"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Kirito shouted, but the sound came far too late.
The dense tension in the room was torn apart by the shrill scream of spatial magic.
An emerald light erupted from the crystal, casting a gentle glow laced with bitter irony, like an insurance ticket, a coward's escape route designed to flee from the truth.
The smile on Okotan's lips no longer carried even a trace of pretense. It was open defiance, a wordless declaration: he really was holding the flag.
"Stop him!"
The shout rang out in desperation. The players closest to him lunged forward, but their speed was no match for instantaneous displacement.
Just as Okotan was about to crush the crystal and dissolve into nothingness, an arm shot out of nowhere, clamping down on his wrist like a steel vise.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
The furious challenge cut through even the screech of magic. The owner of that voice stared at Okotan with eyes blazing with betrayal and disappointment.
The entire room froze. A collective, unconscious breath of relief escaped into the tension.
All eyes now turned toward the intervening player, a man with an unremarkable face and a slightly tall frame.
He wasn't a "star" among the raid force, but everyone recognized the ALS guild uniform he wore.
He was Okotan's comrade. His closest brother-in-arms.
The crystal in Okotan's hand still glowed, but it would not activate. That grip didn't just restrain his body, it held the collapsing honor of ALS itself in place.
"Let go!" Okotan roared, but his comrade's arm did not budge.
He drew in a deep breath, then turned to face the surrounding players, his voice hardening as if addressing an army.
"Do you know why we've been stuck like this for so long? Why with every floor we clear, the list of names that disappear only grows longer?
Because we lack an absolute force to command us! This alliance is nothing but a mess, each guild with its own agenda, each individual chained by their own fear!"
Okotan clenched the hand holding the crystal and pointed toward the frontline players.
"ALS has potential. But to go further to truly end this death game, we need a force strong enough to impose order.
The Flag of Valor isn't just an item. It's a symbol. A tool to gather everyone under a single banner. If I hand it over, it'll just be torn apart by compromises, wasted in the hands of people without vision!"
He laughed coldly, his gaze sweeping over Kirito and Ren.
"I'm not hoarding it for myself. I'm holding it for the future of everyone who's still alive. To rule, sometimes you have to accept being hated.
ALS will become the sharpest blade of them all and with this flag, we'll lead everyone to clear this game once and for all!"
The atmosphere in the room shifted. It was no longer simple outrage.
Okotan's explanation carried a brutal, extreme logic, one that struck directly at the shared fear and desperation to end the game felt by everyone present.
Some began to waver. Others felt a chill crawl up their spine at the authoritarian ambition taking shape before them.
The comrade's grip still did not loosen, but the fury in his eyes faded into something far heavier, profound sorrow. He looked straight at Okotan, his voice low yet echoing through the silent room.
"You're wrong, Okotan…"
He shook his head slowly, his voice trembling with emotion.
"You talk about domination, about ALS's future, but you've forgotten who's standing beside you.
Everyone here from Kirito and Asuna to the most ordinary players, didn't enter this game to become tools under anyone's command.
They have their own ideals, promises they need to keep, and people they're desperate to return to."
His grip tightened on Okotan's wrist, blocking any attempt to crush the crystal.
"They're not chess pieces for you to arrange on the board of your ambition.
The power you want to gain by deceiving your comrades, that isn't leadership. That's a shackle.
If we win this game by turning ourselves into tyrants, then the price of that freedom will be rot from within."
Several players nearby lowered their heads. His words struck something raw and buried deep inside them.
"The ALS I knew...and the ALS I want to give my life to is a family that moves forward through trust, not fear of some 'dominating force.'
You may clear a floor with that flag in your hand, but you'll lose the brothers who truly stand with you.
Come back, Okotan. Don't turn us into the monsters we're trying so desperately to defeat."
The tension that had been stretched to its limit slowly eased.
The sincere plea of that plain-looking comrade was like a bucket of cold water thrown straight onto Okotan's blazing ambition.
The other players no longer looked at Okotan as a dangerous enemy, but as someone who had lost his way, standing at the very edge of betraying himself.
The emerald light from the crystal in Okotan's hand began to flicker, then slowly fade, as though the extreme resolve burning inside him was finally collapsing.
The comrade did not pull his hand back. Instead, he slowly opened his palm and extended it toward Okotan, not as a seizure, but as an invitation to return.
There was no harshness left in his gaze, only the patient expectation of a brother waiting for another to come to his senses.
The room held its breath, tracking every smallest movement. After a silence that felt like centuries, Okotan's shoulders trembled, then sagged. Whatever arrogance remained seemed to drain out of him completely.
Slowly his fingers still faintly shaking, he placed the teleport crystal, the ticket he had clung to in order to flee from his own ambition, into the open palm of his comrade.
Liten stepped forward and rested a hand on Okotan's shoulder. Her voice was gentle, yet unyielding.
"ALS doesn't need a king who rules through deception, Okotan. We need comrades we can trust with our backs. That flag only has meaning when it's raised by shared resolve."
Shivata nodded as well, his usual stern expression softening just a fraction. "A strong force isn't built on a single item, but on discipline and transparency. You underestimated us, and you underestimated yourself."
There were no curses now, no hostile glares. The surrounding players, those who had already opened their inventories, began to speak up.
Not accusations, but counsel, shared fears, confessions of the pressure they themselves were carrying.
"We're tired too. We want this game to end," a voice called out from the back, "but not by betraying the person standing next to us."
The suffocating tension gradually dissolved, replaced by a heavy but understanding stillness.
Ren stood there, silently watching the scene. He saw Okotan bow his head, not in fear, but under the weight of the mercy shown by those he had once regarded as "chess pieces."
In the dark raid chamber, the pale blue light of the system windows shimmered once more...but this time, not to inspect, but to illuminate a bond being reforged.
When Okotan slowly took out a tightly rolled piece of cloth, radiating the brilliant aura of a Legendary item Flag of Valor the entire room seemed to stop breathing.
Its light was so resplendent that it eclipsed even the floating system interfaces.
Okotan lowered his head, his trembling hands offering the flag toward Kirito in a final gesture of repentance. Kirito stepped forward, his fingers just brushing the edge of the fabric, when something horrifying happened.
[System: Skill "Quick Steal" has been activated!]
A streak of shadow tore through the space between them.
The hand that moments ago had been clasping Okotan's in earnest persuasion now became a phantom of speed.
In the blink of an eye, the flag vanished from Okotan's grasp before Kirito could secure it.
It happened too fast.
The sincere smile on the comrade's face vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling, ruthless coldness.
He leapt back in a long step, creating safe distance from everyone, the flag now held squarely in his hand.
"Y–you… what are you doing?" Okotan gasped, staring at the person he had trusted most.
There was no reply only a contemptuous glance cast his way.
"You're too weak, Okotan. You have ideals, but you're far too easily swayed by a few sanctimonious words. This thing… doesn't belong to someone as indecisive as you."
He leaned back, his movement smooth, calculated, and elegant, bursting backward with an extreme speed skill. His hand clenched tightly around the teleport crystal, muscles tensing as he prepared to crush it and disappear forever with the legendary flag.
But at the very brink of hope's execution, a killing intent sharp as icy spikes pierced his spine, forcing his body to twist in an impossible evasive motion.
Ren's blade thrust forward, fast and merciless, like a bolt of black lightning.
It missed his heart by the barest margin; the attacker's inhuman reflexes allowed the sword to leave only a thin slash, tearing his shoulder cloth and drawing a vivid line of red.
The traitor steadied himself, his eyes completely devoid of fear. When he realized it was Ren who had attacked him, a twisted, exhilarated smile spread across his face, brimming with delight, as though he had just run into a long-lost kindred spirit.
"I told you we'd meet again soon…"
The voice came from a plain, unfamiliar face, yet its tone and attitude were unmistakable. A jolt ran through Ren's body as memories of a shadow from the past surged violently back.
"Varn…" Ren ground out, each syllable heavy with seething hatred.
"Oh? I didn't expect you to remember me."
Varn's smile widened further, warped and grotesque, as though it were about to tear the borrowed face apart.
His eyes burned with madness as he drank in Ren's fury. So that was it the entire performance of brotherhood, the righteous grip and heartfelt persuasion, had been nothing more than entertainment for a monster wearing human skin.
"What do you think?" he sneered. "Was my little play about camaraderie convincing enough? Watching you ants get all emotional, I almost couldn't hold back my laughter."