Warm sunlight flitted through the gap in the curtains, and Drifter slowly opened his eyes.
Still half asleep, he took in the unfamiliar room. It took him a minute to remember where he was, and that this was now truly his room.
"Hmmgh..."
Well, not just his. The familiar weight of Yuna moved on his chest, the songstress turning in her sleep to hide from the light.
A gentle smile took his face. Drifter and Yuna were an old couple now, having been together for nearly 2 years, but every day he only felt more and more in live with her.
Careful not to wake her up, Drifter shimmied his way out of bed. The floor felt cool under his bare feet, but not uncomfortable. He stretched and looked around.
The room itself was nothing special. While the Lakeside Estate, or Reaver's Mansion, as Yuuki had dubbed it yesterday, had come furnished, it was only with the barest of items. Their room itself only had a bed, wardrobe, two bedside tables, and that was it.
But furniture could be bought, and decor replaced or improved. It was what the building itself represented that put a smile on Drifter's face when the day was barley started.
Habitually, he swipped his finger and opened his menu - a little over 8 AM. Later than the Reavers usually got up, but entirely understandable considering this was the first time in years that they could allow themselves to truly drop their guard.
Taking a shirt out of his inventory, Drifter threw it over his head - he could have put it on with a single click, but there was something grounding about doing it manually.
He then looked to the side, where his trusted twisted bident was leaning on the wall next to the bed. After warring with himself for a handful of second, he turned away.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he left his weapon behind. Of course, it wasn't out of reach, he could still summon it with a flick of his finger, but for someone who hadn't stored it away or left it out of his eyesight in years, it was a huge change.
Careful not to make any noise, he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He looked left and right, then took the corridor that would lead him to the kitchen.
Along the way, he admired the mansion, even though he had explored all of it yesterday with a child's joy.
Much like his bedroom, the rest of the building was somewhat barren, but that was easily fixed. Unlike buying a building, which was very expensive, furniture and decorations, even for a place huge as the Reaver's Mansion was, would only cost a few tens of thousands of cor, not even a hundred.
And the mansion really was big. 22 bedrooms, enough for each of the Reavers to get their own - although many were left empty as most of the players had gotten into the habit of sharing rooms, either as couples or as friends - 8 common areas, ranging from a library to a dining room and more than one living room, a large kitchen that had Asuna squealing with joy, and more.
All in all, it was actually far bigger than what the Reavers needed. But none of them were complaining.
Climbing down the stairs and turning a corner, Drifter found he wasn't the first one to wake up. Kizmel and Vallerk were in the kitchen, working quietly in tandem to prepare a simple breakfast for the guild.
The spearmaster couldn't help but notice their attires. Vallerk was dressed much like him, in simple pants and a shirt, but his towering shield was nowhere to be seen.
And Kizmel was wearing a dress. Drifter didn't think he had ever seen her out of her armor, unless you counted their visits to the hot springs.
He chose not to comment on it. A blossom of warmth bloomed on his chest at the clear sign that them, like him, were letting go of some of their ever-present tension.
Greeting them quietly, the spearmaster joined the duo in their preparations. Before you knew it, a simple but ample spread of food had been laid out on the dinning table. It would be kept warm and delicious by the system for another couple hours.
As for the 3 who had prepared breakfast, they chose to eat outside. While biting into a piece of toast, Drifter admired the golden hue of the list over the lake.
"Say, Kiz. You ever think you would be here one day?"
Reaver's Requiem's Dark Elf paused in scooping a spoonful of fruit salad into her mouth.
"No. For my entire existence, protecting the kingdom was all my life ever was. But..."
Seeing Kizmel smile wasn't rare. She was one of the kindest and most gentle people Drifter had ever met. But even the spearmaster was lost in how beautiful that smile was right then.
"I enjoy my life now more than I ever did before. Truly, thank you for accepting me, Drifter, Vallerk."
The two men blinked. Drifter had simply been making idle banter, prompted by the peace of the moment. He hadn't expected it to become this deep just a couple sentences in - or at all.
But his lips curled into a smile, and Vallerk too looked happy. In an unspoken agreement, both put aside their plates before trapping the dark elf in an ambush hug.
"Get off!"
Kizmel made a show of pushing them away, but there was no hiding her smile. It was because of moments like this that she forged on despite knowing she was nothing more than a bunch of 1s and 0s.
"Hey, I didn't know we were doing a morning group hug!"
The trio suddenly felt another body drop themselves over them. Someone grabbed Drifter's head, and he spun around, picked Yuuki up, and squished her between himself and Vallerk.
"How 'bout that?"
"Ack!"
The young girl cried out pitifully, stretching a hand to Kizmel as if asking her to pull her our. But the dark elf simply smiled, enjoying her 'suffering'.
More Reavers arrived soon, and the porch turned into one loud, happy mess. No matter how tired they were, their biological clocks didn't let any of them sleep in too late.
Finally, after everyone had eaten breakfast, parties were formed, and the guild set out to adventure further into the 51st floor. The frontliners were close to finding the entrance to the tower, and from there it would be less than a week before they were ready to challenge the floor boss.
The large mansion, initially so boisterous a filled with noise, fell quiet. Only Drifter wad left, having offered to clean up the remains of breakfast since he was staying behind anyway.
That's right. Today, Drifter wasn't out with his guild. He had a meeting with Argo and Kibaou to discuss the possible formation of a new police force for Aincrad.
His guildmates had been somewhat reluctant to go out without him, but Drifter assured them it would be fine. Argo was going to be there to mediate, and the spearmaster could control himself enough not to attack Kibaou on sight - hopefully.
Truthfully, Drifter just wanted to get it over and done with. One thing frontliners weren't fans of was wasting time, and he was no exception to the rule.
Whether the plan went ahead or not, or if Kibaou or someone else took charge, Drifter didn't plan on interfering on it any further than today's meeting. He had enough on his plate as it was.
It didn't take long after he was finished cleaning up the porch and kitchen that a blue glow came from a small room to the left of the main entrance.
Being a large property in the middle of the floor instead of a safe zone, Drifter had barely bat and eyelid when the system prompted him with the option to add a teleporter to the manor - compared to how much they spent on the building itself, it was a pittance.
Now, the Lakeside Estate was like a tiny safe zone in the middle of the 51st floor. In a radius of 10 meters around the building, you couldn't damage or attack anyone unless you sent out a duel invitation - and they accepted, of course. And, with the teleporter, it was only a matter of seconds to get anywhere else in Aincrad.
Being that he was registered as the owner of the property, Drifter also had the ability to control who was allowed to use said teleporter. Which was, really, the only reason he concurred to have the meeting here, instead of some random restaurant in the Town of Beginnings. Kibaou was getting scratched off the list as soon as he was gone.
Call Drifter petty if you would. But considering how many people were dead because of Kibaou, some of them his friends, the spearmaster felt he had the right.
He watched warily and wearily as the door to the teleporter room opened and Argo stepped out, followed hesitantly by another figure.
Normally, the info-broker would have cracked a joke or made some sort of inappropriate comment or teasing remark about the new house.
But this time, she kept quiet, her face a carefully crafted blank mask. Drifter himself only spared her a single glance before his gaze zeroed in on Kibaou.
The former frontliner looked much the same as the last time Drifter saw him, over a year ago, at least physically.
But the way he carried himself was worlds apart from his previous swagger. Before, Kiabou always had either a smug grin or an arrogant glare whenever he met someone.
Both of those were gone now, replaced by an air of submission, or maybe serenity. Like he was expecting Drifter to yell at him, and fully intending on taking it without fighting back.
For some reason, that angered the spearmaster. His nostrils flared, and he held back from saying something that would surely doom the conversation before it could even start.
He held back because of Kibaou's eyes. Neutral, calm, even slightly apologetic. But the spiky-haired player didn't avert his gaze even when Drifter full-on glared at him.
Good. He still had some backbone at least. If he had turned into a coward it would make the 25th Massacre feel even more wasteful than it already did.
If this were a wuxia novel, the air would have cracked with tension. Since it wasn't, the silence stretched just long enough to make Argo feel awkward.
"Dri-bou?"
The spearmaster turned to her voice, only then realizing how antagonistic his posture was, arms crossed in front of his chest, blocking the corridor.
He didn't apologize. Nor did he offer any sort of greeting to Kibaou.
Drifter just took a deep breath and ruffled Argo's hair. He had agreed to this. If for no reason other than to not hurt her, he would behave.
"Let's sit down."
He led them to a small sitting room to the side, one which Agil had already claimed as his office earlier. A couple crates of excess gear were stowed away near the back, but it was still empty enough that they could all take a seat around the center table.
"Argo told me about your proposal, Kibaou. I ran it by the Assault Team. We think it has merit. But we have concerns. Mainly about you."
Drifter decided to dive right into the heart of the matter. He didn't want to spend any more time in Kibaou's presence than he needed to.
"I--"
"Ahem. Let me finish."
Kibaou tried to answer, probably reassure Drifter of how he had changed and whatnot, but the spearmaster raised his hand to cut him off.
"You were a great frontliner once, Kibaou. Not even I can deny that. For all your faults, you were a good leader, until that last moment, and a great fighter."
Drifter felt an almost physical pain in admitting it, but it was the truth. Kibaou did not feel relieved, however, because Drifter's glare was still just as cold.
"But that was then. The 25th Massacre-- Argo says you've changed. And I chose to believe her. But nothing is forgiven or forgotten. Not by me, not by the Assault Team, not by any player in Aincrad. And that is our first concern."
How would he lead a police force if the mid and low-level players saw him as the one who caused the 25th Massacre? They had watched it live, after all, including the condemnation of Kibaou by the Assault Team that came after.
His words were confrontational. But Kibaou didn't flinch.
"I may never earn their trust - or yours - again, but I will at least try. This is my way of repenting, not just for my sake, but also for all the deaths I've caused."
Drifter narrowed his eyes - Kibaou sounded suspiciously selfish there - but it wasn't like the spearmaster was never guilty of hypocrisy.
"We considered taking your idea and kicking you to the curb. I was out voted. The lower floors... As long as they are kept under control, I can't be bothered with who's in charge. But the how and why, that does alarm me."
"Dri-bou."
Argo clenched his forearm under the table, feeling Drifter was getting a little too fired up. But the Reaver stroked the back of her hand in a calming gesture.
He wasn't fired up. He was cold. As cold as when he faced Laughing Coffin.
"This is not to be your new ALS, Kibaou. It is not to be your new guild. It's a police force, set in place to protect the normal players, stop them from unduly panicking and causing chaos."
He stared straight into Kibaou's eyes as he said it - in fact, he had yet to stop glaring at the former frontliner since they met.
"It is not your ticket back to the Assault Team either. You are not a frontliner anymore. Not Kibaou the Challenger anymore. And you never will be. That clear?"
"I never thought it was."
Drifter hated that he could see in Kibaou's eyes that that was the truth.
"Argo and Fuumaningum will keep an eye on you. The moment we hear a whisper of you abusing your power or trying to rebuild the ALS, you are out. Permanently."
Kibaou had changed, and so had Drifter. He wouldn't kill Kibaou - mostly because he becoming a red player would be a hassle - but he could make the man's existence miserable. After all, over a year away from the frontlines meant even the weakest in the Assault Team were still miles above Kibaou now.
"The Aincrad Defense Force is provisionally in your hands, Kibaou. Don't disappoint us."