“And is this town western or eastern?” she asked exasperatedly.
I apologized for my pointless trivia and pushed the pile toward Asuna.
“Go on while they’re hot.”
“...Very well.”
She removed the leather glove from her hand and took the bun from the top of the pile. I hurriedly grabbed one of my own.
We’d been in the dungeon since this morning, and hadn’t had time to stop for a snack, so I was nearly starving. If our avatars exhibited biological processes other than emotion, my stomach would have gurgled all through our meeting with Argo. I opened my mouth wide and was about to stuff the steaming treat into mouth, when–
“Nyaak!”
A strangled shriek hit my ears and I looked over in surprise. Asuna was sitting frozen in her chair, the steam bun held in both hands. The large, five-inch bun was missing one small bite–and the opening had squirted a thick cream-colored liquid across her face and neck.
She stayed dead still, properly chewing the bite she already took while resisting the impulse to cry, then finally spoke in a soft voice.
“...So the filling is warm custard cream...and some kind of sweet-sour fruit...”
“...”
I slowly lowered the Taran steamed bun from its position an inch away from my face, down to the table. The moment I let go, her voice struck again, sharp as a rapier.
“If...if it turns out you ate this during the beta test and knew what was inside, and intentionally didn’t tell me what it was...then I may not be able to stop myself from what comes next...”
“I swear to you that I did not know. Absolutely, positively, categorically.”
I took a small handkerchief out of my belt pouch and handed it to her. Fortunately, “mess” effects here would disappear in only a few moments, even if left alone, and wiping them with any item categorized as cloth made them disappear entirely. With each mess, the durability of the cloth would fall, but I’d heard rumors of a magic handkerchief that could be used forever. Mess effects caused by mobs or special terrain often contained their own debuff effects, so an unlimited handkerchief would be really handy to have. If only it weren’t such a rare piece of loot...
“Mm.”
I was shaken from my reverie by the return of my handkerchief. After a few seconds of wiping, Asuna’s face was free of cream.
She gave me one last glare, turned back to the window, and announced, “I’ll cook my own food the next time we have a stakeout. I’d rather not have to eat something terrible like this again.”
I felt tempted to point out that with a Cooking skill of zero, she couldn’t make anything that wasn’t terrible. But even as a fourteen-year-old, I was smart enough to know I shouldn’t. Instead I gave her a forced smile and opined, “Th-that sounds great.”
Two arrows shot forward and wiped the smile off my face.
“When did I say, ‘I’ll cook my own food...for both of us?’”
“You didn’t,” I admitted sheepishly. When I actually tried the cooled-off Taran steamed bun, it wasn’t bad...It was pretty good, actually. But only as a dessert.
The outer skin was soft and chewy, and the cream inside was smooth and firm and not too sweet, the perfect match for the sour, strawberry-like fruit inside. I suspected that the preset flavor values for the bun were meant to resemble a strawberry cream pastry, but through developer error or some whim of the system, it was sold heated. Asuna’s mood improved eventually–she even ate two of the buns.
That was all well and good, but unlike the buns, the actual purpose of our stakeout was turning out to be fruitless. The entire point of doing this, of course, was to monitor Nezha the blacksmith and attempt to discover the means of his weapon-switching trick.
His business was thriving, but nearly all of the requests were maintenance repairs, and only two players in the hour that we watched asked him to upgrade their weapons. Both of those attempts were successful. I suspected that it was because they were only mid-rank weapons, but it was starting to make me doubt the possibility that there was any deception at all. What if Asuna’s sword breaking and then reappearing thanks to the Materialize All Items button were just freakish errors, bugs in the system...?
“No, that can’t be it,” I muttered to myself, trying to shake aside my self-doubt.
The means of the weapon-switching trick were still a mystery, but we knew how it was that the Wind Fleuret was destroyed on the first attempt–it was the very piece of information that Asuna bought from Argo.
When Argo had asked Asuna what her business was, the answer surprised me. She said, “I want you to find out if destruction is one of the possible penalties for an unsuccessful attempt at upgrading a weapon.”
Argo’s answer was just as unexpected as the question. “I don’t need to look it up. I already know the answer.”
We were stunned. Argo said up-front that she’d give it to us for the cost of her drinks, and explained.
“Strictly as a failure penalty, weapon-breaking will never happen. However, there is one way to ensure that a weapon will break with absolute certainty: when you attempt to upgrade a weapon that is out of upgrade attempts.”
Meaning this. Last night, the Wind Fleuret that crumbled to pieces before our eyes was in fact switched in at some point...and it had already used all of its allotted upgrade attempts. It was a “spent” weapon. But the Wind Fleuret +4 hanging from Asuna’s waist still had two chances left. So even if the attempt had failed, it could not have caused the sword to crack.
Now that the spent-weapon concept had entered the picture, I thought back to Rufiol, the fellow who tried out Nezha before Asuna did.
I couldn’t determine if Nezha had indeed switched out his Anneal Blade with a different one. But the result was three straight failures, not destruction. Perhaps he couldn’t do his normal trick because there were so many people around, or perhaps he just didn’t have a spent Anneal Blade to switch it with.
If that was the case, it explained why Nezha offered the crestfallen Rufiol a sum of money much higher than the going rate for that spent +0 Anneal Blade. He wasn’t compensating the man for his loss, but stocking up for the next attempt...
“Kirito.”
I blinked, snapped out of my speculation. My eyes focused and saw that the plaza below was shrouded in night, and few players were still going to and from.
One player walked directly across the circular plaza. He wore metal armor that reflected the light of the lampposts, and a dark blue shirt–clearly the uniform of Lind’s group, the top team among the front-line players.
Asuna and I watched with bated breath as he approached Nezha’s smith shop and removed his sword from his waist attachment. Its length and shape identified it as a one-handed longsword.
But it was slightly shorter and wider than my Anneal Blade.
I couldn’t be sure because of the distance and darkness, but the large knuckle guard appeared to be that of a Stout Brand. That was a broadsword, a sub-category of one-handed swords that prioritized attack strength over speed. It was about as rare as a Wind Fleuret, if not slightly higher.
“Certainly good enough to be a target for his switcheroo,” Asuna whispered. I was surprised that she’d identified it at a glance, but I didn’t let it show.
“Yeah. Now, whether he asks for maintenance or an upgrade...”
There was at least fifty feet in between us at the southwestern side of the plaza, and the outdoor blacksmith shop at the northwest edge. The Search skill’s parameter adjustment brought several details into focus, but it was much too far to hear a conversation at normal volume.
“Do you know that guy’s name from the Lind team?” I asked. Asuna thought it over. “I think his name is Shivata.”
“With a V? Not Shibata?”
“It was spelled ‘S-h-i-v-a-t-a.’ Seems pretty clear to me.”
“...All right, then.”
We both practiced the foreign sound o
f the letter V by biting our lower lips. Meanwhile, Nezha and Shivata had finished their negotiation, and the Stout Brand changed hands, sheath and all.
This was the important point. We craned as close as possible to the window without being visible from the plaza and focused on the blacksmith’s hands. Inevitably, our shoulders and even hair brushed up against each other, but the proud fencer would certainly understand, given the circumstances.
If it was a maintenance request, Nezha would remove the sword and place it against the small grindstone affixed to the side of his anvil. But he turned away from his client and reached out with his right hand to one of the many leather sacks on the carpet. Those sacks presumably contained different types of crafting materials. Meaning...
“An upgrade!” I hissed.
Asuna nodded vigorously and whispered, “The left hand! Keep your eyes on his left hand!”
She didn’t have to tell me. I kept my eyes fixed on that left hand, fighting the natural urge to follow the movement of his right.
Shivata’s broadsword hung from Nezha’s hand, still in the sheath. There was nothing unnatural about the position or angle of his arm.
Very close to the sword was a display of premade weapons for sale, but there was no way he could switch them. All of the display weapons were common iron weapons; there was not a single rare weapon among them, and certainly not another Stout Brand. Besides, dropping the sword onto the carpet and lifting a nearby weapon would draw too much attention. I couldn’t imagine that we’d have missed such an action when the Wind Fleuret was nearly stolen...
Nezha’s left hand was completely still, holding the broadsword, while the right hand did all the work. He picked out all of his materials from the leather sacks and tossed them into the forge next to the anvil The dozen or so items burst into flame and eventually melted into one big lump–I assumed. I wasn’t actually watching. At any rate, it was the highlight of the upgrading process. For an instant, the deep red light that signified a Heaviness upgrade shone from the forge, then subsided into the waiting state.
“...!”
Every muscle in my body twitched.
At the same moment the red light flared, Nezha’s left hand did something. Asuna must have sensed it as well, because our shoulders jumped.
“Did he...?”
“The sword...”
We kept staring but couldn’t finish our sentences. That brief flash of light, barely half a second, was enough to blind us from the exact sight we needed to witness.
As I watched, teeth grinding, the blacksmith gingerly raised the Stout Brand. If he had indeed done something to it, the sword looked absolutely identical to the one Shivata gave him.
He grabbed the hilt with his right hand and slowly pulled the sword out, then placed the thick blade into the red flames of the forge. After a few seconds, all of the light transferred to the weapon. He placed it on the anvil, picked up his smithing hammer with his right hand, and began striking the sword. Five. Eight...Ten.
Just as we feared, the dark gray blade of the Stout Brand shattered into pieces. This time, neither of us missed it.
“...What now?” Asuna asked, watching the quiet plaza from the windowsill.
It was clear what she was referring to. Shivata showed remarkable restraint in bottling up his anger and disappointment, and left with minimal complaint to Nezha. Asuna was wondering if we should track him down and reveal the existence of the deception.
From a sympathy standpoint, I wanted to tell him, because within an hour, he could use the Materialize All Items button to retrieve his sword. But from a more practical standpoint, Shivata would not be happy just to get his sword back. He would surely return to the plaza and confront Nezha with this evidence, and I could not predict what would happen after that.
Nezha’s actions were evil–of that there was no doubt. He ought to suffer proper punishment for his misdeeds. But without a GM holding court in this virtual world, who would determine what was “proper”?
Even a crafter could not just hang out in town all the time. What if, when he left the safety of the village limits, some player attempted to punish him through means within their control? What if they took it to the ultimate conclusion?
If we told Shivata now, it could ultimately lead to the very first in Aincrad. That concern was the driving force behind Asuna’s question, and I did not have an easy answer in mind.
As I sat wracked by indecision and unease, I heard the calming ringing of bells. It was eight o’clock. At the same moment, the hammering outside stopped. I moved next to Asuna and looked to see that Nezha was closing up his shop. He extinguished the forge, put away the tools and materials, folded the sign, and began laying them all on top of the carpet. His back looked so very small and unassuming.
“Why did Nezha and the Legend Braves decide to start doing this fraud, anyway...? And how?” I murmured to myself. Asuna shrugged. “I mean, even if they came up with the idea to switch the weapons, there’s a huge hurdle between something that is theoretically possible within the system, and actually doing it. SAO’s not just a normal VRMMO. Our lives are on the line now. Surely they have to realize what might happen if they steal other people’s weapons...”
“Maybe they do realize...and decided to kick over the hurdles anyway.”
“Huh?”
“Ignoring the ethical side of it, the actual hurdle is just knowing that you could risk your life if you get exposed, right? So they can eliminate that issue if they just get far stronger than anyone else before anyone finds out what they’re doing. That way they can fight off any attempts to take their lives in the wilderness. The six–er, five members of the Legend Braves probably aren’t that far off from their goal.”
When Asuna’s words sank in, I felt my virtual skin crawl
“C-come on, don’t tell me that. A team of guys that doesn’t shy away from wicked acts, strong enough to destroy any front-line players? I mean...”
My throat became so constricted that even I could barely make out the next words I said.
“...They’d rule the world.”
While I wasn’t inclined to think that this weapon scam wasn’t my problem in any way, I also assumed that I wouldn’t have to suffer from it. I just had to make sure I didn’t ever give Nezha my sword.
But that was a terribly shortsighted view of the situation.
Thirty-three days before, the moment we were trapped in this game permanently, I left behind my first and only friend in the game, Klein, and abandoned him back in the Town of Beginnings. I avoided the wilderness zones, which I expected to be bled dry in no time, and headed straight for Horunka, the next town. In other words, I prioritized the quickest and most efficient way to upgrade my equipment and stats so that I could maximize my chance of survival.
Using all the knowledge from my beta experience, I tore through countless quests and mobs, racing onward and onward. From the moment I chose to sprint out of the gates, I’d never slowed in my progress.
But the speed of my advancement was always based purely on the rules of the game (if not personal morals). If I were to ignore those rules, there were far more efficient ways to advance than what I did now–for example, monopolizing the best hunting grounds, or stealing rare loot from other players.
Of course, swindling weapons only earned them col and the item itself, not experience or skill points. But as Asuna had said, with enough money, there was no limit on how much you could power up your gear.
I had bumped my main weapon up to +6, but my armor was currently averaging around +3. Against a player with fully upgraded armor, even at a lower level, there was no way I could win.
In other words, allowing the Legend Braves to continue in their weapon fraud would be tantamount to allowing the creation of a group of players stronger than me and unbound by rules or morals.
“...I’m sorry. It took me until just now to realize how serious this is,” I murmured. The fencer looked at me suspicio
usly.
“Why would you say sorry?”
“Well, you almost had your sword stolen, right? And this whole time, I’ve only been half-concerned, as if it was someone else’s problem...”
The words emerged naturally, without thinking, but for some reason, Asuna scowled even harder, blinked a few times, then yanked her head in the other direction, angrily.
“There’s no need to apologize. It’s not as though you and I are total strangers...I mean, um, we know each other and we’re party members, but there’s nothing more than...arrgh! Look what you did! You’re acting so weird, I’m all confused!”
I thought I was more confused than she was, but before I could respond, she looked out the window and her eyes narrowed. “That carpet...”
“Huh...?”
“So keeping your items from wasting away isn’t its only function.”
I turned to look at the east plaza of Taran. In the northwest corner, Nezha had finished packing away all his tools and was now fiddling with the pop-up menu on his Vendors Carpet. It started rolling itself up, and the assortment of objects on top of it was automatically sucked into storage.
“Hey...Do you suppose he’s using that function to switch the weapons?”
I shook my head instantly. “No, that’s not possible. The carpet’s absorption ability has to be activated via the menu, like he’s doing now, plus it swallows up everything on top of the carpet. You couldn’t have it take just one sword and spit another one out...in...exchange...”
I trailed to a stop.
The Vendor’s Carpet’s ability to store items could not be used to exchange them.
However, what if he used his own storage...meaning, the inventory tab of his main menu? I rolled away from the window and slumped to my knees.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Asuna asked. I didn’t reply. I brought up the menu with my right hand and switched to the item list. As I had done the last night when I showed Asuna the equipment mannequin, I tapped the top and bottom edges of the window to make it adjustable, then lowered it down until it was almost stuck to the floor–right below where my left hand would dangle if I let it hang.