Wandering Blade
Prologue
Dread Silence
"The smallest trauma can fell even the most disciplined mind. Do not seek to delude yourself; you are not stronger than your own mind."
An eerie blackness crawled across the vast rolling landscape, surpassed only by the dread silence that fell over the green plains. The fields themselves seemed endless, yet seemed to falter abruptly. That may be, of course, because they did end. The plains stopped unexpectedly, before a small wall that stretched around the circular vista. The view behind the wall revealed a sheer cliff and an endless sky that seemed to stretch for eternity in all directions.
But such was the magnitude of the floating castle of Aincrad. The enormity of the first floor was overshadowed by the sheer extent of the task laid before every man, woman and child whose soul was trapped in the floating fortress: Climb all one hundred floors and finish the game.
Many who were present for Kayaba Akihiko's announcement on the first day of launch had immediately given in to their fear and despair and chose to throw away the greatest gift they had ever been given. But was that life truly theirs anymore? Or was it taken from them? Is your life truly yours when it is ripped away by a mad god?
All who found themselves trapped in the virtual world spent at least one moment in their lives cursing Kayaba Akihiko, screaming at the sky in a futile attempt to attract the pity of their jailer. But does a god that spirits women and children away on a whim have pity? A conscience? Does he feel guilt? Shame? Regret? Many came to the swift realization that their new ruler had no pity for them. They came to accept their path with quiet dignity, knowing that there was no true escape from their new home.
Others chose to reject the destiny laid out for them by this god, choosing to live out their lives as they chose, Forging lives for themselves in their own way. Starting businesses, taking jobs, honing their hobbies or skills. Some merely wander their prison, waiting for it all to one day end. Perhaps some came to regret the path they chose, knowing that others chose to sacrifice themselves for a chance at freedom. Perhaps some yearned to be one of those men, but lacked the courage.
Some were on the front line, but chose to leave it behind. Those who still held more than desperation in their hearts forgave them, knowing the scars that the nightmare of battle leaves on one's mind are sometimes too much to bear.
Others broke. The burden of their circumstances weighing too heavily on their mind to ever find themselves again. They spent their time babbling nonsensically to themselves, clawing at their faces and offering their god primal, guttural shrieks of madness. These tortured beings (if their souls truly remained in their avatars) were often imprisoned or ignored. Many went missing on their own, as their feral mental state compelled them to run into the wild with reckless abandon. Some broke differently, and spent their time in a chaotic state of constant villainy, putting their newfound lack of conscience at the services of devils and fiends.
Those who chose to put themselves at the mercy of Kayaba's twisted creations were often seen as heroes. Some saw them as fools. Others knew the truth; that they were men, and nothing more, often acting out of desperation or fear. Some said they fought out of a sense of duty, but some saw through their guise of nobility, knowing they simply desired the power of the higher levels.
The wise knew to avoid these players despite their status. Some acted out of desperation, desiring power merely for survival's sake. Some acted out of greed, desiring only the riches that came with the front lines, and the influences of the position. Some craved power for power's sake, wanting only to crush the weak under their boot. All of these false faces are best avoided, as they easily turn when threatened, and are not to be trusted.
However, despite the endless despair that plagued the floors of Aincrad, there were many that gave themselves to the cause of freedom willingly. These men and women marched forward into the unknown knowing full well that they may never return from the dungeons that punctuated the castle's many floors. Yet many were naive, and were often easily used for fodder, and willingly so.
From the beginning of the nightmare, there was much talk amongst Aincrad's impromptu residents that the Beta testers were withholding information, and they were quickly ostracized. And while there was indeed some truth to the rumors, many Beta testers freely gave information that they had, and it was quickly revealed that due to the game's changes since the beta test, the information was only slightly more useful than the tutorial NPC's that dotted the landscape of the world's spawn. But the people needed a pariah, and found one in the willing arms of Kirito, the Black swordsman.
Only Kirito himself (and those he later came to trust) knew what transpired in the battle against Ilfang, and only he knew the truth of the tragedy of Diavel the Knight. Only he heard his last words. Only those who truly know Kirito's heart know why Kirito assumed the title of "Beater." A Beta tester and a cheater. A few wise players surmised what occurred between the two players, and followed his lead, striking out on their own, as solo players.
One such player broke the dark silence that covered the first floor. His sword flashed through the darkness, its metallic sheen cutting swathes of light through the black night. Anyone or anything passing who would have happened to be nearby would only have heard the slash of a blade, the rustling of clothing and the grunts of a boar. But the man had been hunting boar for many nights, and they were no longer a threat to him.
The boar vanished in a flash of light, and the man sheathed his sword. He stretched and sighed. He tired of the easy hunts of the first floor, but he knew that venturing into unknown territory at night was often a quick death to the unaccompanied player. Thus, the boars would have to do, for now at least.
He sighed as he examined his spoils. Cheap boar meat, minimal experience. The boars were proving to be more trouble than they were worth now. There was no point in continued hunting. He stretched, and turned on the spot, his navy-blue coat rustling in the wind. He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair, and rubbed his temples as he walked, taking in the sensations. The game itself was remarkable; Sword Art Online replicated sensory feelings at near-perfect level. But there was a lack of humanity in the game. The small inconsistencies and grievances that would have annoyed him in the real world, he missed now; The feel of a pulse in his hand, The slight itches he felt in his face, The unique popping of his joints. The world of Sword Art Online was too perfect.
Finally arriving at the inn where he was staying, he entered his room. The room itself was small, but cozy.; consisting merely of a small bed and a table. A single candle sat lit on the tablet, giving the room an eerie glow in the night. As he stepped toward the bathroom, he felt a Sudden wave of exhaustion fall over him, and he gripped the sink in an effort to keep himself from collapsing. He looked into the mirror and saw his name, Robyn, floating above his head. His blue eyes narrowed as he was reminded once again of his continued incarceration. He stared into his own eyes as he contemplated his situation; Where he was where he had been, what he was going to do next. His thoughts grew quicker, his skin began to crawl, and his breathing came quicker. He felt trapped. His chest was going to explode. His head twitched and his neck craned. His hands twitched and clenched as a wave of panic and discomfort started to crawl through his body.
Robyn kept eye contact with himself in the mirror, raised his hand upward and struck himself across the face. The wave of panic died as his concentration and focus broke. He shoved his feelings aside. He knew they would return. They always did. But they served no use to him now. Was he the only one who was trapped here? No. He didn't deserve to prioritize his own problems. They would have to wait.
Robyn strode across the room and lay back on his bed, focusing on the creak it made as he sank into it. He shifted his mind and replayed his hunt, forcing himself to think only of his next move. He did not fight as sleep overcame him. He welcomed it. His mind would become blank, and his problems would be, temporarily, forgotten. While his body could not escape from the world he was trapped in, his mind, his soul, and his consciousness could briefly escape, both from his problems, and from the world.
