Suddenly, there was a faint click, the soft scrape of metal, and Kizmel's sword was already at Aisen's throat.
The cold blade touched his honey-toned skin, and did not stop there. It pressed deeper, leaving behind a thin red line like a strand of silk.
Aisen merely raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling as if he had just found a perfect opportunity to tease. "Oh… I think I just felt a cool breeze on my neck. Are you inviting me to a traditional dance?"
Kizmel tilted her head, her smile as sharp as the blade in her hand. "My hearing… isn't very good. Why don't you repeat that for me?"
"Oh, of course." Aisen lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning slightly forward. "I just said… 'if you were a little less beautiful, I might have been afraid.'"
The soft sound of steel on steel rang again as the blade pressed further in, a fresh crimson bead rolling lazily down the curve of his neck. The droplet burst, staining the skin beneath, catching the faint light that filtered through the canopy and mist.
The smile on Aisen's lips faded, like the last sunlight of the day being swallowed by storm clouds.
His gaze met Kizmel's, and he found something colder than steel there. "No, no, I was only joking."
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening under the pressure of the blade. "You wouldn't hold a grudge against a mere commoner like me… would you, Knight Kizmel?"
Even as he spoke, Aisen's hand moved to gently push the blade aside, but the tip clung to his skin as though rooted there.
"Go on," Kizmel's voice was soft as a breeze, yet carried a weight that thickened the air around them.
Aisen glanced down at the blade still kissing his throat, then gave a crooked smile. "You know… I'm a man who values his health. And health… depends on whether your blood stays inside your body."
Slowly, he raised both hands in mock surrender, though his tone still carried a hint of mockery. "So… for the sake of public health, how about we put the weapons down and have a more… civilized conversation?"
Kizmel said nothing, her eyes as cold as ice.
Aisen wet his lips, swallowing again. "I swear I didn't mean anything by it. Really. If I ever dared to anger you… I'd have to change my residence outside the Kingdom of Lyusula."
He lowered his voice, leaning slightly as if to avoid the blade. "But if you still want to try… I'm sure Ren would be happy to collect my corpse, right?"
Ren blinked, then gave a small shrug. "That's up to Kizmel. If she chops you into pieces… sorry, I only do kiddie puzzles. Anything over five hundred pieces, I'm out."
Aisen shot Ren a sideways look, lips curling in mock reproach, though his tone dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, thanks for your dedication. So if I end up as ground meat, you'll just stand there… cheering me on?"
Kizmel's sword still rested cold against his neck, its edge glinting with a deadly light. Aisen swallowed again, though he kept his half-smile.
"Wait, wait, I've got a brilliant idea… Instead of testing your blade's sharpness on my neck, why don't we try it on a nice piece of wood nearby? Safe, and no cleanup required."
Kizmel let out a soft chuckle, then slid her sword back into its sheath with a crisp click. Her gaze flicked to Aisen, part rebuke, part warning. "Let's go. There's still much to be done before we reclaim the Eastern Soul Tree and return to the kingdom."
Aisen gave a lazy yawn, exhaling as if the grand task hardly interested him. "And what about that guy earlier? What happens to him?"
"He'll receive… special care," Kizmel said, her voice cold but resolute. "That decision is for the commander to make."
Aisen arched a brow, a faint smirk forming. "Special care? Sounds like… a soft bed, hot soup, and waking up the next morning with your head still attached."
Ren gave him a sidelong glance, his tone layered with meaning. "You make it sound like you're hoping to be that guy."
They followed the winding path back toward the Dark Elf camp to the south of the forest.
Noon sunlight filtered through the dense layers of leaves, breaking apart into countless shimmering specks on the mossy ground.
The wind threaded through the canopy, blending with the steady rhythm of their footsteps, forming a low, steady cadence in the quiet forest.
Ren walked beside Kirito and Asuna, and...unlike his usual reserved self, he spoke more, his voice relaxed and clear.
The conversation moved past small talk, flowing into deeper matters: the preparation status of the vanguard, tactical adjustments for the upcoming floor boss fight, and the subtle changes in coordination between parties.
From time to time, Ren offered short but sharp insights, earning nods of agreement from Kirito and Asuna.
Through their exchange, Ren learned that the vanguard was nearly ready for the decisive assault.
But beneath that calm surface ran silent undercurrents of tension: the two leading guilds of Aincrad were quietly competing for the right to complete the questlines of the rival Elf factions.
The rivalry was like a powder keg, just one spark away from an explosion...and the upcoming Boss battle would be the decisive moment.
But what drove both sides forward, despite the risks and potential losses, wasn't just honor.
According to Kirito, the reward for defeating this floor's Boss was a rare item, something that could serve as the foundation for building a "true" guild.
Not just a solid headquarters in Aincrad, but also the power and influence to overwhelm most other groups.
"How… how could they end up like this? Shouldn't it be the same for everyone once the quest is completed together?" Asuna murmured softly.
Her voice trembled slightly, then paused mid-sentence, as if she were carefully arranging each word, afraid that saying the wrong thing might shatter something fragile inside her. "Both sides… inherited Diavel's will, and yet…"
Kirito stood beside her in silence. His gaze lowered slightly, as though lost in a completely different train of thought, something deep and unreadable.
"Maybe…" Ren finally spoke, his tone low but not heavy, "they're just divided by personal stances."
He brushed aside a few stray locks of hair from his forehead, a casual gesture that nonetheless carried a faint weariness. "I won't claim to understand Kibaou or Lind completely… but I've spent enough time with both of them."
He fell silent for a moment, as if searching through faded fragments of memory. "Lind is easily swayed by emotions… but he's not a bad person."
"His view is to focus all resources on elite players so they can clear the way as fast as possible. Kibaou, on the other hand, believes everyone should have equal opportunities, that resources should be shared equally, whether you're a rookie or a veteran…"
Ren exhaled softly, his gaze drifting toward an unfocused distance. "Maybe it's precisely because both of them believe they're doing the right thing… that their paths have diverged so far."
He frowned slightly when he noticed his two friends staring at him as if he were some strange specimen. "…Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Kirito shrugged, "it's just… I didn't think you'd notice so much."
Ren's lips curved faintly. "I just like to pay attention to details."
His eyes unintentionally stopped on Asuna. She didn't answer immediately, instead glancing at Ren's black hair, then at her own carefully braided chestnut hair, as if comparing something.
"Have you ever thought about changing your hairstyle, Ren?"
Ren tilted his head slightly, prompting Asuna to continue with a small smile. "I mean… your hair isn't too short or too long. Perfect for trying out all kinds of styles…"
Kirito, without thinking, raised a hand to touch his own black hair, as if a thought had just crossed his mind, but decided not to say it aloud.
The midday sunlight streamed through the trees, scattering pale golden streaks across their shoulders and glimmering on their hair.
"No…" Ren replied after a brief pause, his tone not hesitant but measured, "I think keeping it like this… means I won't have to spend much on upkeep, or waste time combing and styling every morning."
He gave a small shrug, as if to say it was purely a practical choice, nothing more.
His soft black hair swayed lightly in the breeze, a stark contrast to Asuna's meticulous braids and Kirito's simple, loose style.
"That's a shame… I think your face would suit a princess hairstyle," Asuna tilted her head, sighing with mock regret, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Ren froze mid-step, his blue eyes locking onto Asuna. "Seriously? But… I'm a guy."
"That doll-like face says otherwise," Asuna replied triumphantly, as though she had just uncovered an amusing secret.
Kirito turned his head away, trying not to laugh...but still let out a quiet chuckle. Ren, meanwhile, frowned but didn't immediately retort.
Up ahead, Aisen and Kizmel were conversing in the Dark Elf language.
They couldn't fathom how the humans behind them could shift topics so quickly, from battle strategy to… hairstyles.
"Humans… truly strange and complicated," Kizmel muttered, shaking her head as she slowed her pace to watch them.
Aisen smirked faintly and replied, "Yeah… but maybe that's why they're called humans… both you and them?"
Ren caught the gist of that remark, but merely smiled faintly and kept walking.
The road home was still long, and this lighthearted atmosphere, despite the teasing made the journey feel far less heavy.