I could try to follow her lead and aim for crits with my basic attacks like Slant and Horizontal, but I just didn’t have the confidence in my own accuracy. If I had an excuse, it was that my Anneal Blade +6 was specced “3S3D,” meaning three points to sharpness, three to durability. On the other hand, Asuna’s Wind Fleuret +4 was 3A1D, meaning three points to accuracy, one to durability. That gave her an excellent bonus to critical hits, no doubt.
But even taking that into account, an extremely high level of player skill and calm concentration was necessary to land every single hit as a critical attack–to say nothing of experience.
I suspected that Asuna had spent a considerable amount of time fighting these giant wasps since reaching the second floor.
Much of that had to do with farming the materials to upgrade her
Wind Fleuret, but I thought there was something bigger behind that. It was about strengthening herself as a player, not just her stats. If she learned to jab the weak points of the nimble flying enemies, landbound monsters would seem slow as molasses in comparison.
I recalled what Asuna said to me on our first encounter deep within the first-floor labyrinth.
We’re all going to die anyway. The only difference is when and where, sooner...or later.
Her eyes had shone with a dim light that saw not hope but despair at the end of her battle. That she was able to strive in search of true strength now filled me with joy. I could only hope that someday she’d stand atop the entire population, a shining example and beacon of light to all.
But having said that...I was not about to lose our competition to see who could kill fifty wasps first.
Before we began battle, Asuna had proposed a chilling bet. She would provide the dinner for tonight, but whoever could hunt fifty wasps first would also get a free dessert, courtesy of the loser.
I’d accepted the challenge without thinking, and it wasn’t until after we started that I realized what she was after. One of the NPC restaurants in Urbus sold a shortcake with an astonishing amount of sweet cream made from giant cow’s milk, the local delicacy. And it was delicious–enough to make one forget about my favorite black bread with cream from the first floor. It was also expensive–enough to use the majority of the col I’d earn in the hunt.
That’s what Asuna was after. If she bought the meal and I bought the dessert, I’d come out way, way behind. I had no choice but to emerge victorious!
“Raaahh!!”
I raced after the freshest new wasp, a bellow ripping through my lungs.
But the next moment, all the wind went out of my sails when I heard her call out, “Twenty-five!”
A three-point margin. That was bad news at the halfway mark.
If we both continued at this pace, she’d pull away and leave me in the dust. If I couldn’t find a way to kill them in two moves like Asuna, I would never make up the difference.
I didn’t have any other choice.
After turning back to ensure that Asuna was looking the other way, I gave my target an appraising stare.
The black-and-green wasp hovered high, then plunged down at me. Its body was bent, the gleaming stinger extended.
I followed the proper pattern, stopping in my tracks and inviting the enemy to strike and miss before employing a Vertical Arc. Two pleasing slashes rang out, but as usual, they only did 60 percent of its health. If the wasp pulled away, I couldn’t finish it off in two moves, short of a lucky critical hit.
I clenched my left fist with a silent scream.
Normally, I’d suffer a brief delaying effect at the end of my sword skill, but my left fist began glowing with a red visual effect when I held it to my side. Largely automatically, my body jutted forward and pounded the wasp, which was already in a knockback state from the sword attack.
The meaty thud that resulted was unlike the sound of any blade. My fist shot forward and caught the wasp in its round, bulging abdomen: Flash Blow, a basic Martial Arts skill. The wasp lost another 20 percent of its HP.
Poised again, the wasp zipped upward and out of reach. Its second dive was another stinger lunge. I had already recovered from delay, and I easily evaded the wasp and dispatched it with a simple Slant. The time it took to defeat this wasp was nearly the same as two hits.
At this point, depending on how quickly I could find the next monster, I had a chance. I had a chance.
Eyes wide, I scanned for the formation of a polygonal blob that signaled a new monster being generated into the environment, and raced after it.
* * *
One hour later, I sat on the grass, fifty wasps killed, burnt to a crisp by sheer exhaustion. Asuna walked over and patted me on the shoulder.
“Nice work, Kirito.”
There wasn’t a hint of fatigue in her voice. She circled around the front and smiled.
“Well, let’s go back to Urbus for our dinner. And when you buy me dessert, I’d like to hear all about that bizarre punching skill you were using.”
I had no response. The beautiful fencer leaned in for the critical finish.
“I can’t wait to finally try that cake. A win’s a win, even if it was only by one point. A boy must keep his promises, after all.”
3
Just as we arrived back at Urbus, bells rang crisp and clear from all over the town, signaling the arrival of night. It was a calm, slow melody with a hint of longing. Seven o’clock was about the time for the players out adventuring in the wilderness to make their way back home.
In the MMORPGs I’d played before SAO, seven o’clock was just when the game was getting going. People would begin to log in to the server around then, hitting peak traffic at about ten, with the hardiest of souls lasting all through the night until morning.
As a student of mandatory schooling age, I always logged out by two in the morning at the latest. I remembered looking on in jealousy at those who were preparing to race out for yet another round of hunting.
Ironically, now that all I wanted was to be able to go back to school, I could stay out well past two, until five or eight o’clock in the morning if I chose. And yet once it got dark outside, I always found my way Back to town.
Many times, it was just to eat dinner and fill up on supplies before trudging out for another round of adventures until sunrise–the night I met Asuna in the labyrinth was just such an occasion. But every time I saw that red, sinking sun through the outer perimeter of Aincrad, the sky changing from purple to navy blue, I couldn’t sit still. I had to walk back to civilization.
As proof that this urge was not solely in my own mind, there were a number of players walking the main street of Urbus, all wearing smiles of relief. Lively cheers erupted from the restaurants and bars on the sides of the street, with the occasional toast or song dedicated to another day of survival.
This same scene occurred at the towns and villages of the first floor. But it had been quite a while since I’d heard such unreserved laughter–perhaps never–since we’d been trapped in Aincrad.
“This is the first time I’ve come back to Urbus at this time of day. Is it always like this? Or is today a special day?” I asked Asuna.
December 8 wasn’t a holiday. She shot me a quizzical look, her beauty hidden beneath the wool cape once again.
“Both Urbus and Marome have been like this for several days. Have you been in hiding both day and night?”
“Um...well...”
She was probably asking if I really cared that much about being seen. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t visit Urbus even if I wanted to. If I was going to tell her about my Martial Arts skill over dinner, I’d eventually get to this topic, but it was not something that could be summed up briefly.
“You could say I was hiding. Or maybe I wasn’t,” I stammered.
Asuna’s stare grew even more incredulous.
“Didn’t I tell you you’re being paranoid? We’ve passed by dozens of people so far, you’re not in disguise, and not a single one ha
s bothered you in the least.”
She was correct: My awesome striped bandanna was not on display. My face and hair were just like normal, though the black coat was stashed away, too. But I had a feeling that it was not a case of players recognizing me as “Kirito the Beater” and choosing to leave me alone, but that they were simply too full of relief and anticipation of dinner to bother spending any time examining one gloomy-looking swordsman out of many.
I coughed lightly, subtly maneuvering myself to use Asuna as cover.
“Ahem...w-well, perhaps. Anyway, back to the topic–is this place always this lively at night? For no particular reason?”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a reason.”
I shut my mouth. She shot me another look.
“...In fact, you’re responsible for about three-quarters of that reason.”
“Huh? M-me?!” I sputtered. She sighed in total exasperation. “Look...Isn’t it obvious why everyone is smiling and laughing? It’s because we’re on the second floor.”
“Which means?”
“It wasn’t a riddle. Everyone was much more nervous for the entire month we were trapped on the first floor. They were terrified that they might never see the real world again. I was one of them. But then the boss raid came together, we won on the first try, and opened up the second floor. Everyone realized that maybe we can beat this thing. That’s why they’re smiling. I’m just saying...we wouldn’t be seeing this phenomenon if a certain someone hadn’t stood strong during that battle.”
“......”
Finally, I understood the point Asuna was making, but I was no closer to knowing how to react to that. I coughed again and grasped tor something to say.
“Uh, I g-guess. Well, if you ask me, that certain someone did a good enough job to deserve a free shortcake,” I finished hopefully.
“That was that; this is this!”
It was worth a shot.
We turned onto a narrow path leading north from the east-west main street, then made another right and a left to reach the restaurant.
I knew about this establishment (and its infamous shortcake) from my tireless exploration of Urbus during the beta test, so was a bit surprised that Asuna knew about it after just a few days on the second floor. We took a table near the back and ordered our food, at which point I decide to ask her how she knew.
“So let me guess, Asuna: the smell of the sweet cream–” Those brown eyes went sharp beneath her hood. I instantly changed course.
“–did not guide you here. So was it coincidence? It’s got a small storefront with a tiny sign. I think it would be difficult to pick this place out at random.”
There wasn’t anything to be lost by wandering into a business at random in Aincrad, as there were no rip-off bars that bullied you into paying up just for entering (as far as I knew), but there were some that automatically initiated an event-type quest when you walked in the door. There was no danger to one’s HP within town (again, as far as I knew), but such events might come off as a nasty surprise to someone not familiar with MMOs. I figured Asuna was not the type of person to appreciate or desire unexpected thrills, but her answers surprised me. “I asked Argo if there were any low-traffic NPC restaurants in Urbus and bought the answer from her.”
Sure enough, there was no one else in the restaurant. Asuna opened her menu and unequipped the cape, letting her hair swing free with a sigh.
“Oh...I see. That makes sense...”
On the inside, I broke out into a cold sweat. I was the one who brought Asuna and Argo together. Technically, it was when Asuna borrowed the use of my bath at the farmhouse near Tolbana, and Argo had visited with perfect timing. Despite my best efforts, they ran into each other in the bathroom, much to Asuna’s shock. She screamed and ran out into the main room, where I was sitting–
“You’re not remembering something you shouldn’t, are you? If so, I might need two cakes instead of one.”
“No, not remembering a thing,” I replied instantly, vigorously shaking my head clear. “Anyway, Argo might be quick and accurate with your information, but be careful around her. There’s no entry for ‘client confidentiality’ in her dictionary.”
“Meaning...I could ask her to sell me all the information she has about you?”
It was too late to regret my slip of the tongue now.
“W-well, yeah...maybe...but it’ll cost you a lot. I’m sure the whole bundle would cost you at least three thousand col.”
“That’s actually not as much as I expected. I bet I could raise that amount without much trouble...”
“N-n-no! I’d buy all of yours in return! After all, she saw your–” I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clicked. She grinned at me. “My what?”
“Umm, er...what I meant to say is...”
At that moment, a miracle occurred and the NPC waiter returned with dishes of food, saving me from certain catastrophe.
The menu was simple salad, stew, and bread, but this was the finest to be found on the second floor. Asuna’s eyebrows emitted a threatening aura as we ate, but it disappeared by the time the long-awaited dessert arrived.
As we agreed, Asuna paid for the dinner, while the cost of the dessert came from my own wallet. The terrifying thing was the cost of that one dish easily exceeded the three-piece dinner for two. But given that I’d busted out my secret Martial Arts skill and still lost the bet, I wasn’t in any position to complain. My only option was to rue the lack of my own skill.
The triumphant winner, seemingly oblivious to my inner turmoil, looked at the green plate piled high with a mountain of cream, her eyes sparkling.
“Oh my gosh! Argo’s info said you just have to try the Tremble Shortcake once. I can’t believe the moment has finally come!”
The “tremble” in the name was clearly derived from the Trembling Cows, the female versions of the terrifyingly huge oxen that roamed the second floor. The cows were nearly twice the size of the oxen, practically bosses in their own right. The cream piled atop the shortcake came from their milk (supposedly), but now was not the time to mention that.
There was another angle to the “trembling” moniker, however: the cream was piled so high atop the dish that it shook on its own. The piece was a triangular slice from a full-size round cake seven inches to a side, three inches tall, about sixty degrees of the whole.
That meant the total volume of the cake was (7x7x3.14x3)/6...totaling seventy-seven cubic inches of pure heaven. There had to be almost an entire quart of cream on that thing.
“So...what about this cake qualifies as ‘short’?” I whined.
Asuna picked up the large fork that came with the cake and said, “You don’t know? It’s not called shortcake because it’s short in stature.”
“Why, then? Was it invented by a legendary big-league shortstop?”
She effortlessly ignored my killer joke. “It’s because the crispy texture of the cake is achieved through shortening. In America, they use a tough, crispy biscuit-like cake as the base, but we have soft sponge cake in Japan, so it’s not really accurate to the original meaning. Let’s see which kind this is...”
She put her fork to the top of the triangular wedge and carved out a good five cubic inches, exposing golden sponge cake. It was a four-layer cake, going sponge, strawberries and cream, sponge, strawberries and cream. The top of the cake, of course, was covered in a stunning amount of strawberries–or more accurately, some kind of in-game fruit that resembled strawberries. “So it’s sponge cake. I like this style more, anyway,” Asuna said.
Her smile was so radiant that it was almost worth losing the bet and being forced to pay a massive dessert bill just to see it. In truth, it didn’t matter whether I came out ahead or behind. The fact that she’d gone from pale-faced despair in the depths of the labyrinth to a full-faced smile under these warm oil lamps was a very good thing, indeed.
If there was one very bad thing here, it was that there was only a single slice of c
ake on the table. I’d been planning to live dangerously and order two servings outright, but the price on the menu was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my enthusiasm.
I summoned up every last point of my Gentleman statistic and waved a magnanimous hand, smiling as naturally as I could. “Please, dig in. Don’t mind me.”
She smiled back. “Oh, I won’t. Here goes.”
Two seconds later, she cracked with laughter, then reached into the cutlery basket at the side of the table and handed me a fork. “I’m just kidding–I’m not that mean. You can have up to a third of it.”
“...Um, thanks,” I replied, a relieved smile on my face. On the inside, my brain was doing rapid calculations.
One-third means I can eat...twenty-seven and a half cubic inches of cake!
When we left the restaurant, the town was wreathed in the dark of night. Asuna sucked in a deep breath and let out a deep sigh of contentment.
“...That was good...”
I knew how she felt. That cake was probably the first honest dessert she’d tasted since we’d been trapped in this place. It was the same for me. I sighed happily as well and murmured, “It feels like that tasted even better than in the beta test...The way the cream melted in your mouth, the perfect level of sweetness that wasn’t too heavy, but still satisfying...”
“Don’t you think that’s just your imagination? Would they really bother with such fine-tuning between the beta and the retail release?” she asked. I answered her skepticism with all seriousness.
“It wouldn’t be that hard to update the data in the taste engine. Besides, even ignoring the difference in flavor, we didn’t have this in the beta.”
I pointed just below my HP bar, in the upper left portion of view. There was a buff icon displayed that hadn’t been there before, a four-leaf clover that signified an increased luck bonus.
That effect could only be gained by making an expensive offering at a church, equipping an accessory with that particular bonus, or consuming a special food item.
SAO kept its main stats exceedingly minimal, showing only values for strength and agility. However, there were a number of hidden stats affected by equipment properties, buffs and debuffs, even terrain effects. Luck was one of those stats, and a pretty important one–it affected resistance to poison and paralysis, the probability of weapon fumbling or tripping, even potentially the drop rate of rare items.