~ author's note at the end of the chapter ~

From the Shadows
Nummer Fyra
Chapter One

Virtual Reality. Such a term had been broadly discussed for a year, after the announcement (and later on, mass-production) of a device that was entitled as the arrival of the future. A few months later, a small number of recreational games made use of the full dive technology, where the player would become completely immersed into the virtual world. This equipment easily became one of the most famous (and later, infamous) technological wonders of the XXI Century. Those that entitled themselves as real gamers soon found out that this technology, which was rather overestimated, felt wasted.

The NerveGear, created by one of the most intelligent and influential scientists that ever existed, Kayaba Akihiko, quickly became forgotten by the more hardcore consumers. The solution came months later, with the announcement of the very first VRMMORPG Sword Art Online. It was developed by the same company that brought the true meaning of Virtual Reality to life, Argus, and it was led by none other than Kayaba Akihiko.

Hundreds of thousands of enrollments for the 2 month-long Beta period were made in less than twenty-four hours. The gaming community's feedback was instantaneous, and even before the game's release date was announced, it was almost considered as an absolute success. The Argus' share value didn't so much as decrease every time they released or leaked anything related to Sword Art Online. Many gamers were stoked, while Kayaba Akihiko stayed silent about the whole unrest of the community.

When the Beta period arrived, the expectations of the players were met, and even exceeded, because the word most used by the lucky one thousand players that had access to the beta was 'real'. When the beta period ended, the sales of the game began, initially limited to ten thousand copies. The copies were sold in minutes after its announcement. Christoffer was lucky enough to be online during the sales time, and even luckier to be able to guarantee a copy of the game to himself. Even without having the hardware to play the game, he was satisfied.

The sound of tows towing air crafts, multiple ratchets regulating bolts and nuts on engines, and other sounds akin to grounded planes resounded in the air, while the smell of freshly burnt kerosene filled the hangar. Christoffer worked in the fuel lines in one of the four engines of the grounded cargo transport, Lockheed C-130H of the Swedish Air Force. He silently hummed the rhythm of a song playing in his earphones, inspecting every component of the large engine.

"Chris! Catch!"

Then something hit his helmet, hard. He whipped around, still holding the ratchet in place as he watched a beautiful pilot with a long, chestnut hair approach the mechanic lift that he had been using as a support to reach the engine of the aircraft. Soon, he was face to face with the pilot that had thrown, which, judging by the impact, was a wrench.

"Allison, what the hell?! I'm working here, and you could've seriously injured me with that… thing you threw at me." Christoffer said as he removed one of his earpieces.

She chuckled. "Yeah? And since when were you an aircraft mechanic?"

He glanced at his wristwatch. "Since three hours". He shrugged, and then looked at the mechanics working with one of the fighter jets at the other side of the hangar. "And I wouldn't be here if at least someone knew how to work with a turboprop engine!", He raised his voice, which not only gave the mechanics a reason to laugh, but Allison as well.

"Well, that doesn't matter." Allison interrupted. "I really want you to work with the avionics batch of Gripen's that arrived… I would do it myself, but uhh… you know, this isn't my area of expertise".

Both Allison and Christoffer were aeronautic engineers and test pilots. Even though they worked on very different areas when it came to engineering, Christoffer being a tech guy, and Allison being a girl that worked with the actual hardware of brand-new jets, they both worked together. Naturally, their skill sets and position rendered them a large influence to the Swedish Air Force. Every new fighter jet that came out from the factory went past them for improvements. Not even the manufacturers themselves were given a role like that.

"And jeez, you didn't even fulfill a full expedient of manual labor, and you're already stinking… go take a shower or something", Allison commented, a small grin striking a pretty picture on her face.

"Uh, yeah, I work better in a lab, safely behind a computer…", Christoffer said, averting his eyes for a second. He looked again at his wristwatch and finally noticed the time. "Hm, it's four already…" He threw his gloves away, and abandoned his safety goggles. "I gotta go"

He opened the small door of the mechanical lift, and was about to sprint away from the hangar, but a hand grabbed his wrist before he could bleed out of sight. "Hey, where do you think you're going?!"

Christoffer looked back at Allison, and couldn't help but scratch the back of his head. He gave her an uneasy smile. "Well, um… it's the end of my shift. Do you remember that thing I told you about last week?"

"What? That sword-something silly game?"

Christoffer shook his head and looked at her with mock offense. "First off, it's not silly. Second, it's not just a game. It's virtual reality".

Allison tilted her head. "Alright, nerd, and what does that even mean?"

Christoffer facepalmed. "Look, think about it, it's a virtual… reality", He said slowly, dragging out the vowels. "I mean, you have a brain, don't you? There's no way that you can be so incredible in engineering, and yet also that incredibly dumb".

Allison rolled her eyes. "Anyway. Throw these tools away and let's go home".

Christoffer scratched his head and smiled nervously. Allison couldn't help but sigh at that. "What is it?"

"I'm not coming with you..?" He bit his lip. "I mean, since tomorrow is going to start all that pointless air show and all the planes we worked on are getting moved tonight, I planned on staying here and playing the game".

Allison frowned. He was right. There was going to be a public military training slash airshow event starting in the following day, and engineers and/or test pilots weren't really needed, so both Allison and Christoffer decided to stay home for the entire week of the event.

(However, she failed to link that to the possibility that he was trying to avoid her somehow.)

"So? Can't you play it at home?"

"Sure I can. However, uhh… I'm a sort of hardcore gamer and I have other plans…"

Allison had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.

"So can you at least tell me what the hell we're doing in a hospital?" Allison said impatiently as she leafed through the pages of a rather mediocre magazine. They were lounging in the waiting room of the airbase's hospital. There was literally no one in it, and yet they had to wait before being attended to. It was already six o'clock and the sun was slowly losing its light, giving way to a more orange color in the sky.

"Just wait for it". Came the almost automatic answer as Christoffer skimmed through a few tech forums, probably related to that game of his, since it was pretty much the only thing he ever talked about anymore during their free time.

Before Allison could scold him again, a nurse suddenly showed up and approached them. "Mr. Egil? Your room is ready".

"Wait, what ro-"

"Great! Come on, Allison, come with me." Christoffer promptly stood up and extended his hand for Allison to grab. She reluctantly took it and was quickly pulled up to her feet. After a short walk they arrived at an open room, numbered 501. Still holding her hand, Christoffer pulled her inside, right before the nurse that went ahead them.

Finally inside, Allison realized what the nurse meant with Christoffer's room. A wide range of medical equipment was scattered around the bed. From cardiac monitors to a defibrillator, the only thing that really caught her attention was the one thing that she'd never seen in a hospital before. A black helm of with the shape of a modern helmet with the letters NVG and 'NERVEGEAR' printed on it.

"Wait, you're going to play here?! Did you hit yourself or something?"

"Actually, you were the one that kind of—no—really hit me earlier. With a wrench."

Allison waved her hand dismissively, muttering something that suspiciously sounded like "Irrelevant".

Christoff sighed, and continued. "It's simple, really. I already told you that I'm a hardcore gamer, so I will be playing for a couple days straight. Maybe I'll have the chance of becoming one of the best players, who knows?" Christoffer smiled, shrugging in a disarming manner. After a curt instruction made by the nurse, he lay down on the bed, and removed his shirt. As the nurse began putting in the electrodes, Allison looked away from her shirtless friend, wanting to grace him at least some sort of semblance of privacy.

"For two days? Are you out of—well, I was going to say your mind, but that's something your compromised judgment would think of as absolutely normal. How are you even going to eat and rehydrate yourself?" Allison never wanted to admit it, not even to herself, that she cared deeply about her partner. Sure, she pranked him in the most inopportune moments (for Chris, that is), like 'accidentally' cutting the engine of his plane, but still, she never liked it when he put himself to the test, always trying to push himself to the limits to see how far he could go. Even though she knew that his endeavor was going to be well monitored, a risk is still a risk, and so naturally, she was against it.

"I'll be fed by a small probe. Don't worry, dear, like you already said, it's just a game." He smirked. "I'll be back in one piece, I promise ya'. Maybe I'll even buy a NerveGear for you, too".

"What?! Man, you've definitely lost it. What am I supposed to tell Lisa? 'Ah, your brother decided to put his conscience into a machine and abandon you for two days'?"

Christoffer was glad that Allison hadn't lost her sense of humor, otherwise he would be forced into the reality of just how much she was against this journey, and how much she wanted to call it off.

"Meh, I already told her, she's going to be fine…" He then looked back to the girl by his side, his unusual serious expression startling Allison for a second. "No candies after seven, you understand?"

Allison half nodded, half shook her head. What was she thinking, even bothering with trying to reason with him? He was as stubborn as a damn bull. She might as well at least take care of his younger sister. Allison was sure that she could joke about Christoffer's endeavour with his sister later, so it might be worth the two days without interacting with him. "If you don't top the leaderboard of this stupid game, I'll beat you to death, hear me?"

Christoffer smiled and nodded. After inserting the small probe in his veins, the nurse handed him the helm, urging to be activated. The nurse plugged the device into a desktop by his side, and a humming noise exerting from the internal cooling system, generated by the NerveGear, was the signal that Christoffer needed to put it over his head.

"Take care of my sister, alright?" Christoffer last said before he closed his eyes.

"Sure thing. Go ahead, swordsman."

Christoffer sighed. It was time. He'd finally have the chance to experiment the true meaning of virtual reality for the first time. It excited him, more than he'd like to admit, but technology was his weak spot. His excitement became an obsession, up to the point where he just couldn't stand it anymore.

The machine had been calibrated for a month already. He only needed to say two words to start off his adventure.

"Link Start!"

The rush of colors and a quick check of all censorial systems were his gateway to a new world. Since only two languages were accepted by the machine, he settled on English and went through all the tests with no problems.

"Welcome to Sword Art Online", The standard welcoming sign greeted him. He dove straight into the avatar-creating menu, where a complete mirror of himself was shown on the other side. He idly wondered how the NerveGear had gotten such a detailed image of himself, but he shoved it in the back of his mind. He opened a small menu to customize the avatar, but all the appearance-altering options were locked for some reason. He would have to message the GM about that.

He kind of liked the way he looked. He wasn't thin or fat, and bore a reasonable amount of muscles, standard for the military. He couldn't be called ugly by anyone, although, admittedly, he could be a little bit prettier.

He decided to skip the avatar menu. A keyboard then appeared in front of him, asking if he could set up his in-game nickname.

The day before, he came up with a list of potential nicknames he could use for his in-game character, most of them which were references from Norse mythology. Being a Japanese game, he wanted to stand out, although he would probably stand out anyways because of his distinct, Swedish accent.

He wanted his name to suit his personality, thus, he settled on a bird, from Greek mythology, which was as stubborn as himself.

Fenix.

Somehow, that name was available, and so he pressed the confirmation button. Another screen appeared, asking him if he was sure that he wanted to use his avatar that looked exactly himself, and if the nickname he had typed was satisfactory. He confirmed again, and a blue flame bled into all his surroundings.

Not a second later, he spawned at a surprisingly empty plaza. It was dark; the faint city lights and stars gleaming in the sky were the only real source of light he could see.

It all felt so surreal. In fact, ironically, he felt… normal. It was as though an exact replica of his body was transferred from one world to another.

He took a quick glance at the interface of the game. Inwardly rehearsing what the manual (which came with the game) had said, he swept down with two fingers, opening a small menu. He skimmed over the features and closed it a second later.

It was a virtual world of course, but it felt unbelievably real.

He reached for something behind his back, almost instantly grabbing onto the familiar weight of a weapon. He smiled, wrapped his fingers tightly around the handle, and pulled. Christoffer could hear, with clarity, metal grinding against metal.

He looked at his hand. The simple, long sword almost touched the ground. It was heavy, naturally, living up to the broad appearance of the Beginner's Weapon. He swung it around randomly; the sound of (stimulated, technically) air being slashed by the blade was incredibly addictive.

"I can get used to this." He told himself, sheathing the sharp sword back behind his back.

After joining the military, Christoffer had to learn how to defend himself in every possible way, and for some odd reason, it included fencing. He was confident that with the experience he'd acquired from his lessons, he wouldn't have any problems with handling swords in this game—other than trying to get used to heavier weights, that is. He was used to rapiers, which were substantially lighter than the starting gear he was given.

Even though it was dark, Christoffer's stamina and will to start fighting was off the charts. Following his instincts, he went north, walking through markets and small streets. There were only a few players, and they all strangely looked melancholic. He wondered where all of the ten thousand players went, since by that time, on the launch date of a game as important as this, there should be at least five thousand to six thousand players. Most of the streets and markets were deserted.

He shook the thought away as he approached the end of the starting city, and headed straight to the hunting fields. Upon arriving at the final gateway and sign of civilization, he unsheathed his sword and casually extended it down as he slowly began weighing it, trying to get used to the starting sword as quickly as possible. He walked through the dark fields, humming one of his favorite songs.

"When you feel the world is… above~ you… when you feel like screaming your lungs~ out," He sung as he moved the sword in the air without any commitment. "When you're in the darkness all~ alone, don't let it eat you alive~". In the distance, although the darkness made it difficult to see, he recognized something that could only be described as a forest. He decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to start his adventure there.

"You'll never be~ alone, you'll never be alone," He approached the first set of individual trees, the light of the stars slowly fading away as he delved deeper into the darkness. "A man's gotta do what he's gotta do."

The atmosphere of the dense forest was chilling, at the very least. Christoffer never liked dark places. It wasn't a phobia. There were a lot of people out there who didn't like dark places, mostly because of all the bad things it was associated with. After walking for over fifteen minutes, he only encountered NPCs and about a dozen of players that seemed to be too shy for any attempts of communication. Turning around and heading back to the Town of Beginnings wasn't a valid option, so he just had to endure it. "As long as you shout~! Scream your hearts-"

His singing was abruptly ceased by a series of loud, elaborate panting. It's probably just a player fighting a mob, Christoffer thought, silently deciding to mind his own business. He was about to sprint ahead to look for a hunting spot, but a war cry from a short distance away was all the fuel he needed to ignite his curious nature.

"Die, dammit! DIE!" The player screamed, sounding way too authentic for it to be just another ordinary mob hunting. It was possibly a combat between players, and if that was the case, things were going to get interesting. He sheathed his sword as quietly as he could manage, and tiptoed, avoiding anything protruding from the ground. He didn't want to make any unnecessary noise. After dodging (and bumping into) a series of trees, he reached a clearance where a player was, in fact, actually fighting a mob. He knelt down and used the (artificially stimulated) foliage as a hiding place. Christoffer didn't want to startle the player.

The stranger's sword glowed orange and instantly, Christoffer knew what he was doing. In Sword Art Online, there were a series of scripted moves that replaced the ordinary magic present in most RPGs; these moves were called, by the developers, «Sword Skills», and if he remembered correctly, there was an unlimited number of these skills in each weapon.

The player who was fighting the mob activated a «Sword Skill» and rushed forward. By that point, he was just a mere spectator as the game's automatic assist took the wheel. The player slashed the mob twice in a 'V' shape with his one-handed long sword, finally draining the HP bar of the «Little Nepent» to zero. Almost instantly afterward, the mob burst into hundreds of thousands of light polygons, disolving in the air after a short lapse.

He was clearly spent. What Christoffer didn't understand, however, why the fight was so intense. After all, the player was only fighting a «Little Nepent»… weren't they just supposed to be hunting mobs? Why was he taking a simple mob fight so seriously? Why was the player so tired?

You know what?

Christoffer quickly stood up, making as little noise as possible, and then cleared his throat. "Ahem, sumimasen?" the player jumped and quickly turned around, already pointing a sharp weapon at the Swedish player. "Watashi wa anata o kowagara seru tame mōshiwake arimasen.", Christoffer apologized for interrupting and startling the player, raising his hands to show he meant no harm.

[From this point onwards, dialogues will be written in English, but they'll be speaking Japanese]

"Who are you?! What are you doing here?" The armed player stepped back, the tip of his blade pointing threateningly at Christoffer. He looked back for a second, desperately trying to find a viable escape route.

"Well, obviously I'm a player… I've yet to see a quest giver or a NPC acting this way. And, uh, look, I've never seen an NPC attacking a player before—if we disregard the monsters, of course." Christoffer stepped over the bush he'd hidden himself behind and stepped in the opening, "Which, by the way, you fought that… plant, with teeth… I think… really well, actually." He smiled as disarmingly as possible, hoping to make the player feel a little less threatened.

"Look, I'm not going to attack you, okay?" Christoffer reached for his sword behind his back. The player nearly jumped forward to engage in combat with the Swedish chatterbox, but stopped when he realized that Christoffer had thrown his sword away. "I haven't even gained any levels yet. I have no throwing knives and I haven't even seen a mob yet… except for the one that you just killed".

"What are you doing here, then?!" The other player hissed. "Don't you realize the danger that you're in?"

"Danger? What are you talking about?" There's nothing dangerous about a game. "Well, I'm trying to get used to it.", Christoffer sighed, "Personally, I don't know why I'm here either. I'm looking for mobs to kill so that I can properly start this game already… I want to become one of the best players in here before I log out." He grinned, fully aware that, thanks to the dark sky, the other player couldn't see it. "So yeah, I'm going to play for 48 hours straight, I'm confident."

Finally, the other player reluctantly lowered his blade, taking on a less intimidating stance. "Wait… log out?" the other player looked bewildered. "Do you even realize what's at stake here?!"

"Clearly not!" Christoffer huffed as he stretched the virtual muscles of his back. "I mean, the first player that I see outside the city wants to kill me—I must have lost the memo or something." He spoke rather slowly, making sure to put extra "umph" in his Japanese. He hoped that his accent wasn't too hard to understand.

The other player cursed under his breath as he sheathed his sword, edging closer to the Christoffer. "Weren't you at the main plaza?"

Now in range, Christoffer extended his arm towards the other player, who reluctantly took it. They shook hands as Christoffer said, "Yeah, like, twenty minutes ago."

The other player blinked.

"Wait, can you repeat that? You logged in when?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

The other player stepped back and looked at Christoffer incredulously—Chris was rather startled by the reaction. He didn't understand. Did he miss something by not logging in at the same time as other players? "What is it?." He asked, furrowing his brows.

"Haven't you… seen the news?" The player tilted his head. "I mean, it must be all over Japan by now."

"Ah, yeah… well, I'm not Japanese, I'm actually Swedish. I logged in using this awesome Proxy, fooling the game's servers into thinking that I'm a Japanese player." Christoffer said, looking quite proud of himself. He had developed the Proxy that he was currently using, after all.

"I have some bad news for you, buddy." The player looked at him sympathetically. "...we can't leave".

"What?" Christoffer's eyes widened. He didn't understand why the other player was worrying so much; what he had said about the news being all over japan was intriguing, but his statement didn't make any sense. If he didn't know any better, he would quickly concluded that he was out of his mind. "I- I don't understand. What do you mean about 'we can't leave'?"

The sympathetic look turned pitiful. Christoffer didn't like being at the receiving end of that gaze.

"Open your menu."

Christoffer tilted his head, but did as he was told. He scrolled down with two fingers, opening the window in front of him.

"Scroll down, look for the log out option." The other player said, and Christoffer's eyes automatically went down. His fingers followed in suit. The log out option was selected, but unlike the other options of the main menu, it was blank. He tried pressing it, but nothing happened.

For the first time since logging in, Christoffer was truly worried. "What is the meaning of this? Why I can't log out?"

"No one can. The game developer, Kayaba Akihiko, trapped us in here—" The true, cold reality of the situation hit him like a brick. If he couldn't log out, if he really is trapped, as that odd player claimed, he wouldn't be able to go back to his body, go back to his work, see and take care of his sister ever again—"—and that's not all, if our HP drops to zero, we'll die."

What the f-

"Wait, what did you just say?" Christoffer snapped back to reality, shaking his head. What the hell? Die? This was supposed to be game. "We'll die? How?"

The player sighed. He smacked the other upside the head. "Pay attention, dammit. If our HP drops to zero, we fucking die."

Another sigh, this one sounding resigned.

"Apparently, the NerveGear is a death trap… if someone removes the helmet, you die. If your HP drops to zero, you die… if the internal battery runs out of juice, you die. I can't make this any clearer, buddy."

Images of the most important moments of his life began to flash right through Christoffer's eyes. Images of his graduation with the girl he hated, and yet loved at the same time, images of his little sister, images of everyone he worked with, and of all of his friends.

But, the one thing worried him the most, the one thing that fueled a raging fire that was steadily building within him, a fire that urged him to fight and beat this game, was one thing—

"Fuck… I didn't finish the Hercules' fourth engine."

Author's Note:

Hey there! Thanks for reading this chapter.

Forged on Fire was an idea I recently had when I was writing a chapter of one of my stories, Battlefield, and this is the result of this idea. Unlike Battlefield, I don't have it all planned out, instead, I will be writing whatever goes through my mind.

Christoffer, or rather, Fenix, is one of the Original Characters that will take a major role on the development of the plot of Battlefield, and so I decided to write a parallel story about him and his distorted personality. From the OCs I have planned for Battlefield, he is definitely the most interesting of them, so why not creating a story about him?

Writing this story is a challenge, because in the beginning of Battlefield, everything is still canon, so I have to reduce his interactions to the main characters to a minimum, why? Well, gotta read Battlefield to find out.

Kudos to my Beta reader, Too Many Obsessions to Choose, who did a marvelous job to enhance this chapter in every possible way. I'm very proud of having her by my side and thankful for her help.

Again, thanks for reading.
-RStyle, the Potato on Fedora.