The plaza, chaotic with over 10,000 screaming players, is behind us. The three of us—me, Diavel, and Sinon—hole up in a room on the second floor of the [Headless Ox] tavern. Diavel, now in his real, handsome blue-haired form, slumps in a rickety wooden chair, hand on forehead. Sinon, a delicate yet steely girl with a refined face, sits on a hard bed, her expression blank, escaping reality.
"Kuri, are we really…" Diavel trails off, begging for denial.
I clamp down on my urge to confirm. Normal people don't process a sudden death game rationally. I'm just used to it. Diavel and Sinon aren't. Accepting reality takes time; adapting takes longer. In SAO, beta testers exploited info for a head start, leaving many dead. Some will repeat that here—let them. Fools who ignore SAO's lessons deserve their fate. In this death game, especially early on with low levels, no info, and few skills, you survive by being ruthless.
"Sinon, you okay?"
"You seem fine," she shoots back.
"SAO survivor. Used to death games."
Diavel furrows his brow; Sinon's jaw drops. Expected reactions. I'd be the same in their shoes.
"Rest now. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't leave this room."
They nod silently. I expected pushback from Sinon, but she's too drained to argue. DBO lacks safe zones—or maybe just this [Dying City]. I lock the window; I'll stand guard so they can rest tonight.
"Getting food downstairs. Three knocks is me. Any other signal, don't open. PKers might already be unhinged."
PoH-like killers are rare, but caution's key.
"Sorry, Kuri. You're dealing with enough, and now this," Diavel says.
"Don't sweat it. I'll need you both plenty. Especially you, Sinon—spill all your beta tester info. Ditch any gamer pride now."
"I'll share for a price. Don't expect handouts," Sinon says, voice trembling despite her bravado.
Her mental strain's worse than I thought. I can't play therapist—Diavel's better for that. Laugh at my reliance on others if you want. Even evil emperors preached "right person, right job." I'm no king or cook; my role is getting these two back on their feet and teaching them death game basics.
I activate [Stealth], still low-level but a big edge. Downstairs, no players. Relief mixes with unease—she isn't here. If she's not in this death game, great. If she is, I owe it to her to find and protect her.
At the counter, I buy bread, milk, and thick bacon. My Col drops to single digits—can't be helped. Three knocks, and I enter. Diavel greets me with a drawn sword, Sinon with a nocked arrow. Solid instincts—trust no signal blindly.
"Here. Bacon sandwich. Tasty."
"Your share?" Sinon asks.
"Don't need it. Couldn't afford it. No penalty for skipping a meal."
In SAO, I went three days without food, water, or sleep in dungeons. No big deal. But my social skills suck—obviously, they won't eat after that comment.
"Take half. This bacon's too big," Sinon says, handing me a sandwich.
Gruff kindness. I bite in, savoring it. Diavel offers half his, but I decline. Gotta enjoy the girl's kindness properly!
Minutes later, Sinon lies on the bed, Diavel slumps on the table, both asleep. They insisted, but I'm keeping watch.
Never thought I'd babysit. In SAO, I always rushed ahead solo—leaving the Starting City, living alone. I never synced with parties or guilds. But as a death game vet, I owe these rookies the harsh truth of this "reality."
Tomorrow's destination is set. It's gotta be there.
"You really don't sleep. True SAO survivor," Sinon says, eyes glinting like a cat's in the candlelit room.
"Go to bed," I want to say, but I get it. Sleep's tough until your mind settles. She's tougher than I thought, though I'm not sure if that's good.
"No wonder you held your own against the Dark Rider blind. You've got strength—real, hard-earned strength from life-and-death stakes."
"Thanks, but don't use me as a benchmark. Stronger players exist—like [Dragon Saint] Silica. She's a beast."
The collapse of the Knights of the Blood after Heathcliff's loss rocked the frontliners. Players needed hope. The [Black Swordsman] was one; Silica, catching up to the frontlines, was another. Her blue dragon, Pina, massive enough to ride, had versatile attacks, a devastating breath, and healed all nearby players' HP—a game-changer. As long as Silica stood, the frontliners couldn't lose. She kept them fighting, a true [Saint] beyond an idol. But each player who died calling her name wore her down, breaking her spirit. Still, she fought to the end, contributing to Heathcliff's defeat.
I wonder: who was the first to die in SAO? I think it was him, but he said, "The greatest knight gave me hope."
"Thanks, Kuri. Without you, I'd be…" Sinon trails off.
Asleep or unwilling to say more? Doesn't matter. Being thanked by a girl makes my ears burn. What's wrong with me?