Drifter was angry. No, he was enraged, absolutely livid.
But he hid it well. He always did. Too many people looked up to him for him to scream and break things whenever something pissed him off.
And it was often, in SAO. Every time a frontliner died under his command. Every time one of his Reavers came within a hair's breadth of falling forever. Every time he received the news that another clearer party has been annihilated by an ambush or a trap or stupidity.
Every time something out of his control happened and he could do nothing but watch.
Meowlen. Diavel. Merida. The 25th Massacre. Ducker and Sasamaru. Shigio. Laughing Coffin.
Pain.
The idea that right now, Kayaba was probably sitting in the comfort of his home, sipping a mug of coffee and relaxing after he just ensured thousands of people would suffer even more than they already head had Drifter seeing red.
But he hid it, because a leader had to be calm.
Even he had a limit, however. And getting shouted at by thousands of people who you were trying to protect was Drifter's final straw.
"Be quiet."
He didn't shout. He didn't yell. But his voice carried, so chilling the loudest of those complaining shivered and stumbled back.
The frontliner looked down on the crowd, and, arms still crossed, repeated what he had said earlier.
"The 51st floor will stay closed for the next 3 days. This isn't a discussion. It's an announcement."
There was silence for near a minute, and he let it stretch until the message sinked in.
"Why?"
But, of course, with this many people gathered in one place, it was impossible for it to last forever. Drifter's gaze fell on the black-haired player who had just inquired.
"Kayaba and Cardinal saw fit to reintroduce pain to Sword Art Online."
His words stunned the player into silence, but also restarted the brains of several hundred others, who started talking all at once.
Until Drifter raised his hand, and his spear was back in his grip. This time, he didn't need to say anything for them to shut up.
"As I said, there is now pain in the game. We have tested it, it's only from the 51st floor up. Right now, it's about one fifth of the real thing, but Kayaba doesn't do things by half. By the 55th floor, you will be feeling every cut, stab, slash, burn, and more like it's the real world."
Players shuddered just thinking about it. Even the most cautious - or cowardly - of players got hurt, unless they absolutely refused to leave the safe zones. It was fine when all that happened was losing some HP, but if they felt everything...
"The Assault Team won't activate the teleporter in the 51st floor for the next 3 days to ensure that every player in SAO hears the news. If you reach the 51st floor by climbing the tower, be aware you are doing it at your own risk."
The spearmaster looked at the crowd, and saw shell-shocked expressions. He sighed in his heart, although outwardly his face stayed the same.
"That's bullshit--"
Drifter was about to step down, announcement delivered, when he heard that. His glare instantly zeroed in on the player who had spoken.
"I'm sorry?"
The player, a reasonably well-equipped brown-haired man, who was one of the closest to the teleporter, flinched. But, feeling everyone's eyes on him, he was emboldened.
"I said that's bullshit! Even if there's really pain now, you don't have the right to stop us from climbing Aincrad!"
He probably expected more support than the countless flat looks screaming 'are you stupid?' at him. He turned red from the neck up, but his embarrassment fuelled his defiance and he glared right back at Drifter.
The spearmaster, for his part, had to physically hold his right hand with his left to stop himself from launching another Serpentcoil Impale. Instead, his already cold expression fell to below freezing.
"We are frontliners. We have every fucking right."
"Wh-"
The player sputtered, likely not expecting such an overbearing response. But Drifter didn't give him a chance to defend himself.
"I'm not up here asking for your support. I'm not up here asking for your understanding. I'm not asking you to like it. I'm telling you what is going to happen, and you are all going to listen. Because that's our right as the Assault Team. As frontliners. It is what you owe us. All of you. So shut the fuck up before you say anything more you are going to regret."
Drifter had reached his breaking point. The tension that filled his body and scratched at his soul from risking his life everyday, the deaths of so many players, so many friends, weighting on his mind. The 25th Massacre and Laughing Coffin. The 7 players who died in today's raid and SAO's newest update.
Everything was too much. And unless that player listened and listened well, keeping his damn mouth shut--
"This isn't a dictatorship! Don't act like we begged you to fight!"
He didn't. Of course he fucking didn't.
"You little-"
Shivata had to hold Lind back from walking over there and decking the player, and Kirito had to do much the same with Asuna. Kizmel, Yuna, Nautilus, Klein, Orlando, and all the others, including Argo, had glares that gave new meaning to the expression 'if looks could kill'.
"You didn't. Nobody can be forced to become a frontliner."
Drifter, surprisingly, sounded calm. But if you knew him well - or just had a good sixth-sense - you knew he was beyond enraged.
"We all became frontliners because we wanted to. And you didn't. Or couldn't. And that gives us the right to make decisions on your behalf. That gives me the right to tell you to close your fucking mouth right fucking now, because seven of my friends didn't die today for someone like you to trample on their sacrifice out of some mistaken belief that you, who did nothing but watch, is equal to them."
Harsh words, and an even harsher delivery. Drifter usually wouldn't say it like that. Wouldn't even put these thoughts to words, because he didn't believe it 100% either.
But he did value the lives of comrades who had fought by his side for years more than the pride of some no-name bastard.
Especially when that same bastard was mocking their deaths by rushing to his demise out of some stupid idea that the Assault Team was monopolizing resources.
Because that's what this was about, Drifter had no doubt. There were always vultures who let frontliners and clearers die to clear Aincrad while not lifting a finger, and yet were the first to rush to a new floor for items and quests.
Drifter hated them. He always had. Scavengers who profited on the deaths of frontliners.
"The Assault Team has always done its best to clear SAO and save as many people as possible. We didn't give up after the 25th Massacre. We didn't hesitate when we had to put down Laughing Coffin. Right now, the frontliners who aren't here are engaged in duels, deliberately getting hurt and feeling pain, so they can continue to climb Aincrad."
This time the entire crowd winced. Drifter was undeterred. His glare never left the player, who now looked like he wanted to dig a hole to crawl into.
"Making decisions without consulting you? That is our right as frontliners. Monopolizing resources? That is also our right as frontliners. You don't like it, you are welcome to challenge floor bosses yourself."
The corner of his lips curled up in a cruel, mocking smirk.
"You will die. But at least it will be knowing what hundreds of other clearers and frontliners had felt before you."
Now Drifter's glare finally left the player, and he almost collapsed in relief. The frontliner forgot about him in an instant, gaze sweeping the crowd, who, bar a few exceptions like the clearers or Fuumaningum and Sasha and her kids, all flinched.
"Right now, out bodies are wasting away in the real world. How long do you think before beating SAO isn't even worth it anymore? That we return to shriveled husks and have to spend the rest of our lives in a hospital bed?"
Angry beyond belief, Drifter aired the thoughts every SAO player had had at least a couple hundred times. He broke the unspoken agreement to never mentioned the outside world. Shattered it into pieces.
"Clearers and frontliners fight, knowing that we are barreling towards our deaths, so that those who make it to the end, so that you can one day escape this hell. So we have every right I say we have."
Drifter sheathed his spear, his gaze returning to that player and dripping with disdain.
"The 51st floor will stay closed for the next 3 days. Clearers are welcome to go through the labyrinth and tower to get there. Everyone else will be turned away. That's final."
Having said so, Drifter hopped down from the fountain. Then he tossed Argo and the frontliners who had come down before a bunch of Teleport Crystals with the coordinates of the 51st floor safe zone, and crushed his.
A dozen flashes of blue light later, and the group was gone, leaving thousands of dumbstruck players - and hundreds of millions of equally dumbfounded spectators - in their wake.
...
After they reappeared on the 51st floor, nobody said anything for a long time. They just stared at Drifter.
Even the members of the Assault Team who had stayed there caught on to the mood, and were looking at the spearmaster with curiosity.
"So... What the hell was that, Dri-bou?"
Argo cleared her throat and broke the silence. Even she kept her distance from Drifter right now. Only Yuna had immediately gone to her husband's side and hugged him.
"What happened, Argo?"
Sinon tilted her head, her eyes never leaving the couple. Drifter's head was bowed and his expression hidden, but Yuna seemed to be whispering reassurances in his ear.
"Drifter... May have just turned Aincrad into a dictatorship? With the Assault Team at the head? Honestly, I'm not sure."
It was Kirito who answered, choosing his words carefully.
"Say that again?"
The rest of the frontliners couldn't quite believe what they had just heard. But from Kirito's tone, as well as the awkward expressions the others who had gone down to the 1st floor had, it didn't seem like he was joking.
Surprisingly, it was Heathcliff who took over the explanation, his gaze towards Drifter containing more respect than it ever had.
"Broken Spear made an announcement regarding the new developments on this floor and our plans to keep it locked for the next 3 days until Argo the Rat could spread the news. One of the players... Implied we were simply doing so because we wanted to keep the resources of the floor to ourselves."
"T'was Sacrin. He's a vulture. One of 'em players who rushes to a newly-opened floor to take whatever intel and items he can get and overcharge it to people on lower floors. Dri-bou went off on him."
Argo added off-hand, her gaze never leaving Drifter. The spearmaster seemed to have calmed down now, with Yuna's help, so she got closer and was pulled into a hug.
"I'm fine, little rat. Just pissed off. Our losses today hit me harder than I thought."
"They were a lot better than what we expected already."
It was true, even if Drifter didn't like it. 7 players was already a phenomenal result for a sure-death floor raid. They had expected a dozen. Prepared for two. Been ready to fight until they either won or were all dead.
"Yeah, I know. But together with this new clusterfuck... They compounded on one another, and I lost my cool. Sorry, everyone."
He truly did have to apologize. Not only had he spoken up for the entire Assault Team without consulting them first, but he had also possibly alienated all the normal players from them.
"Was it really that bad?"
Even Yuuki sounded hesitant, and Drifter snorted.
"Yeah. Yeah, it was. I told them to shut the fuck up. A lot. And then I basically implied that the Assault Team deserved more than everyone else."
Drifter chuckled mirthlessly.
"I don't think I was wrong. But I shouldn't have said it, and definitely not the way I did. Sorry, everyone. You probably shouldn't expect a warm reception everywhere for a while."
Drifter wasn't expecting to be chastised over it, even if had been a mistake. Most of the frontliners understood why he did it, if not outright agreed.
But what he definitely hadn't expected was Lind shrugging and then clapping him on the shoulder.
"Eh, not like we frequent the lower floors all that much anyway."
Drifter blinked at the other guild leader. Sure, he and Lind had put aside their past differences, but this nonchalance wasn't quite what he expected.
"Lind's right. I was about to punch that asshole if ya didn't shoot him down first."
"Hm, he deserved it."
Klein and Orlando chimed in, and that seemed to be the signal for the rest of the frontliners to say similar things.
Drifter stared at them in disbelief, then broke out laughing. It was loud, freeing, and somewhat hysterical.
"All of you-"
He swept his hands to encompass the entire Assault Team.
"-are a bunch of crazy bastards."
His grin took any bite out of his words, and he received similar, if confused, smiles back. Shaking his head, he kissed the top of Yuna's head.
-------------------------
"That wasn't what I was expecting."
Later that night, Kayaba sat at his station, back into the familiar form of his real body, fingers entangled and a thoughtful expression on his face.
Drifter's break down - and the verbal beat down he delivered - were a surprise to him. Maybe he should have been paying more attention to the mental state of the frontliners.
Still, he couldn't help the bubbling of pride and joy in his chest. He had created Aincrad, created an entire new world, hoping that it would, in turn, create heroes.
And it had done that and more. When he looked at Broken Spear Drifter in that plaza today, he had seen a king. Someone who would lead the Assault Team to the very top of this castle they were in now.
Someone who would kill him.
Akihiko Kayaba couldn't wait.