Five throwing knives left.. I knew I should have stocked back up in Lindas.
Dante's mind flashed back to Lindas. The light air, bright sky, the cobblestone road. The road that led him right by the blacksmith's shop. His mind flashed again, this time to the blacksmith inside. Bubblegum hair, rosy, freckled cheeks. The shining ivory smile.
"DANTE SWITCH"
He was back in reality. Well, virtual reality. A much less forgiving and happy virtual reality than the one his mind had slipped to. A dim, cold dungeon surrounded him. His emerald eyes readjusted to the Ruined Skeletal Warrior in front of him. Quickly hooking three of his throwing knives, he pulled them back and took aim. He felt the accompanying charge of power well up in his hand, the iridescent green glow lighting up the dark cave walls. Dante smirked.
Three knives flew, three knives hit. The skeleton's arms pulled off from their shoulders, the third knife hitting squarely in the chest. Dante and Alastair watched as the undead warrior dispersed into a collection of fractals, the all-too familiar sound of shattering glass echoing off the walls. He quickly turned and located the second Skeleton Warrior, which he found to be charging at him with a two-handed broadsword.
Dante quickly turned and released his last two knives at the walking corpse. One knife hit hit each arm, and they both collapsed to the ground with a shatter. Dante then pulled up his inventory menu, and equipped his hatchet. Lunging forward, he pulled the axe back. The room turned a vibrant shade of red as Dante brought the weapon crashing down the skull of the skeleton. Two twitches, then shattering rang out again.
Alastair sighed, then sheathed his sword on his hip mount. Dante quickly noted how frustrated he looked. Both of their HP bars began fading from golden-yellow to lime green.
"Dante, we can't keep taking these sorts of risks. We're not a guild anymore. We don't have the support that we used to." Alastair's voice was heavy and worn. Light brown, spiky hair sat on top of his square head. His cool, cloudy grey eyes gave his otherwise bulky, daunting physique a calming nature. The fact that Dante had not once in a year-and-a-half in Aincrad seen his friend so emotional was worrisome.
"Well, I didn't ask you to come. You said you didn't want me playing solo in the upper level dungeons anymore. I never asked for help" Dante spat back. The words were meant to hurt, but Alastair's face was stoic. It was the same, expressionless face that had kept Dante sane for 17 months. Alastair took in a breath, then let it go.
"And that's the truth. You've been getting reckless. You've been spending your time constantly getting drunk in Algade and or obsessing over that little blacksmith down in Lin-"
"Her name is Lisbeth"
"How would you know? Not once have you talked to the girl! You constantly run down to that little town to do little errands and yet you've never even stepped foot in the shop. You've killed the same field boss outside of that town no less than twelve times now. You're running, Dante, and you know it. You're running away from everything that happened"
Dante's emerald eyes gleamed in the dark of the tunnel.
"Don't say another word."
Alastair began, but then stopped himself. The frustrated face returned. He rubbed his brow, then turned.
"Look, the point is that I can't keep chaperoning you. I'm a member of the Knights of the Blood Oath now. I can't keep running off every time you decide you're going to throw your life away. You should just join us, I can put in a good word for you. Heathcliff and Asuna are fantastic commanders, and they'll find a way to utilize your… skill set." Alastair put his helmet on, muffling his already gruff voice. Dante finished collecting his loot, then dawned again his white cloak. He looked at Alastair one more time, then walked past him to the tunnel exit.
"I'm in a guild. It doesn't matter if everyone else in it is dead"
Dante ran his hands through his thick, chocolate hair. Walking into the town plaza, he saw groups of people huddled together. Some looked happy, some looked serious. There was laughter, strategizing, gossiping, reminiscing, flirting and even some heated banter. But despite the cacophony of a thousand individual spirling universes around him, Dante stood out. They looked at him as he passed, and he suddenly became the topic of conversation.
This is not because Dante wore an all white hooded cloak on top of his silver armor sleeveless armor. Not because of his piercing green eyes or the scar placed underneath his left one. It was not the runed axe that hung loosely to his side, nor the obscure guild emblem on the back of his cloak. No. Dante was very much aware of why he was looked at. He heard the whispers.
"Look, it's the One White Knight!"
"Isn't he the dual-wielding solo player on the frontlines?"
"No, you idiot, that's the Black Swordsman. This is the One White Knight. I hear he's just as powerful though..."
"What's that guild emblem on his back?"
"I don't know... I've never heard of him to be in any guild. He's a solo player; he's always been a solo player."
Dante tuned out the words, but he was quite aware why the eyes of the entire 54th Floor Plaza were upon him. It was the same story everywhere he went. Everyone seemed to know everything about him except the full truth. The words whipped like wildfire around him, spreading to the point that the crowd lost interest in ambiguity. Dante was fully aware of the effect he had on people. And he knew why. It's not just that he was a solo player.
Dante was very much alone.
Not just the kind of alone that made you feel sorry. It was more like complete singularity. A kind of loneliness that radiated off of him. A black hole that pulled away at the fabric of security that many of the Sword Art Online players had built up in their two years of forced tranquility. Dante wasn't just alone, he was bitter.
One White Knight… That's a new one. Better than "The lone wanderer" or whatever the hell they called me last time I came through here.
He finally stood up on the teleport plaza. As he turned around, all eyes came unglued. They went back to their own universes, laughing, joking, talking and acting as though they'd never missed a beat.
Dante was used to the routine. He sighed, and took the hood off of his head.
"Teleport: Lindas!"
The plaza flashed blue, and he was gone.
Lindas was dark by the time Dante reached it. Pale orange lantern light overhead cast his shadow on the cobblestone. Lost in his thoughts, he wandered town. Alastair. The guild. One White Knight. The Real World. They swam in his mind altogether, mingling in and out of one another, lapping then overlapping until he crossed the bridge midway through town.
His mind flashed to another time. Smiling. Laughing. One of those people in his own little universe, where everything was always orbiting exactly where it should be. He remembered seeing Alastair even crack a smile. These were happier times. All their white coats with silver armor, hand smithed by Dante himself. He took great pride in having been selected as the micro-guild's blacksmith, even though he was clearly the best smith of the group.
As he made his way to the blacksmith shop, he could even hear the voices of his guild members jeering...
"You should just go talk to her instead of looking through the window like an awkward creep" Jacob joked.
Dante's face began to show traces of pink. Ezekiel, a fellow guild member, chimed in cheerily after Jacob.
"Awwh, your face is gonna match her hair now Dante! It's perfect, true love!"
"SHUT UP ZEKE!" Dante's face flushed outright red. Jacob and Ezekiel took turn pretending to swoon over each other, reciting lines of shakespearean verse and professing their undying feelings for one another.
"You cheeky shits…" He muttered to himself. He looked over to Alastair, whose cooling demeanor spread to Dante's cheeks. He felt the anger slowly, assuredly subside within him. Alastair walked over.
"Look man, its pretty simple. You're a blacksmith, she's a blacksmith. Both of you are good at what you do. We do business with her all the time. I've even been in a raiding party with her. She's sweet and easy going. You've got plenty to talk about and nothing to worry about"
Dante looked again, and saw Alastair giving one of his patented "I believe in you" smiles. Dante nodded, taking a step towards the shop. He could feel his stomach tighten, the footstep landing hard and heavy. It was as if someone had tied a stone to each of his legs. Compared to this, surviving the "Death Game" that was SAO seemed like a simple game of "Go Fish."
He stopped there though, as an orange message notification popped up on the corner of his display. It was from Geoffrey.
"Looks like your brother came through for us, Dante." Zeke called, reading the message under his breath. Dante opened the message and read it. The writing "style" of his brother was a distinctly familiar sight to him. He scanned through it:
Silver Flags Guildmembers,
Managed to convince some poor group of losers to trade us all their stuff for all that crap Jacob promised would come in handy later but never did. What a bunch of asshats. It's some pretty nice loot, too. I'm down on Floor 38 in the ruins of the Sun Temple just southwest of the teleport plaza. Get your asses down here so we can decide what to do with this stuff. -Geoff
Dante looked up at Alastair. His eyes darted over the page three or four more times before lifting off the message.
"You heard the man. Let's get down there." Alastair said slowly. Dante thought he heard just a trace of doubt in his guild leader's voice, but dismissed it. As he walked up Alastair, Dante felt a hand on his shoulder stop him. Alastair, looked him dead in the eye, the emotionless face bearing down into Dante. A bead of sweat slipped down his brow, and then Alastair's perpetual scowl broke into an almost-smile.
"When we get back, you're going to talk to her, alright?" Dante looked, smiled, and then nodded.
Dante's smile had seldom come back since that day. But as he stood, looking at the blacksmith's shop from right outside, he couldn't help but feeling nostalgic. He could almost feel the butterflies reenter his stomach. The nervous pinch of excitement. Her pink hair, soft and light like cotton candy. Her freckles, dotting the landscape of her facial features. Her voice, sweet like honey, he could almost hear it now…
"Uhm. Hello… Who are you and what are you doing outside my shop at 2AM?"
