Labyrinth

Ayanokouji Kiyotaka

About a month had elapsed since we had all been imprisoned within Sword Art Online. Unsurprisingly, during that time, there still hadn't been any intervention from the outside world.

Some time ago, I heard about the very first player death. It wasn't from a monster, or a player kill—but a suicide. They had apparently claimed that if we simply removed themselves from the game's system, we'd regain consciousness from the other side. No one dared to follow after him, because there was no way to prove his words.

It was an act of desperation that often stemmed from the human need to escape suffering. From a purely logical perspective, it's a gamble with no tangible outcome—just like a coin toss where the stakes are life and death. And yet, the temptation of escape will always be tempting to some, no matter how uncertain.

Humans, after all, are creatures driven more by emotion than reason.

Still, I couldn't entirely dismiss his decision. In an environment where survival is stripped down to its rawest form, every choice turns into a mirror that reflects a person's true nature. That person, whoever they were, wanted control over their fate. In that sense, I supposed they were more resolute than most. Or maybe they were simply too fragile to endure.

Two thousand players have died since then.

Anyway, I had also learned about a group that was slowly rising in numbers, still making out to be the minority of the playerbase. The leader of this particular group was the manager of one of Japan's biggest online gaming forums.

The group resided within the Blackiron palace—a castle that towered over the central plaza in the Town of Beginnings. Like a central control center, they sent instructions to smaller parties and accumulated supplies from there.

I supposed the formation of such a group was inevitable. Societies, no matter how temporary or forced, need structure. And structures, in turn, need leaders. People gravitate toward those who seem knowledgeable, especially when faced with situations they cannot comprehend. The manager of an online forum? In the real world, it hardly counted as the most credible authority. But in the absence of experts, even a little experience can seem viable.

There were also solo players, such as myself—independent individuals who preferred to operate alone rather than to join a group, either out of self-interest or because they believed it was the most effective way to survive. Many of these solo players were beta testers who used their prior knowledge to progress far more quickly than others.

Additionally, Sword Art Online was designed with limited ranged attacks for both monsters and humans, making enemies manageable even in groups. Solo players could accumulate experience points faster since these points were usually shared among party members.

However, this approach to playing the game had its risks. For instance, being paralyzed in a group meant a teammate could heal you, but if you were alone, this could easily lead to death. This was a major reason why solo players faced the highest fatality rates compared to the other categories of players.

Despite the dangers, the rewards often outweighed the risks. While I wasn't a beta tester, I considered myself adept enough to properly avoid danger. Still, knowledge of the game was crucial, so beta testers had a clear advantage over players like me.

"Er... Sir, are you going to buy anything?" the NPC in front of me asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, sorry about that. I'll have ten healing potions, please."

***

The labyrinth loomed imposing above me, standing about 100 meters tall. Its entrance was just as I had imagined—an archway of ancient stone carved with patterns that seemed almost like hieroglyphs. The torches on either side flickered weakly, as their dim light was swallowed by the darkness beyond.

Clutching my Anneal Blade in hand, I stepped into the labyrinth.

The corridor narrowed as I progressed, forcing me to brush against the cold stone walls. There was no sound of other players, or no comforting noise of distant activity. My footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in contrast to the stillness.

Eventually, the narrow path opened up into a small chamber. It was barely lit, only illuminated by a single torch mounted crookedly on the wall. The stonework here was more deliberate—blocks of smooth, interlocking stone formed the chamber's structure. It was almost unimpressive—until I noticed the red cursors blinking into existence all around me.

My eyes darted from one cursor to another as they multiplied. Massive boars and dire wolves emerged from the shadows, growling at me in hunger. It appeared that they were larger than the usual field mobs.

One of the wolves growled low as it prepared to lunge. It moved faster than I expected, leaping toward me with bared fangs.

[Sword Skill - Sharp Nail]

A streak of light ran down the length of my blade as my sword skill engaged. I swung my sword in a wide, diagonal slash, letting my blade cleave clean through the wolf mid-air. Its body dissipated into a shower of polygons before it even hit the ground. The momentum of the skill was carried with me, allowing me to carve through three other boars that had foolishly crowded themselves together.

I powered through a dozen more before the final wolf dissolved into fragments, leaving behind a faint shimmer in the air before disappearing completely. I straightened my posture, sheathing my Anneal Blade as I surveyed the room.

My surroundings were still, except the faint flicker of the torch lights reflecting off the now-empty space.

There were fewer enemies than I had anticipated. A part of me wondered if the number of mobs had already been reduced by another group. It wasn't uncommon for labyrinth mobs to respawn on a timer, and if a party had passed through before, it might explain the diminished mob count.

Toward the far end of the room, a large, imposing door stood ajar. Unlike the last, this one had no carvings or designs. As I neared the door, something caught my attention: faint imprints in the ground. Footsteps. Several of them.

They weren't deep, but they were fresh enough to be noticeable. Judging by the varying sizes and depths of the prints, they belonged to a party of at least four or five players. Their formation was scattered, but seemed purposeful at the same time—meaning they might have been a coordinated group moving through the labyrinth. The trail led up the staircase beyond the door, disappearing into the shadows above.

It wasn't surprising to find others in the labyrinth. But what did surprise me was the absence of any signs of struggle. No discarded items, no damage to the surrounding environment. Either this party was exceptionally skilled, or they had chosen their battles carefully.

Each of my steps echoed faintly as I climbed the spiral staircase. The faint chill deepened into a palpable frost that seeped through my gear. At last, the staircase leveled out, opening into a long corridor.

Torches flickered weakly along the walls, revealing what lay ahead: a branching path with multiple offshoots.

I paused at the junction as my eyes scanned the ground for any clue of where to go. The faint impressions of footsteps—similar to the ones I'd seen earlier—were scattered across the floor. But here, their patterns diverged and led down different paths. Some were more deeply layered than others, indicating that multiple players had passed through repeatedly.

I crouched, examining the trails more closely. The largest concentration of overlapping prints led to a single path—the second corridor from the left. It was the clearest indication of a commonly used route. Whether it was the route to the next level, a treasure room, or simply a safer area to regroup, this path was my best option.

I adjusted the grip on my sword and stepped into the corridor. The walls here were smoother than in the previous sections of the labyrinth, as if they had been deliberately shaped by a craftsman.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The sound of my boots against the stone floor was interrupted by something sharp and distinct—rapid footsteps echoing from further down the corridor. My body tensed instinctively, and my senses heightened as the sound grew closer. Whoever—or whatever—it was, they were moving fast. Too fast for a player in standard gear.

I came to a halt, gripping the hilt of my sword. Before I could react further, a figure burst into view.

It was humanoid, with a bulky, muscular frame covered in patchy fur. Its large tail swayed behind it, balancing its movements as it closed the distance between us in a sprint. Long, rabbit-like ears twitched, and a pair of glowing red eyes locked onto me. Clad in crude armor and clutching a jagged sword, it growled low, baring its sharp teeth.

A Kobold Trooper.

The name surfaced in my mind, accompanied by a mental note from Argo's guidebook. I had purchased the guide out of curiosity just about a week ago. According to her notes, Kobold Troopers were among the more dangerous monsters found in labyrinth zones. Their humanoid intelligence allowed them to fight with strategy, meaning their weaponry wasn't just for show.

I tightened my grip as the creature's sword began to glow faintly. The glow spread along the blade, forming a blue aura. A sword skill.

Argo had mentioned this detail as well: Kobold Troopers were capable of using sword skills, just like players. That made them significantly more dangerous than standard mobs. Unlike a mindless beast charging blindly, this one could fight as if it were human.

The Trooper roared, swinging its sword in a heavy downward slash as the blade cut through the air. I raised my own weapon, bracing for impact. I held firm as the force of the collision reverberated through my arms. The clash emitted sparks, and the sound of the impact echoed through the corridor.

Instead of simply absorbing the blow, I angled my sword to redirect the attack. I let the Trooper's blade slide off mine, letting its momentum trip it off balance for a split second.

I refrained from activating a sword skill. While they were effective, they drained energy, and I didn't know how many more enemies were ahead. Efficiency was key. Instead, I shifted my weight and stepped inside the Trooper's guard, driving my sword forward in a precise thrust. The blade found its mark, piercing the creature's chest.

The Trooper froze red eyes dimmed as its health bar plummeted to zero. For a moment, it remained suspended in place. Then, with a groan, it dissolved into a burst of polygons, scattering into the air before vanishing completely.

The corridor eventually opened into another entrance, lit by torches that burned brighter than any I'd seen so far. The warm light contrasted with the cold atmosphere of the labyrinth.

I paused, glancing at the ground. The trail of footsteps I'd been following came to an abrupt halt here, pivoting sharply as if whoever had left them had decided to turn back. It was clear—whatever lay ahead was enough to dissuade a party from continuing.

Opening my inventory, I materialized the teleport crystal in my hand. Clutching it tightly, I stepped cautiously into the room.

As I reached the center of the room, the flames of the torches flickered violently before turning a deep crimson, casting the entire chamber in an ominous red hue.

This was a death trap.

Multiple pillars of light erupted around me, outlining the forms of several Kobold Troopers materializing into existence. Their low growls filled the air as they emerged, brandishing a variety of weapons—swords, maces, and axes. Without hesitation, I drew my Anneal Blade, engaging the nearest one with a decisive strike.

Their numbers fell quickly under my sword, each one dissolving into polygons as I cleaved through them. Yet with every kill, more pillars of light appeared and summoned reinforcements in ever-increasing waves.

I paused for a brief moment, standing amidst the growing horde. The room was now swarming with Kobold Troopers fixated on me. Their numbers had doubled.

I supposed it was an opportunity. At level 18, I was far above the average for players on this floor. If I played my cards right, I could turn this into a session to farm more experience points.

Adjusting my stance, I prepared to hack through the swarm.

***

Before I knew it, half an hour had flown by.

Kobold Troopers poured in from all sides as their snarls echoed through the chamber. Their weapons gleamed under the crimson light, poised to strike. But they weren't fast enough. I moved through them, letting my blade cut through them with efficiency.

One roared as a mace came crashing down toward me. I sidestepped the swing, pivoting into a low thrust that pierced its chest. The Kobold disintegrated into shards of light, only for two more to take its place.

I dodged an axe, feeling a faint breeze as it narrowly missed my head. Spinning around, I slashed upward, sending another Trooper to its demise.

The room quickly became a battlefield of dissolving polygons and echoing growls. Occasionally, I employed a sword skill—a sweeping arc to clear multiple foes at once—but only when absolutely necessary. Each use drained my energy, and in a fight of this scale, resource management was everything.

Half an hour turned into a full hour. My breathing grew heavier. Several Troopers managed to break through my defenses, landing glancing blows that chipped away at my health bar. The bar was already sitting in the yellow zone. But my level...

Level: 22

A significant improvement. My efforts had paid off, though not without cost.

As I swung my sword in an arc toward the next Kobold Trooper neck, something unexpected happened. Just before the blade could connect, the creature froze. Its glowing red eyes dimmed, and a faint glow overtook its body before it disintegrated into a cascade of blue pixels. I paused mid-attack, confused.

Hm...? No reward for the kill this time...

Around me, the remaining Troopers—dozens of them—followed suit. One by one, they dissolved into light, vanishing into nothingness without any sign of damage. The entire swarm disappeared in a matter of seconds, leaving the room eerily empty and silent.

I stepped back and looked around the chamber. There was no indication of an external attack or a sudden shift in the dungeon's mechanics. No new wave of monsters spawned to replace them, and the torches continued to burn steadily.

But something had intervened.

I lowered my Anneal Blade slightly. What could have caused this? Monsters didn't simply vanish in this world without reason. Even after death, they left traces—drops, particles, or at the very least, a sense of closure.

...I see.

My movements were being watched. Not in the sense that I was being stalked by a player or monster.

But perhaps a person or a system that was capable of bending the rules of this world when necessary—like in this instance, where I had been exploiting a trap to gain experience points. While I didn't understand the full scope of its control, its power was clearly far beyond what any individual player—or even group—could influence.

Glancing at my health bar again, I made my way toward a nearby safe area—one of the few places in a labyrinth where players could catch their breath without fear of attack. The area was a small, circular chamber lit by the warm light emitted from the four torches in each corner. It was a brief respite. A chance to heal up and restore some stamina.

I sank down against the wall, letting my Anneal Blade rest on the ground beside me as I retrieved a healing potion from my inventory. My health bar, which had been hovering dangerously close to yellow, crept back up toward its full capacity.

After taking the time to fully heal, I stood, brushing the dust off my clothes and securing my sword. It was time to move on.

***

It didn't take long for me to clear twenty levels of this labyrinth.

As I walked deeper, the corridor I had entered now opened up wider. The walls were lined with jagged stone, and the torches burned with a more intense flame.

I glanced down at the ground instinctively, noting the familiar trail of footsteps. Just like before, the footprints weren't just mine. I knelt briefly to study the pattern, recognizing that it was the same kind of layered trail I had seen earlier in the labyrinth.

The corridor opened up into a cavernous room, and before me stood a massive door, possessing stone patterns and runes, and also flanked by two burning torches. As I approached, I noticed that the footprints I had been following stopped abruptly at the door. Whoever had passed this way before had likely come to the same conclusion I had:

This is the boss' lair.

The party was possibly scouting ahead for the boss fight, but had decided to retreat to prepare first.

[Item Equipped - Feathered Gale's Hood]

Upon equipping the set, I felt my body become lighter. I stepped forward, pushing the heavy doors open.

The walls towered above me, while ancient pillars lined the way to the far end of the room. Perched atop a throne sat the figure that I had been drawn here to face.

The walls around me flickered to life with vibrant, abstract colors as the colossal beast leaped from its seat, landing with a thundering crash at the center of the arena.

The boss' body was rippling with muscle, covered in thick blue-gray fur. Its eyes were a fiery copper-red, glowing like molten embers. On one hand, its massive bone axe gleamed as light reflected off of its metal. And on the other, it held a leather shield that looked worn but sturdy.

Illfang; The Kobold Lord

The metallic words materialized below its red cursor as four health bars appeared beside its head.

***

Kirigaya Kazuto (Kirito)

"All right, people! It's five minutes past already, so let's get started! Gather 'round, folks—you there, three steps closer!"

The speaker was a swordsman dressed in shining metal armor. With remarkable agility, he sprang effortlessly onto the edge of the fountain in the middle of the square. His single leap showcased both his strength and nimbleness despite the weight of his armor.

A few people in the crowd, which numbered around forty, began to shift uncomfortably when he turned to face them. It was understandable—standing atop the fountain's edge was a man so strikingly handsome that one couldn't help but question why he would choose to participate in a VRMMO at all.

"Thank you all for heeding my call today! I'm sure some of you know me already, but just in case, my name's Diavel and I like to think of myself as playing a knight!"

The crowd closest to the fountain erupted in jeers and whistles. Asharp voice rang out amongst the jabbering clamor of different voices, dripping with sarcasm. "What's next? Gonna call yourself a hero?"

Aincard did not host rigid character classes like one would see in a typical fantasy game. Players had a set number of skill slots to fill as they pleased, freely customizing their progression. A player who poured their time into crafting might earn a nickname like blacksmith, tailor, or cook, but titles like "knight" or "hero" were entirely self-proclaimed.

Still, if someone wanted to claim that role, no one could stop them. Diavel certainly fit the bill in appearance—bronze armor polished to a shine protected his chest, shoulders, arms, and shins. A longsword rested at his hip, and a kite shield hung across his back, completing the picture of a textbook knight.

From my place in the back, I studied him in silence. There was something familiar about his confident posture, his meticulously chosen gear, even the glint of determination in his eyes. My memory flickered. I'd seen him before, hadn't I? Maybe wandering through the towns on the first floor.

But before Aincrad became this Aincrad? His name didn't ring a bell.

"Now then," Diavel began. From the way he spoke it was obvious he was trying to aim for leadership, "you're all top players—leaders on the front lines of our progress. I don't need to remind you why we're here."

I pushed my musings aside and turned my focus to his speech. Diavel's blue hair caught the fading light as he raised a hand, gesturing beyond the town's edge to the looming tower that pierced the sky—the labyrinth of the first floor.

"Earlier today, our party located the staircase to the top floor of that tower," he declared, his tone brimming with a sense of superiority. "Which means that by tomorrow—or the day after—we'll reach it." He paused just long enough to let the weight of his words settle over the crowd.

"The first-floor boss chamber."

The crowd shifted uneasily, ripples of murmurs and movement spreading as Diavel's announcement sank in. I couldn't blame them—I was just as surprised. The first-floor labyrinth was a sprawling twenty-level tower, and when I last ventured there, I hadn't even scratched the surface of the nineteenth floor. Yet somehow, someone had already mapped enough to locate the staircase.

"One month," Diavel continued, his voice firm yet filled with an undeniable passion. "It took us an entire month to get here. But we must set an example. We have to defeat the boss, ascend to the second floor, and prove to everyone back in the Town of Beginnings that this death game can be beaten. That's our duty as the ones leading the charge!"

The crowd roared in response, cheers rising not only from Diavel's companions but from other players too.

His words struck all the right chords—noble, determined, and irrefutable. Even I couldn't find fault with them. For someone to step up and take the responsibility of uniting the scattered players on the frontlines, it was commendable.

I was just about to offer my silent respect when a calm, cutting voice interrupted the cheers.

"Hold on a second, Sir Knight."

The noise came to an abrupt halt. The front of the crowd parted, revealing a squat, solidly built man standing in the open space. His brown hair stuck out in all directions like the spines of a cactus, and his weapon—a massive sword—rested heavily on his back.

The cactus-headed figure stepped forward, his gravelly tone a sharp contrast to Diavel's polished confidence. "Gotta get this off my chest before we start playin' pretend-friends."

Diavel didn't flinch at the interruption. Instead, he welcomed the challenge with a calm, assured smile. "I'm open to opinions, friend," he replied, gesturing invitingly. "But if you're going to share yours, I'd ask you to introduce yourself first."

"...Hmph."

The man snorted, trudging forward until he stood directly before the fountain. He turned to face the crowd, his piercing eyes scanning the gathered players like a hawk sizing up its prey. When he finally spoke, his voice was as sharp and uncompromising as his appearance.

"The name's Kibaou," he growled, his words cutting through the silence like a blade.

The spiky-haired man's gaze swept across the crowd. For a brief moment, I thought his sharp eyes stopped on me, but it was fleeting, gone before I could confirm it.

After finishing his silent assessment of the gathering, Kibaou spoke again, his voice carrying an edge of simmering anger.

"There's five, maybe ten folks here who owe an apology first," he said, his words punctuated with a growl.

"An apology?" Diavel asked, raising a brow but keeping his tone even. He gestured grandly to the crowd. "To whom, might I ask?"

Kibaou didn't even turn around. Instead, he spat out his answer with barely restrained fury. "Hah! Ain't it obvious? To the two thousand people who already died! Two thousand!" He whipped around to face the crowd again, his voice rising. "They died because some of you hoarded everything to yourselves! Isn't that right?!"

The murmurs ceased. The forty or so players gathered around fell into a tense, suffocating silence.

I knew exactly what Kibaou was trying to say. So did everyone else.

The heavy silence pressed down on the square, broken only by the faint strains of NPC musicians performing the town's evening melody. No one spoke. No one dared. Everyone here knew that voicing a defense would paint them as one of them.

And that fear? It wasn't just palpable—it had its grip on me too.

"Mr. Kibaou," Diavel said, his arms crossed, his face a study in seriousness. "When you say 'them,' I assume you're referring to... the beta testers?"

"Obviously." Kibaou's reply came with a snarl, his scale mail jangling as he turned to glance over his shoulder at Diavel. His words were venomous, his disdain unmistakable.

"The day this cursed game started, those beta testers bolted out of the first town like their asses were on fire. They left nine thousand clueless players behind, didn't teach 'em a damn thing. Just took all the best hunting spots and quests for themselves, got strong, and never looked back.

"And now," he growled, sweeping a hand across the gathered players, "some of 'em are here, aren't they? Thinkin' they can sneak in on this boss fight without us knowin'. Well, I ain't gonna let it slide. Unless they drop to their hands and knees, beg forgiveness, and hand over their stash of col and items for the cause... I ain't puttin' my life in their hands!"

His voice cracked like a whip, his teeth bared like the namesake fangs in "Kibaou." The silence that followed was thicker, heavier. Not a single voice rose to meet his challenge.

I didn't dare, either. As a beta tester myself, I held my breath and kept my mouth shut.

But that didn't mean I wasn't furious. Every fiber of my being wanted to shout at him, to demand whether he thought none of the beta testers had suffered. Had he even considered that we'd been dying, too?

A week ago, I'd bought some intel from Argo—though, to be precise, I'd asked her to investigate something for me. I wanted to know the number. The number of beta testers who had died since this nightmare began.

The SAO closed beta had run during summer vacation, limited to just a thousand participants. When the full game launched, those players were given priority to purchase it. But judging by the number of active beta testers during the final days of the test, I'd guessed not everyone would return. Maybe seven or eight hundred of us, at most.

The tricky part was identifying them. There wasn't a convenient "β" mark next to our cursors, and the game's creator, Akihiko Kayaba, had made sure everyone's avatars now matched their real-world appearances.

Names weren't a reliable clue either—plenty of testers could have changed theirs between the beta and the official release.

In Argo's case and mine, we recognized each other because of the circumstances of our first meeting—a story for another time. But otherwise, her investigation should have been nearly impossible.

Yet she came back with a number in just three days.

Three hundred.

Three hundred beta testers were dead.

That meant out of the two thousand who had perished, seventeen hundred were new players. If those figures were correct, the death rate for new players was about 18 percent. For beta testers? It was closer to 40.

Knowledge and experience weren't guaranteed shields. Sometimes, they were blades pointing the wrong way. I'd learned that firsthand on my very first quest after the death game began.

The beta and the full game were nearly identical. Terrain, monsters, even items—familiar, yet not entirely the same. And sometimes, a difference so small it felt inconsequential could appear, as sharp and fatal as a poison needle.

I wanted to say something, but the announcement that came in at the worst possible time made everything even worse.

[Illfang the Kobold Lord has been defeated. Floor 1 has been CLEARED!]

Even through the cutthroat silence, I could already hear the herald of the storm that was upon the small contingent of beta-testers...but most of all, who defeated the boss when it was just found out?