Chapter 6 - Play alone....or afraid Part 1

Black. The entire place was a deep, impenetrable black. There were no walls or visible boundaries — only the oppression of total darkness that felt heavy on the skin, like a shroud that let no sound escape. The air was thick and dry, scentless, windless, lifeless.

In that echo-less blackness there was only one thing with shape: a broken voice dissolving into sobs, forced and erratic, cut by gasps that seemed to be torn from the chest. It was a sound that vibrated between pain and despair, the only proof that somewhere in that darkness there was life — and agony.

Suddenly, the chaos of suffering was interrupted by a rhythm.A click. Then another.

Footsteps. A steady, professional tapping, like expensive shoes striking an invisible floor of polished stone. The sound was slow, relentless, advancing without hurry, each step as precise as a metronome.

Then he appeared.

The figure emerged from the shadows like a specter. First a solid vertical silhouette, then the matte flash of immaculate white — a lab coat seeming to float in the void. A man. The dark, straight line of his tie was the only stain against the white, emphasizing his bearing. He walked on without stopping or hesitating; he even yawned, in a nearly mechanical gesture, just before reaching the source of the screams.

His face stayed shrouded in shadow, yet his mere presence defined absolute control. It was a terrifying calm that moved effortlessly, without falter, without mercy.

Humanity has spent eons trying to build perfection through rules. Morality, laws, religion… are but surface layers that distort truth. Even Aristotle failed in seeking perfection in the "form" of life — in what it ought to be.

As his voice echoed in the black, the scene began to take shape with clarity: it was no longer emptiness but a laboratory buried in some impossible place, silent, made of concrete and black metal, soaked in a dry, sterile cold. Instead of shelves, the space was dominated by a network of tubular structures: Containment Chambers.

Endless rows of large glass tubes ran from floor to ceiling, each held by a skeleton of gray steel. The structures looked like a fusion of industrial aquarium and medical incubator. As the man in white moved, his silhouette reflected on the wet glass of the tubes, multiplying like a ghost. The constant hum of electricity joined the chorus of muffled groans, creating an atmosphere of industrialized horror — a nursery where agony was the only constant.

The man extended an arm; his long fingers brushed the glass of one tube, and he continued speaking, each word a sentence:

"Observe these consciousness records. Here you have the soul in its most primitive state. An energetic matter which, when freed from the rules of the body, becomes chaotic. Pure imperfection. And therein lies the revelation. Perfection is not in cleanliness or goodness; it is in the unity that emerges from absolute imperfection. What I seek, what this world reveals, is how a collection of souls so defective, selfish and chaotic will help me find the person among so many players within my world. Who will be worthy to fall and be reborn as a soul painted in the manner I desire, created by my intervention… it seems the soul record is almost ready for the experiment. Your early death will be the aid I need; you will create the perfect blank canvas I need to fulfill my longed-for dream. You only have to kill 300 players if you want another chance, an extra life. If you meet the first and second conditions, I will not only revive you: I will let you log out."

As he declared these words, the man lifted his hand to his face as if to touch it. Then his gesture changed. He did not touch himself — he peeled his face off, revealing that what he had removed was a mask. A mask of his own face, perfectly made. At last his eyes were seen: not human eyes, but dark sockets with a tiny gray pupil deep inside. Everything else looked normal, but those hollows were the very void.

"Only from the pain of loss, from the chaos of a once-happy mind, from the selfishness of someone who will not help others and only cares for themselves… is the truth revealed. And that revelation is a soul that begins to mature from darkness to reach the only perfection that interests me," he murmured.

Having said that, he put the mask back on, covering his true face once more. Now the mask smiled, cheerful, though without it his expression had been apathetic, lifeless. The man turned on his heel and began to walk away, his coat barely billowing in the motionless air.

As he receded, one of the capsules began to activate. Red lights blinked, the internal liquid churned, and on the metallic top, as if burned into it, a number appeared: "25."

The forest stretched out in shadow, cloaked beneath a mantle of gloom where only the faintest rays of light pierced through the dense canopy. The ground was damp, soaked by a recent drizzle, and on the grass lay irregular traces of blood. Fresh trails — droplets and smears — that seemed to lead toward some hidden point deeper in the thicket.

The silence broke with a harrowing cry. A prolonged wail, drenched in agony, rose like a condemned scream… only to vanish in an instant. A clean, brutal slash across the throat unleashed a torrent of blood, splattering the soil with force as the victim's life faded in seconds.

Before the still-warm corpse stood a figure, disturbingly calm. A military-style brown poncho draped his body, now freckled with crimson stains that made him look even more savage. A wide, almost grotesque grin stretched across his face, showing teeth smeared red as he inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. His eyes gleamed with sick delight.

He turned his head slightly, and the sight around him was no less grotesque. Others, wearing the same type of poncho, were carrying out massacres with chilling variety and brutality. A skull crushed into fragments. A stomach slit open, intestines spilling onto the wet ground. A sword driven straight into a brain. A butcher's knife slowly rending flesh. A pair of ice picks plunging with animal force. Each killing was a different butchery, a catalog of carnage — and still, some stood apart. Silent, watchful, like spectators awaiting their turn.

Then, amid the rain of blood falling onto the grass, another figure emerged. A young woman. Her silhouette stood out for the umbrella she spun gently in her hands, moving with a strange, hypnotic grace. Each turn was delicate, a choreography that contrasted with the violence around her. Her soaked skirt clung to her legs, raindrops slid down the umbrella's edge, and on her face there was no fear — only fascination. Surrounded by corpses and killers, she smiled as though witnessing an intimate performance meant for her alone.

"How wonderful, the calm that follows ending the suffering of someone trapped…" she said, her sweet voice cutting through the tension. "In this world, the rain that paints everything crimson is beautiful… such a lovely red, don't you agree, Poh?"

The girl stilled her umbrella and looked straight at him, her lips curving into a soft, enchanting smile.

"Yes, it truly is…" Poh answered, his tone laced with worry though he tried to mask it with annoyance. "But you must take care. Being in danger is never good — not for the leader of our clan, Risu."

The air grew taut at those words, but the others nodded silently. The killers who had finished their work wiped their weapons clean and began to sheathe them. The wielder of the ice picks, however, stepped aside. While the rest kept alert, he pulled out a small, battered sketchbook and a half-broken pencil. Fixing his gaze on Risu, he began to draw. His strokes were firm, rapid — her figure in the rain, her spinning umbrella, that serene smile in the midst of carnage. He captured every detail with obsessive devotion, as if trying to preserve the moment forever. When he finished, he shut the book and hugged it tightly to his chest, smiling to himself.

The moment shattered with a new sound: hurried footsteps. Splashes in the puddles betrayed the approach of several people. Soon, figures emerged from between the trees — more clad in the same brown tactical ponchos. Their sudden arrival drew every gaze, sharp and suspicious.

The newcomers froze at once. Their tense, nervous faces could barely hide their unease beneath the cold stares of the others. They tried to step closer, but Poh moved ahead, joined by several men who formed a wall in front of Risu, protecting her with rigid resolve.

"What do you have to report?" Poh asked, his voice hard and sharp as a blade.

One of the new arrivals gathered enough courage to speak, though his tone trembled."You know very well that Assassins A, B, or C may only deliver the message to the five judges, who then inform the leader…"

Another tried to interject, but the words faltered in the heavy air. Their nerves were plain; fear made them clumsy and hesitant.

Then Risu stepped forward gently. Her presence softened the atmosphere like a warm breeze. She passed between her people and stood before the newcomers, bowing her head slightly.

"Don't frighten them," she said with a light laugh. "They'll think we're about to kill them. Hehe… So step back, Poh, Mangun, Peach, and Norder."

Her words were sweet, but the authority in them was undeniable. Poh and the others retreated cautiously, still watchful, their eyes fixed on the messengers, who could hardly keep their hands from shaking. Unable to endure their stares, the newcomers lowered their heads until their foreheads touched the ground — a gesture of respect and submission.

Risu advanced slowly toward them. The blood rain that had splattered her left marks on her clothing, but she didn't care. She stored her umbrella into her player inventory, her smile unchanged, almost maternal.

"Well then… do you bring good news or bad?" she asked, bending slightly to meet them at eye level, so they would not feel like garbage under her gaze.

Her voice was kind, but in that crimson-stained scene, every word was a hidden blade.

The murmur among the ranks of assassins quieted like a torrent finding its channel. Beneath his hood, the messenger's facial shadows trembled, but his voice did not waver: the words he brought were the most precious currency at that moment.

"The news is satisfactory—the message was delivered along with the indicated map," he spoke in a trembling but firm tone.

Several heads bowed instantly, as if the very air had absorbed the weight of the announcement. Risu, still kneeling in the center, fixed her gaze on the messenger; her eyes shone with a cold light that for an instant seemed to rekindle the old, impossible blood of the clearing. Then, unable to hold back, she applauded—not mockingly, but as a theatrical, calculated gesture full of expectation.

"Oh, fabulous—so they accepted the support offered?" she said, clapping with excitement and a questioning lilt at the end.

The echo of palms bounced off the scraps of iron and mud; some members of Section A smiled with satisfaction while others, more wary, frowned. The assassin who had spoken before—still barely steady—swallowed and quickly added details, eager to be heard and to rid himself of the weight of the information.

"Yes. As you predicted, Sub-leader Kibaou of the Liberation Army of Aincrad obtained the map for clearing Floor Five after some flattery and a very low price. He's now informing his leaders," he replied swiftly.

At the mention of Kibaou's name, several gazes turned fierce; the map—the folded sheet that meant routes, traps, crevices for ambushes—had changed hands. Risu then dropped her palm onto the head of Assassin B who had brought the news; she touched him with the mixture of contempt and affection given to one who performs a task well: reward and control at once.

But the hall was not for praises. A sharp voice loaded with anger cracked through the air like a whip.

"You've got to be kidding me—why give away information like that, knowing how valuable the item that boss drops is?" came the angry accusation, finger pointing.

The charge crackled among the ranks. Some muttered, others stomped the floor with the toe of their boots. Section C voiced their outrage in curt words; Section B exchanged nervous looks. Section A, for their part, remained complacent: they understood the power games.

Then, as the noise died under the gravity of the moment, an ax fell to the stone floor. Metal struck rock and the sound instinctively forced everyone to silence.

"Oh, if you have a complaint, come say it to our face instead of staging a show for attention," Norder declared loudly.

Norder's voice echoed—authoritative and grave. His presence cut through the tension with the precision of a blade; some stepped back, others pulled themselves together, but the assertiveness of his command showed who ruled that dark corner. Risu rose without haste, as one who returns to occupy her natural throne: the center of the stage where everything is decided.

"I know dissatisfaction can happen," she said, her voice tempered now and measured, "but consider the possible results—this will be worth it, at least a little. If it fails, it will be a way to test how much greed the clan that preaches hope and unity really has. An item like a Guild Flag could serve us, but we are free—why bind ourselves to a joint attack to favor a few? Whoever finds it or kills for it keeps it. I want to make the ALS and DKB guilds fight again; as the two largest guilds, that would be excellent. The more divided they are, the easier it will be for us to take advantage of certain positions in the future. Besides, there are more special items, don't you think?" Risu explained as if on a stage, her movements underscoring her words.

Her hands painted the air; her gestures were theatrical and precise, as if each syllable required a pose to become law. Some understood the scheme immediately: this was not merely a plan for looting but for calculated chaos; a chess game of guilds where the big pieces would consume each other and leave scraps for her clan to feed on.

Section A applauded—not out of reverence, but out of self-interest: the promise of disorder and profit was seductive. The others, with muffled complaints, agreed out of calculation or fear; nobody wanted to be the first to become an obvious traitor.

Now standing, Risu spoke with the air of one who has planted a poisonous seed with the smile of a gardener.

"In the future you'll understand. This attack point—after all, I hope you grasp that I was the first to strike as if with a pistol, firing poorly but leaving a mark that, if not healed, will be the perfect fracture. That is why I want it; it's like Virtue: we will reach a point of satisfying what we so desire to achieve," she concluded, snapping her fingers as if sealing a deal.

The snap was another command. Risu walked along the cleared path; the bloodstain trail receded before her steps as if the whole scene knew when to withdraw. Her followers trailed after her in measured pace—not from devotion but from the certainty that this woman knew how to turn greed into strategy. And for her, that was enough.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

December 29, 2025 – Central City of Karts, 8:00 p.m.

The ticking of a wall clock echoed inside a stone office, where the cracks themselves seemed to tell forgotten stories. Outside, two guards stood firm, their armor faintly reflecting the glow of the magical lanterns hanging along the street.

The door creaked softly as a silhouette approached. The guards recognized him immediately, straightening and granting passage with a brief nod. The visitor advanced with heavy steps, and the air within the room shifted as he entered.

There were eight people inside. Three girls gathered to one side whispered among themselves, while closer to the center a stern-faced boy sat beside a young woman. The wooden table before him was buried under disordered stacks of paper, like white mountains multiplying by the minute. His pen never stopped moving—signing, calculating expenses, assessing funds. He barely lifted his eyes to acknowledge the newcomer before returning hurriedly to his work, as if chased by time itself.

The atmosphere eased with the first voice that broke the silence:—"What a surprise… I thought you'd be eating and drinking beer, Kibaou-san."

A light laugh followed from another girl:—"Catcus-shi is back."

—"I don't think calling him Catcus is a good idea… he gets upset afterwards," murmured a nervous Elsa, trying to soften the joke.

—"But he does look like one, Elsa. I don't see the problem with the nickname," Yuna replied playfully.

The counterargument came quickly from the opposite side, laced with respect that contrasted the teasing tone:—"We should drop it. After all, he supports us as a leader in battle without being asked. That's noble of him."

The one being discussed frowned, lips tight.—"Tsk… I'm starting to regret coming here."

A male voice, more subdued, tried to restore calm:—"I just want this over with… so, guys, please, settle down."

The last to speak was a young woman who sighed with mild reproach:—"That's what you get for accepting Michael's challenge with the paperwork, Aomine. You could've ignored him, you know."

The boy in question clenched his teeth without pausing his writing.—"Don't remind me… I just want to finish this and finally sleep. Tomorrow is the joint party with the DKB guild. Do you have any idea how many documents are needed? Food, drinks, preparations… It's hell."

Someone bit into an apple as if the matter had nothing to do with him.—"A party without all those preparations? That wouldn't be a party, would it?" Keyki said, his voice painted with innocence.

Aomine's gaze shot up like a dagger. Keyki paled instantly, swallowed hard, and hid behind Gundou, who could only chuckle awkwardly.

The scene was oddly intimate. All of them wore light, improvised clothing suited for resting after a day of combat.Historia wore a fine white nightgown embroidered with delicate patterns that shimmered faintly under the magical light, the fabric brushing lightly against her thighs. Elsa, in contrast, wore a short lavender dress with wide sleeves and a ribbon tied at her waist, radiating youthful charm. Yuna opted for practicality: a pale blue sleeveless shirt and shorts, free of ornament, built for mobility above all. Sakuragui, however, dressed in a black camisole with thin straps and a light shawl that seemed far too luxurious for this world, as though it were made of some rare, impossible material not found in any common market.

The men matched the casual atmosphere in their own way. Michael wore a wide beige linen shirt, loose at the collar, with baggy pants reminiscent of a farmer's attire, though far lighter. Aomine had chosen a short shirt and simple cloth pants, suited for stretching and relaxing after long days in the fields. Gundou remained austere in a sleeveless dark gray tunic that fell to his knees. And Keyki stood out sharply from the rest: fitted pants and a black wide-collared shirt adorned with silver stitching that caught and scattered every flicker of light like fragments of stars.

Finally, Kibaou raised his hand, uneasy at how the chatter seemed to drift further off track.—"Can I speak now?"

Michael looked up from the mountain of papers, offering him a brief smile.—"Of course. After all, you're part of this guild too… and our sub-leader."

The room was shrouded in heavy tension after Kibaou's words."I've obtained information about the fifth floor boss — a map leading straight to its chamber. I propose we strike first," he declared firmly.

All eyes turned toward him at once. Yuna, unable to grasp the seriousness in the air, simply gave a blank, poker-faced look. The others, however, remained still — their expressions rigid, focused, and unreadable. Kibaou tried to continue, slightly nervous, but someone cut him off.

"Kibaou-san, you do realize that tomorrow, at midnight, is the New Year's celebration, right?" Aomine's voice rose with measured firmness. "Our guild and DKB will finally have the chance to negotiate peace — to unite as one."

Michael, visibly uncomfortable, added,"Besides… I've already invited players from the first and second floors — those who've kept themselves isolated all this time. With your information, you're suggesting we skip the festival, our public appearance, just to attack the fifth-floor boss. Are you aware that could tear the trust we've built?"

"I know," Kibaou replied, tightening his expression. "But my informant said the boss drops a unique item — the Guild Flag. You, Michael, as a former beta tester, should understand what that means. That item could give our guild immense power in battle. And if we combine it with Aomine's analytical mind — like a living combat scanner — it would be invaluable."

Silence fell.Aomine set down the papers he'd been signing and analyzing, resting his elbows on the table as his fingers interlaced. His calm composure radiated calculated focus, while the others remained frozen in doubt.

"Tell me more about this item," he said evenly. "Depending on its utility, I might consider it."

"Aomine?" Michael looked at him, surprised.

"If it's something that can protect lives and quicken our progress, then it's worth it," Aomine continued. "And if it's something I can personally handle, even better. I'd rather contribute directly than just guide from the shadows."

Michael wanted to object — but he couldn't. He knew Aomine wasn't wrong. He didn't want anyone else to suffer. His mind was haunted by the faces of those he'd met on the first floor — players trapped in inns, paralyzed by fear. Eyes emptied of hope, some contemplating jumping to end their pain. The weight of that memory clenched his fist.

"…Tell us more, Kibaou-san," he finally said, though his voice faltered.

Everyone could hear it — Michael didn't want this. But his instinct to save lives forced him to comply.

"Alright," Kibaou continued. "The Guild Flag is a flag-shaped item. When planted in the ground, it boosts the physical and attack stats of all guild members within its radius. The wielder can also extend its effect to up to five players outside the guild. That's all the info I've received."

He waited for a reaction — none came.Then, Aomine cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair.

"That item is more than convenient," he said quietly. "It's a complete imbalance. The guild that obtains it will rule the field — 'Join us, or be left behind.' As much as I hate the idea of being protected while others fight, we have to admit its strategic value. Whoever activates it must be shielded from the boss's attacks."

"That won't be too hard," Historia said casually.

"But if word of our plan spreads, we could lose allies," Gundou warned.

Keyki stayed silent, his expression serious but puzzled.

Sakuragui spoke up, her eyes gleaming with resolve."It's the right time. We'll save people. We'll stand united under one guild, even if it means control. It's not that different from living under a government we didn't choose. We'll adapt. We need to move forward and escape this game — even if it takes sacrifice."

The air grew thick, divided by conviction and fear — until a sharp snap cut through the silence.Everyone turned toward Michael, the ever-calm blond. He was smiling — but it was a strained, hollow smile. Pointing his index finger upward, he spoke quietly:

"Let's do it. It might go against what I believe is right… but we also have to think about survival. This is a test — of what kind of humans we really are, isn't it?"

Silence engulfed the room.Yuna, clutching her small notebook, wrote a few lines as she glanced at Michael with quiet sorrow.

The night dragged on — and at last, dawn arrived.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

December 30, 2025 – The City of Karts

The morning light spilled like liquid gold over the ancient stone amphitheater.It wasn't the cold, lifeless glow of a typical winter morning — it was warm, alive, tinted with orange and crimson. Midnight's shadows had receded, taking the night's doubts with them. The promise of a new year pulsed through the air.

The old arena — once a battlefield — now breathed joy. The towering stone pillars stood like guardians of time, draped in colorful garlands fluttering with carefree spirit. A simple banner proclaimed the dawn of new beginnings.

At the heart of the arena, cobblestone ground bustled with life. Adventurers, merchants, and travelers darted from stall to stall, making last-minute preparations. Striped tents of emerald, ruby, and sapphire sheltered market stands trading goods — and smiles alike.

Near the walls, cooks in plain garb worked tirelessly. Over roaring fires sat three iron cauldrons, massive as siege engines. A woman lifted one of the lids — steam rose like a living spirit, spreading a thick, comforting aroma. Inside simmered a stew of meat and vegetables, rich and hearty — warmth and hope in a single scent. The dull rhythm of the ladle stirring became the melody of the festival.

The mood wasn't just festive — it was faith made tangible. Faith that tomorrow would be brighter than yesterday. Faith that those who endured could still shine together. Beneath the newborn sun, the new year had arrived — as real as the taste in the air.

Yet beyond the laughter, down a quieter street lined with striped tents and wooden tubs filled with fruit, stood one of the city's oldest buildings.Its stone façade, ancient and gray, exuded silence.

On its heavy wooden door hung a small sign:

"Closed for Private Meeting."

Inside, the noise of the festival faded into a distant echo. The air was heavy, scented with aged wood and incense.Dim light filled the room — one candle at the center of the table, and a pale shaft of daylight through a high window. The dark panels seemed to absorb every sound.

Six people sat around a rectangular table draped in white cloth.At one end, a blond youth with black-tipped hair chewed calmly, ignoring the stares fixed on him. Beside him, another boy with orange-streaked hair fidgeted, visibly uncomfortable.

Across from them sat a young man in blue, his boldness still showing through his inexperience.At the far end sat a dark-haired man in black — his presence cold, his gaze sharp, the clear leader of the room.

To the left, a knight in a closed helmet sat silently, a green cloak neatly folded.To the right, a warrior in a partial blue armor leaned forward with his elbows on the table, next to a young woman whose soft orange hair brushed her shoulders. Her expression was calm, though tension lingered in her eyes.

The faint clinking of cups and plates barely filled the stillness. The meal had long been forgotten.

The orange-haired girl was first to speak."Before we begin… forgive me for calling you on such short notice, Shivata-san."

"No problem," he replied evenly.

The atmosphere tightened. Her gaze shifted shyly toward the armored knight in green. After a pause, the knight raised a hand, opening her menu to remove her helmet.

Under it was a young woman with chestnut hair tied in a high ponytail, loose strands framing her cheeks.

"I am the right hand of Aomine, the organizer of this event alongside the ALS guild leaders. My name is Liten. It's a pleasure to meet you, Asuna-san, Kirito-san."

Asuna nodded, her confidence returning."Thank you for coming!" she added brightly.

Kirito, mid-gesture, leaned slightly forward. His eyes, however, shifted toward the blond who kept eating — and the orange-haired boy beside him who looked ready to sink through the floor.

"I don't understand why Aomine-senpai is here… along with Kibaou-san," Liten said hesitantly.

"I'd like to know that too," Shivata added, frowning. "It's unusual for ALS's strategist to appear without his usual escort."

"Show some respect!" Kibaou snapped. "Our ranks aren't comparable — I'm his escort this time."

"Aomine… senpai," Asuna murmured softly.

The blond exhaled, setting down his utensils and glancing up with visible fatigue."It's awkward being called that — you know that. My guild and friends stick with 'Aomine,' while outsiders add senpai or leader. But there's no need to waste breath on titles.And honestly… running an entire clan is exhausting. Being dragged out during my rest hour for something irrelevant makes it worse."

Kirito studied him quietly."You sound tired."

"You have no idea," Aomine replied dryly. "A guild with dozens of members, constant responsibilities… and now this. I just hope it's worth my time, Kirito-san. If not, you could've just called Kibaou. He's sub-leader — that should be enough."

"I'm sorry," Kirito said firmly. "But you're the only one I could count on. You're not as cold or detached as the others — and you always answer, no matter what. That's why I reached out.This matter, if left unresolved, could turn into something worse."

Aomine made a sharp flick of his wrist, signaling for him to explain.Kirito took a sip from his porcelain cup, set it down, and spoke with new resolve.

"This might sound serious, but…" His gaze hardened. "Your guild — ALS — is planning to skip tomorrow's countdown celebration to assault the fifth-floor boss. Am I right?"

The words struck the room like a thunderclap.Liten and Shivata froze.Asuna, however, remained still, her eyes locked on Aomine and Kibaou, waiting for their move.

"What are you talking about?" Shivata demanded, almost rising from his seat.

"What are you implying—?" Kibaou began, but a hand raised in front of his face stopped him cold.

Aomine's hand.With the other, he quickly typed something into his private chat. Moments later, Kibaou's interface blinked. His eyes widened slightly as he read:

°Don't say a word. Your temper will give us away.°

Grinding his teeth, Kibaou leaned back in frustration.Aomine finished typing something else, then stood up slowly.

"Kirito," he said, his voice low and sharp, "saying that means you have proof to back it up, doesn't it?"

"I can't tell you where it came from," Kirito replied firmly. "But it wasn't from anyone in ALS — nor any info broker. I'm one hundred percent sure. I'd bet all my items and money on it."

"Even if you bet your treasures, it proves nothing," Aomine countered coolly. "Words without evidence are just that. The same as if I said you and Asuna are a couple. Or that DKB plans to raid the boss today. Even if a representative denied it, I couldn't confirm it without proof. Could I?"

The sharpness of his tone made Asuna flinch, her gaze slipping away.Kirito clenched his jaw, looking aside in silence.

Aomine stretched lazily, as if the talk had lost all importance."There's nothing more to discuss. I'm done with lunch — I'll return to work.Liten, there's a food shortage in the western zone — handle it. And tell Kinimon I want the results from this morning's gold farmers."

He rose.Kibaou followed, snatching a piece of meat from his plate like a consolation prize.But before they could leave, Liten stood abruptly.

"Aomine-senpai!" Her voice trembled but carried strength. "This morning I overheard Michael talking with the assault team. He said they wouldn't attend the celebration… because of an 'important matter' this afternoon."

"Hey… you know how Michael is," Kibaou muttered. "He always does things on his own. He was probably talking about helping the players we're bringing from the first floor."

"Even so…" Liten's fists clenched. "I choose to believe Kirito-san. So please, Aomine-senpai… is what he said true?"

The silence was suffocating.For the first time, Aomine didn't respond right away.

Kirito seized the moment."I'm not one to lecture others — I act on my own most of the time. But you're going too far. This isn't just about facing a boss with different teams; it's about risking lives. That price isn't worth it. If you go through with this, the rift between ALS and DKB will grow deeper than ever."

Asuna spoke next, her voice calm but resolute."We don't want the strongest guilds turning against each other. ALS is growing faster than anyone else — taking this step would be selfish."

Her words seemed to pierce Aomine, who exhaled wearily and returned to his seat.Kibaou lowered his gaze, knowing resistance was futile.

"…Fine. We'll talk. But understand this — information comes at a price.So…" His lips curved into a lazy, almost greedy smile. "Either the DKB member here pays for it… or you, Kirito-san and Asuna-san,They do it by adding my lunch too.

Kirito met his eyes with resigned seriousness."I figured you'd say that. All right… I'll accept your condition."

He opened his menu, staring bitterly at the dwindling number of col in his inventory.

The atmosphere in the room had grown heavy. The silence was broken only by the faint clinking of a cup against its saucer.

"Last night, Kibaou showed up with some information he bought from a few strangers," Aomine said bluntly.

Asuna tilted her head slightly, watching him closely."From who, exactly?"

"The idiot didn't bother to ask their names," Aomine replied calmly, taking a small sip from his drink. "They just approached him and started haggling for a few coins. The price was low—barely a thousand bronze kuros—for information about the location of the floor five boss."

"Hey, is it really necessary to keep calling me an idiot?" Kibaou protested, arms crossed.

Aomine ignored him completely, as if he hadn't heard the remark. Liten, sitting beside him, lowered her gaze, embarrassed by the exchange.

"A thousand coins? Seriously, that cheap?" Shivata muttered in disbelief.

"Believe it or not, that's all it cost," Aomine continued, resting his chin lightly on his interlocked hands. "I confirmed the expense by checking the clan records. As a leader or subleader, I can see those transactions. At first, we rejected the offer—mainly because of the New Year's celebration. It wasn't exactly convenient to alter the guild's plans."

Kirito narrowed his eyes."But something made you change your mind, didn't it?"

"Affirmative," Aomine nodded, his expression cold. "Besides the location, the seller mentioned a special reward for defeating the floor five boss. A rare item that would greatly benefit whichever clan obtained it. You, Kirito-san, being an ex–beta tester, should remember it."

Kirito placed a hand on his chin, trying to recall."The floor five boss… dropped a weapon, maybe a spear? No… wait. Yeah, you're right. It was a rare item with huge benefits for a guild."

"What item exactly?" Asuna asked.

"A Guild Flag," Aomine replied.

Shivata raised an eyebrow."A flag? What's so special about that for ALS?"

Aomine snapped his fingers, drawing everyone's attention."Think of RPG roles: support, tank, mage, swordsman. The Guild Flag works like a passive mage or support—an enhancer. Its role isn't to attack, but to temporarily boost stats and levels for clan members linked to it. It's a massive boost in battle. But there's a catch: whoever uses it can't move. If the boss attacks them, it deactivates. Risky, but the reward's huge."

"Seriously?" Liten widened her eyes, astonished.

Shivata pressed his lips together."If ALS gets it, it'll change the mindset of the players. Everyone will want to join you. Smaller guilds will vanish."

"So DKB…" Liten didn't finish her sentence.

Kirito did, his tone dark."…would have to submit to ALS. Players would flock to the strongest guild. It'd be the end of competition."

Silence fell like a weight. It was a political strike disguised as conquest.

Shivata slammed his hand against the table."So that's it! ALS plans to use the party as a distraction to raid the boss and take the flag! That's why some of your best members won't be there tomorrow!"

Asuna intervened, her voice calm but firm."Can't you share it? Each assault, a different guild could hold it in turn. It's not fair to get ahead of DKB just out of greed."

Aomine looked at her, expressionless."It's that simple. We can't just stand still. In this world, like in the real one, those with power shape the future. Sometimes you have to destroy something… to build something better."

"The flag can only belong to one guild," Kirito added. "It can't be transferred or shared. At most, its effect covers ten members of the clan."

"No way!" Asuna exclaimed.

Shivata suddenly stood up."Then I'll warn Lind. I won't let ALS destroy DKB."

Kibaou crossed his arms, defiant."And what exactly do you plan to accomplish with that?"

"To prove that not everything can be bought with power."

Aomine, without changing expression, spoke in a dry tone."Your words could cause a disaster. You have no proof—only assumptions. If Lind acts on false information, he'll pay dearly. Remember what happened last time? DKB still owes us. If they repeat that mistake, the consequences will be worse."

Shivata clenched his fists, but Liten stopped him by gently taking his hand. He looked at her, took a deep breath, and sat down again.

"Aomine-senpai…" she said softly, her voice trembling. "I really respect you. Since I joined ALS, I've seen how much it's grown—but Michael wouldn't want this. He proposed the celebration, and even if he doesn't agree with attacking the boss, he must be suffering from this decision. This party meant something special… Everyone was looking forward to enjoying it together. I don't think this is the right way. Right? He has another plan, doesn't he?"

Aomine didn't answer. He just popped the last few fries into his mouth and sighed wearily.

Silence stretched again—heavy, uncomfortable—until a voice broke through it.

Kirito, his left leg crossed over the right and eyes sharp, spoke without hesitation:

"We'll defeat the floor five boss."

Everyone turned to him, expressions filled with surprise.The words of the black swordsman had ignited a spark amid the tension.

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"If we claim the Flag before ALS launches their attack, we can prevent a catastrophe between Aincrad's two major guilds," Kirito proposed, his voice firm.

"Yeah… it's the only way," Asuna replied, joining in without hesitation.

The atmosphere, heavy with tension just moments ago, began to fill with a faint sense of hope.

Shivata lowered his gaze, deep in thought, while Liten looked at him with bright, determined eyes.

"Shiva, I…" she murmured.

He gave her a small smile."I know. Thanks for being honest with me, Licchan… I'm in too. I'll help with this mission."

"Then I'll join as well! Me too!" Liten exclaimed, her soft features contrasting with the determination in her voice.

Kirito looked at her, concern flickering in his eyes."Are you sure? It's almost like betraying your own guild."

Shivata answered for her, his voice as firm as stone."If we want to clear this game, we need both DKB and ALS. We can't destroy the alliance that's finally beginning to form."

Liten nodded firmly."We of ALS have one goal—to save the players trapped on the lower floors. To be a light of hope… Michael-san taught me that. If helping with this means taking a step toward that ideal, then I'll do it."

Kirito tilted his head slightly."Thank you."

The sound of a chair scraping broke the calm. Everyone expected Aomine to stand, but instead, it was Kibaou. His expression was one of boredom.

"Well, that's that, right? Then we're done here. If you've got nothing else to ask, we're leaving. You ready, Aomine?" he said, rising to his feet.

But Aomine remained seated. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if calculating something silently. Then, without lifting his eyes, he spoke.

"The party's at eight-thirty tonight, and it's ten past ten in the morning now. That means… ten hours left, right? If you leave at noon, you'll reach the boss room around one-twenty. A floor boss battle lasts at least five or six hours. You'll probably finish exhausted, just before the party…" He looked up with a faint smile. "So I suppose there's still time."

"What are you talking about?" Kibaou asked, puzzled.

Everyone looked at him, trying to grasp his meaning.

"I'll join you in your little act of madness," Aomine declared at last.

A heavy silence fell over the table.

"Hey… what the hell are you saying, Aomine?" Kibaou stared at him wide-eyed.

"Isn't it obvious? Despite everything, I want that item too. It'd be a waste to leave it to Kirito alone." Aomine rose slowly, a half-smile forming. "Besides… I need to stop being dead weight. I want to see what I'm capable of, without relying on the usual crowd."

"But you know what that means… if you die…" Kibaou stammered uneasily.

"I know," Aomine replied without hesitation. "But life's a gamble. When you choose a profession, a toy, or even a pet… there are always good and bad decisions. This one's mine. Besides… if you want the boss map, you'll have to take me along."

He grinned widely. His tone was light, but beneath it lay something deeper—a mix of challenge and sincerity.

Kibaou ran a hand through his hair, giving in."You really are insane… Fine, if I see you're in danger, I'll rush to your location. I'll inform the others… Don't die."

With those words, he left the room, leaving Aomine with the rest.

Kirito watched him for a few seconds."Are you sure about this?"

"I already told you," Aomine said. "I'm not letting you keep something I want too. I'm greedy, you know? Don't worry—if you kill it first, it's yours. I just want a change of pace. But remember, I want it as well. So when the time comes, let luck decide who gets it. Like in soccer—the one who scores wins."

Kirito smirked faintly. Asuna, in turn, looked at Aomine with gentle eyes.

"If you just want more friends, you could've said so," she teased softly.

Aomine chuckled."Ouch. Still as sharp and kind as ever, Asuna-san."

"I learned from the best," she replied playfully.

The light laughter dissolved the last traces of tension in the air.

When they stepped out of the restaurant, the five of them stopped in the middle of the street.Aincrad's virtual sky shone a perfect shade of blue, with a soft breeze brushing through the cobblestone paths.

Aomine stretched lazily, letting out a yawn.

"Well… looks like it's going to be a long day."

The midday sun painted Aincrad's virtual sky in a vivid shade of blue that shimmered across the open fields. A soft breeze stirred the nearby trees, and the glow of the floating menu before Aomine mingled with the glimmers of light scattered across the landscape.

Asuna stood nearby, her cloak swaying gently. She looked at Aomine with a serious expression, though a faint trace of uncertainty lingered in her voice.

"It's a bit comforting knowing we'll have your help, Aomine-kun. But… are you really sure about this? I mean, you said you wanted to handle things on your own. You're one of the key players in the boss raids right now — strategically speaking," she said, her eyes fixed on him.

Aomine closed his menu with a light motion of his hand. The orange glow of the afternoon sun washed over his face as he let out a slow breath.

"I've already decided. I want to be useful — not just someone who watches from afar," he replied calmly. "Besides, we've got time. The ALS raid starts at 8:30 p.m., so we can prepare. Even if it's a bit improvised."

Kirito, standing with his arms crossed and his eyes on the sky, let out a quiet chuckle.

"That's useful info… we might just be able to beat them, huh?" he said, his tone carrying that familiar spark that appeared whenever something interesting began forming in his mind.

Liten, sitting on a nearby rock, looked up at them.

"But realistically, we can't face a Floor Boss with only five people. We need more teammates," she pointed out firmly.

Kirito turned toward her.

"Teammates… I might be able to count on Egiru," he said thoughtfully.

Shivata, who had been standing a bit apart with his arms crossed and eyes on the ground, slowly shook his head.

"Given what might happen if I talk to my guild, I don't think I can bring any of my comrades or friends," he said quietly, rubbing his chin in thought.

Liten lowered her head with a faint sigh.

"Me neither… though I'm glad Aomine-senpai is here. He's always been such a strong member in the raids. I thought we could rely on that. But all the high-level players will be in the group attacking the boss tonight," she said, her small smile tinged with discouragement.

While the others spoke, Aomine stood slightly apart, eyes fixed on his message menu. His fingers moved precisely across the transparent interface, sending several messages in quick succession.

The soft rustle of wind filled the silence until he snapped his fingers, drawing everyone's attention.

"I've got two potential helpers," he said calmly. "The first is Argo — though she charges for her help, so we'll have to gather some money to pay her. The second… is a member of my guild. But honestly, I only asked her to meet me somewhere private to talk about the matter. I'll need help with that."

Kirito ran a hand through his hair, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"That was fast. But Argo, huh… I thought of her too, but she charges too much," he said with a wry smile.

"Someone from our guild?" Liten asked curiously.

Aomine nodded slightly.

"Yeah. And the help I need… is from you, Asuna-san," he said, pointing at her with a small motion of his finger.

"Me?" Asuna echoed, pointing at herself, clearly confused.

"It's a big step, honestly," Aomine continued, scratching the back of his neck with a touch of awkwardness. "But your help would really make a difference… The issue is working with her in the same group. That's something you need to handle. Please."

Asuna tilted her head slightly, still not understanding completely. A light breeze brushed a strand of her hair aside, catching the golden hue of the setting sun.

(Sorry if it feels forced… but you can't keep avoiding raids when she's around. We need your help all the time…) Aomine thought, feeling a bead of sweat run down his cheek as a strained smile formed on his lips. He knew, one way or another, that this conversation wouldn't end well.

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The players came and went — some carrying supplies, others bearing the weight of freshly repaired weapons on their backs. Amid that restless crowd, three figures walked in a line: Aomine at the front, followed by Liten and Shivata.

The metallic echo of their boots on the stone ground marked a steady rhythm, less like a stroll and more like a mission.

"Are you sure about letting them go with Sakuragui-san?" Liten asked, her voice tinged with both doubt and worry. "You know well she's never joined a boss chamber raid when Asuna-san participated. Besides, you won't be there... which will only make things more awkward, since you're the one who called her."

Aomine let out a small sigh, eyes fixed ahead. The wind tugged gently at the edges of his black coat while his hands stayed buried in his pockets.

"The truth is..." —his tone mixed resignation and faint humor— "I feel like she's going to punch me when she sees me, but there's not much I can do. If she refuses, we'll just have to find other players. There are always a few willing to join in exchange for some money or an item. With three more on our team, we'll be ready."

He said it with conviction — though the last part sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Shivata walked beside him, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he glanced at the floating map on his interface.

"I think there are players who don't care much for the party. I've heard some are hanging around the caves south of town. We could find one there," he suggested pragmatically.

Aomine nodded slightly without slowing down."Yeah, let's go. Better hurry. If we finish before the party starts, that'll be something. Then I can eat and drink until sunrise... I guess."

He tried to sound upbeat — but his voice lacked its usual spark.Liten and Shivata noticed instantly.

Their steps slowed. Liten tilted her head toward Shivata, whispering just softly enough for the wind to carry her words away.

"What's wrong with him? He seemed fine earlier," murmured Shivata, puzzled.

"Well... knowing how they are with him, I'm guessing he remembered all the paperwork waiting for him once this mission's done. Whatever he'll have to discuss — no matter the outcome — that's enough to kill anyone's motivation," Liten replied with a faint, conspiratorial smile.

Without turning his head, Aomine rolled his eyes back toward them. A small bead of sweat slid down his temple.

(I can still hear you even if you whisper...) he thought, torn between embarrassment and mild irritation as a faint blush crept onto his cheeks.

The wind brushed gently past them, carrying the scent of dust and steel as the three continued down the cobblestone streets. The echo of their steps faded beneath the distant hum of players trading goods and the clinking of metal wares.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

December 31st, 2022 — 2:30 p.m.

The wind whistled like sharpened steel, slicing through the air with surgical precision.At the edge of a cliff, ten figures stood tall, defying the void below.

Beneath them stretched a desolate landscape of stone and ruin — a forgotten citadel lying like a slumbering titan buried under centuries of dust.

The fifth floor of Aincrad lacked the harsh beauty of the previous ones. It was a world of ruins — history eroded by time.Crumbling walls intertwined like a labyrinth of scars. Broken roofs, split pillars, and arches devoured by weeds formed a dead city — yet not a silent one. The wind seemed to remember every battle once fought here, replaying them endlessly in its mournful song.

Far beyond, the labyrinth towers pierced the crystalline blue sky — dark stone pillars that refused to vanish. Their summits glowed faintly, cloaked in the light filtering through drifting clouds.

The group stood still, staring into that horizon.Ten souls, bound by a purpose none dared to speak aloud. The air smelled of iron and damp earth; every breath felt like a promise.

Then, from the shadow of a nearby cliff, a figure emerged.

The sunlight traced his outline with reverent precision.Aomine descended the rock, his white cape billowing like a solitary banner in the wind. His blond hair, soft yet radiant, caught the sunlight like liquid gold — and at the dark-tipped ends lingered a contrast that whispered of a hidden story: one of light and shadow carried together.

His armor was unlike any ordinary warrior's — light and fitted, crafted from polished steel in hues of silver and deep blue. It moved with him, not against him, designed not only to withstand blows but to dance between them. The shoulder guards gleamed with metallic reflections, while the emblem on his chest — glowing faintly blue — pulsed in rhythm with his determination, as if the metal itself were breathing beside him.

The wind howled softly around them. No one spoke. Only the flap of his cape broke the silence.

A few steps ahead, Asuna moved forward.Her reddish-orange hair swayed with the breeze — flames under sunlight. Her eyes, clear as dawn, met Aomine's with a calmness that held something else beneath... a restrained smile? A warning?

Kirito, standing slightly behind on a rocky ledge, watched quietly.The reflection of his sword painted him in shades of gray, and in his gaze lingered not serenity — but a faint sorrow he couldn't hide.

The others formed a semicircle around the edge of the cliff.

Egiru — dark-skinned and solid as iron — stood with his arms crossed, the wind tracing the lines of his brown-gray armor. His bare chest gleamed faintly with the sweat of recent training; he was a man who didn't need words to command respect.Argo, wrapped in her beige cloak, wore a mischievous grin half-hidden beneath her short blonde hair. Yet her eyes were sharp — fixed on Aomine, assessing him like someone appraising a rare coin.Wolfgang, bearded and clad in deep purple armor, rested his hands on his sword's pommel, eyes lost on the horizon.Lobacca, the hammer-wielder, looked like a living wall — his dark beard and olive armor giving him the aura of a veteran born of countless battles.Naiján, with chestnut hair and a calculating stare, turned his wrist slightly — the violet gleam of his blade catching the light.Liten, cloaked in emerald green, stood silent — a ghostly presence. His closed helm hid his face, but his mere stance demanded respect.And finally, Shivata, the youngest, gripped his blue shield tightly. His face bore the expression of someone who hadn't yet learned to fear — but already understood danger.

The wind stopped.Then, Asuna stepped closer to Aomine. Too close.

He blinked, puzzled."Is something wrong, Asuna-san?" he asked, his tone confused.

The girl tilted her head with a slight smirk."Yes... I finished what you asked me to. And I have an answer — from Sakuragui."

"Huh? What kind of ans—"

He didn't finish.

Asuna's fist struck his stomach dead-on with surgical precision.The impact cracked through the air — sharp, clean, merciless.

Aomine doubled over, coughing out saliva as his body flew backward, rolling across the dusty grass until he came to a stop.

The echo of the blow still hung in the air when he managed, between gasps, to murmur:"...I figured as much."

Argo raised a makeshift sign with a bold red number: 10 points.

The rest of the group stood in awkward silence, exchanging glances.

Only one shared thought crossed every man's mind:

"Women are terrifying."

A forced cough broke through the heavy air.The players' chatter died instantly as all eyes turned to Kirito, who had been the source of the sound. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek — the only sign of discomfort at the sudden attention.

"There are only ten of us in this boss raid," he began, his voice steady and commanding, "but our chances of winning are sky-high."His gaze swept across the group, one face at a time."I trust in each of your abilities… and in the mind behind many of our past successes — Aomine-san. He'll be with us to ensure there are zero casualties, to prevent disputes between the assault teams, and to make sure this mission ends in absolute victory. If we pull this off, the countdown party that Shivata and Liten prepared will be more than deserved. So… let's give it everything we've got!"

His voice rang out through the still air — a spark igniting the tension and turning it into determination.

A roar of approval followed.Weapons were raised, blades glinting with the faint green glow of the surroundings.Only Argo, Egiru, and Aomine remained silent — merely nodding with quiet resolve at the Black Swordsman's words.

The group advanced into the ruins.

The echo of their footsteps rolled like a whisper through the ancient corridors.The passage ahead was narrow and deep — like a fissure carved between two giants.The walls, built from blocks of sickly green jade, seemed to absorb the light around them. Rectangular monoliths stacked in chaotic, impossible patterns — as though some forgotten will had arranged them centuries ago.

The air was thick with moisture.A faint mist rose from the cracks in the floor, veiling everything in a greenish haze.The only light came from the very stone itself — a dim, pulsating glow that cast long, warped shadows dancing along the corridor.

Each step echoed against worn slabs — flat yet rough, scarred by countless ages.The atmosphere demanded respect, almost as if the dungeon itself was watching their advance.

Then — a metallic clang.A guttural roar, deep and heavy, shook the walls.

The team froze.

From the darkness ahead, a figure emerged — a Golem, moderate in size but forged from the same dark jade as the walls.Its eyes burned with a crimson light, and every movement came with the grinding shriek of shattering rock.

Without warning, the creature raised one massive arm — and brought it crashing down.The impact sent tremors through the entire passageway.

The players reacted instantly.They scattered in every direction, dodging the blow by mere inches.Particles of energy scattered through the air, illuminating tense faces.

The group surrounded the Golem, attacking from all sides.Blades flared to life — blue and red arcs of light — unleashing close-range Sword Skills that hammered against the monster's surface.

But the creature barely flinched.Most strikes bounced harmlessly off its jade armor, as if the damage meant nothing.Then, its glowing eyes locked onto one target — Aomine.

The Golem lurched forward, its footsteps slamming the floor like hammers.

Asuna moved to intercept, thrusting her sword in a blur of motion — only to knock the creature off balance slightly.The counterstrike forced her back, sliding several steps as her blade trembled from the impact.

Aomine took a step backward, his brow furrowed, pulse racing.Even while giving commands, the tension in his stance was unmistakable.

"Move!" Kirito shouted from the rear.

Aomine exhaled slowly.His breathing steadied for a moment — and then, he moved.He pivoted sharply to the side, narrowly dodging the Golem's strike, and in the same motion, his sword traced a gleaming arc through the air — slicing cleanly through the monster's arm with a diagonal slash.

The metallic crack echoed down the corridor.

Using the momentum of his spin, Aomine dropped his stance and followed with a second cut, sweeping low across the creature's leg.The strike — smooth, precise, perfectly timed — shattered its balance.The Golem toppled sideways, crashing into the ground with a thunderous quake.

Kirito lunged forward at that instant, activating a Sword Skill.His blade flared gold — piercing straight through the Golem's core with surgical precision.

The creature's body split along glowing lines before collapsing into a rain of stone fragments that slowly dissolved into the air.

Silence followed.

"I didn't know you were that quick, Mine-Boy," Klein quipped, cleaning his sword.

Aomine sighed softly, sheathing his blade."I've been practicing a little."

Shivata stepped closer, studying the remains that had turned to dust."That move you did... it was like a circular strike. Covers front and back at once. Perfect for avoiding ambushes or chain attacks."

Aomine nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor."Something like that… though honestly, it was more instinct than calculation."

A few quiet chuckles broke out, easing the tension for the first time since they entered the ruins.

But among the glowing jade walls, the silence that returned carried a quiet warning —that this had only been the beginning.

Aincrad, Floor Five — Labyrinth, in front of the Boss Chamber 3:40 p.m.

The group halted at the foot of a wide stone staircase. The steps, covered in a thin layer of dust and moss, curved upward gently toward a door hidden in the shadows. On either side, two pillars engraved with ancient symbols stood tall and solemn—stone sentinels guarding the threshold to the unknown.

The silence was broken only by the faint echo of dripping water from above and the low hum of energy coursing through the walls. The air felt heavy, almost watchful, as if the labyrinth itself were observing their every move.

Kirito lifted his gaze toward the top of the stairs, frowning slightly."Fuaa… So, is there another corridor up there? Or is that the boss room?"

His voice echoed through the hollow space, drawing everyone's attention.

"Was it different in the Beta?" Shivata asked, crossing his arms with curiosity.

Kirito nodded slowly."Yeah. Back then, there was a door right here. You opened it… and boom, you were directly in the boss chamber."

Aomine, who had been observing the structure with keen interest, placed a hand on the hilt of his sword and spoke calmly."And what kind of Floor Boss was it?"

"Well, if I remember correctly," Kirito said, glancing down for a moment, "it was a giant golem. The Guardian of the Ruins. But… so far, every Floor Boss has been different from the Beta version. The knowledge we had before isn't reliable anymore."

Aomine nodded silently, his eyes shifting toward Argo, who was unfurling a small holographic scroll."Hmm… I see. And you, Argo, know anything about this boss?"

The young information broker pulled out a small cabbage pouch from her inventory and casually offered it.

Argo chuckled mischievously at the gesture."Heh… you really know me too well, Aomine. You don't even hesitate to bribe me with food anymore. But this time, I'll pass. You saved my skin back on Floor Four's boss fight, so this info's on the house."

Aomine raised an eyebrow."'Saved you'? You mean when I lifted you to a higher platform to dodge the boss's attack? Though… you kind of made a noi—"

"That doesn't need explaining!" Argo interrupted, her face flushing crimson. "A-and you touched me! Even if it was just grabbing me, you shouldn't do that to a lady, Mine-Boy!"

(But I only grabbed your cape… and it was full of dust… didn't think you'd be that sensitive on your back…) thought Aomine with a chibi-like mental sigh.

Argo cleared her throat, regaining her composure."Ahem… Anyway! Long story short, it looks like the boss is still a golem, just like in the Beta. It's got some kind of crest on its forehead. If you strike it there, it loses an entire health bar."

"Sounds like something straight out of a magic tale," Egiru said, scratching his beard with an amused grin.

"Yeah, and it's no surprise," Argo added, her smile turning a bit eerie as her eyes gleamed with mischief. "At this point in the game's history, the five floor bosses are infamously dangerous. But if you don't believe me… you can see for yourselves."

The air grew heavier.

Kirito stepped forward, gripping his sword firmly."R-right… so, we'll assume the boss chamber's right up there. I'll go check it out."

"Heh, let's just move on," Argo said teasingly. "Aomine's already halfway up the stairs."

"What!?" everyone exclaimed at once, looking up.

At the top of the staircase, Aomine's silhouette was clearly visible. He ascended with calm, steady steps, his cape fluttering softly under the faint green glow of the pillars. Every movement radiated a quiet confidence—dangerous in its serenity—as if the concept of fear didn't exist. Kirito and Argo quickly followed behind him, while the others stayed back at Kirito's signal.

Argo chuckled lightly, shaking her head."Hehe, this side of him—going first without hesitation… I never thought I'd see it. It's kind of attractive, don't you think?" she said playfully, raising an eyebrow at Kirito.

The black swordsman smirked faintly, walking beside her, his eyes fixed on Aomine."I don't know… But ever since we entered, he's always been leading the way. It's surprising, in a way. Feels like he's trying to prove he's more than just a strategist or a battle planner."

Their footsteps echoed once more, marking the ascent toward the unknown.The boss chamber awaited them—silent, patient, and watchful.

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As they reached the top, a thick darkness swallowed them whole.Aomine stood motionless before a vast, empty chamber, where only a flickering rectangle of blue light illuminated the space.

"Something wrong, Aomine?" Kirito asked, stepping closer.

"With all this darkness…" Aomine replied, arms crossed, a hand resting on his chin. "I just approached the only source of light. But I'm not sure if stepping on it is a good idea. In a room like this, anything could be a trap."

Argo smirked."Well, I guess there's only one way to find out."

Before Aomine or Kirito could react, Argo reached out and gave Aomine a playful shove, just enough for his foot to touch the glowing surface.

Aomine slowly lifted his head, face turning chibi-like, eyes blank with disbelief. Kirito sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake. The blue rectangle burst into a towering column of light that filled the chamber, and from beneath the floor, an enormous stone hand erupted, closing tightly around Aomine.

"Aomine-san!" Kirito shouted, unsheathing his sword and charging forward.

Inside the fist, Aomine twisted his body, drew his blade, and with a sharp motion, sliced a glowing crack through the stone. Argo and Kirito attacked from the sides, their Sword Skills leaving trails of light that struck at the same time.

The stone hand burst open, releasing Aomine.He rolled across the floor, kicking up a cloud of green dust, and rose to his feet in one fluid motion.

"That was close… I thought I was dead," he muttered sarcastically, glaring at Argo.

"S-sorry, sorry! It was an accident… kinda," she said, hiding under her cloak.

But the ground trembled again. Kirito shifted his foot slightly—and a blue line ignited beneath him. A moment later, a red circle appeared on the floor.

"Move!" Aomine shouted.

A massive hand erupted from the ground, slamming shut on empty air. Argo and Kirito dodged by instinct.Aomine, however, stood still for a moment, analyzing the pattern.

"What the hell… it has two arms?" Kirito asked.

"Two arms… two legs…" Aomine murmured, eyes narrowing. "Above!"

Kirito and Argo looked up just in time to see a colossal foot descending from the shadows. The impact shook the entire floor. A shockwave of green dust spread through the chamber. Aomine leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the strike, followed by the other two.

Before the dust could settle, another foot came crashing down, smashing into the ground with a deafening roar. The blast hurled them backward, the air vibrating with magical energy as the temperature rose sharply—as if the system itself had just acknowledged the awakening of the Floor Boss.

Kirito stepped back, trying to find a better position—but a voice froze him in place.

"If you don't want us to get killed… stay right where you are," Aomine said dryly, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Eh?" Kirito looked at him, puzzled.

"You noticed it too, didn't you, Mine-Boy?" Argo chimed in with a faint, curious smile.

"Yeah. Kirito-san, instead of watching where the attacks come from, pay attention to the blue lines on the floor," Aomine explained calmly.

"Alright, but… what for?" Kirito asked, tightening his grip on his sword.

Aomine glanced down. The glowing blue lines snaked across the ground like living veins, pulsing faintly with every vibration.

"These lines are what trigger the golem's attacks—the hands and feet we saw earlier. If we don't touch them, they won't activate. But also…" He lifted his gaze, a faint grin forming on his lips. "We can use them strategically. If we step on one deliberately while the others strike, we can turn the pattern to our advantage."

"I get it. So we just need to move toward the stairs and explain the plan to the others, right?" said Kirito, nodding.

"Exactly. Though…" Argo narrowed her eyes, scanning the walls. "We don't know if this place can 'react' on its own and generate new lines. If that happens, the whole pattern resets."

"In that ca—"

The echo of metal footsteps cut him off. Armor clanked against stone as a group approached from the corridor, swords and shields in hand. At the front, a young man with dark hair and a shield spoke.

"You guys alright? We heard loud noises and came to help," asked Shivata.

Aomine, Argo, and Kirito paled instantly.The floor beneath them began to glow—a web of blue light spread rapidly under the newcomers.They were walking carelessly, stepping on multiple active lines at once.

"No…" Aomine whispered—then shouted,"Move! Don't stand still—keep moving!"

His voice echoed like a system command.But it was already too late.

The blue lines blazed violently, and dozens of red circles flared across the chamber floor, bathing the area in an ominous glow. The air trembled, and a metallic roar shook the ceiling.In an instant, massive stone hands and legs erupted from the ground and walls, swinging with devastating force.

"Watch out!" Kirito yelled, shoving Argo aside.

The impact was brutal.One hand smashed through the floor, sending green dust flying, while another came crashing down on two players, trapping them inside its stone grip.The sound of twisting metal and cracking bones mingled with the monster's thunderous roar.

"Asuna!" Kirito shouted as he saw them caught.

The girl with chestnut-orange hair nodded firmly, though hesitation flickered in her eyes. She stepped forward, her rapier glowing with a bright white light.She activated her Sword Skill—"Linear." A flash of pure light cut through the air.

Her strike was a clean beam, slicing straight through the golem's hand and along the blue lines embedded in its surface. The stone glowed red, a critical damage signal flashing across it.With a loud crack, the hand opened, releasing the trapped players.

They fell, but before they hit the ground, Egiru and Liten dashed in to catch them.Egiru raised his shield like a platform while Liten extended an arm, cushioning their fall in one smooth motion.

"Got them!" Egiru shouted, lifting the first player up.

"Breathe! Don't stay still—the pattern's still active!" Aomine warned sharply.

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The corridor stretched ahead like a living throat of blue light —a pulsating tunnel that throbbed with an irregular, almost organic rhythm, as if it were breathing.Neon lines flowed along the metallic walls, sliding in perfect traces that formed ever-shifting geometric patterns.Each line vibrated with cold, calculated energy —the pulse of the system made visible. It was a reminder that this world wasn't made of stone or air, but of data, algorithms, and invisible code.

The air tasted metallic and dry, with an electric tang that scraped the throat with every breath. Each inhalation came with a faint hum —a resonance of the environment itself, seeping into the body and syncing with the heartbeat.Silence here was never silent: the synchronized clicks of digital boots on metal, the faint crackle of energy flowing through the walls, and the distant, low hum of the boss's core, throbbing at the end of the hallway.

Ten players advanced in a tight formation, their silhouettes carved against the bluish haze.Each cast a stretched, distorted shadow on the floor —consumed by the same light that surrounded them.The atmosphere was suffocating, as if they were walking inside the body of a machine.

Ahead, at the end of the corridor, a figure floated.

It was a mask suspended in emptiness —white as marble, its surface fractured by fine cracks that leaked threads of blue light.From its eyes burned two red points, digital embers that stared endlessly.They didn't blink. They didn't move. They only watched.

Above it, flickering in pixelated letters that wavered between transparency and static noise, appeared the name:

[Faucus, the Vacant Colossus]

The echo of the digital text faded, but the name lingered in the air like a warning.A deep hum rolled through the chamber, resonating in the players' bones.The walls trembled faintly.The floor… seemed to breathe.

At the front of the line, Kirito took a step forward.Blue light washed over his silhouette, reflecting off the blade still sheathed at his side.His shadow stretched, reaching the feet of the mask —as if the world itself was urging him onward.The air around his body felt dense, almost liquid, charged with electrostatic tension.

Behind him, Aomine and Argo exchanged a brief glance.They didn't speak.They didn't have to.In battles like these, communication wasn't words —it was breath, posture, distance.Everyone knew what was coming.

A digital roar burst from the end of the hallway.It wasn't sound —it was data, compressed and distorted into a low frequency that shook the chest.The walls shuddered violently.Blue lines flared to life on the floor like awakened circuits, racing across the metal in unpredictable paths, like a neural network coming online beneath their feet.The metal pulsed.

A rush of artificial wind swept the corridor, scattering particles of light and digital dust.A sharp tone rang through the system, and a translucent green aura shimmered around each player.Their bodies glowed for an instant before the interface officially acknowledged their entry into the combat zone.

Health bars appeared above their heads, glowing pure white against the blue gloom.A digital frame surrounded their vision, and before them, suspended in midair, the boss interface materialized:

[Boss HP: ████████████████████████████]     ████████████████████████████]     ████████████████████████████]     ████████████████████████████]     ████████████████████████████]     ████████████████████████████]

The roar came again, deeper this time.The air cracked.A thunderous metallic blast shook the chamber.The shockwave hit their chests, forcing them back a step.The floor split open in glowing fractures, flooding the corridor with a blinding light.

The blue lines began to move —sliding beneath the metal surface like living veins, hunting for their next target.

"Damn it!" Aomine hissed through clenched teeth, his voice trembling under the pressure.

"Whoa, whoa!" Argo shouted, struggling to keep her footing as the wind whipped her cloak violently around her.

The light beneath them shifted again.Lines crossed, forming arcane symbols —circles and triangles intertwined, pulsing to some invisible countdown.From them radiated a glow that climbed each player's body, lighting the metallic reflections of their weapons.

One by one, they began to move.Their footsteps echoed —sharp, rapid, like a digital war drum.Every flash on the ground could trigger a new attack from the boss.

"Listen carefully!" Aomine shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos."The boss's attacks trigger when you step on the blue lines!The pattern is this: every two lines activated —one of its limbs strikes!We'll use that: two activations, then we strike together!Support each other —don't lose sync!*"

His tone was steady, slicing through the storm with authority.It wasn't just leadership —it was survival instinct turned into strategy.The lights around them seemed to respond to his command, pulsing brighter, as if the system itself acknowledged the rising tension.

Each player took position.Kirito at the front, sword drawn.Asuna and Egiru guarding the flanks, their stances unshakable.Shivata in defense, shield raised high.Liten and Argo in the rear, channeling support skills.Aomine stood at the center, eyes locked on the shifting floor, calculating every possible trajectory.

The glow intensified.

A red line traced itself before them.Then another.The symbols converged, and with a blinding flash, a crimson circle opened beneath their feet.

From its center rose a colossal hand —forged of floating rock fragments bound by pure blue energy.Its fingers were crystalline structures, translucent and resonant, clashing together with a sound like tuned metal.The air trembled on contact.

The impact shook the entire chamber.A shockwave of digital dust and fragmented data swept across the room, momentarily distorting their visual interfaces.

The air vibrated with a deep hum, as if the system itself were breathing.Every blue line on the floor pulsed in an uneven rhythm, bathing the players' faces in spectral light.Kirito moved cautiously, his sword resting on his shoulder, the reflection of the blue lines sharpening his focused gaze.Behind him, Aomine and Argo exchanged a silent signal —they knew a single mistake could trigger a lethal trap.

Aomine was the first to step forward.The sound of his boot striking the line echoed like a snap of electricity.A glow ignited beneath his feet, spreading toward the walls.Kirito stepped in behind him, then Argo.Immediately, the floor trembled; symbols lit up in spirals, and from the cracks burst two colossal legs of stone and energy, followed by a massive hand rising with a metallic roar.

"Now! Aim for the exposed parts!" Aomine shouted firmly.

Swords rose.Blades of steel slashed through the gloom.Each impact against the boss's limbs sent digital sparks flying, accompanied by a shrill metallic screech that made the air vibrate.The boss's health bars dropped rapidly—six lines down to three.The system screeched, flashing crimson warnings.

But then—something changed.

"Hey… look at the walls!" Egiru yelled, sweat glistening on his forehead.

The once-static surfaces began to twist and rotate slowly, warping as if space itself were bending.Blue turned to violet.The air grew heavy.Aomine took a step back… and felt his breath hitch. His body trembled—not from fear, but from a primal instinct.Every cell screamed run, yet something colder, deeper inside him, forced him to stay still.

"Definitely… this isn't following the previous pattern," Argo muttered, frowning, sweat tracing down her cheek. "You sure you want to keep this fight going?"

"You're right…" Kirito murmured, eyes fixed on the boss retreating into the dark. "Everyone, fall back to the shelter! Now!"

Asuna raised her hand, guiding the others with a clear voice.Their footsteps echoed metallically—but as the group ran toward safety, one of them didn't move.

Aomine remained at the center.His body trembled, fingers tightening around his sword.

(What's happening…? I want to move… but I can't…)His mind was a storm of static.(Am I going to die…?)His feet felt glued to the ground.

Then—a flash.

Asuna sprinted toward him and shoved him aside just as a fissure opened beneath his feet.A giant maw burst from the floor—teeth of pure energy, sharp and radiant, snapping shut like a steel trap.

Aomine rolled across the floor, dazed.His vision cleared just enough to see Asuna trapped within the jaws, her arms straining to keep them open.The teeth pressed down, and her armor groaned under the crushing force.

"Asuna!" Kirito yelled, dashing toward her.

Egiru and Liten leapt in without hesitation, jamming their swords between the teeth to hold them apart.Metal screeched.Digital sparks erupted—but the trap wouldn't budge.

"Hit its forehead crest! Now!" Kirito shouted.

"It doesn't have one—there's nothing there!" Egiru roared, straining with all his strength.

Kirito gritted his teeth, trying to push forward, but a metallic hand stopped him.

"Wait," Argo said, her gaze sharp on the surroundings. "The boss is the room. The crest isn't on its body—it's somewhere in the environment. If we don't find it, hitting it is pointless."

Her voice was steady, but frustration laced every word.Kirito nodded, scanning the area desperately.But Aomine was already moving, eyes locked on the floor.

(…The blue lines are shifting again. Can I… predict them?)

The boss roared in fury.The walls trembled.The players fought against time.Asuna cried out in pain as the teeth closed tighter.Her HP bar flickered yellow.

Then—a flash of metal cut through the darkness.A scythe sliced through the air, lodging between the teeth and forcing them open.A feminine hand gripped the handle, holding it in place with inhuman strength.

"Mito…?" Asuna gasped.

A figure with purple hair emerged from the shadows, breathing heavily but eyes blazing."Move it, damn it! That's the weak point—now!" Mito shouted.

Kirito understood instantly."Step on the lines! Trigger the attack pattern!"

But before he finished the command, four blue flashes ignited in rapid succession.The boss's limbs erupted—violent, all at once.And in the middle of them… stood Aomine.

"Mine-Boy…?" Argo whispered, stunned.

The young man dashed toward one of the legs, his movements sharp—almost beyond sight.Each step left a pulse of blue, a tremor in the air.Aomine's sword blazed with a sky-colored glow; the blade sliced through the air with a whistle.He struck directly at the crest shifting beneath the surface.The impact flooded the chamber with crimson light.

The boss roared, retracting its limbs as its body rose toward the ceiling, trying to escape.Mito lifted Asuna, who gave her a faint, trembling smile.

"Are you okay?" Mito asked.

"Yeah… thanks to you," Asuna replied, gasping for air.

But Kirito couldn't take his eyes off Aomine.The blond walked slowly, eyes dull, following invisible patterns on the floor as if seeing something no one else could.

"Aomine-san? You okay?" Kirito asked.

The boy murmured, barely audible:"Flow shift… moving to the arm."

Mito frowned.Before she could react, Aomine stepped on another line.A massive hand burst from the ground—but he was already moving, spinning midair and slashing the finger where the crest glowed faintly.His precision was surgical.Each strike tore off another chunk of the boss's health bar.

The others watched—half in awe, half in fear.

"Don't you think we should help instead of letting him show off?" Argo muttered with a tense grin.

"Eh… looks like he's handling it," one of the recruits said awkwardly.

"Idiot, he's not showing off," Egiru growled. "He's buying us time—to set up the final blow."

Everyone nodded.The team regrouped, Asuna readjusting her battered armor, and together they charged again.The last of the boss's health flickered red.

The floor erupted.From the ceiling, the full body of the colossus emerged—a giant of obsidian, streaked with molten veins.Its eyes—two crimson embers—glared with ancient rage.

The air shook.Heat surged.Their breathing turned ragged.

"Time to finish this!" Kirito roared.

They all charged.

The colossus slammed down a fist the size of a house.Aomine sprinted up the arm, propelled by impossible momentum.Shivata and Liten braced the impact, deflecting the blow with their shields.Digital sparks rained down around them.

Mito and Argo sliced at the boss's legs below, while Egiru leapt to strike its back—but only Aomine managed to climb higher.

From below, Asuna noticed her HP bar flicker.She wasn't taking damage… yet it was dropping.She opened her interface.

[Player Status: Oxygen Depletion – Risk of Asphyxiation Imminent]

"No! Aomine-kun, stop! You'll die!" Asuna screamed.

"What's happening?" Mito asked.

"He's not breathing!" Asuna shouted. "He's fighting without air!"

Kirito looked up, horrified.The blue light from Aomine's sword illuminated his trembling body.Each step brought him closer—to the summit, and to death.

"Aomine! Breathe, damn it!" Mito yelled, voice cracking with fear and fury.

In his mind, all Aomine could hear was static.(Why am I running? Why can't I stop? I don't want to die… I don't…)His body burned. His lungs screamed.His vision blurred.Then—one voice pierced the noise.

"Aomine-kun… breathe!" Asuna's voice.

The sound ripped him from the trance.Air flooded his lungs.His eyes snapped open.The colossus opened its maw to devour him.

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" Aomine roared.

He raised his sword with both hands and hurled it with every ounce of strength.The blade spun through the air like a spear of light.It struck the glowing red crest.

A blinding explosion.The colossus screamed—a sound that shattered the ground.Aomine's body was engulfed in light… but the system reacted.

[Weak Point Destroyed]

The creature burst into fragments of light.The air filled with dissolving code, and the message appeared before them all:

"Congratulations. Boss Defeated."

Aomine's body fell, limp, through the glowing haze.Before he hit the floor, Mito caught him, rolling until they stopped.His breathing was shallow, his HP bar barely in red.

"Hold on," she said between breaths, opening her inventory.She poured elixirs into him, watching color slowly return to his health bar.Yellow… then faint green.

Silence returned.Only the echo of falling data fragments remained—drifting down like digital stardust.

The metallic echo of falling debris still resonated through the chamber.The air smelled of ozone and burnt digital energy — the lingering traces of the boss's final attacks dissolving into luminous fragments.

For a moment, no one moved.Only the sound of ragged breathing filled the room, mixed with the faint flicker of life bars slowly returning to calm.

Then, a voice broke the silence.

—"We did it!"— shouted Shivata, raising his fist, a grin spreading across his face, barely holding back his relief.

The roar of celebration came immediately.Players shouted, embraced, some dropped to their knees laughing, while others lifted their weapons high into the air.The tension that had built up exploded into pure euphoria.

But Aomine didn't share their joy.

His body leaned weakly against the wall, struggling to breathe. Virtual sweat slid down his neck, the faint blue glow of the surroundings reflecting off his armor.Beside him, Mito watched with worry.Her wide, trembling eyes searched for any sign of life in his face.

Aomine said nothing.He simply lowered his gaze, fists tightening on his knees.