Alice gently spread her pure white skirt as she knelt to the ground. She reached out and warmly caressed Bercouli’s hair, then softly touched her lips to his forehead.
When she stood up again, an entirely different aura emanated from the knight’s entire body.
“Amayori, Takiguri. Please endure a bit more.”
After saying this to the two dragons, Alice turned to Sinon.
“What… will you do then, Sinon-san?”
“This time, it’s my turn to put my life on the line.”
Sinon smiled slightly and continued:
“Dark God Vector will probably revive here. I’ll try my best to defeat him… or at least buy you enough time.”
Alice bit her lip softly, then deeply bowed her head.
“I’ll leave it to you. I will absolutely not betray your intentions.”
After watching the two dragons fly into the southern sky, Sinon took into her hands the white longbow hanging from her shoulder.
The group that had attacked the «Ocean Turtle» was likely a private military contractor under the aid of an American government agency. One of the combatants had used Super Account 04, «Dark God Vector», to attack Alice.
In the real world, Sinon, a mere high school student, stood no chance against an opponent like that.
But in this place, as long as it was a one-on-one battle in a virtual world —
No matter who I face, I must win.
Swearing such a vow to herself like that, Sinon awaited the moment in which the enemy would dive in once more.
***
As he yanked back his right fist, its final bone let out a parched crack.
Fist Fighter Guild Chief Iskahn looked away from the spread-eagle body of a soldier whom he had struck dead center in the armor, glancing at his right hand in silence.
Gone were the iron knuckles capable of smashing all to smithereens. In their place was a deeply swollen sac of skin covering shattered bones and torn flesh, smeared with blood.
His left fist had transformed into the same state not long ago. His feet were covered in bloody bruises. He could no longer run, let alone kick.
“You fought like a true warrior, Champion.”
The hoarse voice of his aide, Dampe, caused Iskahn to look behind him.
After completely losing both arms, the hulking man sitting on the ground had kept up the fight solely by headbutting or body-slamming the enemy, as evidenced by the sword wounds on his face and body. His eyes, once shining with fighting spirit and wisdom, were now clouded over, making clear that Dampe’s Life was nearing exhaustion.
Iskahn raised his shattered fist in a gesture of respect towards the warrior’s soul, then replied:
“Yeah, if we die like this, we won’t be ashamed once we meet our ancestors in the afterlife.”
Dragging his feet, he shambled to his aide’s side, collapsing his hindquarters onto the ground.
After a lengthy, fierce battle, the crimson legion that once numbered over twenty thousand had now been reduced to around three thousand. But in exchange, there were only around three hundred surviving Fist Fighters. Moreover, every one of them had been maimed and mangled. They were even unable to assemble into a complete formation, merely curling up into a group and waiting to be slaughtered.
But the sole reason that the three thousand enemy soldiers tightly surrounding them hadn’t launched their final assault was —
A knight and a dragon, still battling like demons right before Iskahn and Dampe’s eyes.
***
Her physical body and mental spirit had already been expended far past their limitations.
Despite everything, as soon as the shadow of an enemy appeared within her murky vision, Integrity Knight Sheyta Synthesis Twelve still raised her right arm, which felt filled with lead, and swung the Black Lily Sword.
The heavy din of sliced air was heard.
The needle-thin blade sank into an enemy’s shoulder plate. Its recoil, like innumerable iron needles digging into her flesh, traveled from her wrist to her elbow.
“Ha… AAHHHH!!”
The gravelly bellow of rage exploding from her throat was as divorced as could be from her nickname of «Silent». Her sword pierced through the bulky armor and tore a straight line, cleaving the enemy’s body in half.
Once the soldier collapsed, cursing in an unintelligible tongue, Sheyta wrenched her weapon from his body, wheezing crudely.
The reason behind her exhaustion was due in part to the nearly unlimited number of enemies, and also due to the uncanny way the red soldiers felt to her on the other side of her sword.
Her Incarnation hardly had any effect. Though the enemy’s weapons and armor simply weren’t worth mentioning when compared against Sheyta’s Divine Instrument, whenever she sliced them apart she would always feel a troubling resistance. Their attacks were the same. They would clearly rely only on brute-force, crude slashing movements, but that caused Sheyta difficulty in predicting their next maneuvers.
She was practically fighting phantoms. This army was like a mass of men that weren’t here at all, but shadows being projected from afar instead.
Battling them wasn’t fun at all. Sheyta found as she executed these shadows that she, who was born only to slash, could experience nothing more than an intense repugnance.
— Why?
— No matter whether my opponents are shadows or bodies, or even stone statues, I ought to be satisfied as long as they’re solid enough. I’m merely a puppet who knows naught but to slash…
The Black Lily Sword was a Divine Instrument that contained the highest Priority within its ultra-thin blade. It was a tool created solely to sever, just as Sheyta herself was. If either of them failed to continue slashing, their very significance as an existence would be lost.
Highest Minister Administrator had transformed a black lily, which Sheyta had retrieved from an ancient battlefield in the Dark Realm, into a sword. When she then bestowed the sword unto Sheyta, she had spoken thusly:
— This sword is the manifestation of the curse engraved within your soul. A curse by the name of a murderous urge, created by fluctuations in the parameters of personality inheritance. Slash, slash, and keep slashing.
Only when you walk this bloodsoaked road to the very end will you discover the key to releasing this curse… Possibly.
At the time, Sheyta did not understand what the Highest Minister meant.
She merely obeyed her directive and slashed her way along that road, for years and years that seemed like an eternity. Then, at last, she encountered her destined opponent. It was someone harder and tougher than anyone or anything else she had ever encountered by way of her sword: that Fist Fighter.
She wished to battle him once more. Only through battle might she eventually understand something.
Driven by this thought, Sheyta parted from the Human Empire Army and remained at this battlefield. Yet she seemed unable to battle that red-haired warrior again.
She swallowed her last mouthful of water and tossed away the empty waterskin while looking behind her.
She saw, sitting atop a boulder far away, the Fist Fighter Chief, with his entire body covered in wounds. Inexplicably, sorrow drifted into his left eye as he stared fixedly back at her.
Sheyta suddenly felt her chest sting.
— What is this pain?
— I should be longing to kill this man. I want to taste that all-consuming battle again, then slice off those fists that are harder than diamonds. That should be all I desire. Yet, why is my heart… What is this stirring feeling…?
Crack.
A feeble noise suddenly came from her right hand.
Sheyta raised the Black Lily Sword, inspecting it silently. At the very center of the jet black blade that looked capable of absorbing all light ran a fissure finer than spider silk.
Ahh…
I see.
Sheyta inhaled deeply and smiled.
All of her questions dissolved in that moment. Shey
ta finally understood the meaning behind Administrator’s words, and what her curse had been.
A wave of rumbling came from the ground. She glanced behind her, only to see an enemy soldier charging at her, brandishing a crude warhammer.
Sheyta fluidly sidestepped the enemy’s first strike and her right hand thrust the sword directly into the red armor’s center.
Her final attack had been, true to her name, silent. As if merely gliding, the Black Lily Sword slid into the enemy’s heart and deftly took his life — then, beginning in the middle, it silently dissolved into countless flower petals and dispersed in all directions.
Sheyta mournfully brought her lips to the scattering sword hilt and whispered:
“… Thank you, for all this time.”
In that instant, she seemed to detect a faint whiff of a flower’s fragrance.
To her right, the dragon Yoiyobi, her longtime companion, crushed an enemy with a swing of its tail.
The dragon’s gray scales had been dyed red by the blood gushing from its innumerable wounds, and its talons and fangs were shattered and incomplete. It had long depleted its flames, and its movements had slowed to a pace uncharacteristic of its original agility.
Sheyta made sure that the enemy’s assault had paused, then walked to her beloved dragon’s side and brushed her right hand over its neck.
“Thank you too, Yoiyobi. Tired too, right?… Get some rest.”
Then, Sheyta and her dragon supported each other as they started towards the small hill where the remaining survivors of the Fist Fighters’ Guild had gathered.
Staying seated on the ground, the Fist Fighter Chief raised his right hand, which looked so swollen that it could burst at any second, and greeted Sheyta.
“My bad… I let your precious sword break…”
Sheyta shook her head at his apology:
“It’s fine. For I finally see, I see why I’ve been cutting everything apart…”
She dropped weakly to her knees, raised both hands, and took the young warrior’s face softly in her ten fingers.
“It was to find what I do not wish to cut. I’ve been fighting to find what I wish to protect. That’s… you. So I don’t need the sword anymore.”
In an instant, the Fist Fighter’s left eye widened, and a transparent droplet of liquid welled up from within. On the contrary, this made Sheyta slightly surprised.
The youngster clenched his teeth tightly together and muttered, his throat choking up:
“Ah… fuck. I wanna start a family with you too. We’ll definitely have a strong kid. A kid stronger than my ancestors, stronger than me, who can become the strongest Fist Fighter for sure…”
“No. That child will become a knight.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, then both smiled. With a hulking man gazing at them warmly, Sheyta and Iskahn embraced, then sat down next to each other.
Three hundred Fist Fighters, one Integrity Knight, and a dragon waited in silence as the crimson soldiers gradually closed their encirclement.
***
“Seems like… game, set, and match. Don’t it?”
Klein said as he and Asuna were returning to the rear encampment. “Yeah,” she replied.
Both of their wounds were being treated by a mage amongst the Japanese players using the Sacred Arts she had just learned. She was unable to amplify the efficacy of the Arts with her imagination like an Underworld Ascetic could, but since her character level was high, her converted character had received very high Arts-practicing authority that resulted in a plentiful healing ability.
“Thank you so much for coming to help us.”
Asuna thanked the female mage, and thanked Klein, who was standing beside her, as well.
“Thank you too, Klein. I really don’t know how best to thank you…”
Watching Asuna become momentarily tongue-tied, Klein embarrassedly rubbed his nose.
“Hey, don’t treat me like a stranger. I owe you and that bastard Kirito so damn much that this is far from enough… He’s here too, right?”
Klein couldn’t help but lower his voice. Asuna nodded slightly.
“Yeah. Go meet him after the battle. If he listens to some of your dirty jokes, Klein, he might just be unable to resist the urge to roast you and wake up.”
“Hey, that’s kinda cruel.”
A smile stretched over Klein’s perpetually bright face, but his eyes showed obvious concern. He, too, knew how severe the wounds in Kirito’s soul were.
— Ah, but, really…
After everything was over and done with, after they had repelled the enemies from Underworld and the «Ocean Turtle», if Sinon, Leafa, Klein, and the rest of the original SAO Progressors, along with Sakuya, Alicia, and the people from ALO… then Alice, Tiese, Ronye, Sortiliena, and the others all surround Kirito, then there’s no way he wouldn’t wake up, was there?
She had to keep fighting, so that when that moment came, she could greet him with a smile.
As soon as her wounds had closed themselves, Asuna thanked the mage player once again and stood up.
Like Klein had said, the fate of the battle was now certain and undoubtable. The number of red American players had already decreased to near that of the Japanese players, and they were acting as though they’d completely lost their earlier fighting spirit, repeatedly launching suicide attacks.
But this battle within these ancient ruins was merely a skirmish.
The crucial point was «Radiant Medium» Alice, who had been abducted by Emperor Vector. While Knight Commander Bercouli and Sinon were hindering his progress, they had to catch up to Vector and take Alice back. Therefore, they must pick out the elite among the elite from the converted players, borrow the Human Empire Army’s horses, and head south as fast they could.
If they were able to catch up, even if the enemy was using a Super Account, he couldn’t be a match for an elite, handpicked force comprised of the top players from Japan. The overwhelming strength that they possessed enabled Asuna to declare that.
The valiant swordsmen had equipped blades, shields, and armor reflecting a polychromatic shine, resembling the Einherjar18 of Norse mythos…
Asuna wiped away her forming tears and looked away from the front line, towards the very rear.
The supply team’s horse-drawn carriages had already been pulled near the ruins’ sando entrance, and a temporary encampment had been erected there. Asuna felt that the sight of wounded Japanese being healed by the Underworld residents’ Arts also held indescribable worth.
“… It’s okay, everything will be fine… for sure.”
Asuna’s spoken thoughts earned a vigorous reply from Klein, beside her:
“Of course. All right, let’s get a move on.”
“Yeah.”
Asuna nodded, then turned towards the front line again —
But her attention was grabbed by something that brushed past the edge of her vision, causing her to jerk violently to a halt.
— What is that. Something black… pitch black, like a stain…
Asuna’s eyes wavered for a moment, then she finally saw it.
The gargantuan god statues lining the two sides of the sando in the ruins.
Atop the statue nearest them to the right side stood someone.
Because the statue was reflected against the light, they could only make out a swaying black silhouette, almost like it was about to melt into the crimson sky of the Dark Territory.
Was it an American who had deserted the battlefield? Or a scout from the Japanese?
Startled, Asuna looked closer, and it was only then that she noticed that the silhouette was swaying because the person was dressed in a half-length black cloak. The poncho’s hood had been pulled all the way down, so the person’s face was completely invisible.
But.
“Hey, Klein. That man…”
Klein was just about to take off for the front line, but Asuna tugged on his sleeve with her right hand and pointed with her left.
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“That man standing there, do you feel like you’ve seen him before?”
“Huh…? Whoa, he’s watching the show from up there. Damn, who is that?… He’s wearing a cloak. I can’t even see his face, let alone… remember…”
Klein’s voice suddenly broke off.
Asuna turned to look, only to see that Klein’s stubbled, scuffled face had been drained of all color, white as a sheet of paper.
“Hey, what’s wrong? You know him? Who is that?”
“No… How. No way, that’s… Am I looking… at a ghost…?”
“A-A ghost…? What do you mean?”
“Be… Because, that black cloak, no, that leather poncho… is LaughCof’s…”
The instant she heard that name.
Asuna felt her brain freeze in the blink of an eye.
LaughCof. Officially known as «Laughing Coffin». From the middle to the end of the death game SAO, it had been the strongest red guild, spreading terror throughout the floating castle Aincrad.
A great number of infamous PKers, including «Red-Eyed XaXa» and «Johnny Black», were under its wing, and it had passed its venomous hand over innumerable normal players… Finally, after a fight to the death against a crusade team comprised of the Progressor players, they were successfully destroyed.
During that battle, nearly every single member of «Laughing Coffin» was either killed or sent to the Black Iron Palace, but one man escaped. It was the guild leader, the man who had mysteriously vanished when the guild’s lair was ambushed, and also the man who had, either by his own hand or through indirect methods, killed the most players in SAO. His name — «PoH». That murderous demon had frequently clad himself in a black leather poncho and wielded a large dagger that resembled a meat cleaver. Yet two years later he had come to Underworld, now standing and looking down upon Asuna and Klein.
“………. No way.”
Asuna could only muster a hoarse whisper at this moment.
It’s fake. I’m looking at a ghost.
Go. Go away.
But, as though it were mocking Asuna’s wish, the black silhouette wavering like a mirage slowly raised its right hand. It then lightly waved its hand back and forth, as though teasing her.