The next few days were spent in a reverie, the sort of mind-numbing trance that only descends upon a person that is devoting themselves fully to the mastery of their craft. When the duo were not performing drills and practicing movements, they were sneaking through the labyrinthine thicket of the 35th floor, prowling across the soft grass, hunting their hulking yet unwieldy prey. The more they stalked the forest, the more certain aspects of their game, and of stealth as a whole, became clearer to Caenor. He learned how to adjust the magnitude of pressure he applied on the soles of his feet so as to make the least noise when his boots touched the grass; how to slide the knife between the bones on a Drunk Ape's back so that its health gauge would drain faster; how to judge the direction from which the next attack might come based on the Drunk Ape's current posture. Of course, no lesson in this game could truly be learned without pain, and Caenor spent many a day rubbing his throbbing backside or flailing about in the crisp afternoon air as the apes mercilessly took their turns sending him flying into the canopy. It was a good thing he stocked up on as many health potions as his inventory would allow at the nearby town every morning, or he would have perished long ago.

"That's it," Silica would say as he thrust his wrist-blade into a nearby tree for the two-hundredth time that day. "Remember that velocity is paramount. You only have a split second to puncture the exposed area, so you have to make each blow count. Twist your torso around to give you extra momentum, but remember to immediately return to your guarding position, otherwise you'll leave your chest and shoulder exposed. Remember that 90% of your style is dodging and avoiding attacks, but it's the remaining 10% that matters most. Extend, retract. Extend, retract."

One morning, as Caenor and Silica were getting ready for their lunch break, a familiar face peered through a gap between a pair of nearby tree trunks.

"How's it going?" asked Kirito.

Caenor glanced at the Black Swordsman, noting that the blue half of his normally ubiquitous sword pair was conspicuously missing. "I see the Dark Repulser isn't with you today."

"It's at Lisbeth's. It needs regular durability checkups, since I use it so much. Probably even more so than the Elucidator," he said as he patted the remaining sword in his sheath.

"Why's that?"

"That's just how I fight. Left is chiefly for parrying and blocking, so the blade in my left hand – the Elucidator, in this case – takes most of the blow, and hence most of the damage. Then, once the initial attack is repelled, I launch counterattacks with my other sword, and let the Dark Repulser join in if I have room. Rinse and repeat."

"Would that work with my wrist-blades? Since they're dual weapons as well."

"Why not? Maybe it'll be worth a try. Here, let me show you."

He took a ruby-hilted dagger from his belt holster and unsheathed his longsword, propping it up in his left hand. "Silica, come here."

Silica stepped towards him tentatively.

"I want you to try and hit me with your dagger. Can you do that for me?"

Silica's eyes widened. "I don't really think…"

"Just do it. You won't kill me, I promise. Just come at me like you're fighting another player."

"But…"

"Silica." Kirito put his Elucidator down and patted Silica's shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

Silica nodded. "With my life."

"Then you know that no matter what you throw at me, I can take it. Now, come on."

Silica's eyes hardened, and she raised her dagger. Kirito smiled and raised his sword in turn, letting the sunlight catch briefly on its surface.

Then, Silica lunged.

Watching the diminutive dragon master in action was like watching a whirlwind up close, tearing through any obstacles in her path with wanton abandon, and the vacuum she left in her wake stole Caenor's breath away. Yet Kirito's eyes seemed to follow Silica's every action, and he pushed his rearmost foot back, allowing his trailing leg to help absorb the blow of Silica's strike. Steel crashed against steel, and a spark flared from the intersection of the two blades.

But there was to be no respite for the attacker. No sooner had Silica recoiled from the force of the parry than Kirito was upon her, his dagger at her throat, staring deeply into her eyes. Silica dropped her own knife and stared back, dazed by the physical and psychological impact of Kirito's counter.

Kirito looked at Caenor. "See? Just like that."

"Right." Caenor raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Seems fairly straightforward."

"Sometimes the best things in life are the simplest," Kirito continued, seemingly oblivious to Caenor's sarcasm. "And nothing is simpler than the good old one-two. Parry and counter, parry and counter. You need to dumb your technique down as much as you can, so you know exactly what to do in the heat of battle. An enemy swings downwards at you, you raise your left hand and get ready to uppercut with your right. An enemy thrusts a spear, you throw it aside with your left hand and surge forward with your right. If an attack comes in from your right side, you'll have to parry with your right hand, but that'll give you enough time to return to your original stance."

"Wouldn't that weakness be exploited by someone who's good at reading your moves? They could force you to keep blocking with your right-sided weapon, and gradually push you back."

"That's why maintaining a correct stance is so important. If you position yourself correctly, you'll be able to keep your blocking arm ahead of you. Then it won't really matter whether an attack is coming in from the left or right, unless you're not watching your surroundings. And if you're not looking, then you're not long for living, either."

"Even more so for short weapon users," added Silica, who was still rubbing the front of her neck. "Taking even one attack can be fatal, especially if you're wearing light armor. We just aren't built for tanking."

"Now then." Kirito winked at Caenor. "Let's see you try."

Caenor lay in the shade of the oak, eyes closed as the errant sunlight streaming through the net of leaves above him flitted across his eyelids. Silica had granted him a reprieve for today, as she had her own errands to run, and so he was left largely to his own devices, with little else to do other than whittle the day away on his lonesome.

The visions of the day his life had been irreversibly overturned no longer haunted him on a regular basis, and for that he was eternally grateful. Yet the scars would perhaps never fade – that is, if he wanted them to heal at all. It seemed that his life was now carefully constructed around the fact of his traumatic ordeal, the fact of the knife in his hand that had slid into the throat of his assailant. His training, his new weaponry, his newfound friendships – all of them depended on his ability to kill. Without it, he was nobody, merely another lay member of the guild, little more than one of many players trying to make it out of here alive. But with it, he could be more. He could rise above the hoi polloi and carve out a name for himself: as one who helped those who could not help themselves.

The thought exhilarated him, and rightly so. Yet in order to maintain the passion and drive required for such a task, he could never allow himself to let go of the moment that had triggered his rebirth in the first place. He had to grasp it firmly with both hands, even if it were covered in thorns that might one day bleed him dry.

There was also the matter of Seki. She had finally shown her face the day before, and Caenor had been so shocked by her appearance in the corridors of the guild headquarters that he had to blink several times before he could convince himself that she had truly risen from her self-imposed exile.

"Is that you?" he asked.

"Is that me? That's the first thing you say to me?" Seki chortled, though the laugh seemed to mask a few sobs here and there.

"I mean, I haven't seen you in a week and a half at least. You sure you're okay being out and about like this?"

"Asuna paid me a visit yesterday. Told me that I couldn't stay holed up forever. And honestly, I had to agree. Only way I can get over this is by putting myself back out into the world, even if it kills me."

"I see. Either way, I'm glad. I've missed you."

"So have I." The two of them embraced, ignoring the quizzical looks of the other guild members that passed by. As they released their hold on each other, Seki pointed at the pair of wrist-guards on Caenor's wrists. "Those look really nicely made. What are they?"

"They're mithril wrist-blades." Caenor tapped the button on one of his palms, showing Seki the blade that poked out on command. "Apparently they're real good for player killing, but not so much for fighting mobs – which is why no one really uses them."

"I see." Seki stepped back hesitantly, as if the person before her had somehow transformed right in front of her eyes. "You're serious about this, aren't you? The whole player killer team thing."

"Never been more serious about anything." That was the truth – Caenor had never felt so invigorated in his life. Perhaps it was because he had finally found a singular purpose to which he could devote himself, one that he could truly throw himself into, because there was little else left for him to do. Yet the reluctance that lingered in Seki's tone and facial expression told Caenor that she still needed more time for herself, even if he wanted her to join him. She had been trembling when Caenor had hugged her, and he suspected that the tremors visible in her demeanor would never fully go away.

Not until she could find some sort of closure. Closure that could possibly be provided if she, like Caenor, wished to turn her fear into something more productive. That could wait, however. For now, rehabilitation and recovery were key, and he was merely glad to see her face again.

They traded words of comfort before they left to attend to their own matters. Caenor could still see the back of Seki's figure walking away with a slight limp in the step – evidently her crotch was still strained from the shock of its violation. As long as the body remembered, the mind could never forget. And as long as the blade that punctured his ribs also remained lodged in his memories, the same could be said for Caenor.

Though sometimes it was not the physical wound that cut the deepest. Caenor wondered if Kirito would ever be able to obtain the penance that he sought for the sin of deceiving his comrades and leading them unwittingly to their graves. Even during the few moments where he seemed happy and content, Caenor noticed that Kirito continued to keep his distance, as though his mind were subconsciously punishing him for daring to try and find any semblance of joy in life when the shackles that bound his feet had not yet been shaken off.

Kirito's crusade would carry on for as long as Kirito needed it to. And so would Caenor's.

"What're you doing?" asked a voice.

Caenor opened his eyes. He remembered that he had been looking for a spot to rest after lunch, and as his mind had wandered, so had his feet. The place he was in looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but there was nothing unrecognizable about the silhouette that peered down at him.

"Vice-commander," he said, pushing himself up into a seating position.

"Just Asuna." The maroon-haired maiden smoothed her robes out and sat down next to him. "How go the preparations?"

"I had a look at the information you sent me. Obviously, it would be best to go after the safehouse just outside Granzam's city limits first, but I feel that if we move too methodically or linearly we might alert the other hideouts to our activities. So, perhaps a more scattergun approach to weeding them out might be advisable."

"What do you suggest?"

"Instead of going floor by floor as you have suggested, it would be better to attack the hideouts at random. For example, we might go from the 24th floor to the 59th, then to the 37th, and so on and so forth."

"I see. That makes logical sense. I will leave it to you – once you have a schedule for the operations set up, come to me and we'll discuss things further."

"I suppose I am a vice-commander now, then. Though I don't quite feel like one, and I don't think I ever will. Especially since I'm still reporting to you, and not to Heathcliff."

"Well, you are invited to the vice-commanders' meeting, which is set to happen this Sunday. Consider this my cordial invitation to you to attend."

"I'll try to be there."

"You have to go," Asuna said sternly. "It's your responsibility as a vice-commander."

"I thought invitations were supposed to be optional."

"This is a mandatory invitation." Asuna rose to her feet and turned to look at Caenor, a wry smile now plastered across her sleek features. "You're in a position of power now. Best to look the part."

The vice-commander of Team B of the Knights of the Blood made her way down the hill. The newly anointed vice-commander of a team that did not even yet exist closed his eyes and returned to silent contemplation.