He moved his arm. The strings, barely visible reaching into the sky, glimmering in the light of the descending sun, moved with his arm. Or was it a pull which lead to his arm moving, pulling it upwards to the sky? To what lay beyond the blue illusion, beyond the stone ground of the second floor, beyond even the third, fourth or tenth. To the top. All strings which he saw right now, hundreds, thousands of strings, akin to a spiders net reached up to the hundredth floor, perhaps even beyond that. It was already far beyond reach.
Yes, there, where nothing could reach was a man. That man, holding in his hand a wooden cross to which all those strings were connected to, was there. Where nobody could reach. Nobody could reach.
He was slow, words caught in his throat yet both his mind and body too slow to register them. His mind raced somewhere else, seemingly in circles as he gained nothing with his thoughts being so vast, so many words coming to mind, getting stuck in his throat.
He was suffocating on his own words.
He tried to steer his limbs groggily. He felt like an observer to his own bodies actions, caught in a third person perspective. The noise outside was blurred, yet he heard the tense sound of the strings, just holding him, vibrating as they were stretched to the wooden cross held by the puppeteer.
His thoughts were fast, piling up in some unused corner of his brain which couldn't understand them.
His hand wandered to his face. There was a strange feeling, touching his face. Pulling down the skin covering his skull, the rough consistency was right, it just felt like touching something… lukewarm porcelain…at least its surface was as smooth as porcelain. But it was meatier, he could still move his cheeks like some form of synthetic jelly, and his skin felt like it was pulled over some empty husk. It wasn´t his skin, he knew exactly how it felt. The pores, the hair.
He looked down at the simple green clothing; strapped over the shirt was a crude leather breastplate, roughened up and not tightly bound to his body. The clothes moved with him, as clothes should when he rotated his arm, bent his knees. Yet these folds in the cloth, they were not vibrant, random or lively. They looked so defined, cut out...synthetic. He saw the same folds on every other person beside him, just in different colours
"Beating...the game?"
His eyes wandered to the left.
Screaming mouths were the only thing he saw.
His eyes moved to the left.
Whining people were the only thing he saw.
"A game?"
"Doesn´t this sound familiar, Akemi?", thought the boy to himself, beginning to move. He was marching through a swamp, barely able to lift his legs, a fog covering the shapes of his friends, the vibrating strings being louder than their shouts as he wandered through the streets.
Their noise, not only that of his friend but the crowd has dissipated in the distance. He had long left the crowds and was steering through the empty alleys, filled with puppets merrily minding their business. NPCs. He was no stranger to them, they were as common in game as bushes in forests...yet wherever he looked now he only saw machines. Puppets on invisible strings, the same threads connected to his body too.
"Don´t joke with me!", screamed the boy as he punched the wall beside him.
The purple hexagon popping up, reading indestructible object, only enraged him more.
The missing pain…He expected it to hurt, but there was no feeling. At least his HP-bar should have gone down.
"Damn fucking safe-zone.", said the boy, his face darkened.
Marching forward he arrived at the front gate.
Where were his friends?
Leaving behind the confines of the city he marched past the fields of lush, green grass.
"Red. Red pyramids have shown in my field of sight. A name popped up: Wild Boar."
Out of the cover of the high grass a boar jumped, charging at him. It rammed Akemi to the ground.
Prowling the high grassland right besides the cliffs were black dogs, their snouts horned and jagged, yellowed teeth protruding from their jaws. Two sets of claws, one above the other, showed themselves on their paws. Their build was similar to a Doberman.
The black mutt lunged out of its cover.
Akemi didn´t have time to read its name as he ripped it apart with a simple brute swing of his halberd. He hadn´t even angled it right, not cutting but bashing the creature aside, turning it into a bloody mist and pieces of gore.
Gazing past Heathcliff, who was absentmindedly charging forward, his eyes somewhere else, Akemi noticed a small pack of the same monsters attacking the small group of Knights of the Blood Oath. Even if they knew Heathcliff was Kayaba, they were obediently following his strings.
They could have stayed together as a group further to the side, just like the others, but they chose to actively surround Heathcliff unitedly, acting as the spearhead of the group.
"A necessity... or simply bad habit?", wondered Akemi.
Two more black horned dogs jumped at him, threads of spit dangling from their mouth. Akemi´s impassive face began to shift, a small smile gracing his pale face. Two fast thrusts ended the attack. No sword skill was used.
Akemi had licked blood, and some pups wouldn´t deter this old bloodhound to experience some thrill again. He felt it. If only barely.
The pounding in his arteries, his blood flow faster, the prickling of his skin, every hair standing on edge. He lost it in Aincrad. He might find it here again.
"This feeling... was simply superb.", reminisced the commander of the DDA.
There was a slight bead of fluid on his forehead. Pulling his heavy leather glove off his left hand, resting the halberd against his body, he drove his fingers through his shoulder-length black hair. His hands were wet too. Taking a little lick, he tasted salt. He would have laughed if it wouldn´t make him appear to have gone mad, chuckling loud before bursting into a full-blown laughter.
It was grandiose.
"…Sire?", asked one of his subordinates confused at Akemi having stopped halted his advance.
"…Everything's alright.", responded Akemi, stretching himself, loosening up his muscles. While the fight shouldn´t be too difficult, he didn´t know if he could get a muscle strain from using too many swordskills later one should the need arise. He saw a light in the distant village.
"A torch must have fallen at the ground, the loose organization won't be able to deal with that. With the enemy in front, their behind will burn down... yes, this should be alright. Everything is more than fine."
Opening his palm, a cube appeared in it, pulled out of his inventory.
"A Memory Crystal. A nifty little type of crystal, though its use had been limited during Aincrad as it served no primary purpose such as healing or buffing. Quite pricy. And now…quite useful."
Akemi, as he held his palm high, the sides of the cube beginning to shift, clicking and spinning, some kind of interior mechanism activated. It began to hover right above the dragon lancer´s palm, revealing a green rotating light sphere inside.
"This is the receiver…the acceptor is a few thousand meters above us. Gentlemen, I believe your task is quite clear, so get to it. While you're in the process of taking the evidence, keep close to the other strike teams. We don´t want to make the audience up in Aincrad see any more gruesome sights than need be, and some of our own dead? No good marketing. You listen to every command Heathcliff gives, am I understood."
The rest went unsaid. He didn't need these... these generic numbers at his command, soon, his own men would arrive.
The DDA members sheathed their weapons back into their storage space, also retrieving their memory crystals. Each one of them was linked to an acceptor in the town of Beginnings. There weren't many of them to begin with, they were a small force, yet in difference to many of the others on the raid team of floor 75 they had a large backing and coherent structure beyond a mere raid team. Like this, the responsibility of this task fell upon them.
Many players would be able to see the spectacle unfold if the video was shown in the gathering hotspots. There´d always be some self-satisfying fools ready to play hero and rile up the crowds. Generic Numbers playing their part. But maybe. Only a little chance was there that some talents might rise. Some fresh meat ready for the frontlines.
The DDA members made their way up the rest of the hill before they would descend into the city together with their allies.
"…sire. Where are you headed to?", came the carefully asked question. It was unwise to question Akemi, the 'commanding officers' in the DDA knew that the man had always a plan, even if he decided not to share his own role in it. As long as he held his vow as guild leader of the DDA, they saw no problem with it, but now, with such a out of the ordinary situation at their hand the uncertainty was in his voice.
The man didn´t expect an answer from the usually quiet leader, at the very least a glare to shut him down.
He did not expect a full, gentle smile gracing the youth's face in the crimson light of the skies and said youth to brandish his weapon, his halberd, with only one hand, pointing the tip at the ground, the strike cutting deep into the earth. One hand held the crystal, the other the halberd.
"I´ll take some even more special footage…and have some fun on the way. Orders from high command."
The man shook, a coldness spreading on his neck, before he swiftly saluted and rushed to his comrades, most of which had already written him off as dead in their mind. Lucky him.
Akemi vanished, cutting a way through the high grass while the rest of the attack team left the grassy plains, the vegetation getting lighter as it took only a few hills to arrive at the new front lines.
Akemi however, he was tasked with something directly by the raid leader after all.
He felt the strings; he was walking along strings, but in contrast to the others he chose to do so. It was his choice.
Yes, choice indeed.
Whose? His
Though for how long, would remain to be seen.
A wild smirk spread across Akemi's face. He got a small thrill from fights with those mutts alone...
"How big of a thrill would Heathcliff himself be?!"
New features indeed. Truly...premium content from a first row seat reserved for himself.
"Why?", whispered the girl as she was carried off.
"Why?", she repeated
"Why?", she repeated
"Why?", she began to whimper, as if the severity of the situation just now began to settle into her mind.
"Just keep walking. Walk!", urged Rifana, her cat ears twitching. They were not out of harm's way. By far not.
She remembered Mia lifted into the skies while she screamed their names. Rifana kept walking, not looking back. She remembered suddenly not hearing her cries anymore, only a thump on the ground a few seconds later.
Moments after, another one cried out their names. She heard herself clearly being shouted after. An ear-piercing scream followed, one she couldn´t block out, her arms occupied with not letting Raphtalia fall.
Semus was dead. She couldn't spot Keel among children ushering back to the village. Otto was dead too. They would be the next.
She heard the buzzing coming closer, another infernal bug feasting on her friends.
Gurgling and more panicked screaming ensued.
Then they split; scattered into all directions.
Rifana didn´t have to spirit to cry out against that. They ought to keep together. Until they reached safety in their village they should stay together.
But she said nothing, her voice non-existent next to the screaming winds coming from the vortexes.
Her throat felt raspy and her lungs were filled with fire, raging mercilessly inside her. The fire was beginning to consume her.
Her legs gave out beneath her
Klet, Lars, Adam ran for their lives. Their legs carried them further than hers.
The shadow of the iron castle in the sky loomed over her.
She laughed.
She actually laughed.
It was funny, wasn´t it?
A Hornet-like abomination lunged at her, its mandibles wide open, while further inside, salvia-covered tools clicked and ticked in a clockwork-like manner.
WROOOM
A blue lightning bolt flew through the creature, splattering its innards over the ground and the two girls. The bolt impacted the ground, cracking it open, and creating a gust of wind which blew away the high-grown grass in the vicinity, creating a small clearing.
Rifana gazed at the magical projectile, only to see the blue arcs settling down, fading away into nothingness. What remained was a brilliantly shining silver spear with a funny shaped tip. A slight fog was surrounding it, giving off a chilly aura, there was even frost forming on the earth down below. Rifana moved towards the weapon, her legs obeying this last command. The chilly Aura enveloped her. It was so cool. She dropped Raphtalia right beside herself. Her head was the only part of her body she was able to hold up.
The fire in her lungs began to dim down, the pain in her arms, legs, chest numbed by the feeling of tiredness.
She saw Raphtalia unconscious, and shook her head.
Small clouds from her mouth were the only signs which showed that she was still among the living.
"Daijōbu? Tomodachi to issho ni arukemasu ka? Daijōbuda, ochitsuke, ore wa mada shūi no teki o katadzukete iru", spoke a calming voice from the side-lines.
(Are you alright? Can you walk, together with your friend? Everything is alright, calm down while I deal with the rabble still around.)
"Huh?", replied Rifana, her ears twitching. Her eyelids, which had fallen shut opened again.
The figure pulled his weapon out of the ground, before thrusting it into the sky. Two incoming insects were pierced at once, their lifeless husks dropping on the floor, their falls cushioned by the grass stained with black blood.
The man muttered something incomprehensible again. She couldn't understand it.
His spear began to glow. It was the same deep blue she had seen when it whizzed past her. Above them, the spear stretched towards the sky turned into two, three, no; eight spear tips pierced the sky, creating a blue spiked dome around them. Each tip of the spear looked like the edge of a star from down where Rifana was kneeling, right besides the person. It was a knight. Clad in silver armour, displaying dragon emblems everywhere.
She gaped at him, taking in her saviour's every detail.
She saw a gambeson of finer quality than even the one belonging to the local lord beneath the knight's armour; these were clothes befitting a noble, no, royalty. The cloth it was made of, no the silk, was deep blue in colour with a few, from what she could see, yellow linings at the edges of the gambeson.
Her eyes wandered upwards and she couldn't hide the disappointment at the knight wearing a helmet. Only the shiny, long deep-black hair flowed out from the helmet.
Her mind began to settle down. A noble knight wearing silver armour, wielding a spear to battle. Standing against the waves of demons, spitting out abomination after abomination...
A Hero…-!
"…S-s-sp-spe-spear H-he-he-hero?!", she stuttered. The image of the blue dome shimmering akin to an array of stars protecting her burned itself into her mind. It was the deed of a god.
Rifana's head fell back on the ground. Drool was coming from her lips.
After minutes the skirmish was over. If one looked down from a bird´s perspective, one could see a neat circle in the grass, the inside safely containing the three figures. Outside of them was a sea of black blood, and dozen of bug pieces were laying amidst innards and pieces of dog meat, staining the earth.
Looking at the too unconscious kids, Akemi couldn´t spare them a glance. His mission was to get the kids…not only two.
"What a pain, couldn´t that white cat at least stay awake?!", mumbled the man. His worries however were unfunded, sensing people approach. A smile crept on his face. Some competent actors were still around on this stage.
Silver armours moved above the sea of grass, , blue coats of arms starkly contrasted the gloomy red horizon. Each of them had special features adorning their armour, which were artistically decorated, practically entire stories engraved into them.
His men had arrived. Not any DDA, no, most of the DDA were just numbers; compared to the base player higher numbers, yet still numbers nonetheless..., no, those who arrived now, they would be called subordinates by him. This…this were his men.
Each one of them carried a different polearm, design fitting to their armour.
This were his dragon lancers. The remains at least; numbering ten, with their commander eleven. Eleven experienced frontliners, few able to take them on with each of them belonging individually to the strongest players Aincrad had to offer.
Even the might of the army the KOB had forged paled in comparison to the Elite of the Divine Dragon Alliance, as has been proven on several occasions prior to a rare artifact descending on the floors of Aincrad, which had then turned into a pvp slug-battle consisting of duells between the two major guilds.
"Sire, we have spotted a river of creatures making their way into the forests, some of them even humanoid in nature. It appears only a few advance parties have been attacking the village. Following your trail of carnage, I am here to report for duty!"
"How many more, Lieutenant?", inquired Akemi.
"Not enough for us, they're so weak. Like...I'd judge them to be around level 20 to 30. We are front liners, we had to deal with level 90 Monsters minimum! And even then they didn't pose a challenge until they grouped together...", whined another member of the team. He was similarly young like Akemi; there was actually only one exception in the ranks of the dragon lancers to that pattern of age and that was the Lieutenant.
"Calm yourself, Kishamo. We are not the only troops at the ground; we would have to share work anyways.", responded the Lieutenant, hefting his lance up.
"But we don't share, we prey. So let us pierce through that veil of darkness united!", spoke one of the only three female members, her silver full-plate armour shining like a star. Her spear twirled in the air, creating the image of a bright, white coloured torch. Her face was covered by her visor, yet two blue eyes pierced through from behind the iron bars. Her long silver hair flowed out of her helmet.
Her natural appearance already showed her affiliation to the dragon lancers.
"...Aye, Liandra. Let us pierce the veil of darkness together...and see what lies behind it.", stated Akemi, taking off. The children must have run towards the village, so any survivors have continued that way. Their tracks were still fresh!"
Pointing towards the paths with trampled down grass, Akemi continued.
"Not you too, don't become some hero Chūnibyō !", shouted Kishamo, his arm outstretched as if to pull their captain out of the deepness of a pitch-black hole. He was swiftly bashed on the head by the second of the tree female members, Aisha.
Akemi returned the recording crystal into his inventory.
"Just to be sure, Lieutenant...and Striker, search the grassland behind us, if there any wounded or dead. Report back to me and bring their corpses with you.", ordered Akemi.
Only then he withdrew the crystal from his inventory again, continuing the recording.
There must have been some connection difficulties, ...connection difficulties.
At that a few of the dragon lancers turned serious again, but most of them continued to eagerly await the challenge this world posed. The third of the three female members remained silent, her eyes fixated on the dead insects, the blood in which her face was mirrored. She had now switched her clothes, from the revealing, light armour to a set of full plate. Her beloved green scarf rested easily in her inventory. Her hands shook, yet she managed to suppress any violent reaction, lest her party members would hear her armour clattering. Biting her lip until she tasted the iron of her blood was enough to distract her.
Duke Seaetto stared out of the window, taking a shaky breath.
"At the very least Eclair is not here anymore. Haha, what are the odds? My dear, dear daughter…so this...", spoke the old man, not intending to finish the sentence, gripping the steel in his hand harder. His sword lay comfortably in his hand, even if it had rested ages in its sheath. From how he looked, while he once swung the sword with burning passion, he had long lost that fire. Though the devils of the waves cared less who they´d cut down in their endless onslaught, be it valiant young men or the old.
"My Lord, we have lost Herrenkor and the church's emissary squad under his banner.", reported his squire.
"So now it is only us and the townsmen..."
The squire nodded swiftly, not coming to a halt as he opened the double door, leading two women, maids of the Seaetto's Cliffside mansion, inside. Letting a rather large chest fall to the ground, the contents revealed the old armour of the duke. Even its design was still from before Queen Mirellia's rule, the plate armour being in a darker shade and with more distinct edges, making it appear rather bulky and heavy joint protections which stood out, protecting the gaps in between the different main plates of the armour. Luckily there were no spikes. He hated how the new generation of smiths would pay attention to such frivolous waste of material and efficiency. Luckily, Queen Mirellia opted for the less conspicuous variant for the royal guard.
"The maids, like most other women had found shelter inside his wine cellar, and this was probably the only reason they came out...", contemplated the noble as the maids tightly knotted the armour plates to his body. First came his breast, thigh and shin plates, before smaller and more specific plates were added to the construction.
"No wonder they were replaced later on, great defence but...anything else cannot be achieved with that clunky west. He clicked his tongue.
"Why did my wishes had to be fulfilled now, couldn´t that accursed fanatic Herrenkor serve better as a meat shield for a few more minutes or at the very last try to send a messenger if he thought to have so many of his men to waste, then I might have tried to evacuate the villagers…with or without their children. Why couldn´t that bastard listen to orders and organize that damn village. Oh right, he wasn't called Herrenkor the pious without reason, how could I forget. It must have been too much to think that at least an official knight of that damnable clergy had some common sense and showed some insight."
His grumbles went ignored.
The man gripped his round shield. It was of high quality, a sturdy wooden shield he managed to acquire from one of the gladiators in the pits of Zeltobe, the mercenary capital. Not one of ordinary material, no, created from the molten wood shipped from the volcanic isles in the far north.
He never added the banner of Melromarc to it, well, after the molten wood had been moulded into its current form it would be near impossible without destroying its quality, yet he also didn't expect the period of peace the Kingdoms experienced to end this abruptly. He must have become really old to be caught this off-guard.
The shield usually only hung over the door, with a spear and a sword crossed behind it as a decoration.
Now any left over weapon has already been distributed to the villagers.
They wouldn´t survive to see the next day, he would not too, they weren´t warriors, and he had to few capable men to offer. They would need Melromarc´s finest to actually subdue the deamons, not to speak of the logistics, supply lines and equipment which needed to be cared for to combat this inhuman foe.
He and the last of his personal guard stepped out of the mansion. His squire stood bravely at his side, though his legs were no doubt shaking. He needn't look.
There were four Arbalests guarding the sky's, shooting anything down that came into their vision from their position on the balcony, keeping the buzzing horde in the sky away from the sheltered villagers.
The tremor of the ground brought the duke back to the present, his men crashing the shafts of their spears into the ground. Two neatly organized lines have formed, each knight clad in partial plate, their vitals such as torso, shins and arms covered by the silver shining metal, beneath it a layer of chainmail.
Compared to Melromarc's guard division, his men were armoured heavier wielding war-hamers and battle-axes instead of conventional weaponry, no speck of cloth showing behind the thick armour.
In comparison to what he had seen in the villagers before, trembling in the town hall; desperation and hopelessness open for all to see, only few brave enough to look past it into the jaws of death and getting their arms ready for the fight, these warriors stood in line for their commander to take position.
To order them.
They were extensions of his own blade; Lord Seaetto himself was once called the sword of the queen as the most skilful vassal standing at her majesties', queen Mirellia's, court. As of today, he remained the queens right hand-man.
Those fine men standing now within his presence were the house guards of the Seaetto family. They looked at the horizon with the intent to kill whatever they were showered with.
It was said that the noble´s house guards were superior to the royal army and the church´s security; those noble´s capable of raising their own house guard and allowed to do so by none other than the crown being quite influential and powerful. A handful of them held that privilege, each also governing a province more independently than those nobles governing the crown land.
Marching past his men, the convoy began to move, slowly and orderly into battle.
There was no need to rush that which was destined to come to pass.
The village was surrounded.
The Lord of this Wave has still yet to appear from his iron castle up in the sky, even without him the infernal forces overwhelmed this border village.
"Cursed be you…lord of the waves.", murmured Lord Seaetto as he struck down his opponent. His guards surrounded him and ripped through the demon dogs charging their way. They marched on the corpse littered path, squashing the four legged furred remains beneath their feet.
The villager's dead were respectfully evaded, though the guards themselves could care less.
"Any proper burial would only waste time, and hiding the corpses would do no good. Though the villagers did do a well enough job...for a kingdom which despises them. Well, in the end they do it for themselves first and foremost.", spoke the noble, gazing at the makeshift barricades hastily erected to fend off monsters from a better position.
"It must have been that man…yeah. He looked different from the rest…and he surrounded himself with different people. It was like he already had his own honour guard, fiercely loyal to him. A leader, he didn´t shake as they reported the missing children and even planned the defence together with me. Hmpf, I had yet to meet a man like that, even if he spoke with reverence and utter compliance, he came up with just as many plans as I did. I guess…he even made me think I came up with anything at all. In that moment he had been more of a warrior than I was, I clung to a picture of my daughter like a little girl…I was a fool, my age has made me soft. Perhaps if I sent in my troops earlier, lives could have been saved. Is this what age does to old men, or was it fear all along? Even that Herrankor acted before I did..., though that zealot rushed to his death...hah, then what am I doing now?"
"Push them back, keep tightly together. Close the gaps! As long as our conviction stands, this position shall too!", shouted a younger, composed man in the distance, his blonde hair waving amidst the crimson sky. Looking back at his men standing behind the wall of old furniture and wood, holding spears, swords and pitch forks, his determined gaze fell on Lord Seaetto's eyes even from the distance they had yet to cover, dealing with the few monsters which had breached the barrier and the flying bastards preying the village from the heavens.
"This is truly no ideal situation.", chuckled the noble to himself. He lost his focus a bit.
Lord Seaetto looked to the front. The image before him flickered.
The green grassy fields were filled with blood. There they were, one infantry battalion perched together tightly. They had met a advance party formed by the Siltvelt Army, to their surprise it were not simple troops on foot, but between the ranks of the wolf and fox clan were white dots littered around. They towered over the average demi-human.
High Command had miscalculated.
There were Hakuko thrown into the mix.
On the other side, he only had light armoured infantry at disposal, no sort of armour but light leather clothing protecting them. An orderly retreat couldn´t be ordered, the rocky terrain and overgrown ground hindering any sort of formation. Their battalion was meant for a strike and run, not a full-front confrontation with the adversaries elite. He barely managed to compose the troops and form a semi-competent marching order.
The only means they could outlast this was to notify the high command and call for reinforcements.
The only means with which they could hold formation was…faith. Sweat. Steel.
The image blurred.
Duke Seaetto blinked.
The green rocky hills morphed into the outer ring of Lurolona Village, his own, younger self into a demi-human, those humanoid creatures he stood against in the Demi-human Campaign fifteen years ago.
He too commanded a whole group of inexperienced recruits, though that man now did a better hob than him in his own first bout of war.
The enemies features deformed, and what he had seen as Hakuko degraded into demon wolves and far behind, a few beast men looking creatures, hunched over, with crimson eyes and long claws made to cut deep into unprotected flesh. He caught a glimpse of the initial clash between demons and villagers, a messy mud-fight, desperation ruling the battlefield.
Now it wasn´t desperation anymore, but the mayor of Lurolona village who attended the site of the clash.
"Mayor my arse. That man is no mayor. No mayor holds an inkling of battle strategy and upkeep of the morale in face of such a threat. They knew how to water the fields and how to cut wheat. Their battlefield was on the desk, writing reports to their governors.", thought Duke Seatto relieved. Just maybe they could protect themselves well enough until reinforcements would arrive. The increasing number of monsters straying off into the forest will undoubtedly alert merchants and nearby villages, not to forget the whole tear in the sky. If they could keep the fight up for maybe a day, their chances at salvation would rise by half.
And death in battle? It too was a form of salvation, his younger self would have said. His features grew grim.
"Lord Seaetto, thank the heroes you have arrived.", spoke the man. Despite his effect on both the villagers and the battlefield, the man was awkwardly plain. So plain even, it was more so suspicious he knew his way around the battlefield this well. Where the charisma came from he possessed, it was a mystery to Duke Seaetto. "Riftan ...Hiruzo was his name... that does not sound like a typical name from Siltvelt nor Shieldfreeden.", contemplated the old noble. "Where the mind carries itself so short before its end, lastly, it doesn't matter where he hailed from. He's on our side on this dark day."
The dukes furrows deepened.
"Son, I would have wondered what was going on in that head of yours if you´d called me any later. How are my weapons making themselves on the battlefield?", asked the old noble the current commander.
"Most of them have already outlived their use...",
Riftan sobered up.
The discrepancy between the item's quality and those of the villagers...their levels so to say, lead to the quick end for the steel the townsmen wielded. The shafts of the spears broke because of a wrong thrust into the hordes and the swords dulled quickly as the simple farmers failed to identify weaknesses in the heat of the moment, leading to the swords to clash more often than not with armoured parts of the monsters. At least the monsters had no strategy and simply stormed at their makeshift barricades, otherwise they'd let their scouting creatures stand back and send those heavy armoured pigs forth.
Large tusks stuck out of their mouths, and demonic grumbling escaped their jaws.
With the black dogs, four or two legged, they were able to keep up with that...but those blackhorn boars were another thing altogether, towering over the wild demon dogs, making them look like some mangy pups.
A bolt found its way into one of those lumbering beast's head, lodging itself into its skull with an audible 'thump', shot from one of the villagers wielding a crossbow. About a dozen of hits of this calibre was all it took to take down these giants, however, while the dogs would do little more than scrape the vital part of the villages defence, these siege beasts would topple them with ease. Once that happened, the defence was practically lost.
Looking at the corpse of one such beast, it was reasoned they could be defeated...so the villagers continued their fight with spirit. As much as they could muster.
How long until another monstrosity, larger and more dangerous, would arrive?
"So those creatures belong to a second charge of monsters. Lucky us...", lamented Lord Seaetto.
"Indeed, they only emerged from the plains once we actually managed to push their dog-kin back out of the village centre. If we fight back with more ferocity, I fear what other spawn is there for us. We're spread thin already, and only through your arbalests dealing with the areal monsters and those...church's man leading the steady stream away from our village we remained in this position. There is nothing much we can do from here on out. It was foolish to believe we could sit this out, no miracle can save us cursed souls", cussed the current commander in chief. He turned to his lord with a wry smile.
"...What do you intend to do then? You haven't dropped that sword of yours.", inquired the lord.
"...the children are still out there. I do not know if they managed to hide...or if Harold, our hunter managed to find them and escape with them. But from now...this is my only concern. Perhaps that has been the only reason we all here continued to fight. The mothers and old back in the mansion surely understand", explained the man.
"Hmmm...the children it is. A charge into doom. Low chances of coming out alive. A final stand...befitting of a lord!", fire settled into Lord Seaetto's eyes. Hell would have to spit out the devil himself before the lord would shake in his newly forged desire.
"So,...as a fellow father you understand. I hope to count on your help...my Lord.", probed the man. "Your daughter already is fine and secure...somewhere in the capital continuing on her knightly duties. I have seen the paintings. Please...let some of us, at least for a few moments before death...feel the same pride knowing our children have escaped to live. My daughter, Raphtalia is her name, is only nine...she would turn ten in only five days."
"No need to convince me. I am already sending my final prayers to whatever gods are out there!", grinned the lord madly. He was steeling himself. To make a hell of an fight. To show those demons what a real demon looked like. He understood those villagers. In the end, they were not human or demi-human...but fathers...parents...who sought out fate. He understood them. Too well.
He would only die once he had seen those rascals with his own eyes and escorted them to the forest's edge road towards Port Village or whatever haven lay beyond that.
He promised.
He swore. On the name of his own daughter. As a father.
"...Haha, so this is my final act. The hand of the Queen, revered sword master and knight in service of Melromarc, dying while babysitting. I have to say... I imagined something greater. But then again, what is greater than making a stand against the onslaught of a real...legendary Wave of Calamity. This is my end...and I didn't get to rot in my castle, reading books and eating apples like my daughter wished it for me. Perhaps I get to apologize for that the next time I see her...though that should be a long, long time to wait.", laughed Lord Seaetto in his mind. The fire dimmed as a tear made its way into his left eye, yet he blinked it away as he procured from his belt a small horn. He blew into it.
It was a family heirloom, a hunting horn. But if it was blown in battle...death would follow it.
The sound was heard throughout the village, perhaps beyond.
Keep calm
Charge.
Forward.
Charge.
"CHARGE!", bellowed Lord Seaetto as his men followed suit. The house guard of the Seaetto family formed the spear tip. Hefting their shields up they charged through the gap which had been hastily opened up by the townsmen, pushing incoming black mutts to the sides where they fell onto sharpened wooden legs belonging to chairs and tables or were pierced through by the following pack of rabid demons. True demons, birthed from hell. Parents on the search for their children. Raphtalia's father was at the front of the savage charge, leading his men into battle as the lord lead his own.
"Whoa...", uttered the knight in white shining armour.
"Keep focused on the battle. Do not forget our objective.", stated Kayaba as he and his mixed group of adventurers, loosely organized into a proper raid-team spotted the village behind another row of hills. The burned fields surrounded it, which gave off the rising swaths of black smoke, merging in with the river of black stretching from the coastline to the forest.
The resistance of the mobs grew fiercely over time, their advance halted several times over the course of the operation, the sheer weight of the enemies corpses slowing the troops down.
Another demonic boar barrelled at Heathcliff , yet the knight easily tanked the hit due to his shield, shifting his centre of gravity while throwing the boar overhead, using the shield as a temporary serving platter.
The boar was left to bleed out, its neck broken and splinters of bones piercing through its fur from the inside.
"What can you see?", asked Heathcliff.
A less armoured member of the Knights answered, squinting his eyes. "The fight has grown more desperate. Not much time. All men have abandoned post for a last charge up the hill against splintering forces of the enemy. Typical. Enemy main force is amassing down in the gap between the hills, flooding into the forest."
"Are you able to do something from up here?", spoke Heathcliff, already running the last hill down towards the village, accompanied by his raid team. It hasn't been a question but an order, to none but him.
"Yes...sir.", sighed the man, before blue particles glowed in his hand, a simple metallic javelin phasing into existence. He bent his body backwards, raising his other hand into the air while using his thumb as a sight.
Letting out a breath, the tip of the javelin began to glow orange, before the glow began to wander downwards from there, engulfing the weapon.
Both his eyes were open, before his pupils contracted slightly.
His body shifted.
The orange glow hadn't jet fully clasped around the end of the shaft as the projectile sailed through the air, piercing any air currents and dodging past any straggling areal monsters.
A soft, silent whiff accompanied it as the colour blended in with the crimson sky in the background.
The marksman had already pulled out another javelin, his body making the same trained movements.
He leaned back.
A green glow exploded from the tip.
He threw again.
He leaned back.
He threw again, his muscles working like the machinations of a clockwork soldier; the feeling of his muscles was a bit off, his aim wasn't.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The air was filled with a vicious roar, explosions of sound rocketing the sky as a green flare ripped apart the false clouds of smoke.
Crashing to the ground, the grass crackled with green energy, before the thing stuck in the ground let out a last roar, sending a shockwave which tore apart any beast in its vicinity.
Another bolt of green energy roared through the sky.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The duke staggered forward, sword held in hand, parting his way through another wolf which's attention has been stolen by the green light. Dozens of its pack members have been taken out like that, a relative high number in comparison to what the village had achieved in the same fraction of time.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Shaking off the blood which was already flowing down the sword's handle with a practised strike through the air, the duke also carefully gazed at the impact-site. Hearing another roar, he squinted his eyes at the sky. Every time he spotted a flare; his mind must have been playing tricks on him, for he saw the imagery, the outline of a green dragon hiding above their heads.
There! Again.
"Those roars...", the duke Seaetto muttered. A dragon. Here?
Have his wishes to die in grandeur from his youth been fulfilled in some ironic twist of fate?
"No...the lord of this wave finally reveals himself!", bellowed the old duke, only to realize his hasty conclusion to have blank spots.
"Why would the lord of the wave attack his own followers. Either he is a gruesome bastard or...a third party. But what says it has the intent to help?", worried the noble, only to snap back, shuddering.
He expected another lunge at him realizing he spaced out.
Thump.
Thump.
There was none.
"The monsters are drawn away!", he realized.
Looking past the dog's corpse, he saw three of his men felled. Two more stood breathlessly besides the monstrous boar's corpse, a javelin lodged into its massive head, which was the only part remaining intact.
They already sustained unacceptable losses, and yet no sight of the children. Where had the wind carried those brats off.
He suppressed the urge to barf, as he had seen not too long ago a ripped-off leg lying on the ground, beneath the wings of a shot-down bug. He managed to hastily cover the rest of the leg beneath a dead mutt.
"Must have been carried off, ripped apart in the air. What a cruel way to go...", spoke the duke. Every time he imagined a child lying in the grass, bleeding out, the child was no demi human. It was a girl, just going up to his hip. The girl had strawberry blonde hair, and her brilliant blue eyes had dimmed. The small dress his wife had made herself for their daughter torn and blood smeared; he imagined his own daughter lying lifelessly in the grass.
Two of his men helped him in hiding it. Both of them were dead at the tusks of the boar.
"That's a different one...", spat the duke, eying the large bastard's remains.
The thought of sitting this battle out behind walls had long been abandoned. The creatures only grew stronger the faster they were defeated. The threat of the monsters began to rise, their kin growing sharper teeth, harder skin and bigger muscles for more vicious ways to kill them.
No wonder his very own men began to struggle.
"...My lord. We didn't kill the boar.", suddenly intoned one of his men.
"A javelin...", realized the duke...his gaze wandering from the site of the green pressure wave to the silent javelin which had taken down the boar precisely.
Another roar filled the heavens.
The image of a green dragon flickered in the back of his mind. He spotted it again. He was sure of it.
Thump.
Thump.
"What is going...just what...haha—hah!", mumbeled the duke before himself, cutting his way through another mutt.
It didn't matter.
"We are already dead, at least we get some spectacle to see in our last moments. I don't care. I don't care at all. Rargh!", screamed the duke, letting primal instincts take over as he cleanly cleaved a demon wolf the size of a grown man in half, ferocious strength behind his strike.
His legs buckled as he charged forward afresh.
He heard something, beside the ringing; His ears were bleeding. One of the green lightning bolts struck somewhere besides him, taking out chunks of the ground and beast.
He rolled to the right, evading the dogs jump. Lying on the floor, the dog was dealt with by another villager, piercing through the monster and keeping its struggling body pinned to the ground with the help of another spearman.
Similar to a group of starving people, the villagers ravaged the corpse in the short span of time they allowed themselves to breathe.
A third man came to Riftan, pulling him up from the ground.
His name was Sondar, he had a fruit garden in his backyard and operated sold much of his yield to his neighbours, though he was not above giving some presents to the little ones who came to ravage his berry bushes.
He carried a helmet on his head and one arm plate of a plate armour set on his spear arm, the right one. His normally yellow linen cloth was, by now, ripped on several locations, and dirt, ash as well as blood stained his garment.
They heard something. Their ears twitched, every twitch drawing out a grimace.
Riftan hadn't been the only one hit by the dragons fire.
The demi humans at the front heard the ground shaking in the distance; heard hooves trample on the floor, stomping across the few ploughed fields their village could afford. They managed to spot the black river cutting through the land, the offspring of its main stream making their way into their direction.
It were creatures of many sizes, most of them beasts walking on four or more legs. Their eyes shimmered in the same colour as the sky; scarlet red orbs filled with malice. However at the black rivers quell stood a creature towering them all, a mockery of nature; a beast filled with dark magic to the brim. Three horned heads reared their gaze over the edge of the riverbank, growling all the same.
It was not concerned with the few dots which had appeared to the south, it is likely it hadn't even taken notice. Its six eyes on its three heads were pointed inwards of the land, towards the green at the horizon.
A large lush forest spread after the short expanse of highland, a slab of green filling the area.
It didn't know why it had to go there, but his instincts cried at him to march inwards. Likely, there were more of these strange packs of two-legs. Whimsical creatures, fighting with sticks. It did not understand why they hadn't fled, and how they were able to match his packs strength.
It felt its connection with its brethren waver, on both flanks. Yet whatever stone was thrown into his stream, he would carve down into dust. What it took was time, and it knew there was still so much time for itself, as it only came into existence a few hours ago...born from the sky to bring about a cleansing...like the rain washed away the stains away from the stones.
It was only ordered to remove...and remove it would. Everything in its way would be washed away.
Until there was only left a brilliant white. The same white it saw in the heavens...before the clouds drew up.
Two eyes looked at the sky. Something obstructed its view.
It let out a growl.
It didn't know where that stain came from. Everywhere it looked, the monster understood a connection to its own purpose...either stain to be washed away in due time or drops if water to wash away the dirt.
But that iron pebble in the sky did not fit in the raster. What was worse...it just felt wrong to look at.
The head looked away; couldn't any longer look at it.
The two other heads meanwhile spotted stains crawling their way towards the stream. Let them come and be washed away. Another roar broke out, a minor annoyance to the beast...seeing the green shoot through the sky.
That green brought destruction...so why was the beast ordered to advance towards that expanse of green. The questions ejected a wince from three heads...a whine. The rain didn't question the cloud...and whatever the cloud sent. It would just flow the direction it was sent.
Avoiding to think over the iron pebble nor the green fire in the sky, the creature made its way forward. The last droplets had fallen, and it was time for the tide to come.
Lead by itself truly...itself...himself...Lord Cerberus. Lord over the First Wave.
Crack.
Boom.
A major headache found its way into his three heads. He was one wave...and one wave would suffice to flatten the beaches. His consciousness flared and he saw the world from a lower perspective...there at the foremost edges of his wave, its smaller brethren. And then the image was cut off, another of those two-legs standing in way. Cloaked in smooth red shining fur with red markings, among other of his kin in different white furs, a metallic glimmer to them.
Glaring at the west...there were others. They felt just as wrong as the iron pebble. They didn't belong here...other stains. He had finally decided. It were simply other stains, and that Iron pebble was their source. That was right...he finally knew...just like his origin was here to clean...they were here to pollute.
He wouldn't let that stand. He didn't felt offended, it was nature...and nature would clean away the dirty and stained.
Breaking off unnaturally, while the last droplets of the stream continued towards the edges of the forest, the waves direction began to change, the black flood now following one of its many offspring up the hill to the west.
The waters crashed against the iron shore...and shattered, black bodies slung backwards.
"Brace!", shouted Heathcliff atop of his lungs, overturning the battles melody. A crescendo of snarls and bones breaking, metal aching under pressure and soldiers keeping their bearings with moral-stimulating shouts, fighting off the darkness.
Now that both sides had clashed, the fortissimo would slowly turn into a piano.
Following the tune of the music, Heathcliff halted the iron advance which would have ended in them being surrounded. They would likely still end up that way, but not that deep in the enemies clutches. And what use was a child's grip in cracking up a shell?
Holding their position, the raid party obeyed Heathcliff's command, taking in his desired formation. While raid formations were good plays against single, strong foes...meaning bosses...against an onslaught of many little monsters or an entire, well organized army, their efficiency would decrease.
While Heathcliff was no general, his common sense dictated his actions well according to the orchestra, playing his part as commander perfectly.
Wave after wave, monster after monster swung at them, yet they did not give in any ground as the pressure began to increase. Heathcliff meanwhile observed the flow of the enemy. They attacked senselessly, their only purpose seemingly being to eradicate them. This made things easier, no moral questions arising within his armies minds. In the third row, behind two rows of heavily armed players, there were his cameras, directly live-streaming the footage up towards the receivers in Aincrad.
Keeping an eye on the forum already made him aware of the reluctance in the players mind. They saw the operation, but until now they hadn't seen any actual reason to interfere with these monsters and risk their own lives. Only a few splinter groups have begun to assemble themselves and travel to the teleport monument to join the fray. Those agreeing, as well as those currently in the field were heavily ridiculed. It must be the same as back in Aincrad...in a sense.
An Individual called Lark wrote: "Look at them throwing their lives away! Why would you be so stupid as to leave the towns. Are the frontliners actually braindead? No, they must have turned into glory seeking bastards, expecting this behaviour to be the norm after having spend so much time playing heroes! I don't approve, do you hear this. Nobody finds your lack of self-preservation amusing, much less admirable. You are all fools, and once this farce is ended by Kayaba we will never be liberated. We are his toys, for god-sakes. We should have stayed in the town of beginnings from the very start and not sacrifice hundreds to thousands of human people!"
While his views were radical and most people scoffed at him in the official notice-board, his general impression of staying inside Aincrad were agreed upon by the majority. The frontliners have, in their minds, turned into an attention seeking machination.
Heathcliff scoffed at that, he knew it would only be a matter of time until every floor on Aincrad turned into a new frontline due to the initial travel through the crimson space corrupting much of the castle's fauna.
He scoffed at their opinionated statements. He scoffed at their pettiness; just because they had a minimal bad time, they wouldn't recognize the danger these bestial movements would cause. It was only a matter of time until new footage arrived, he had already sent someone to take care of that.
"With the monster breaking off their continued advance into the forest, a gap in between the village's position and the Aincradian's position has been struck, allowing for my special force to connect the both sides."
Meanwhile Heathcliff still gazed through the enemies tide...until spotting the lumbering behemoth. Finally a worthy opponent. One of the reasons he took with him seasoned veterans of SAO, capable of forming a raid team and not mindless AIs.
Now only the new digested data had to finally show up. Just like the foreign energy managed to infest and break through Cardinal's defences crudely, Cardinal could sneak back into the energy and catch a glimpse of its powers in return.
Names were powers enough for now at least, information about what that energy was capable off. What he knew till know, it was a terrifying alchemistical solution. A base matter capable of forming into a multitude of creations.
Creations he was now faced with. And with any luck, he would be able to gather enough information to supply his players with. Because his veterans were no simply fighters but survivors.
A name appeared before Heathcliff's eyes...along three boss bars. The players rhythmically swinging their blades as one killing machine also became disorganized, gazing at the notification their system gave them.
Cerberus, the three headed Guardian had made himself known.
A loud roar intensified the attack of the wave, the dog-kin mindlessly charging against the steal pointed at them, ramming through spears or clawing at shields to get a scratch on the enemy.
"Do not relent. Wait for the boss to move into reach, then draw it in with ranged combat! See, it is just another boss, with merely three bars of life! There is nothing to fear, mere level 20 mobs will not be able to lay a scratch on you nor dent your armour!"
Feeling the sweat beneath their iron plates, the warriors deep within the enemies clutches, all but surrounded by black monsters whose jaws closed in around their weapons giving them barely time to react of place to slash and thrust their weapons, bellowed; cried out in their effort of pushing the enemy back.
Each player felt their heartbeat rise, droplets of sweat flowing down their skin. They heard the monsters bellow, the bones crack; seeing black blood flowing in rivers back down the hill into the rows of enemies. They felt the wind blowing, they smelled the ghastly stench of iron; the litres of blood staining the ground coming together as one.
With as much ferocity the dog-kin smashed against the players, just as much ferocity was returned by the rabid people.
They cried out like they were crazy, hacking a free zone through the black waters free of darkness, only for more black to replace their fallen kin.
Heathcliff himself felt a little fear rush into his system. It was an instinctual fear, not from the monsters but from the berserkers standing before him.
"Their senses seem overloaded, their actions are fuelled by stress hormones. They are little more than wild...more dangerous beasts themselves. But... I can feel it too. The war lying in the air...the tension...the aggression. It makes me want to revert back to my base instincts. Such a strong pull...fascinating. So this is what combat in a real world feels like. It is like a drug. But so too is commanding, overlooking this painting...this symphony of battle. A different kind of beauty...surprising as it is. It must be a initial shock from the stark difference to that false dream floating in the sky...this reaction. The coming battles...this reaction must lessen. But for now...with so little danger...I'd like to feel it to its fullest."
He already shifted his attention away from the notice board.
The ridicule had turned into an uproar. How could the knights and other frontliners turn into such simpleminded killing machines? What was wrong with them, throwing themselves into the fray? How dare they make a mockery of their comrades death if they so willingly threw themselves into deaths grasp? Why didn't they stay up in the castle, protecting the people they ought to protect, or at the very least march onwards towards the 100th floor. This was not their battle to fight!
"All of them fools, no front-liner would dare question my leadership.", muttered Heathcliff. Looking at his troops, he admired them. "They work like a perfectly oiled machine."
Extending his blade forward, his spearhead understood. His Knights of Raid Team Omega marched onwards, following their advance as not to leave open gaps, the remainder of the formation following suit.
Heathcliff might have become intoxicated by the command, as he mocked the commentors. Was he petty? Perhaps that was too a part of his reasoning, however history would not see it that way. He had received conformation just now, his new aide giving him a clear.
He responded in kind.
Let propaganda do its work.
The voices in the notice board have already been silenced, most of them, but what more did he need?
Tides were changing, if they ever stood against Heathcliff.
Every puzzle piece was falling into place as fate commands it. And fate puzzled as commanded.
Akemi carried four dead-weights on his back. Children to be exact, slung over his shoulders like sacks of flour, yet to him dead-weights all the same. He carried his play out dutifully, Kayaba had already decided for him, or well, Liandra, as he had given her the Memory Crystal, to start recording the scene. She was at the back of the row, filming the Dragon Lancers with children, demi-human children, slung on their backs while evading the restless hounds prowling the areal. Their steps filled with steadfast intent, the task force snuck past the enemy tides towards the halted advance of the villagers.
They were already in a sorry state when they chose to counter attack, now most of their spirit had crumbled, either giving into despair or madness.
Seeing those people kneeling at the floor, their strings cut, some crying, others laughing, the DDA forces made their way towards the more armed troops in the mob.
Nobody tried to stop them.
"Are they braindead. A foreign force marches in between their own and their sentries cower in despair. Oh, it must be about their children then, it was them which had fuelled the fire keeping them going. Most of their strings are now cut, no intent behind their actions...pitiful..."
As soon as Akemi had thought that, some of the less lost villagers actually stared -half-glared at them, only to be stunned into silence at the forms they carried.
Another green lance shook the plains, a shockwave rocketing through the earth and wandering up the spine of every villager sitting on the ground.
"To the best of our ability, we managed to recover that which you seek!", shouted Akemi at the top of his lungs, letting his halberd slowly wander through the patchy rows of the mob.
The demi humans on the other hand, at least those still conscious, crawled towards them like famished ghouls, their intent clear as they stared at the children. There were knots on their strings, it appeared as the puppeteer still had use for them in his grand play.
Disregarding their actions, Akemi continued. "We seek in exchange for protecting your village together with its inhabitants solely the good of information, which our leadership is quite sure, you will provide in ample quality as well as quantity. Return now towards your houses while we take care of the enemy and protect your lives, women and children. Please, take them with you!"
"Raphtalia, bist du es?!", rushed a father towards the neatly laid out children. In between the wails of grief resounding from the parents of those children...or what remained of them which was covered with pieces of cloth, the father embraced his daughter before taking her up. Looking to his side, he spotted Rifana, guilt welling up in his chest. There was no one at her side; she wasn't the only one alone, several children were not in fact unconscious and had been carried here, now standing in the field lost like lost puppies. Some of the children's remains also missed a grieving parent. At least they were reunited again.
Taking up Rifana too, and carrying the two small figures in his arms, Riftan looked back at the children left in the fields. Those alive have been tucked away by those adults still capable to act on their own, others carried their injured men back to the village.
However the dead ones still lay in the grasses, bodies covered by the heroes with cloaks of blue. Facing the retreating crowds, he shouted out with whatever was left of his voice, as he pointed at the remains.
Carrying themselves back to the corpses, the remaining empty handed men left their weapons in the grass as they grasped the fragile remains of the children, hefting them on their shoulders as they walked away, tumbling as energy and courage left their bodies, rushing back to their village.
Riftan turned towards the unknown heroes. Knights in silver armour with spears at their side, blue garments and capes waving in the breeze.
"Ich danke euch, bitte, wer seid ihr? Was macht ih-Nein, dass sind die falschen Fragen, wahrlich nicht geeignet für diesen Ort. Haltet euch nicht mit uns auf, ich denke eure Kumpanen auf der anderen Seite des Flusses können alle Hilfe gebrauchen die sie kriegen können.", spoke Riftan, coughing as his mouth was dry and his skin roughened up.
"Huh?", resounded the question mark filled Akemi, not sure what to say or how to understand the farmer. "Listen pal, just go there, you've done well, we'll take it from here.", spoke Akemi, pointing back towards the village. That entire mess wouldn't have happened if they stood their ground in the first place and they wouldn't have lost that many men and women, he spotted quite a few corpses along their charging path. But his opinion didn't matter and he sure as hell wouldn't make any comments when the footage was sent back live to Aincrad.
"At least there are some capable individuals able to defend them on their way back, but just to be sure, I'll send...oh, so at least they aren't mine I have to make going.", uttered Akemi, seeing a KOB member together with other Knights pull up to their position down the hill.
"I'll take over. You'll go to the other side. Our forces then will attack from both sides. We take out the enemy.", spoke the lightly clothed man, drawing a dagger from his wrist. A set of six Javelins rested on his back.
"Ah, so you were the responsible for the light show, light armour, no heavy weaponry, perfect for infiltration. You weren't with Raid Team Omega at the time of floor 75, guess they still let you in on the secret. Still listened to him like you would before, the shock must have been smaller now, so it doesn't come as to much of a surprise. Now don't go looking at me like this, we're on the same side. Go go, off you go, there are monsters to be exterminated on the way to the way to the village.", stated Akemi offhandedly as he and his team strode past the KOB force.
Joining the villagers on their hasty retreat, the KOB knights were off, not before the scout took out a small crystal himself. A small polygon, a Memory crystal. Now that he had time to eye the forums...they have been silenced. While some posts still remained, many of the voices of approval to such nonsense writings had been withdrawn. He just shook angrily at the cowardice of the people, eying the ravaged village and the massacred people. He couldn't make himself care about these people from the lower floors.
Even if he didn't understand the villagers, their manner of speech sounding rough, perhaps primitive, he did feel pity for them. And he considered himself to be an emotional roughened character.
"So he really does have a heart?", mused the scout to himself, remembering the stoic figure he served alongside for quite a long time. When he still lead the troops in the beginning, inspiring them to charge with him into the maws of death...his courage and demeanour really made even the most radical front-liner think first of an adventure and the honour instead of coming freedom closer one more step. Perhaps that was in his interest from the beginning.
Reminiscing, he remembered his own wish to join some form of honour guard for that man.
Heathcliff.
Strangely, now, only mixed feelings remained.
Akihiko Kayaba
A distant shadow lingering in his memory...which clouded his moral quite a bit. He thought of his analysis as correct, shaking his head again as to return to the present battlefield.
Risk was the constant companion of adventure...
Heathcliff began to draw away from the frontlines, returning to a higher vintage point while taking his honourguard with him. The Omega squadron reluctantly agreed, limbs shaking and if it wasn't for them knowing there was no enemy before them, they would repeat the same slashing motions as before.
Heathcliff sat atop an armoured steed, a pearl-white horse which his tamers had supplied, once the entirety of the KOB had found their bearings and joined the former commander in his conquest. The plan to collect the footage from this theatre of war was not only to motivate the nameless masses who stood behind the frontlines, no, they were primarily distributed as to reignite the battle will of the soldiers of the main guilds who lost their purpose. With nothing to achieve now, and shock after shock smashing against their brains like a battering ram, they needed...a distraction. An activity to focus their mettle on.
And they accepted the escape from reality with vigour. Hundreds marched under his banner now, some even coming with banners of KOB coloration just as to appease Heathcliff to let them join the campaign.
Heathcliff did so with great joy, organizing them into a capable battlegroup and finding them a place for deployment immediately.
Just like this, the war machine of Aincrad has been mobilized. Now the forums had turned from a place of banter and public complaint to a recruitment centre for the major guilds.
Heathcliff couldn't hide a small smile. This picture before him, all frontliners pulling at one string again, even together with those of the lower floors...it was grandiose.
"Is this what you wanted.", sighed the plain man helplessly as he rode up behind Heathcliff. He rode a brown warhorse, also armoured with heavy plate armour, colorized in a green tan.
"Indeed.", spoke Heathcliff, not turning his head from the painting before him. "You represent the will of the players, and this is their will."
"Yes. 1000 Men of the Army. This is the force we could muster to help you, these are all those within my ranks supporting you and capable of combat. I am at your command.", spoke Thinker, bowing his head slightly, swallowing his pride. He had been bested once by that men, he has learned his lesson.
"Now don't think this was your defeat. It is your win, for you still voice the will of the players. I am happy to see you held true to your word, which is a quality few have in this day and age."
Glancing at the large force standing besides him, which was about the same size he already commanded, he turned his white steed.
Surrounding Thinker, Raid Team Omega also stood atop of the hill, for all to see like the war banner of the KOB, the red cross on the white background.
"I greet you. I keep this briefing short, most of the background is already known to you, together with the data your leaders have already read and briefed you about on the way here, you have seen much in your time at war, I don't doubt your quality. The new feature introduced by Kayaba allows us to effectively lead a larger-scale warfare. As this is your first exposure to war and battle in this new world, I will have you follow our every command. I trust in your ability to defend those that cannot defend themselves, as the army has done in the past on the lower floors of Aincrad. Do your duty to our and this world's people.", spoke Heathcliff, gazing through the armies ranks.
They now stood different to their time in Aincrad. The situation was also affecting them, it was a crucial time of moulding their character even further, some of which had once again been shattered up in Aincrad during the 'World-shift'.
They were not standing like a mob put in neat uniforms and weapons thrown into hands. They were unsure of themselves, likely only mimicking some sort of stance they remembered from earth, one could see the insecurity in their stance, their eyes, yet their backs were straight and heads held high. Similar to an Army. They began to slowly embrace it, their role in this play.
Heathcliff nodded at them, and returned to overseeing the battlefield, all of it which was under his banner and control.
"I wouldn't need to surround the enemy if it was solely about these dog-kin strength. Dragging out this fight, if there are not to many losses on our side, will prove as a valuable lesson to our forces, a spectacle for the masses and a illusionary struggle to partake in for the players.", mused Heathcliff, as he chose to move the plot forward.
After insecure wave after wave of players arrived at the scene, running around like headless ducklings which would have likely marched into their death purely out of stupidity, now, after organizing their ranks and sending his new army to support the expert raid team which had been the core of his defence previously, he managed to extend the frontlines to an acceptable degree which didn't allow the enemy to encircle them.
Now that so many reinforcements had arrived, he could shield the village from collateral harm.
Now it was time to advance.
He would take the lead.
With capable reinforcements of his KOB already presents, waiting as an elite force in the back while staring at the battle with eager and curious intent, wholly captured by the invasive atmosphere, he rode forward to the front of his own forces, who began to summon their own horses from horse-shaped crystals.
His steed now formed the tip of the blade that was to cut through the enemy, a hundred knights saddled on pearl white horses, each equally armoured, everyone wearing the same armour and cape. Having ordered the troops further down entangled with the enemy, the formed cohorts began to part as described in the forum, creating a large gap through which the dogs jumped, howling with killing intent, biting at their sides, even at each other with slobbery maws.
Instead of the expected meat, their jaws were met with hooves from the knight's steeds. A wave of white poured down from the hill, lead by a crimson one, ripping through the unorganized mob in front of them, while the masses of players followed after them, filling the newly made room with shields and iron.
Heathcliff cleaved through the dogs with ease, the overwhelming power from his strike not cutting through one, two or three but five. His riders followed suit.
With no resistance to speak off, Heathcliff quickly arrived before the three-headed dog called Cerberus, lord of whatnot. He had no need for pretentious titles which had nothing but hot air behind them.
One of its head immediately bit at him, only to be deflected by the large shield, biting out its teeth while it tried to spread its jaws around it.
The other two sprung into action afterwards, one was struck across the face, the sword cutting through skin and eyes with ease while the other didn't manage to penetrate the commanders armour around his sword-arm.
One forth of the third life bar was cut off with such simple strike.
Angered, the head which's jaws had tightly clasped around the sword arm as to immobilize that threat pulled, throwing the knight off his saddle into the air.
Not impressed, Heathcliff flew through the air while activating Whirlwind. He began to spin, his body morphing into a singular circle of crimson coloured death as he spun down towards the main body.
The massive beast was to slow to evade, a gaping wound finding its way onto its torso, cutting deep into the flesh as black blood gushed out.
Having been dealt critical damage, the beast staggered back as it seemingly did a double take at the Crimson knight standing before it. Its vison flickered, or was it the knight's body vanishing as he struck again.
Heathcliff observed the wounds he inflicted upon the beast while evading any jabs of the behemoth. It was child's play to dance around the massive frame of the dying monster.
His men had formed a ring around the two contestants, others helping the two united forces cleaning up the remnants of the horde.
Now that he thought about it, these monsters felt weaker than even the mutated fauna of Aincrad they met on their way here. The difference in strength was baffling, he hadn't any need for raid team Omega which already had assembled within the circle to help him. They too noted the difference in strength, leaning leisurely on their weapons as they observed him.
One last strike was enough, he managed to cut off the second head. One third of the last health bar was remaining, the last head panted as it threw itself against him.
During the movement, the bar depleted.
The corpse came to an abrupt halt before it even had the possibility to strike Heathcliff, crashing to the ground.
"That was anticlimactic.", noted Heathcliff as he sheathed his sword, once again sitting on his steed before motioning his guard to follow him. They did so in a more fluid motion that before...most reluctance lost in the heat of battle. "Or so it would seem."
A few skirmished were heard here and there, but Heathcliff could only spot their outcomes as he and his entourage quickly rode towards the village.
Meanwhile, Akemi took out his boredom on one of the larger corpses. That dog-kin was no fun, at least from the bipedal creatures covered in rags and carrying rusted farming tools he expected some skill only to be left disheartened.
Spotting the few riders riding down towards the village past their men, lead by a crimson figure, with no stopping in mind, Akemi narrowed his eyes before taking up the pursuit, sprinting through the battlefield himself while keeping watch on the mounted Heathcliff.
AN:
Yeahhhhh, remember how I said I am very lazy. No? Because the last chapter has been published three months ago and you don't have the authors note in your mind anymore? Well, then again, I am indeed very lazy...and now the phase for class test is also coming closer, inch by inch. What did motivate me to publish this today after having the whole draft lying around in my folder for about one and a half months (probably still with typos, hopefully no plotholes or mistakes in characterisation) is this message I waited to type:
Kayaba! Where's my damn Nerve Gear! I don't care if SAO is a death game, just gimme! It's November 6th 2022, the day of the supposed start of SAO! Where is it! I see no advertisement! I see no game! You dare lie to me!
Now to the rest:
LaUgHiNgmaN: Thank you for the reply, and yes, Kayaba will indeed take the murderers into consideration. There is always something planned for every possibility. Will come to the surface in a couple of chapters, and indeed the people who walked out from the meeting...would make a difference.
There will however be no resurection, I want that element of horror to be as real as it gets.
Otherwise, yes indeed, both Kayaba and Akemi are socially inept.
Kayaba could also (maybe maybe not) create more Pretorians, however his "weakness" is that he does stick to his own principles, the fairness of SAO. So making it even more difficult for the players does go against that.
Setokayaba2n: Thank you very much, I believe what you stated will be a given in this fanfiction.
Sword Art Guest: Uiuiuiuiui, thats quite the novel you have written for me, thank you very much for your helpful input. It is always very nice to see people invested in my work and give their own thoughts about it, some of them really good and well thought out, better then what I had in mind when I brought my fantasies onto the screen. (Yeah, also a bleach fan, I already love every second of the TYBW-arc, lets goooooo)
Yes, Asuna is headstrong enough to try to circumvent Kayaba as much as she can, and turn things into a mudfight.
Honestly, I love the way you sum things up, I don't really have much more to say than I hope too Rifana will be saved by the actions of Aincrad
Halo: Yes, Yes, YES, big maybe XD, maybe, good idea, maybe, Very big yes, Very very good Idea. That should answer about everything.
Mothron: Take the splinter-effect as a sort of gimmick. It always stuck with me, so let´s categorize it as the teleportation effect, like when you have a magic circle and then fire or some elemem is conjured because of that. It's probably the only time when I can use it because dying now results in a bloody mess and equipment will not shatter into data.
Hold that thought of Kayaba standing at the sidelines and that of him being a genius and hold it for a few chapters. Gonna be important later… though the chain quest thing…yep, might edit some parts of ch 4.
Thank your for your review and for taking your time to work with me, it is appreciated
Turtle dude32(chapter 4 review): Aultocray, I know, I never actually hated him anymore after there had been a deeper explanation of his character. So, he himself will not attack, the heroes will definitely play a big role in the conflict. The church is the church, no comment on that.
We do still have the problem of Bitch being up to something, as wellas some people which might get a personal agenda against the People from the Sky who interfered with good business and can influence Aultocray to an extent.
Thank you for your review!
Tarrangar: Heh, blowing Heathcliff´s cover won´t be so easy. And hey, I am a Kayaba simp, so there are going to be biases showing in my texts, though I do try to make it believable. Society and culture have their peculiarities after all.
Though the punishment is…interesting idea, once they see through the man´s schemes it is indeed an ironic twist…
Coronadomontes: (-:
Gojosin: Mhmmm, it is the village you think it us (is it, no idea if we´re thinking about the same village}
Turtle dude32 (chapter 3 review): Gonna be fun!
