness, resting at the end of the passage.
I resolved myself to making use of the pillars.
Heathcliff had been a beta tester, so I didn't think it unreasonable to assume he knew a fair bit about this fight. To that end, as we made our way through the dungeon, I had pumped him for what info I could concerning how this fight originally went.
Having heard my resolution to fight this monster alone, Heathcliff complied, and that had been the tactic I decided upon after an hour long question and answer session: to use the terrain, to never leave my back open.
It was a plan I intended to follow and in preparation, I turned my mind to the details he provided for me of Illfang himself.
Described to me as a large red kobold, not dissimilar to the one we had first fought, Illfang the Kobold Lord would attack with an ax and shield - once his health was reduced to the red zone of the last bar, he would swap those weapons out for a curved sword he kept sheathed at his back.
Altogether, it was nothing too daunting. Instead, the most threatening aspect of the fight would be the three allies that he called to his aid at the start of each health bar. That was where I expected the most trouble.
Fighting one fairly ranked Brute?
I thought I could handle that.
I wouldn't want to do it, but it wasn't something that I was terribly unfamiliar with either, and I rated my chances as pretty fair. Add on a crippling weakness, like his tendency to pause after the execution of Sword Skills, and I rated my chances as actually being pretty good.
Having to handle that on top of three heavily armored kobolds trying to bash my skull in?
It made things riskier than I liked.
That was where those pillars came in. Beyond simply serving as something I could guard my back with when facing four separate enemies, they also allowed me to break up any assaults Illfang might try by placing a fairly fixed block of stone in his path. Normally, against a Brute this large I'd have to worry about him rushing my guard and catching me on a backswing before I could react. Here, I could simply use the pillar to stop his charge, side step around it and force him to constantly re-correct his positioning.
Between an inability to build momentum, my own experience and the awkwardness of trying to hit something a good third his own size, I felt I was ready for this fight.
I passed the first two pillars and watched as torches lit themselves before me.
By the time they reached Illfang, I could see that what I thought was a podium, was instead a set of wide stone stairs leading up to the Second Floor. The boss resided on a small platform set somewhere near the middle, and as the light touched upon his skin, the roof shook with the roar he let loose.
I wasn't worried about that.
Instead, I kept my eyes peeled for the adds that were supposed to come to his aid. Luckily for me, they chose to come bounding from large holes set near the top of the walls. Overall, I figured that was probably the most fortunate placement I could expect.
During the beta test, Heathcliff had described the adds as spawning magically around the boss; while I was prepared to deal with it, that was perhaps the worst possible scenario for me as an individual. Engaging not only the boss, but three other combatants simultaneously?
Very risky.
With the changes Kayaba had made to the game, I was actually a fair bit safer, as now I could immediately focus on one of the Ruined Kobold Sentinels that had come to aid the boss, before fully turning my attention to Illfang and the rest.
I rushed the one to my immediate left.
My sprint skill ate the distance between us in a matter of seconds, but that was more than enough time to make out the details I needed as I approached. The bright light of a charging Sword Skill; the holes in his plate mail near his sides and around his thighs and groin. I thought for a moment of the fight with Kibaou, but I couldn't play things that loose; I jumped back out of range the second the skill went off and then abruptly closed the distance, while the kobold was still off balance.
One strike; two; three. I managed to plant my dagger five times into its crotch by the time it had recovered from being stunned. Then, when it tried to counter with a backswing, I moved around it's side and planted my knife into the holes where its breastplate was belted around its chest. That was too much for it, and with a sharp cry it fragmented to pieces.
Two to go, I thought.
The one who had leapt from the right wall was closest, but not far behind him both Illfang and another sentinel were hot on his heels. The same move wouldn't work again; not with the danger of presenting the later two my back. Instead, I trusted the wall to guard it and placed the nearest pillar between all three.
There were three ways I saw this going.
First, all three enemies approached from the same side of the pillar. This wasn't the optimal scenario for me, but it'd let me fight them one at a time in a choke point formed between two of the stone columns.
The second way this could go, was the boss hung back and used both kobolds to flank me from both sides of the pillar. Then, it could move around one of the other nearby columns and catch me in a pincer, while I tried to deal with whichever combatant I had picked.
This was the worst for me. There wasn't much I could do here to tilt things in my favor, save hope I could finish my target off and slip the noose: if I tried to side step the tactic, they'd simply pursue with the boss on my far flank until I hit another wall. Unable to dodge and with my back to a corner, at that point it'd be game over.
The third thing they could do was split their force and attack from both sides of the pillar with the boss simply trailing behind one of the two kobolds.
This was the best for me and this was the option they picked.
The second I saw them commit to the tactic, I attacked the side without the boss.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if the sentinels were learning from my previous attacks or I was just unfortunate, because as I moved in for the kill, the second kobold decided to lead - not with a Sword Skill like before- but rather with a regular downward swing of its two-handed mace.
Either way, I adapted.
As the lopsided hammer came down I shuffled off to my left and brought my dagger up - not to block the mace, but rather to block the edge of his hands as they came down gripped around the stave.
I caught two fingers and a thumb with the maneuver.
With that, the maimed icon flashed next to his health bar and I pushed through his guard on his wounded side to present him as an obstacle to the two kobolds now stuck behind his back.
Unfortunately, Illfang decided he had, had just about enough of that bullshit and finished my job for me with a harsh swing of his ax. I watched the sentinel shatter in bewildered surprise and likely would have taken a vicious blow on the backswing if it wasn't for my passenger who moved me back at the last moment.
Right. Brute 4 attacking me.
I turned my attention back to the fight at hand.
Either way, I was down to one kobold sentinel and Illfang himself. While I was in a fortunate position with the boss in front of me, empty room behind me and the pillars lining the wall protecting my flank, I didn't like the thought of leaving that last ally around to protect Illfang's back.
So, I peeled to my right, around the column, setting up the same tactic I'd just tried, minus one kobold.
'If its good enough to work once...' I thought cautiously to myself as the kobolds lined themselves up with the pillar between us .
"It's good enough to work again," I finished with relief, as the boss approached from my left and the sentinel from my right - the pillar stuck, right in the middle between them.
The sentinel charged a Sword Skill on my approach and I killed it with the same ruthless combination that finished the first one.
Now it was just me and Illfang, until the second health bar.
I settled myself in for a long fight.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Overall, I think the first health bar was the easiest. Illfang was fast, but he wasn't mover fast and that left him pretty strictly within the limits I might see in a PRT officer, even if he hit like a five ton truck.
The second health bar was a bit harder, but that had more to do with the next three Ruined Kobold Sentinels that spawned, as opposed to any real change in Illfang's behavior. The column trick worked again, and as I could set up my position before they spawned, I even had time to kill the first sentinel and get a few hits in on the second, before I had to break it out.
The third health bar was the worst. At that point I had been fighting for a good hour and a half, and while I had avoided most of Illfang's swings, a couple had made it through.
I watched as my life ever so slowly ticked its way up from the yellow. Two kobolds were down and the third sentinel was on its last legs, but despite my success, I was seriously considering trying to extend the fight with Illfang himself.
Illfang was...sloppy would be the best way to put it. He was strong, yes - and while he wasn't mover quick, he was hardly slow, but most importantly for me, at his core, Illfang was simple. He was a first-floor video game boss-fight, explicitly designed to be both approachable and defeatable by players who were just beginning to dive into the world of Sword Art Online.
Kayaba's murderous declaration to this world hadn't changed that.
As such, Illfang was predictable in a way a real opponent wouldn't be. A real opponent would mix things up and try to surprise me with unexpected maneuvers. Illfang on the other hand preferred simple, clearly telegraphed combinations that he'd often repeat in a sequence. There'd be some variation true, but nothing that couldn't be anticipated and countered with a sharp eye and fast reflexes.
Every hit that I'd taken so far had been due - not to the threat he personally posed, but rather to complications with fighting Illfang and the sentinels at the same time.
Dragging the fight out and waiting for my health to naturally regenerate?
It was a tempting tactic.
Still, something stopped me. It wasn't my passenger - while such a thought might have been beyond me toward the end of the fight with Scion, I didn't feel any of the hesitation I thought I would for considering it.
No. The thing stopping me was the understanding that this would be the easiest fight I would get.
One hundred Floor Bosses.
A near endless assortment of minor foes and skilled lieutenants.
If I wanted any chance at stopping Kayaba, I needed to see him at his worst. And this wasn't his worst. This was practically an act of mercy.
I chose to fight on as I was.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Twenty minutes.
That's how long it took for me to push him past that third health bar. Twenty minutes of focusing on his hands, his feet, the direction of his gaze - all so I could anticipate where his ax was going to strike.
Even if my body couldn't feel fatigue, it didn't change the fact that it was absolutely exhausting on a mental level.
And now I got to do it all over again.
I watched the Ruined Kobold Sentinels spawn, both myself and Illfang optimally positioned near the holes in the wall to take advantage of that brief second of down time, between when they leapt down and when they'd have spent enough time recovering from the fall to attack.
That's when I heard the voices.
Not from the kobolds, but from the hallway I had first entered with Heathcliff. It was quiet at first, I noted, even as my passenger moved to kill the kobold before me, but even still, there was a cadence there that couldn't be imitated by the echo of dripping water.
Looks like I didn't have much time left.
While I was proud that the First-Floor Boss meeting had eventually managed to work itself up into making the assault on Illfang, at this point, any aid they could provide would likely be more hindrance then help.
I may not have known coming in everything I would have wanted to, but right now?
I had Illfang's measure.
It was no idle boast to say that in another ten to thirty minutes, this would be over.
On the other hand, killing Illfang wasn't the only reason I had come here. I came here to see what I alone could do; how far I could carry the burden of our freedom on my back. Because as cruel as it could be to say? I had the measure of the others too, and like Cuff they could be trusted, but only to a point.
Before we went any farther, I needed to know what I would do, if we reached that point.
I turned my back to Illfang and sprinted to the nearest kobold sentinel. If the other raiders were slowly approaching my position, I'd just need to finish things here, before they arrived.
Even if that meant taking a few risky chances.
Chances like the one I took by taking my eyes off of Illfang's body language. Unable to determine if he was charging a Sword Skill, I simply had to jink my body and trust to my speed and luck that he wouldn't be able to catch me.
He couldn't.
I reached the second sentinel with only a single close shave as Illfang guessed left when I dodged right. Free for a moment, while Illfang recovered from over extending, I slipped past a panicked strike and finished the Kobold before me by holding him still with my off-hand and plunging my knife repeatedly into his side as rapidly as I could with my right.
On the eleventh blow, the kobold gave an aborted squawk, stopped struggling and died in a shower of blue particle effects.
One left.
I watched as Illfang and the last kobold sentinel were slow to approach. Maybe they could learn, I thought warily to myself, as I kept my guard up. Taking their time, for once both red demi-humans walked, instead of ran to my position, their weapons fingered carefully in their clawed hands.
I couldn't help myself. I smiled.
Not brightly or with wry humor like at one of Imp's jokes. No, this was a hard smile and sharp; I didn't know if it was Kayaba himself or the system that had initiated the change, but finally they were taking this seriously.
It was time to ask my question.
I feinted for the kobold sentinel. For almost three hours now, I had practiced a strategy of divide and conquer; kill the weak kobolds quickly and then focus my attention on Illfang without distractions. It was a good strategy, simple and capable of a lot of flexibility within its designated mandate. Kayaba naturally sought to deny me it.
That was fine. I didn't need it anymore.
I launched myself at Illfang himself, and while both the sentinel and the larger demi-human tried to compensate, neither was able to as they were caught off-guard by my sudden change in tactics. This wasn't the enforced stun of an expended Sword Skill, but it was almost as good and I practically raked my knife over the immense red kobold's unarmored skin as I moved beyond his guard to stand behind him.
Once there, I did the last thing either of them expected: I jumped on Illfang's back.
Gripping with my knees as I latched onto his oily skin with my off hand, I struggled to pull myself up around his neck, where even with the lengthy polearm, the much smaller kobold sentinel would have no chance of reaching me.
Unfortunately, it wasn't going as quick as I'd like, so with a muffled yell, I sunk my knife into the flesh of his shoulder and used it as a hand hold to make my way forward. In that way, I scaled Illfang's back, much like I did the cliffside I assaulted with Heathcliff nearly three weeks earlier.
Hand over hand, I carefully made my way up, until after a second or two, I had my knees wrapped around Illfang's neck with one of his spindly ears gripped in my other hand for leverage.
Then I stabbed him in the eye.
Illfang didn't like that. Gripping the ax high on the shaft, he drew the weapon back and angled for a sweeping strike against his own neck.
It missed.
Between the disproportionate size of his body and the sheer scale of the oversized ax, it was nearly impossible for him to land anything more than a glancing blow. I kept an eye on my health as my knife moved down to his neck and began to saw beneath his chin. At this point it was a race to see who could do more damage, me with my knife to his neck or him with his ax to my back. So far I was winning.
His green to my yellow; my yellow matching his; we entered the red zone at practically the same moment. With an enraged and fearful cry, Illfang cast his weapons away, but rather than reach for the sword at his back - a sword that I noticed resembled a Japanese-style straight sword, more than the curved blade of which I was informed - Illfang instead took a running leap forward.
With a maddened howl, Illfang turned his body at the last minute and rammed his own back against the stone pillars I'd been using against him throughout the course of the fight.
With an almost savage growl of my own I saw my health points dip in response, but it was too little too late - I was far too high on his neck for him to dislodge me in such a fashion.
That didn't mean he didn't try.
Screaming, Illfang leaned forward and then smashed the back of his own head into the pillar. With a meaty whoomp, my body was caught between the two and ultimately softened the blow for the overweight demi-human. That was the rhythm to which we fought: cut and slam; cut and slam.
The beat of flesh on stone echoed about the room, until with a muffled growl I reached back and plunged my knife into the front of Illfang's head. Digging, I pulled it to the side, until with an ear splitting screech it snapped near the grip, the dark grey metal shearing off into the wound where it was soon lost to sight.
I felt the handle of the knife Heathcliff had given me shatter in my hand, the grip once again reduced to the particle effect from which it was originally summoned.
I looked at the sliver of life remaining in Illfang's bar.
I compared it to my own small, red lump.
Unwilling to quit, I did the only thing I could think of: I punched Illfang in the back of the head.
It wasn't going to end like this, I thought calmly.
My fist beat heavily against the flesh of his skull.
I refused to die like this, my task undone.
I reached around with both hands and stuck my fingers in the wound that I knew marred his face. The marks may have looked like electric tears, but they felt like warm marbled meat beneath my fingers. As my nails tore into the moist depths of the wound, I heard Illfang's loud lamentations and felt a kind of heavy inevitability fill my heart.
Finally, with a soft cry, Illfang mewled deep in his throat, slumped forward and quietly died in a silent shower of iridescent green polygons.
The last sound of the boss fight was my body hitting the stone floor as Illfang disappeared beneath me.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I picked myself back up off the stone floor, but it wasn't necessary. The fight was over, the last Ruined Kobold Sentinel had vanished with the boss and there before me was a familiar white box congratulating me on my victory.
Funny. I didn't feel like a winner.
I felt like someone who had managed to get their ass beat. Illfang might be dead, but the only thing running through my head was all the ways this could have gone wrong. If the last kobold hadn't despawned at the end of the fight; if the doors hadn't stayed open for the course of the encounter; if my dagger had broken five minutes sooner.
There were half a hundred ways Kayaba could have made that fight more difficult, and that was without reaching beyond the rules he'd set in place at the start of this misadventure. The fact that he didn't, even at the end? The only thing I could call it was an act of mercy.
I'd come here wondering if I could shoulder the burden of freeing us on my own. The answer I found once I got here was no, I couldn't.
I closed the window without looking at it and turned towards the door I first entered through. Heathcliff was waiting for me as I approached, his body resting against the doorframe. He raised a hand in greeting, almost nonplussed at my survival, "Did you find the answer you were looking for," he asked as I drew abreast.
I shook my head, "No," paused, and then reluctantly nodded, "Yes. I found an answer," I told him, "It just wasn't the one I was hoping for."
"So what now," he asked as he leaned into Illfang's room and casually looked around, "are you going to try and go two for two?"
No, I thought to myself as I looked down the hallway from which I could still faintly hear the voices of the other raiders. I had tried this on my own and failed. I didn't know how I was going to do it, but if I wasn't enough by myself, then I would simply have to ensure that the others rose to the challenge.
I thought about a lot of things as I waited for Heathcliff to arrive.
I thought about the Endbringers and what they had meant for Earth Bet; the way everyone would put aside old grievances and hold to a truce, least everyone turn on the one who broke it. I thought about heroes and about villains and about the masks we'd both wear to hide our faces. I thought about the pressures that had created the cape community and the unspoken rules we all abided by.
I thought about the look of shock on everyone's face as I cut Kibaou down; about the horror as I split him from inner thigh to groin to the base of his spine.
I thought about the hopeless and frightened man I had met at the inn, and the way Diabel had quietly asked me to leave after the duel, his eyes both afraid and resolute as he faced me in that amphitheater.
I thought about my previous assertion that this was our Sao Paulo.
I had made a mistake, I was coming to realize as I watched my health slowly heal from out of the yellow. I had made a blanket assumption about the people Kayaba had trapped in his world, simply because they had been given a parahuman's powers and a parahuman's task. These weren't the people I had grown up with; people who understood the responsibility they'd have to shoulder if they showed up for an S-class threat, even if they ultimately didn't choose to come.
Instead, these were like the people of forty years ago, before Scion and before everyone understood that the world - their world - could be over turned in an instant; whether by the selfishness of the villains who had grown to inhabit it or simply a bad reaction to an unexpected trigger.
This was a world untried by the threat of the Endbringers.
It was hard coming to terms with that. With the idea that I'd moved from a world where even unpowered individuals like the PRT would take up the fight against a cape like Nilbog...to one where I'd be hard pressed to find forty individuals who'd be willing to put their lives at risk for an important cause.
It was disappointing and bizarre and already I felt myself growing resigned to it.
I looked up as I heard Heathcliff approach and waved with my good arm as he came to stand beside me. "I got your message," he said as he turned to stare at the immense pillar I'd been resting beside, "You said you wanted my help to kill the Floor Boss. I wasn't sure if you were being serious." He looked back at where I was leaning against the door to the dungeon with one arm hacked off, "I'm still not sure if you're being serious."
"I am," I said quietly. "The First-Floor Boss meeting didn't go as I expected. If we want to see any progress we're going to have to do it ourselves."
Heathcliff looked around at the empty field we were standing in and gestured forward in bewilderment, "Why," he heatedly asked? "What's the problem with waiting for the other Front Liners or getting some help? Surely, you don't mean to attempt it with only two people."
I shook my head, taking a moment to imagine how long it would be before we could get enough people together to make a serious, determined attempt against the Floor Boss.
I thought of how long it'd take, for them to simply move past my duel with Kibaou.
"Do you remember what you told me when I asked you why people were unwilling to help you with the field boss," I asked, by way of reply. "You said they stopped listening, but do you know why that was," I pressed flatly.
"It's because they're scared," I told him. "They're terrified that they're going to die in here, and they've drawn a line in the sand that reads 'this far and no further.'"
"And that's fine," I continued relentlessly, starring at Heathcliff as his face transitioned from incredulous and confused to a kind of calm focus, "If that's all they can do, then that's all I'll ask of them, but that doesn't change the fact that the Floor Boss needs to die. You helped me once with something like this. I'm asking you to help me again."
"...Also," I continued after a moments pause, "I need to apologize. I'm not asking you to kill the Floor Boss, just to help me get there."
I thought about Behemoth and about heroes; about the dreams I've been having whenever I tried to sleep and what it meant that someone had named me Khepri.
"There's something I need to see for myself," I finished quietly, "Something I won't know for sure, unless I can face the boss alone."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
We entered the tower twenty minutes later after my health bar reached full, and my arm was restored in a subdued flash of light. The large, black iron door that blocked the entrance eased open with hardly a sound, and both Heathcliff and I unhesitatingly stepped into the shadow of the building that Kayaba had named, The Ruined Brownstone Tower.
Crumbling around itself, while the tower appeared to be one unbroken monument from the outside, once within a determined individual could see the devastation that gave the building its name. Cracks in the walls where water dripped down; dangerous holes in the floor growing over with green weeds; the tower had clearly seen better days and every available surface gave testament to that fact.
I grabbed one of the torches that sporadically lined the first floor hallway with my renewed left hand, "How much of the tower do you have mapped out," I questioned quietly. "I managed up to the ninth floor, before the Floor Boss meeting was called."
"I have most of the first twelve and a portion of the thirteenth," Heathcliff replied calmly as he kept his eyes peeled for enemies and drew the sword buckled at his waist.
Good, I thought to myself. The floors of the Ruined Brownstone Tower could be almost labyrinthine the higher one climbed; while I was prepared to thoroughly hunt through each for the stairs to ascend, I was glad we wouldn't have to bother with something so time consuming until practically the last quarter of the way.
Having spent so much time leveling in this building over the last week, Heathcliff and I made quick work of the first five floors.
"May I ask you something," Heathcliff suddenly questioned, after we killed a pair of kobolds on the sixth.
I looked over, the victory window I had been studying forgotten at Heathcliff's sudden call. "What is it," I casually asked, momentarily wondering if he had heard the news about the duel with Kibaou already.
"At first," he began with a contemplative frown, "I had wondered if it was because you were new to the game; however, after partying with you for a time, I am now certain: it isn't that you don't know how to use the Sword Skills provided by this world, it's that you have chosen not to."
Heathcliff spread his arms out, an almost desperate confusion coloring his words, "Why," he implored me, "Why limit yourself like that?"
I stared at him for a moment, thinking over my response. While it was something I'd been debating keeping to myself for now, he'd come with me this far - I suppose there wasn't any harm in answering his question.
"Because it doesn't limit me," I finally told him, my voice quiet, so as to prevent any echoes in the twisting hallways of the sixth floor. "You're a beta tester, so I'm sure you've seen it: the pause at the end of a Sword Skill. I might be able to do more damage if I used one, but every time I did, I'd be leaving myself wide open."
"It's a flaw," I continued, hoping that this might one day save his life, "In enemy mobs it's one we can exploit; however, in ourselves it's a dangerous vulnerability, especially when fighting on your own."
Heathcliff was silent a moment.
"...This is how you plan to kill the Floor Boss," he finally said, his words softly certain, "You found out that unlike bestial mobs, Illfang the Kobold Lord uses a weapon and so will attack with Sword Skills much like another player."
I nodded. It was true and at least half the reason I had resolved myself to coming this far. With the item's I'd equipped from both the Field Boss and all the grinding I'd done, I was already a little faster and perhaps a touch stronger than I might normally be. Between that, my training and my own extensive experience against hostile capes, I was betting that I'd be able to kill the Floor Boss cleanly on my own. No tactics. No grand strategy. Just me and another parahuman, doing our honest best to defeat the other.
It was a gamble, I conceded to myself. There was no hiding that. However, after the First-Floor Boss meeting, it was one I felt I had to take.
"I'm going to kill him," I told Heathcliff, refusing to obscure my words even in the wake of the duel not two hours before, "I'm going to face him openly and see if I can win using nothing, but my own skill."
"And if you can't," Heathcliff asked patiently.
I didn't reply.
I thought the answer would be obvious.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Heathcliff didn't try to talk me out of it after that, and as a result, we made good time over the next seven floors. At that point both of our personal experience was exhausted and we had to find the stairs the hard way; consequently, our ascension dragged to a near standstill.
One hour. Two. Four. Eight. The night passed and morning dawned, but we didn't stop our climb. I don't know what motivated Heathcliff to press forward without complaint, but I knew I couldn't stop without resolving things to my satisfaction. I felt my stomach rumble loudly sometime around floor seventeen, but I ignored it, my mind harshly clamping down on the feeling, until it was barely more than a mutter in my head.
Earlier I had worried I wouldn't be able to return to this place, that my relaxation before the Floor Boss meeting would be too tempting to neglect again, following our defeat of Illfang.
I didn't have those doubts anymore.
I wasn't even sure they'd be relevant.
We reached the twentieth floor by early noon the next day. Altogether we'd probably spent somewhere in the neighborhood of sixteen hours in that tower, trying to make our way to the Floor Boss.
We paused a moment outside the doors to the final room.
"Last chance to turn back," Heathcliff softly told me with a small turn of his head, "Are you certain about this?"
I nodded. If the people of this world weren't prepared to confront Kayaba's villainy, than the only resolution was to see if I could do it by myself.
I pushed the doors open.
The first thing I noticed as I stepped inside was the darkness. I had kept ahold of the torch I first picked up at the start of all this, only switching it out for new ones when it's durability was almost critically low, but even with its aid, I had trouble making out anything beyond a good four paces.
Still, it gave me enough to work with. A long hallway lined with pillars that stretched to the ceiling; wide open areas where a traditional raid would be encouraged to face the boss; there was even a faint podium I thought I could make out through the darkness, resting at the end of the passage.
I resolved myself to making use of the pillars.
Heathcliff had been a beta tester, so I didn't think it unreasonable to assume he knew a fair bit about this fight. To that end, as we made our way through the dungeon, I had pumped him for what info I could concerning how this fight originally went.
Having heard my resolution to fight this monster alone, Heathcliff complied, and that had been the tactic I decided upon after an hour long question and answer session: to use the terrain, to never leave my back open.
It was a plan I intended to follow and in preparation, I turned my mind to the details he provided for me of Illfang himself.
Described to me as a large red kobold, not dissimilar to the one we had first fought, Illfang the Kobold Lord would attack with an ax and shield - once his health was reduced to the red zone of the last bar, he would swap those weapons out for a curved sword he kept sheathed at his back.
Altogether, it was nothing too daunting. Instead, the most threatening aspect of the fight would be the three allies that he called to his aid at the start of each health bar. That was where I expected the most trouble.
Fighting one fairly ranked Brute?
I thought I could handle that.
I wouldn't want to do it, but it wasn't something that I was terribly unfamiliar with either, and I rated my chances as pretty fair. Add on a crippling weakness, like his tendency to pause after the execution of Sword Skills, and I rated my chances as actually being pretty good.
Having to handle that on top of three heavily armored kobolds trying to bash my skull in?
It made things riskier than I liked.
That was where those pillars came in. Beyond simply serving as something I could guard my back with when facing four separate enemies, they also allowed me to break up any assaults Illfang might try by placing a fairly fixed block of stone in his path. Normally, against a Brute this large I'd have to worry about him rushing my guard and catching me on a backswing before I could react. Here, I could simply use the pillar to stop his charge, side step around it and force him to constantly re-correct his positioning.
Between an inability to build momentum, my own experience and the awkwardness of trying to hit something a good third his own size, I felt I was ready for this fight.
I passed the first two pillars and watched as torches lit themselves before me.
By the time they reached Illfang, I could see that what I thought was a podium, was instead a set of wide stone stairs leading up to the Second Floor. The boss resided on a small platform set somewhere near the middle, and as the light touched upon his skin, the roof shook with the roar he let loose.
I wasn't worried about that.
Instead, I kept my eyes peeled for the adds that were supposed to come to his aid. Luckily for me, they chose to come bounding from large holes set near the top of the walls. Overall, I figured that was probably the most fortunate placement I could expect.
During the beta test, Heathcliff had described the adds as spawning magically around the boss; while I was prepared to deal with it, that was perhaps the worst possible scenario for me as an individual. Engaging not only the boss, but three other combatants simultaneously?
Very risky.
With the changes Kayaba had made to the game, I was actually a fair bit safer, as now I could immediately focus on one of the Ruined Kobold Sentinels that had come to aid the boss, before fully turning my attention to Illfang and the rest.
I rushed the one to my immediate left.
My sprint skill ate the distance between us in a matter of seconds, but that was more than enough time to make out the details I needed as I approached. The bright light of a charging Sword Skill; the holes in his plate mail near his sides and around his thighs and groin. I thought for a moment of the fight with Kibaou, but I couldn't play things that loose; I jumped back out of range the second the skill went off and then abruptly closed the distance, while the kobold was still off balance.
One strike; two; three. I managed to plant my dagger five times into its crotch by the time it had recovered from being stunned. Then, when it tried to counter with a backswing, I moved around it's side and planted my knife into the holes where its breastplate was belted around its chest. That was too much for it, and with a sharp cry it fragmented to pieces.
Two to go, I thought.
The one who had leapt from the right wall was closest, but not far behind him both Illfang and another sentinel were hot on his heels. The same move wouldn't work again; not with the danger of presenting the later two my back. Instead, I trusted the wall to guard it and placed the nearest pillar between all three.
There were three ways I saw this going.
First, all three enemies approached from the same side of the pillar. This wasn't the optimal scenario for me, but it'd let me fight them one at a time in a choke point formed between two of the stone columns.
The second way this could go, was the boss hung back and used both kobolds to flank me from both sides of the pillar. Then, it could move around one of the other nearby columns and catch me in a pincer, while I tried to deal with whichever combatant I had picked.
This was the worst for me. There wasn't much I could do here to tilt things in my favor, save hope I could finish my target off and slip the noose: if I tried to side step the tactic, they'd simply pursue with the boss on my far flank until I hit another wall. Unable to dodge and with my back to a corner, at that point it'd be game over.
The third thing they could do was split their force and attack from both sides of the pillar with the boss simply trailing behind one of the two kobolds.
This was the best for me and this was the option they picked.
The second I saw them commit to the tactic, I attacked the side without the boss.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if the sentinels were learning from my previous attacks or I was just unfortunate, because as I moved in for the kill, the second kobold decided to lead - not with a Sword Skill like before- but rather with a regular downward swing of its two-handed mace.
Either way, I adapted.
As the lopsided hammer came down I shuffled off to my left and brought my dagger up - not to block the mace, but rather to block the edge of his hands as they came down gripped around the stave.
I caught two fingers and a thumb with the maneuver.
With that, the maimed icon flashed next to his health bar and I pushed through his guard on his wounded side to present him as an obstacle to the two kobolds now stuck behind his back.
Unfortunately, Illfang decided he had, had just about enough of that bullshit and finished my job for me with a harsh swing of his ax. I watched the sentinel shatter in bewildered surprise and likely would have taken a vicious blow on the backswing if it wasn't for my passenger who moved me back at the last moment.
Right. Brute 4 attacking me.
I turned my attention back to the fight at hand.
Either way, I was down to one kobold sentinel and Illfang himself. While I was in a fortunate position with the boss in front of me, empty room behind me and the pillars lining the wall protecting my flank, I didn't like the thought of leaving that last ally around to protect Illfang's back.
So, I peeled to my right, around the column, setting up the same tactic I'd just tried, minus one kobold.
'If its good enough to work once...' I thought cautiously to myself as the kobolds lined themselves up with the pillar between us .
"It's good enough to work again," I finished with relief, as the boss approached from my left and the sentinel from my right - the pillar stuck, right in the middle between them.
The sentinel charged a Sword Skill on my approach and I killed it with the same ruthless combination that finished the first one.
Now it was just me and Illfang, until the second health bar.
I settled myself in for a long fight.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Overall, I think the first health bar was the easiest. Illfang was fast, but he wasn't mover fast and that left him pretty strictly within the limits I might see in a PRT officer, even if he hit like a five ton truck.
The second health bar was a bit harder, but that had more to do with the next three Ruined Kobold Sentinels that spawned, as opposed to any real change in Illfang's behavior. The column trick worked again, and as I could set up my position before they spawned, I even had time to kill the first sentinel and get a few hits in on the second, before I had to break it out.
The third health bar was the worst. At that point I had been fighting for a good hour and a half, and while I had avoided most of Illfang's swings, a couple had made it through.
I watched as my life ever so slowly ticked its way up from the yellow. Two kobolds were down and the third sentinel was on its last legs, but despite my success, I was seriously considering trying to extend the fight with Illfang himself.
Illfang was...sloppy would be the best way to put it. He was strong, yes - and while he wasn't mover quick, he was hardly slow, but most importantly for me, at his core, Illfang was simple. He was a first-floor video game boss-fight, explicitly designed to be both approachable and defeatable by players who were just beginning to dive into the world of Sword Art Online.
Kayaba's murderous declaration to this world hadn't changed that.
As such, Illfang was predictable in a way a real opponent wouldn't be. A real opponent would mix things up and try to surprise me with unexpected maneuvers. Illfang on the other hand preferred simple, clearly telegraphed combinations that he'd often repeat in a sequence. There'd be some variation true, but nothing that couldn't be anticipated and countered with a sharp eye and fast reflexes.
Every hit that I'd taken so far had been due - not to the threat he personally posed, but rather to complications with fighting Illfang and the sentinels at the same time.
Dragging the fight out and waiting for my health to naturally regenerate?
It was a tempting tactic.
Still, something stopped me. It wasn't my passenger - while such a thought might have been beyond me toward the end of the fight with Scion, I didn't feel any of the hesitation I thought I would for considering it.
No. The thing stopping me was the understanding that this would be the easiest fight I would get.
One hundred Floor Bosses.
A near endless assortment of minor foes and skilled lieutenants.
If I wanted any chance at stopping Kayaba, I needed to see him at his worst. And this wasn't his worst. This was practically an act of mercy.
I chose to fight on as I was.
/\/\/\/\/\/\
Twenty minutes.
That's how long it took for me to push him past that third health bar. Twenty minutes of focusing on his hands, his feet, the direction of his gaze - all so I could anticipate where his ax was going to strike.
Even if my body couldn't feel fatigue, it didn't change the fact that it was absolutely exhausting on a mental level.
And now I got to do it all over again.
I watched the Ruined Kobold Sentinels spawn, both myself and Illfang optimally positioned near the holes in the wall to take advantage of that brief second of down time, between when they leapt down and when they'd have spent enough time recovering from the fall to attack.
That's when I heard the voices.
Not from the kobolds, but from the hallway I had first entered with Heathcliff. It was quiet at first, I noted, even as my passenger moved to kill the kobold before me, but even still, there was a cadence there that couldn't be imitated by the echo of dripping water.
Looks like I didn't have much time left.
While I was proud that the First-Floor Boss meeting had eventually managed to work itself up into making the assault on Illfang, at this point, any aid they could provide would likely be more hindrance then help.
I may not have known coming in everything I would have wanted to, but right now?
I had Illfang's measure.
It was no idle boast to say that in another ten to thirty minutes, this would be over.
On the other hand, killing Illfang wasn't the only reason I had come here. I came here to see what I alone could do; how far I could carry the burden of our freedom on my back. Because as cruel as it could be to say? I had the measure of the others too, and like Cuff they could be trusted, but only to a point.
Before we went any farther, I needed to know what I would do, if we reached that point.
I turned my back to Illfang and sprinted to the nearest kobold sentinel. If the other raiders were slowly approaching my position, I'd just need to finish things here, before they arrived.
Even if that meant taking a few risky chances.
Chances like the one I took by taking my eyes off of Illfang's body language. Unable to determine if he was charging a Sword Skill, I simply had to jink my body and trust to my speed and luck that he wouldn't be able to catch me.
He couldn't.
I reached the second sentinel with only a single close shave as Illfang guessed left when I dodged right. Free for a moment, while Illfang recovered from over extending, I slipped past a panicked strike and finished the Kobold before me by holding him still with my off-hand and plunging my knife repeatedly into his side as rapidly as I could with my right.
On the eleventh blow, the kobold gave an aborted squawk, stopped struggling and died in a shower of blue particle effects.
One left.
I watched as Illfang and the last kobold sentinel were slow to approach. Maybe they could learn, I thought warily to myself, as I kept my guard up. Taking their time, for once both red demi-humans walked, instead of ran to my position, their weapons fingered carefully in their clawed hands.
I couldn't help myself. I smiled.
Not brightly or with wry humor like at one of Imp's jokes. No, this was a hard smile and sharp; I didn't know if it was Kayaba himself or the system that had initiated the change, but finally they were taking this seriously.
It was time to ask my question.
I feinted for the kobold sentinel. For almost three hours now, I had practiced a strategy of divide and conquer; kill the weak kobolds quickly and then focus my attention on Illfang without distractions. It was a good strategy, simple and capable of a lot of flexibility within its designated mandate. Kayaba naturally sought to deny me it.
That was fine. I didn't need it anymore.
I launched myself at Illfang himself, and while both the sentinel and the larger demi-human tried to compensate, neither was able to as they were caught off-guard by my sudden change in tactics. This wasn't the enforced stun of an expended Sword Skill, but it was almost as good and I practically raked my knife over the immense red kobold's unarmored skin as I moved beyond his guard to stand behind him.
Once there, I did the last thing either of them expected: I jumped on Illfang's back.
Gripping with my knees as I latched onto his oily skin with my off hand, I struggled to pull myself up around his neck, where even with the lengthy polearm, the much smaller kobold sentinel would have no chance of reaching me.
Unfortunately, it wasn't going as quick as I'd like, so with a muffled yell, I sunk my knife into the flesh of his shoulder and used it as a hand hold to make my way forward. In that way, I scaled Illfang's back, much like I did the cliffside I assaulted with Heathcliff nearly three weeks earlier.
Hand over hand, I carefully made my way up, until after a second or two, I had my knees wrapped around Illfang's neck with one of his spindly ears gripped in my other hand for leverage.
Then I stabbed him in the eye.
Illfang didn't like that. Gripping the ax high on the shaft, he drew the weapon back and angled for a sweeping strike against his own neck.
It missed.
Between the disproportionate size of his body and the sheer scale of the oversized ax, it was nearly impossible for him to land anything more than a glancing blow. I kept an eye on my health as my knife moved down to his neck and began to saw beneath his chin. At this point it was a race to see who could do more damage, me with my knife to his neck or him with his ax to my back. So far I was winning.
His green to my yellow; my yellow matching his; we entered the red zone at practically the same moment. With an enraged and fearful cry, Illfang cast his weapons away, but rather than reach for the sword at his back - a sword that I noticed resembled a Japanese-style straight sword, more than the curved blade of which I was informed - Illfang instead took a running leap forward.
With a maddened howl, Illfang turned his body at the last minute and rammed his own back against the stone pillars I'd been using against him throughout the course of the fight.
With an almost savage growl of my own I saw my health points dip in response, but it was too little too late - I was far too high on his neck for him to dislodge me in such a fashion.
That didn't mean he didn't try.
Screaming, Illfang leaned forward and then smashed the back of his own head into the pillar. With a meaty whoomp, my body was caught between the two and ultimately softened the blow for the overweight demi-human. That was the rhythm to which we fought: cut and slam; cut and slam.
The beat of flesh on stone echoed about the room, until with a muffled growl I reached back and plunged my knife into the front of Illfang's head. Digging, I pulled it to the side, until with an ear splitting screech it snapped near the grip, the dark grey metal shearing off into the wound where it was soon lost to sight.
I felt the handle of the knife Heathcliff had given me shatter in my hand, the grip once again reduced to the particle effect from which it was originally summoned.
I looked at the sliver of life remaining in Illfang's bar.
I compared it to my own small, red lump.
Unwilling to quit, I did the only thing I could think of: I punched Illfang in the back of the head.
It wasn't going to end like this, I thought calmly.
My fist beat heavily against the flesh of his skull.
I refused to die like this, my task undone.
I reached around with both hands and stuck my fingers in the wound that I knew marred his face. The marks may have looked like electric tears, but they felt like warm marbled meat beneath my fingers. As my nails tore into the moist depths of the wound, I heard Illfang's loud lamentations and felt a kind of heavy inevitability fill my heart.
Finally, with a soft cry, Illfang mewled deep in his throat, slumped forward and quietly died in a silent shower of iridescent green polygons.
The last sound of the boss fight was my body hitting the stone floor as Illfang disappeared beneath me.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I picked myself back up off the stone floor, but it wasn't necessary. The fight was over, the last Ruined Kobold Sentinel had vanished with the boss and there before me was a familiar white box congratulating me on my victory.
Funny. I didn't feel like a winner.
I felt like someone who had managed to get their ass beat. Illfang might be dead, but the only thing running through my head was all the ways this could have gone wrong. If the last kobold hadn't despawned at the end of the fight; if the doors hadn't stayed open for the course of the encounter; if my dagger had broken five minutes sooner.
There were half a hundred ways Kayaba could have made that fight more difficult, and that was without reaching beyond the rules he'd set in place at the start of this misadventure. The fact that he didn't, even at the end? The only thing I could call it was an act of mercy.
I'd come here wondering if I could shoulder the burden of freeing us on my own. The answer I found once I got here was no, I couldn't.
I closed the window without looking at it and turned towards the door I first entered through. Heathcliff was waiting for me as I approached, his body resting against the doorframe. He raised a hand in greeting, almost nonplussed at my survival, "Did you find the answer you were looking for," he asked as I drew abreast.
I shook my head, "No," paused, and then reluctantly nodded, "Yes. I found an answer," I told him, "It just wasn't the one I was hoping for."
"So what now," he asked as he leaned into Illfang's room and casually looked around, "are you going to try and go two for two?"
No, I thought to myself as I looked down the hallway from which I could still faintly hear the voices of the other raiders. I had tried this on my own and failed. I didn't know how I was going to do it, but if I wasn't enough by myself, then I would simply have to ensure that the others rose to the challenge.
Ahahaha. Holy --- Taylor is definitely operating on a different mindset than the rest of them. The idea of killing someone for a group to get along - i.e. someone messing up the Endbringer truce, which is what she thinks of this as, gets put down hard - does not phase her at all.
I'm going to laugh myself sick if she actually does manage to just kill the First Floor Boss with Heathcliff.
Also, I feel sorry for ... Cardinal, I believe, who has to check everyone to find out who the heck the 10001 player is.
Edit: Laughing. Lots. And yeah, you're going to need to create a party, Khepri. I'm very curious what Heathcliff thinks of Taylor's fight although he utilized the sword skill weakness too in his own fight against Kirito. Diabel's still alive, Kibaou's not (this may actually turn out to be a good thing for SAO if not for Taylor), and she's got the Last Attack item bonus. Awesome coat coming up for her?
Also, yay! More of this! I've definitely been looking forward to reading more of your writing in the SAO / Worm cross.
I'm going to laugh myself sick if she actually does manage to just kill the First Floor Boss with Heathcliff.
Also, I feel sorry for ... Cardinal, I believe, who has to check everyone to find out who the heck the 10001 player is.
Edit: Laughing. Lots. And yeah, you're going to need to create a party, Khepri. I'm very curious what Heathcliff thinks of Taylor's fight although he utilized the sword skill weakness too in his own fight against Kirito. Diabel's still alive, Kibaou's not (this may actually turn out to be a good thing for SAO if not for Taylor), and she's got the Last Attack item bonus. Awesome coat coming up for her?
Also, yay! More of this! I've definitely been looking forward to reading more of your writing in the SAO / Worm cross.
Unfortunately that was the last. I'm working on 2.3 right now and I've got most of the rest of the chapter outlined out, but those two built so heavily off each other, I decided to just wait and post it in one lump sum to kick off the thread.vel10 said:
She's aware of it to a degree, but she's largely trying to ignore it by focusing on the problems at hand. Taylor's stable as of this point, but she's not precisely sane and you can see it if you pay attention to the end of 1.5 and the start of 2.1BF110C4 said:
Anyway, Argo's definitely got Khepri marked as a target of interest. This is Kirito, Argo, and Asuna, no?
I don't think it'll be a problem. You might not recognize some of the more obscure or hidden allusions, but anything important will be brought up in the chapter, I presume. After all, Taylor herself is new to SAO and she'll need to learn as well.Dermonster said:
@koolerkid - Yes. Badass coat!
Other than that, she has incredible will and she's, as the author said, a little crazy. Seriously, going without food for like 3 weeks straight and each day on 4 hours sleep (and realistically, less since you can't really sleep while having the Shard power your body practicing acrobatics or something). The Shard working with her is an interesting subplot too. Very curious what's going on there.
It iskatreus said:
Kirito and Asuna are going to have a fairly big role in this, but it probably wont be until chapter 3 or so - maybe late chapter 2 depending on his this flows.Sorry about that, been trying to get the editing settled. Anyway, yes and no. I'm planning on introducing the characters I use for the most part, and I think I've already ironed out many of the gameplay basics you need to know, but if you aren't familiar with SAO at all you're probably going to be missing quite a bit. Honestly, it's a bit hard to say if this is going to be able to stand on its own in that kind of vacuum; all I can say is read it, and let me know what you think.Dermonster said:
Are people ever going to find out where Taylor is from and what she can do?violetshadows said:It is
Sorry about that, been trying to get the editing settled. Anyway, yes and no. I'm planning on introducing the characters I use for the most part, and I think I've already ironed out many of the gameplay basics you need to know, but if you aren't familiar with SAO at all you're probably going to be missing quite a bit. Honestly, it's a bit hard to say if this is going to be able to stand on its own in that kind of vacuum; all I can say is read it, and let me know what you think.
A good story about a half crazy Khepri Taylor? And SAO? Subscribed
I think it's a shame that the rest of the Frontliners didn't arrive in time to see Illfang shatter into pixels, and Taylor having her conversation with Heathcliff while everyone else was too stunned to talk. Then again, that might be too much of a coincidence...
I'll be looking forward to more of this
I think it's a shame that the rest of the Frontliners didn't arrive in time to see Illfang shatter into pixels, and Taylor having her conversation with Heathcliff while everyone else was too stunned to talk. Then again, that might be too much of a coincidence...
I'll be looking forward to more of this
Khaos
Baguette, wine and cheese
One of the core reason of Kirito's behaviour is the trauma from Sachi's death, this hasn't happened yet... and may not happen in this AU.Mimas said:
I did not know about the video thing, I skimmed through most of the progressive stuff he did, but Baka-tsuki took down novels 1-3 last time I checked since it got licensed, so I couldn't fact check as much as I'd like. Still I can work with this.koolerkid said:
Also, with this the stations of canon are pretty much going bye-bye. I'm not super familiar with everything from rondo, so at this point things can be considered pretty firmly AU. On the other hand, this is borrowing pretty heavily from Worm, so expect a fairly high body count anyway. If I can't kill at least three named characters by the end of the second chapter, I'm going to feel like I'm letting Wildbow down.Khaos said:
That was the Shard. Taylor was the 'Passenger' in that chapter. But the Shard and her are much more in tune in this AU.koolerkid said:
To be fair, she's been in this state of mind for 2 years straight. It's almost more alien to live than to sacrifice (everything) for the Mission for her. Of course, that probably partially explains the state of her mental health.koolerkid said:
@violetshadows -
1. Some quick wrong word choice I noticed - in 2.1: principles vs. principals and parkour vs. parcour.
2. I don't necessarily want a character sheet since that should be fluffed as necessary for the story, but can we get a rough idea on her levels? And she still only has 2 skill slots? I would have thought she'd have 3 slots by now. (And maybe she should just have the Shard practice hiding while she's sleeping.)
VV Duels are sanctioned PVP events though. SAO wiki says:
So, she should be fine on that note. Still, that was a really prominent duel so... She'll take a rep hit at least. Oh, you mean labeled as PKer by the player community. ... Yeah.
Stratagemini
Totally a Fire Ferret.
- Location
- Central Park
- Pronouns
- He/Him/They/Them
Huh. Poor Khepri. She's a red player now. That might hurt her later. But no one can deny that Kibaou wasn't asking for it. Taylor vs. Ilfang was great. Poor Taylor realizing she has to trust and rely on people. people who know she resorts to murder over insults. She has NO IDEA how much this might bite her in the ass.
Khaos
Baguette, wine and cheese
And here I thought Kabaya's death world was going to be a healing ward for Taylor.violetshadows said:
That said, I hope you're not going to increase the body count too much.
- Status