A massive system window flashed Congratulations, and I finally let out a breath, collapsing onto my back.
The battle was fiercer than I'd imagined, but we won. Diavel stole the final blow, but I've got no complaints about that.
The beastman king—a formidable foe with undeniable intelligence, cunning, and ego. I don't know how many players noticed, but he was an outlier AI, like Dark Rider. Not quite on Dark Rider's level, perhaps, but his indomitable spirit and mastery of his boss mechanics pushed him beyond what was expected. He became stronger than any boss should be.
As my stamina finally recovers, I extend a hand to Sinon, sprawled out like a starfish despite being a girl.
"I'm fine. I can stand on my own," she snaps, her stubbornness shining through. With a composed expression, she sits up, chews a piece of phosphorescent grass, and rises.
"That was brutal," she says. "Seven dead, by my count."
And then there's Smith, the real monster here. Acting like that deathmatch was nothing, he approaches with a cigarette trailing smoke. His real goal is retrieving the scimitar he left lodged in the Kobold King.
But the scimitar, broken in half, shatters at his feet. It couldn't withstand Diavel's crimson blade of light—a sword skill that transcended sword skills. Curved swords have low durability and take more damage from external forces than other weapons, so it's a miracle it held together until Smith found it.
Silently, Smith salutes the dust that was his partner, now returned to the sea of virtual data. I thought he was a cold, robotic guy, but he clearly had attachment to the weapon he entrusted his life to.
I survey the boss room. Most candelabras are wrecked, yet the light hasn't dimmed—either a result of defeating the boss or because they were just for show. The players, exhausted, slump to the ground, their faces a mix of victory's afterglow and bone-deep fatigue.
Only one stands out: Diavel, swarmed by players showering him with praise. Rallying everyone and landing that extraordinary killing blow, he must look like a hero.
In him, I see that guy's silhouette—the back of the Black Swordsman, honed to perfection, who felled a demon king. Is he still tormented by loneliness deep down? Or has he rebuilt something precious with Silica and Argo?
I want to see him. The man who called me his partner, stood by my side, and loved this virtual world so much he always sought to fight together, even after returning to reality. I want to talk to him.
It'll happen soon. I'm certain. The one claiming to be Kayaba's successor wouldn't start this death game without inviting him, my greatest rival. He's out there, somewhere in this world.
So why wasn't he in this boss fight? That question lingers, but I'll ask when we meet.
For now, a more pressing matter stands before me.
"Why'd you kill them?"
Of all people, it's this guy. I swallow a sigh and face Lineverse, a heavily armored player wielding a claymore, his helmet adorned with tail feathers.
Behind me, another player has circled around—Sky Pier, holding a kite shield and longspear, looking like a steady fighter.
"Why'd you kill Clover!?" Lineverse demands.
"Clover?" I echo.
I don't know every player's name from the boss fight. They probably don't know mine either—my profile's set to private. But I killed two players: Grizzly and the sword-and-shield guy. Clover must be the latter.
Of course, it's Lineverse's friend. I glance at Sky Pier, creeping closer.
"What's your name?" I ask.
"S-Sky Pier," he stammers. "I'm not letting you walk away. You'll pay!"
"Lineverse, Sky Pier, and I killed Clover. Got it."
My words come smoothly, my mind oddly clear. No time for my social anxiety to kick in.
They have reason to want me dead—a friend killed. I won't make excuses. Even if the parasitized players were a threat, attacking indiscriminately, they didn't choose to do it.
But I made the better choice, if not the best. No regrets. If anything, I regret wasting time searching for alternatives. Acting faster might've saved them, even with severed limbs, if their HP held.
"I'm sorry about Clover," I say. "Punch me if you want. Want col? It's yours. That's all I can offer."
Tension grips the boss room, a powder keg ready to explode. The players' eyes burn with righteous fury, demanding justice.
Vengeful glares—the same ones I saw countless times in SAO from those hiring me for PKK. People who wouldn't dirty their hands, who lacked the strength to do it themselves.
"Stop it!"
The voice shattering the air belongs to the room's most authoritative figure: Diavel, the blue knight. Sheathing Red Rose, used as a staff, he fixes Lineverse, Sky Pier, and me with his commanding gaze.
"Why fight among ourselves? Our enemy, the one we must overcome, is this death game! Lower your weapons, Lineverse, Sky Pier. And Ku, I need to question you about this incident. Your safety's guaranteed, so don't resist."
Diavel's leaderly presence shifts the crowd's mood. Rayfox, grieving Grizzly, looks frustrated but holds her anger in check, reason prevailing.
Diavel's acting like we're strangers, as we agreed in that staged setup. I should play along, but I'll probably slip. Gotta be careful.
"Ku, do as Diavel says," Sinon urges, stepping closer.
"Sinon…"
How can she do that? The boss fight's over. No need for teamwork. Why look at me with such pity?
It hits me—her eyes are the same as when she saw my PKK. Like she's found a puppy abandoned in the rain.
"But he—!" Lineverse sputters, his claymore trembling with rage or fear. His vendetta hasn't faded. Maybe it's resentment from the meeting hall incident—his own fault, but still. Diavel's words haven't fully reached him.