Still, we somehow managed to defeat the Cyclops-type boss of the first floor that had crushed us before, and we raced through the second floor to the next boss chamber.
What awaited us there was a bull-headed man, a Minotaur-type monster. And not one—two. The one on the right was all black, and the one on the left was all gold. The axes they carried had blades the size of a dinner table.
They didn’t use any attack spells, so at first they seemed easier to beat than the icicle-dropping Cyclops, but there was a problem. The black one was incredibly resistant to magic, while the golden one was incredibly resistant to physical damage.
Naturally, we decided to focus our attacks on the black Minotaur to finish him off, then whittle away at the golden one, but the two beasts had a very close personal bond, and whenever we knocked the black one’s HP down, the golden one would ignore its aggro hate and rush to protect his partner. In the meantime, the black Minotaur would curl into a ball and use some kind of meditation power to rapidly heal his HP.
After the first time, we considered blasting the golden Minotaur while the black one meditated, but his physical resistance was so high that we could barely put a scratch on him. Meanwhile, we could dodge the insta-kill attacks, but the splash damage of their area effects was tearing huge chunks of HP away from us, and it was clear that Asuna’s heals on their own would not hold up over an extended battle.
“Kirito, at this pace I’m going to run out of MP within one hundred and fifty seconds!” Asuna cried from the back. I held out my right-hand sword by way of response.
In these battles of attrition, a healer running out of MP signaled the doom of the party—the dreaded wipe. If at least one person survived, the Remain Lights could be collected and revived one by one, but that took quite a lot of time and effort. And if we wiped out, we’d all start over from the save point in Alne. The problem was whether we had enough time to suffer a setback like that…
Leafa sensed my concerns and whispered, “The medallion’s over seventy percent black now. We don’t have time to die and try again.”
“Got it,” I said, and sucked in a deep breath.
If this were the old Aincrad, I’d give an order to retreat. Betting on probabilities there was not an option. But ALO was not a game of death. Whether the Cardinal System burned all of Alfheim to the ground or not, our only goal here was to “enjoy the game.” Part of that was trusting in the ability of my companions and myself.
“At this rate, there’s just one thing we can do!” I shouted, dodging the golden Minotaur’s ax and checking on the black one’s gauge as it recovered HP toward the rear. “One way or another, we have to beat down the golden one with concentrated sword skills!”
Sword skills: the one feature that truly made SAO, SAO. When the developers of ALO put in the Aincrad update this past May, they also included the old sword-skill system. But there were a few new modifications. One of them was the addition of elemental damage. Now, high-level sword skills inflicted not just physical damage like a normal attack, but one of the magic properties of fire, water, earth, wind, darkness, or light. That should ensure that the physically resistant golden Minotaur would take damage.
This was risky, of course. With the long combination-attack sword skills, there was naturally a long delay period afterward. One direct hit from that battle-ax while immobilized and we would be dead. A wide-range swiping attack would completely obliterate the front and middle rows.
But my companions took that into account and agreed immediately.
“Hell yeah! That’s what I’ve been waitin’ for, Kiri-my-boy!” bellowed Klein, holding his katana aloft on the right wing. On the left, Leafa held her longsword at her waist. Behind me, I could sense Liz and Silica assume positions with their mace and dagger.
“Give us bubbles on my count, Silica! Two, one—now!” I shouted, timing the golden Minotaur.
Silica cried, “Pina, Bubble Breath!”
Normally, even a master beast-tamer’s orders to a pet were not successful all the time. But I had never once seen Pina ignore an order from Silica. As expected, the little dragon fluttering above her head opened its tiny mouth and blew a rainbow stream of bubbles.
They flew through the air and popped right at the nose of the golden Minotaur as it was about to unleash an ax attack. The magic-weak boss fell under a bewitchment effect—just for a second, but long enough to stop it in its tracks.
“Go!” I screamed.
Every weapon aside from Asuna’s glowed and began to fly forth in a variety of colors.
Why had Akihiko Kayaba, creator of the floating castle Aincrad, implemented the system of “unique skills” that veered so far from the normal bounds of the game? I felt as though I still hadn’t discovered the full truth of his intent.
If it were just the Holy Sword skill that he kept to himself, that would make sense. As the leader of the Knights of the Blood, strongest guild in the game, and holy paladin whose cross shield had blocked every sword drawn against him, he would have been the greatest and deadliest final boss of any RPG in history, once he’d executed his stunning ninety-fifth-floor role reversal as planned.
That moment would be the very incarnation of the paradox of an MMORPG in which the players wrote the main story. Aincrad was “An INCarnating RADius”—which was supposed to mean “an embodying world.” In order to carry out his goal of creating a new world, he had to continue being the almighty paladin—even if that meant relying on the unfair advantages of the Holy Sword, immortality, and system assistance.
But in that case, Holy Sword was the only unique skill the game needed. In an MMO, there was no need for a lone hero to fight the big baddie. Such a hero could not exist. Of course, differences in player skill were inevitable, but there had to be a basic foundation of fairness to prop up the game.
Yet he gave players the Dual Blade skill, as well as several other unique skills, most likely. He must have known that granting powers outside of the rules would tilt the balance of game resources and twist the story the world should have followed. In fact, if I hadn’t had Dual Blades when I challenged Heathcliff to a duel for Asuna’s right to leave the guild, he would have won without using the system’s help. If I hadn’t noticed that instant of wrongness, I wouldn’t have discovered Heathcliff’s identity there on the seventy-fifth floor. But because he gave me that unique skill, the story that he envisioned ended three-quarters of the way through.
On the rare occasion that I used two swords in ALO, a little part of my brain always returned to the question: Why?
At the same time, there was a tiny twinge of guilt. Of course, I had no regrets about defeating Heathcliff—being able to beat him—on the seventy-fifth floor. If I hadn’t beaten the game then, the number of victims from his crime would surely have risen. Perhaps people I cared about would have been among them. Perhaps even me.
But I still couldn’t eliminate that thought, that wonder if it was really the right decision. Should I have continued climbing to the hundredth floor of Aincrad and fought Heathcliff the demon king there? No, not “should” I have; it was my own desire and personal fixation to do so. It was the worst kind of egotism, and why I always hesitated to use my dual blades in Alfheim.
But at the very least, there were no unique skills in ALO. The wise new developers of the game combed through the vast number of sword skills by hand, removing those few with suspicious effects from the system—rumor said it was ten in all.
So I couldn’t use my original Dual Blades skills like Double Circular or Starburst Stream anymore. As a matter of fact, I’d 99 percent succeeded at recreating the movements of those skills without the system’s assistance, but they were sadly pointless here. Recreating those skills by hand didn’t provide the magic effects that I needed to hurt this golden Minotaur.
But using a one-handed sword skill with two swords equipped carried one distinct advantage: something Leafa claimed was “a hundred times worse than using an illegally weighted bamboo shinai.”
Pina’s bubble breath stopped the golden Minotaur from unleashing a major attack, stunning it for one second. We charged it en masse: me from the front, Klein on the right, Leafa on my left, and Liz and Silica at the far wings.
“Raaaah!”
We all roared, starting the most powerful sword skills we knew. Klein’s katana raged with fire, Leafa’s longsword flashed and brought gusts of wind, Silica’s daggers sprayed droplets as they cut, and Leafa’s mace growled with lightning. From the rear came a series of arrows glinting with icy arrowheads, piercing the weak point on the bull’s nose.
For my part, I swung the orange-glowing sword in my right hand with all my might. A series of five quick thrusts, then slices down and up, and finally a ferocious overhand swipe: the eight-part longsword skill, Howling Octave. This did 40 percent physical damage, 60 percent flame damage. It was one of the biggest attacks in the one-handed sword arsenal. Naturally, that meant it also had a very long skill delay. However…
“…!!”
With a silent scream, I disconnected my consciousness from the right hand that was about to deliver the final blow. It was like cutting all movement commands from my brain to the AmuSphere for just an instant. My next command was only to my left hand.
The system assistance carried my right hand through its final overhead swing. But at the same time, my left hand pulled its sword back. That blade shone with a brilliant blue glow.
The right-hand sword drove deep into the giant Minotaur’s exposed belly. This was the point where the delay would kick in, freezing my avatar. But the parallel left-hand sword skill overwrote that delay. A horizontal swipe leaped out and dug into his right flank.
It was an extremely bizarre sensation to feel the two sides of my body—no, my brain—acting independent of the other. But if I tried to combine them into one, the skill would stop. I let the skill automatically wrap up my right hand and focused only on my left.
The sword, still stuck in the enemy’s body, made a ninety-degree rotation. My hand pushed the hilt up, and the sword ripped upward through the Minotaur’s stomach. It came loose, then swung downward from the top. This was an effective three-part skill against larger monsters called Savage Fulcrum: half physical, half ice.
Just before my left hand completed that final blow—
I shunted my brain output again.
If I were just a moment too soon or late, the skill would fail, and my avatar would freeze. My window of opportunity was less than a tenth of a second. When I noticed this odd skill combination effect by coincidence three months ago, I underwent a lot of practice I didn’t care to think about, but my success rate was still under 50 percent. I started to move my right hand, essentially praying it would work.
“Kh…aah!” I grunted, my blade blazing light blue. It was a vertical slice, a high-low combination, and then a full-power downward chop: the high-speed four-part skill, Vertical Square.
At this point, the total attack number of my combo was at fifteen, close to the highest Dual Blades skills. Because I was choosing attacks with a high knock-back effect, I could keep the foe in a delayed state as long as my attacks kept landing. No need to worry about defense.
As my Vertical Square initiated, the others were recovering from their own delay.
“Zeryaaaa!” Klein thundered, and a second wave of attacks assaulted the golden Minotaur. The floor of the dungeon rumbled, and the boss’s massive HP gauge began losing large chunks.
Just before the final slice, I attempted another “skill connection,” expecting failure for sure this time.
I couldn’t just use any old one-handed sword skill. The movement of the non-attacking arm had to match up perfectly with the starting motion of the new skill.
While my right arm was busy with Vertical Square, my left arm stayed folded, drawn up to the shoulder. A simple twist of my body would complete the proper form: sword cradled on the shoulder, other hand outstretched. The sword in my left hand took on a deep red glow. The rumbling of a jet engine approached from behind and burst my left arm forward at light speed. This was the single-hit heavy attack, Vorpal Strike: three parts physical, three parts flame, four parts darkness.
Zwamm! My blade punctured the enemy’s lower belly to the hilt with a tremendous shock. The Minotaur’s massive body, five times my height, shot back violently. The second round of team sword skills was finishing up. This time, I was going to suffer a long skill delay with the others.
The golden Minotaur’s HP gauge descended toward the left edge of the bar, turning red—and stopped at just 2 percent left.
The bull head with massive horns grinned fiercely. The enemy recovered from its delay first and swung its mammoth ax backward for a horizontal slice. The high-speed rotating swing meant instant death for anyone caught within it. My mind commanded me to flee backward, but my body wouldn’t obey. The ax glowed wickedly, and a whirlwind flared from his feet…
“Yaaaah!”
A piercing scream erupted. A blue blur shot past my right side. The rapier jabbed five times at eye-blurring speed, the high-level rapier skill with the quickest release, Neutron. The damage, 20 percent physical and 80 percent holy, silently stole the very last of the golden Minotaur’s HP before it could swing its ax.
The Deviant God stopped still. Beyond him, the black Minotaur lifted its ax gleefully, its HP fully recovered through meditation. But the next moment, the partner who had been keeping him safe emitted a high-pitched shriek and, with a hard shattering sound, burst into pieces.
…Huh? the black Minotaur seemed to be thinking, eyes bulging. Meanwhile, the seven of us had recovered from our delays and turned to this fresh target.
“…Sit your ass down right there, cowboy,” Klein warned, grinding his exposed teeth at high speed.
4
When our samurai finished taking out all of his pent-up frustrations on the hapless black Minotaur, he ignored the impressive list of dropped loot as its avatar exploded, and he turned to bellow at me.
“’Ey, Kirito! What the hell was that about?!”
He was referring to the combination of sword skills I pulled off by equipping two one-handed swords, but it would be very exhausting to explain it all from the start, so I put as much honest disgust on my face as I could and grumbled, “…Do I have to explain?”
“Bet your ass you do! I’ve never seen anything like that!”
I pushed Klein’s insistent, stubbled face out of my own and reluctantly replied, “It’s a non-system skill of mine. Skill Connection.”
Liz, Silica, and Sinon murmured in admiring surprise, while Asuna pressed her fingertips to her temple and groaned, “Wow…why do I feel like I just got wicked déjà vu?”
“Just your imagination,” I grumbled. I reached over and gave a pat on the back to our healer, whose blazing attack from the back row had saved us in the nick of time. “But there’s no time to sit around and relax. How much time do we have left, Leafa?”
“Oh, right.”
Leafa loudly sheathed her sword and lifted the medallion hanging about her neck. Even from several steps away, it was clear that the gemstone in it had lost most of its light.
“…At this rate, we might have an hour left, but not two.”
“I see. You said this is a four-level dungeon, Yui?”
The little pixie riding on my head promptly answered, “Yes, the third floor is about seventy percent the size of the second, and the fourth is essentially just the boss chamber.”
“Thanks.”
I reached out and rubbed her tiny head with a finger as I considered the situation.
Right now, on the map of Jotunheim far below, the players undertaking the frost-giant-faction quest would be picking up steam in their extermination of the animal-type Deviant Gods. If anything, the number of players involved would only increase over time, not decrease. Factoring that into account, we’d be lucky to still have a full hour. The final boss—likely King Thrym himself—might take thirty minutes to finish, which meant we
had another thirty minutes at best to clear out the third and fourth floors.
If we had a bit more time, I might have entertained the idea of explaining the full situation to the players down on the ground, so they would abandon their quest and help us out, but we didn’t have time to go back down there now. I wanted to send messages to friendly leaders like Sakuya and Alicia Rue for backup, but by the time they arranged parties in their distant mountain homes, reached the Alne Highlands, finished the staircase dungeon, and finally reached Jotunheim, it would already be nightfall.
In other words, our only option was for the seven of us to face nearly impossible odds. Otherwise, it was quite possible that Cardinal’s automatic quest-generation system already had a massive quest campaign for Ragnarok prepared, in the event that we failed Queen Urd’s quest and Thrymheim ascended to destroy Alfheim. If that were true, Cardinal had most certainly inherited the twisted personality of its creator.
But in any case…
“Well, I don’t know much about this Deviant God king or whatever, but our only choice is to rush him and win!” Lisbeth shouted, slapping me on the back. The rest of the party chorused in agreement. I had to wonder from where these people got their recklessness.
“Everyone’s HP and MP fully recovered? Let’s go clean out that third floor, then!”
We all roared again and charged for the icy staircase at the very back of the boss chamber.
As Yui said, the third floor was clearly smaller than the one above. That made sense, as we were descending an inverted pyramid, but that meant the halls were smaller and more crowded. In a normal dungeon crawl, we’d get lost and deal with traps here and there, but I had a navigation pixie who would put any other intelligent nav system to shame.