At last, the boss of the fourth floor had been defeated. The battle had raged for hours, and when the colossal monster finally let out its death cry, the grand hall echoed with cheers, mingled with the exhausted gasps of countless players.
As always, the two major guilds, the Aincrad Liberation Squad and the Dragon Knights Brigade, stayed behind to negotiate how to divide the spoils.
The sounds of debate, the clatter of metal, and the weary footsteps of players blended together in the hollow silence of the ruined Boss Chamber.
Meanwhile, Kirito and Asuna had quietly left. Without a word, they ascended the spiral path leading to the next level... Floor 5.
Neither spoke throughout the journey. Only their footsteps and steady breathing echoed softly between the cold stone walls.
At the end of the passage, a massive stone gate emerged in the pale blue light, covered in the dust of ages, yet emanating a strange, sacred aura.
Asuna spoke softly, her voice carried gently by the breeze drifting through the corridor:
"This time… we've made it one floor higher."
Kirito nodded, placing a hand upon the crystalline surface of the gate. A faint light pulsed beneath his fingers, reflecting in both their eyes. It was the light of hope… but also of new trials waiting ahead.
The fifth floor… was about to open.
But what about our protagonist? Where had he gone?
…
"Hmph… Hmph…" Ren panted, each breath long and ragged.
Every step felt weighted with lead. His thin tunic clung to his body, soaked with sweat that turned icy in the late winter chill, sending shivers through his limbs.
He dropped heavily to the ground, the frost-covered dirt at the edge of the training field biting cold against his back as he leaned against a misty boulder. A thin plume of white vapor escaped his lips with every exhale.
Before him, the Dark Elves continued their rigorous drills. The rhythmic shouts, the clash of swords and spears, all blended into a perfectly synchronized tempo that carried an almost frightening sense of discipline.
Several days had passed since the battle against the fourth-floor boss.
Ren had planned to give himself a brief rest... just a few days, before continuing his climb to the fifth floor.
But that very day, Viscount Yofilis had suddenly summoned him to Yofel Castle, for reasons Ren couldn't begin to comprehend.
And so, instead of resting, he had been thrown straight into an intense combat training program alongside the Dark Elf warriors, including Kizmel herself.
Ren glanced toward the Dark Elf knight standing not far away.
Kizmel was still going through her strength regimen, the same one she had started two hours ago.
Even as sweat began to darken the fabric beneath her light armor, her breathing remained calm, every movement precise, steady, and full of power.
Ren shuddered slightly. He hadn't seen her pause even once. And oddly enough, despite the sheen of effort on her sun-kissed skin, only a few tiny drops of sweat glistened along her neck.
"She's… really that strong?" Ren muttered under his breath, tilting his head back to stare up at the gray, mist-covered sky. A long sigh escaped him, fading into the cold air, vanishing, much like his patience at this point.
Taking advantage of the brief break before the next round of training began, Ren opened his status window, something he hadn't checked in a long time.
The faint blue glow of the interface reflected in his tired eyes.
[Name: Ren]
Level: 15 (2200 / 5800 EXP)
HP: 1,200 / 1,500
STR (Strength): 31 (+14)
VIT (Vitality): 34
AGI (Agility): 44 (+6) [Free Stat Points: 6]
He frowned slightly at the glowing lines of text.
Ren had gained two levels after completing the defense missions at Fort Yofel.
Now, with equipment bonuses included, his AGI had reached an impressive 50, a remarkable figure for a player of his level.
However, his total bonus had dropped by four points, since the cloak that once boosted his Agility had been given to Argo before they parted ways.
That left him with only six unassigned points, but even so, his speed stat still far outpaced most players.
Ren let out a quiet sigh. "Where should I put these points…?"
He sat still for a moment, his finger sliding across the glowing text, then hesitated.
At Level 15, players began to reach what was known as the "combat style formation phase."
From this point on, the system would no longer automatically grant fixed bonuses to the three basic attributes. Instead, players would receive only three free points to distribute however they wished.
A single mistake, even a minor one, could shift a player's fighting style in an entirely different direction.
Ren stared at the line: [Free Stat Points: 6], lost in thought. Those numbers, seemingly lifeless, now looked as though they were waiting for a decision that could shape the entire future of his battles.
"Maybe I should just save them…"
In the end, he decided to leave everything untouched.
Saving a few precious stat points... just in case he came across a powerful piece of equipment he couldn't wield because of a small lack in Strength or Vitality.
He closed the status window. The dim light faded away, leaving Ren's face once again swallowed by the quiet shade.
Perhaps, in this world, and the one beyond, waiting for the right moment mattered far more than rushing ahead.
Ren closed his eyes, letting his tangled thoughts drift away, dissolving like the morning mist in still air.
"Looks like you've recovered enough," came Viscount Yofilis's calm voice, smooth, but with that familiar underlying sharpness.
Ren opened his eyes, drew a quiet breath, and stood up. He bowed out of habit, just the right angle, neither excessive nor lacking.
Then he moved toward the wooden rack where several training swords rested neatly. The faint scent of oiled wood and old steel lingered in the air.
His hand stopped on a sword of suitable length, the familiar texture of the wooden hilt pressing against his palm made his grip tighten almost unconsciously.
The next training session began... and, as usual, Viscount Yofilis himself would be his instructor.
Ren inhaled deeply, adjusted his stance, shifted his weight to his feet. Without waiting for a signal, he raised the practice sword and charged forward, straight at the waiting nobleman, whose calm gaze seemed to already read every move before it came.
Before long, Ren's training drew the attention of the Dark Elf warriors nearby.
They had already finished their own drills long ago, by right, they should've been eating breakfast or preparing for their next patrol.
But lately, something unusual had been happening: it was rare to see Viscount Yofilis personally instruct anyone this seriously.
Soon, a silent ring of onlookers formed around the training yard, every gaze fixed on the two figures in the center.
Ren was the one pressing the attack. He poured his full strength into every slash, every turn of his body, his breathing steady but growing heavier with each passing exchange.
Yofilis, on the other hand, remained impossibly composed. He didn't counterattack, merely leaned aside, rotated his wrist slightly, or shifted the tip of his foot.
Each of Ren's strikes, no matter how sharp or forceful, was effortlessly deflected, as though they could never even graze the hem of the viscount's coat.
No one spoke. Only the dry clack of wooden blades echoed across the courtyard, mingling with Ren's ragged breaths.
The longer the spar continued, the more Ren felt the crushing distance between himself and Yofilis.
It wasn't just strength, it was instinct. The kind of combat sense that existed beyond logic or reflex.
Yofilis could see his movements before they even happened, predicting, reacting, and evading with terrifying precision.
'Does he have eyes hidden somewhere I don't see…?' Ren muttered inwardly, panting as his arms began to tremble from exhaustion.
He spun, delivering his cleanest strike yet... only for a dull, heavy sound to echo through the yard.
His wooden sword was flicked clean from his hands, soaring briefly before clattering to the ground.
Yofilis's motion had been so light, so effortless, it felt almost mocking, like taking candy from a stubborn child.
"That will do for today," the viscount said evenly. There wasn't the slightest sign of exertion in his voice, not even a bead of sweat on his brow.
Ren bent down, picked up his fallen sword. His whole body burned, his breathing rough and uneven.
Sweat-damp strands of hair clung to skin flushed red from countless failed strikes.
He clenched the hilt tightly, eyes following Yofilis's retreating figure, that calm, unhurried gait, each step grounded, unshaken.
In that moment, Ren didn't know whether to feel admiration… or despair.
The distance between them was overwhelming. Not even when he faced Varzak had Ren felt this sense of futility, even then, he had thrown everything he had into the fight.
He exhaled slowly, his breath curling into the cold morning air, then lowered his head, a bright smile breaking across his tired face.
"Hopefully… someday, I can be that strong too."
"You're not going to breakfast?"
The familiar voice startled him slightly. Kizmel was standing behind, arms folded, her high ponytail swaying gently in the breeze.
Ren glanced at her and nodded, his voice still rough from fatigue. "I was planning to wash up and change first."
Kizmel smiled, something in her eyes briefly unreadable. "All right then. I'll save you a seat. But if you're too slow, I'm eating your share."
Ren chuckled softly and shook his head. "No chance. I'll be there before you can."
She replied with a smile of her own before turning away, her steps fading from the yard, leaving Ren standing alone in the quiet training ground.