Sword Art Online Progressive 2

  If progress continued in accordance with Kibaou’s challenge to the crowd, the boss battle against the third-floor boss would take place in six days: December 21. Until then, we’d accomplish as much as we could using this camp as our home. We’d continue with the campaign quest, acquire new armor and upgrade it, increase our skill proficiency, and gain information. There was a mountain of tasks to see to.

  When we passed through the narrow canyon of magical mists and into the camp, I breathed in a lungful of the strangely scented air and told myself it was time to get cracking.

  6

  IN THE LONG-DISTANT PAST…

  The world was split into the forest elven kingdom of Kales’Oh, the dark elven kingdom of Lyusula, the human Alliance of the Nine, the underground realm of the dwarves, and various other groupings along racial lines, and while there were skirmishes at times, the land was at peace.

  But one day, something happened, and a hundred varied regions from around the world were cut in circles from the earth and summoned up to the sky. The circles were under two miles across at the smallest and over six at the largest. They were stacked in a conical formation to form a gigantic floating fortress a hundred floors tall.

  This castle held its countless towns and villages, mountains, forests and lakes, and never again returned to earth. The magic powers that caused the old civilizations to flourish were lost, and with them, the nine kingdoms of man. Most towns reverted to maintaining themselves, and the floors lost contact with one another. A great length of time passed. Legends and tales of the Great Separation still existed among the two elf races, the only people to keep their kingdoms intact from that fateful time…

  “…and that’s how the story goes,” I said, summarizing the backstory of Aincrad’s genesis as best I’d learned it that day while I leaned back against the tent. A watery voice answered from behind my back.

  “Hmm…So it feels like we learned some stuff, but none of it is very useful.”

  “Pretty much,” I replied, looking up with my hands folded behind my head. Beyond the steam issuing from the exhaust pipe built into the roof of the bathing tent, the bottom of the fourth floor gleamed dark and foreboding.

  According to elf legend, someone had yanked the ground straight out of the earth and connected it all with a framework of steel and stone so that the pieces were stacked one atop the other. Of course, the true creators of SAO were Kayaba and the Argus staff, and the legends of the Great Separation were nothing but background info they’d added to the game, but it was hard not to be curious about it all. Who had created this floating castle and why? Was it the whim of a godlike figure, or the work of a human, or elf, or something else?

  Asuna was pondering a similar topic within the bath. When she spoke, there was a bubbling filter applied to her voice.

  “By the way, it doesn’t seem like there’s much in the way of gods to this story. When I read or watched fantasy stories as a little girl, there were always a bunch of different gods with fancy names.”

  “Hmm, you may have a point there. There are churches in the bigger towns, and NPC priests, but I don’t even know what god they’re worshipping…Then again, that might actually be fitting, based on most fantasy-themed games. All they have is a vague godlike figure.”

  “Because the player is supposed to fill in the blank for herself? Then I guess your god must be the god of Last Attack bonuses. You managed to win yourself the bonus against today’s field boss, after all.”

  I tried to answer her half-joking response with another of my increasingly weak excuses.

  “I-it’s not like I’m going out of my way to win them. I just play a character build that excels in attack power, which happens to raise the chances that I’ll get the last hit…Besides, if we’re talking about gods, then yours must be the god of the bath or something. It ensures that everywhere you go, you find lodgings with baths attached…In fact, that reminds me of my place back in Tolbana—”

  A ball of water smacked the other side of the tent wall behind my head. I remembered that I was supposed to have erased that memory and hastily changed the topic.

  “A-anyway, aside from us, it looks like only Lind and the DKB are working on the campaign quest. Seems like a waste, especially since Argo put out Volume One of her Elf War strategy guide.”

  “And we added a lot of information on our own. But maybe everyone saw that guide and got a bit intimidated. I mean, it said right there that the campaign doesn’t end until the ninth floor. Even Agil said, ‘I don’t think I’ve got the time to mess around with a long-ass quest like that.’”

  I snorted at her surprisingly accurate impression of Agil.

  “Well, I guess there’s always the option, once we reach the ninth floor, of rushing back here to blaze through the entire questline. Plus, you’d be at a much higher level, so it probably gives you a better chance at saving the elf champion in that first duel,” I noted, then realized something.

  Challenging a campaign quest that spanned seven floors was predicated upon the player’s assumption that we’d make it to the ninth floor anyway. I had gotten that far in the beta already, and I hadn’t been thinking about anything but leveling since we started the quest, but at the present moment, the ninth floor seemed like a distant fantasy, a future too difficult to fathom at our current rate. Once you started looking up, you had to think about the fact that there were ninety-seven floors over our heads.

  “…But you know what?” Asuna started from within the tent, as though reading my mind. There was a heavy splash and the sound of wet feet slapping against the wood deck. I heard her sit down right on the other side of the heavy, hanging flap.

  She continued, “It’s not as scary as it used to be, to think about all the floors left. I’m still trying my hardest to survive each and every day, but now I’m looking forward to seeing the dark elf queen’s palace, for example. If the dozens of floors ahead of us were all ripped from the surface centuries ago, then there must be all kinds of sights and sounds to experience. It’s more of a feeling of anticipation.”

  “…I see,” I responded simply, impressed once again with Asuna’s strength of spirit. It seemed like an inadequate statement, so I searched for something else to add. “I bet there are all kinds of baths up there, too.”

  A sharp elbow (I think) slammed into the small of my back through the heavy tent wall.

  Sunday, December 18.

  Three days had passed since the first strategy meeting in Zumfut. We hadn’t returned to the human town since then but stuck to the dark elf camp, completing quests, collecting upgrade materials, and buffing up our skills to earn mods.

  With a fresh new level gained, I was at 16, and Asuna at 15. This was probably as far as we’d get here on the third floor. During the beta, the recommended level for fighting the boss was three times the floor number—which would probably change as we got further into the game—and we were already half a dozen over that number. Accordingly, the experience we were receiving dropped precipitously. Killing mobs in the forest and dungeons barely moved the EXP bar in the least.

  More surprising to me was that Kizmel actually earned a level-up to 16 during our journeys together. I accidentally congratulated her on the level-up when I saw the customary flash, but she already interpreted the number as a kind of sword rank and did nothing more self-aware than thank me.

  With the help of our even-stronger knight companion, the campaign quest proceeded smoothly, but as Asuna had noted earlier, we didn’t really learn any more about the birth of Aincrad than before.

  After the “Jade Key” and “Vanquishing the Spiders,” the third act of the campaign was a collection quest titled “The Flower Offering,” in which we gathered items to offer to the memory of the slain scout from the previous quest. The fourth act, “Emergency Orders,” was another search for a missing scout, but unlike in the second quest, we successfully rescued the elf this time. But the fifth quest, “The Missing Soldier,” revealed that the scout we’d brought bac
k to the camp was none other than a forest elf using a disguise charm.

  I knew how it all went already, of course, and I was considering whether or not to expose the imposter during the fourth quest, but not only did I not know how to undo his charm, there was also the possibility that the campaign might fall completely off the tracks right then and there. I kept an eye on him after we got back to the base, and raised an alarm after he tried to steal the Jade Key from the commander’s tent, but I soon lost sight of him thanks to his elven hiding abilities. It was better than in the beta, when the key was stolen from under my nose, but the imposter still had to be chased. We formed a temporary party with the camp’s Dark Elven Wolfhandlers, plus Kizmel, and followed the imposter scout’s tracks directly to a large forest elf camp.

  It was at this point that we had to pause the quest, for earlier that day was the battle against the field boss that guarded the cave leading to the labyrinth.

  We defeated the boss on the first attempt, with no fatalities. Aside from the outcast beater jumping in and stealing the LA bonus again, it was a rousing success. But I couldn’t help but feel that the sparks of anger that had been smoldering within the group were rapidly turning into a raging fire with the creation of the two big guilds.

  “Hey, Asuna,” I shouted at the bathing tent, rubbing the sore spot on my back. The only answer I got was the sound of the exit flap being lifted. I turned to see a slender silhouette leaving the tent, profiled against the dying light.

  She was in the water just a minute before, but the leather-tunic-clad figure showed no signs of having just bathed. One of the convenient things about virtual bathing was the instant drying effect, but as the most vocal bathing admirer of the frontline team, you’d think Asuna would not like the deviation from realism.

  Thanks to this mental diversion, the question that eventually left my lips was not what I’d meant to ask.

  “…Don’t you ever feel like changing outfits?”

  Even in the dim light, the furious crevice between her eyebrows was as clear as day.

  “Is there a problem with me not changing?” she snapped, voice freezing cold. I rapidly shook my head back and forth.

  “N-no, no problem at all. I just wondered if you felt like wearing something that…fit the mood better once you were done bathing. You know, like a yukata, or a bathrobe, or a single T-shirt…”

  Too late to stop the words, I decided to blame the last option on my subconscious bringing up what my little sister always wore after a bath, but Asuna held it in and did nothing worse than twitch her eyelids for a few moments. She looked down at herself and sighed.

  “…As I’m sure you remember, I do have extra outfits. In fact, most of my storage space is packed with them.”

  I did remember. When I had forced her to use the MATERIALIZE ALL ITEMS command in Urbus so she could retrieve the sword that had been swindled from her, the room had exploded with small, frilly white articles of clothing.

  Asuna pinned me with a sharp gaze to ensure I didn’t go remembering too many of those details, leaned against the tent support, and stared up at the night sky.

  “But those clothes aren’t meant for my own enjoyment.”

  “Huh? Why did you buy so many of them, then?”

  “I didn’t.”

  I blinked in surprise, then understood. Many copies of the same crafted items often represented a means, not a purpose.

  “Are you saying…you crafted those yourself to raise your Tailoring skill?” I asked softly. Asuna nodded. “B-but, when did you do all of that? It wasn’t after we teamed up on the second floor, right?”

  “No, it was before. You know how when you farm monsters on the second floor, you end up with tons of wool and cotton items? I just decided to use them on a whim…”

  “Gotcha. I usually just sell them off to an NPC once I get a big stock of them. I’m surprised you were in the mood to work on a crafting skill. Isn’t it boring?”

  For some reason, she did not react. After watching her stand there silently, I noticed something. At present, it wasn’t the length of time that was the issue with crafting skills. It was the number of slots.

  At level 1, a player started with two skill slots. It expanded to three at level 6, four at level 12, and five at level 20. From that point on, every ten levels provided a new slot, as far as I knew.

  At level 16, I had four slots, and they were all filled with battle skills: One-Handed Sword, Martial Arts, Search, and Hiding. Asuna had four slots as well, but I realized I’d never asked her what skills she was using, aside from Rapier. She wore a metal breastplate when out adventuring, so she had to have Light Metal Armor, but the other two were a mystery. If one of them was Tailoring, why would she choose that?

  Asuna claimed she did it to get rid of the materials, but skill slots were crucially important factors in a character’s build, not something to be chosen on a whim. As a frontline player, it made much more sense to ditch the crafting skills and maximize her battle potential and survivability with Hiding or Search like me, or perhaps Acrobatics or Weight Limit Expansion. Asuna didn’t need me to explain these things to her. She understood the logic.

  Asuna seemed to recognize the confusion in my gaze. She glanced at me, looked down, and caught me by surprise once again.

  “Just so you know, I removed Tailoring from my slot. And most of the clothes, I turned back into fabric.”

  “R-really? So it was all just a whim, nothing more?”

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it? But…that’s not all there was to it…”

  “Meaning…?”

  “It’s a secret. I’ll tell you someday, if I feel like it.”

  There seemed to be a hint of a smile behind that standoffish answer. Asuna pulled off of the tent pole. “So, what about you? If you want to take a bath, I’ll stand guard out here.”

  “Uh, that won’t be necessary. It’ll only take three minutes. You go ahead to the dining hall.”

  “Okay. While we’re eating, you better tell me what you got out of that giant spider today.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I replied, getting to my feet. Asuna waved and marched off to the nearby dining tent. I watched her go, then stepped through the hanging door flap of the tent.

  For the last five days, we’d made a practice of beelining for this bathing tent when we returned to the camp, and I would stand guard at the entrance while Asuna bathed. At no point in any of this had a dark elf of either sex attempted to visit the tent while someone was inside. It felt like standing guard wasn’t even necessary, but it was hard to get over that idea when the only thing separating you from anyone else was a simple flap of fabric.

  On the other hand, a man had little use for bath-place security. I stepped onto the wooden deck installed within the tent and hit the REMOVE button three times on my equipment mannequin, sending all of my gear into storage. I shrank back at the immediate chill and headed straight for the large bathtub at the rear of the tent. If it weren’t for the fear that the dark elves might be drawn by the sound, I would have leaped into the water. Instead, I slipped in as gracefully as I could manage.

  The bathtub was at least seven or eight feet long—heating that much water seemed like it would be hard, but it was just another elven charm at work. The water was a pale green color, brimming with a pleasant scent like mint or cypress. Once I was up to my shoulders, I felt a delightful heat and pressure enveloping every inch of skin. It made sense that Asuna had such a fixation on bathing, but it was also distracting to notice the ways in which it didn’t match up to the real thing. Something about it just didn’t quite feel liquidy enough.

  In a general sense, I did my best not to think of my body and everything else in Aincrad being a polygonal creation. I was afraid that if I imagined any of it being fake, that my subconscious might think that this didn’t matter, that I could always retry any mistakes. The fighting, eating, and sleeping were certainly realistic enough, but there were times when the cracks in the edifice were noticeabl
e. That must have been why I never took to bathing much…

  But…no, that was an excuse. Even in the real world, I wasn’t much of a bather as a little kid. Maybe the baths here were actually more suited to me, given that I didn’t need to shampoo my hair, scrub my body, and dry off.

  Small pots filled with what I assumed to be shampoo and soap were lined up at the edge of the deck, but I’d never used them. Perhaps Asuna was using them to gain some kind of statistical advantage. Was that the kind of question it was safe to ask?

  Two minutes had passed. I stood up, ready to finish my brief bath.

  Suddenly, someone lifted the entrance flap of the tent from the outside.

  Did Asuna forget something in here? No, there’s nothing on the wooden deck.

  Is another player coming for a bath? No, this is an instance.

  Is it a forest elf hit man, coming to kill me? No, that looks like the brown skin of a dark elf…

  I stood there, frozen, clutching the rim of the bathtub. The visitor’s onyx eyes blinked just once, and she spoke as though nothing was amiss.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were in here, Kirito.”

  I expected her to continue with I’m sorry, I’ll come back later, but the armored dark elf walked straight through the entrance and reached out to the clasp on her shoulder piece.

  “Do you mind if I join you in the bath?”

  The key to survival in SAO was judgment: Observe and identify the situation quickly, analyze all possible actions, and react based on your best expectations. In the half second that Kizmel waited for my answer, my brain raced faster than ever before. Depending on my choice, I might wind up clapped into chains in the prison beneath Blackiron Palace.

  I recalled a magazine interview published during the beta test, claiming that implementing the anti-harassment code was an extremely difficult decision for the development team.

  Unlike physical attacks and theft, drawing the line around “inappropriate contact” that constituted a crime was a very tricky task. At first, they considered simply leaving the policing of manners and morals up to the playerbase. A hardcoded detection system might misdiagnose certain cases, and there was the fear that the code could be twisted in unintended ways by wicked players.