The views and ideas discussed are not representative of the author's viewpoints on such topics.
Floor 47
Hill of Memories
The Darkness of the Red fades away.
A bitter wind blew under a cloudless sky. False stars lit up the floor's ceiling as moonlight trickled over swaying trees and flowers. Rustling of leaves was the only sound that could be heard here. Very few travelled the floor at night, the frontlines had long since passed. The logistical services followed soon after. What remained was a few players simply stayed for relaxation and several large empty buildings. Only a handful of floors could boast such an atmosphere. While monsters still roamed or hid in plain sight, they were rare to encounter even at the centre of dungeons. One could wander through the Hill of Memories and only come across a handful of monsters to fight. Even then, they blended into the environment like few others. Giant Venus Fly Traps swayed harmlessly in the wind beside countless cobbled paths that crisscrossed the flowery hills.
A perfect place for interrogation.
Alongside one cobbled path, underneath an evergreen tree, four cloaked figured stood above a collapsed player wearing white armour, rested against the trunk. None spoke, the four simply watched as the one beneath slowly came to his senses. His vision, once blurry with confusion and disorientation, had begun to see more clearly. Yet, his view only raised unnerving questions instead of giving convenient and pleasant answers. Instead of calmly analysing his situation, he lashed out like a cat in a cage.
"You won't get away with this! Whoever you are!"
The one stood closest to him knelt to his level, the figure's distorted smile evident even under the darkness of his hood. "Extremely bold and contradictory words from a former member of Laughing Coffin."
"How… How do you know that?!"
"We know a lot of things, Impala. Especially any subject around Laughing Coffin or certain affairs that occur behind the frontlines. Furthermore, there is no need to be concerned about your paralysed state, my poison manufacturer has told me, with the greatest of confidence, that it shall only last until this conversation expires."
He gestured leisurely to the shortest member, Impala attempted to glance over in his slumped over state. All he could see was an abyss of emotion. The figure only drew in calculated hatred while any form of remorse that fled long before. For, there is no hope under his watchful yellow eyes.
Impala quickly averted his gaze. If one stared into the abyss for too long, it will stare back into one's very soul. "And how long will that be?"
"How ever long it will take for you to come to your proper senses."
Stillness temporarily suffocated the area. Impala choked on the new air while the other four breathed perfectly fine.
"The only sense I see is the removal of those that tread down on us all, including yourselves." Impala spat with venom to spare.
The figure pulled down his hood, revealing soulless brown eyes and short yellow hair untamed by the comb. "It is our job as the Justice Division to deal with transgressors. Usually, as I admit, most end with a head on the chopping block. But, not here. I want to break you from the inside out. How can I do that with a longsword? No, the rupture of your inner psyche must be done with words alone. External wounds heal, however I shall fully make sure these inner wounds shall never heal."
"J-justice division?!" Impala's heart sank faster than a stone. The Justice Division. PoH's enforcers of Laughing Coffin. They hunted and massacred their way into his good books. Some could have said they were the only reason the guild didn't collapse into itself. Who better to keep the non-negotiable in line than those who command fear and make cruelty their puppet? "I'll d-do anything! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!"
The man smiled, his conquest by words had only begun. If the name 'Justice Division' itself stirred this sheer amount of dread, then carving gaping traumas would be easy by his words. Maybe, according to himself, even fun.
Minutes passed. Moonlight waned and waxed between thin clouds. Still Chieftain and Impala debated as the other three watched. Yet, they could see this dispute was extremely one sided. Not due to supplying more certainty and evidence, but by deception and enough falsity to continue the unceasing bombardment of Impala's mind.
His words wove together like thread. Fact and fiction merged into a black blanket of dread and denial. Though this blanket was oddly comfortable, one should not stay wrapped up for too long within. Otherwise, it would suffocate them in due time. Unfortunately for his victim, Impala never found out.
Topics spun out of the victim's control. Chieftain led the chase, Impala had to play catch up. The hounds of perjury were unleashed. A great trial of false equivalences and rebuilding legitimacy to fulfil personal goals. From revolutions covering entire nations in red, to the reluctance of a multitude of governments to progress into a supposedly better future, Chieftain left nothing to charity. Benevolence did not exist in his dictionary and Impala was learning the hard way.
Chieftain saw Impala's writing on the wall, his arguments and reasoning had begun to falter. He was not wrong with his facts, at least mostly, but the prevaricated reality Chieftain presented had taken its toll. The shells of distortion's rain of fire had done its job. "So answer me this: why do you fight? Is it truly for the betterment of all men or only for what you and your little gang view as an ideal world? Will your repressed sins become a dominant force in your new world?"
Impala did not respond, his lips failed to move. They sealed themselves together. His body became reluctant to continue his debate. Once full of opposition, barely any remained. Personal demons ran amuck within his mind, tearing down securities and his previous view of the world. A silent chime struck. The seeds of deceit had been planted.
"You may go," Chieftain smoothly said, raising back to his feet, "Reconsider your life's choices and do something about it. Before we come to say 'hi' again."
With only a nod, Impala cautiously rose to his feet and walked away, deeper into the dungeon. Silence returned to the hills of flowers for a brief moment. The four watched as Impala swayed over the countless hills of flowers, before he soundlessly vanished over a particular hill enveloped by white flowers.
"Justice has been delivered once again. Garm, Moirai, Latro, we are done here."
Chieftain once again raised his hood to cover his face in a luxurious darkness before turning to the others.
"You're just going to let him leave?" The second tallest questioned, pointing where Impala was last seen.
"Let him be, Garm. His mind will finish our work and himself."
One hour later
Floria
The four headed into town after their job had concluded, with Chieftain leading the pack. Their black cloaks had long since been placed into their inventories, hidden from sight (the only exception being Latro, who kept a grey cloak on). For now they all were regular players wandering the streets of Floria, a settlement of flowers, under the protectful and cosy gas lights. A red brick path guided all that entered with open arms. Small wooden shops lined every street, all painted white. Business was booming, for Floria that is. A dozen wandered each street for trade, as busy as it would ever get here.
"Shouldn't we keep an eye on the guy instead of heading downtown?" Garm questioned, still puzzled over his leader's actions.
"You still doubt my work?" Chieftain hit back, his words as subtle as a warhammer, "I should have you dangling over the edge for such a question. No matter, we are here to enjoy ourselves. All of us."
Garm retracted his statement. Chieftain was, well, the Chief of their little group for a reason. He had a way with words. Metaphors grew wings and flew into reality. The difference between real and fake blurred behind a red smoke of questionable certainty. Many could not help but believe his words, including those that walked alongside him.
Those that walked beside him were: Garm, Moirai and Latro. Garm, the second tallest, could only look up to Chieftain. Even with overwhelming firepower, he understood his actions were no match for Chieftain's words. Until the situation demanded violence, then he was the blue eyed man in shining black armour for the bloody job. A job which Moirai could only scoff at. While Moirai was the tallest, she never used her towering height. Instead, she brought herself to her foe's level, and crushed them from there. In fact, her hushed complaints over not being able to torture the boy from before remained very audible to Chieftain. Each criticism transpired to be not considered at all even with looks to impress any man willing to converse. Then, there was Latro, the smallest and least talkative. He did not hide under his cloak, it was protection for everyone else. A void of humanity, he existed somewhere between Hell and the mortal plane obliviously tempting the innocent to have a peek into the chasm of twilight. Each member would follow Chieftain to the very ends of Aincrad, a twisted form of comradeship binded them together like chains strapping a box of dread closed.
The four stopped beside a white public house decorated with vines and a straw roof. Warm orange glows danced in the windows, half obscured by blue curtains. Muffled music played from within.
"This must be the place: 'The Pink Rose'." Chieftain muttered, looking at a wooden sign above them decorated with a pink rose and green thorns around the flower, shaped like a shield.
"Only the Rat would know of a place where we can rest without suspicion…" Moirai commented, peering inside with her ever watching green eyes. "Seems like we are not the only ones that plan to stay for the night."
Silhouettes could be made out from within. Half a dozen sat around a table, clearly chatting between themselves, while a single person was slumped over the counter.
"Of no concern to us," Chieftain remarked, his hand resting the wooden door. "While we have protocols in place, I sincerely doubt a random bunch of guys could sniff us out. If they do, then… You all know what to do."
The three nodded silently.
As Chieftain opened the door, the music grew in volume thrice-over. Strings twirled and skipped. A song had reached its peak with each instrument and member of the band in perfect musical harmony. They sung tales of these lands and warriors who fought upon them. Wooden benches and creaky chairs lined the edges, with small round tables to place a cold beverage on top of. Some still retained rings of previous customers' drinks. A set of stools huddled beside the tall counter where a single woman NPC washed pints with old fashioned spit.
"Take a seat by the dartboard, I'll get the drinks." Chieftain stated, without moving any muscles. The rest nodded once more before following orders.
Just as Chieftain approached the counter, one from the group that was already there leapt to the same counter, nearly resulting in a collision. Chieftain barely slid out of the way, but enough to not be hit. He scanned the stranger. A wandering Samurai, wearing red and black. Definitely a mood setter wherever he goes, his friendliness practically glowed off him.
"Ain't seen you around here before," the stranger began, "You from the Frontlines or only just made it to this floor?"
Without hesitation, Chieftain replied with a fictional tale. "Yeah, we are not Frontliners. We hover a few floors behind, doing the odd bit of work here and there for guilds and NPCs alike. I suppose you and your small guild are Frontliners?"
"Oh, yeah yeah. Just spending some time here to relax, it's… quite stressful working day after day with your life on the line."
"I can imagine so…" Chieftain turned back to the waitress behind the counter, "Four pints: three Maibocks, and a Weizenbock."
The waitress nodded before, suddenly, four beers appeared from blue pixels beside Chieftain. He paid in earnest before turning back the the stranger who ordered the same as he did before (some generic middle of the road lager).
"Where am I manners… Call me Klein!" He reached a hand out. "Guild leader of Fuurinkazan, pleasure to meet ya!"
"Chieftain…" He shook Klein's hand, "Likewise."
"Say… I recognise you from somewhere but, I can't seem to figure it out."
Chieftain's eye twitched. Burry the truth. Let the comforting lies seep in. Let them create a false world of post-truth. Keep building upon it until it becomes stable. The lies are less strange than the truth. He took a deep breath.
"Must have been during the ball after the 'Knights of the Blood Oath' moved their base of operations to Nolfert on floor 39. A lot of players were invited, including myself, to celebrate their countless victories."
He paused for a second. The name, it was… familiar. His amalgamation of half-truths had some weight. He forged an image within his mind, picturing the grand ball, where chandeliers swung gently with golden crystals hung loosely at their tips. A red carpet became the stage of pedigree and erroneous glory. Upon it, walked the self-proclaimed heroes and liberators. They would free all from the death game, they proclaimed while squandering the tastes of various beverages. Here, between these boisterous players, was indeed Klein. Friend of a friend with someone high up. Who that was, Chieftain cared not for. Only that he was there, that was all that mattered right now.
"You were attempting to 'chat up' some women." Chieftain continued, taking a light sip from his Weizenbock. "Earnt yourself a reputation."
He definitely was a mood setter. For better or worse. Klein scratched the back of his head with a laugh. "Y-yeah, sounds about right. I guess you were invited?"
"Of course, but for official business, no time to drink the night away. Proposals had to be discussed, deals finalised, treaties drawn up, the usual… So you guys can keep on fighting, but enough of my work. You are here to enjoy yourself, and I cannot allow myself to bring you down with guild politics. You and your guildmates enjoy what spare time you have."
"Thank you, and you too kind stranger!" Klein slapped Chieftain on the back, before returning to his group with his beer. Chieftain could only sigh. The wandering Samurai did not seem like the inquisitive type, yet underestimating a potential opponent could bring about disadvantageous situations in future conflict. That was if he ever met this merry band of men again. Unlikely yet not impossible. Something to be noted, if the worst raises its ugly head.
With a roll of his eyes, Chieftain delivered the drinks to his table before immediately being questioned (if not interrogated) by Moirai, "The hell did he want? If he attempted an informal investigation of us, then I propose an immediate-"
"There is no need to conduct an inquiry." Chieftain interrupted sternly, "Klein is far more interested in impressing women than questioning my reasonings for being here. If anything is to come from this, they would not be able to see beyond the fog of complacency and the injustices committed by their allies. We are protected by their own actions. Now, drink up."
Latro simply stared at his Maibock, frightening it cold and anyone else that glanced at him. Garm did not wait a moment before chugging down the pint, rivaling world record attempts. Moirai had little small sips, no where near a mouthful. She savoured the taste, every millilitre of it. Meanwhile, Chieftain caught the typical dartboard in the corner of his eyes once again. An idea sprung up like a deer in a lorry's headlights.
"Who's for a game of darts?" Chieftain grew a false smile, taunting any challengers to step forwards, "I promise that I shall not be too competitive."
"A challenge I cannot resist." Garm grabbed three darts from a small clay pot resting on the bar, "Best of five?"
"And the loser pays for the meal for our fine guests."
They both nodded at each other. The members of Fuurinkazan cheered from their corner, raising their pints high while annoying some other customers with their loudness. Tonight would be a long night.
Here, the wind blew even fiercer. Below, an endless void of clouds swirling steadily downwards. None who took the plunge came back. He knew this all too well. Several times he witnessed the same plunge. Several times he wept at the Monument of Life. His world had collapsed around him, piece by piece over the last year, until eventually he was the final piece left standing. Starting over was not an option, he had nothing to start over with. Even now, Chieftain's words ran rampant within his mind. Whatever plans he once had, they were dwarfed by doubts and conflicting thoughts. The seeds of deceit had sprouted into a black flower.
He climbed onto the stone railings, barely keeping his balance. Behind him was a life full of lies, juxtaposition and pain. Ahead, some form of resolution. Coherent thoughts had long since passed by now, ramblings and contradictions were all that remained. His actions could not be rewritten, but their effects could be limited.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem.
"Thank you…"
He took a step forward.
The next morning
Town of Beginnings
Another sunrise over the vast settlement. Thousands of players would awake to continue their days, far away from the front lines and under the thumb of the Aincrad Liberation Force. NPCs opened up stalls and cafes across the town. People begun to wander the streets. Smiths birthed fire as carts brought fruitful bounties. The workday had begun.
A few dozen filtered in and out of the Black Iron Palace as 'The Army' watched carefully and emotionlessly. Their armoured uniforms glistened off the sunrise. They stood beside towering metal gates.
Another day of mourning came. Some cried, others remained silent at the crossed out names upon the monument. Some gently placed weapons on the steps to the Monument while others brought flowers or various foods. Some whispered words of prayer. None of it may bring back the fallen but each one lived on in someone's heart. Yet, where the air froze with sorrow, many could find peace. Even if said peace was a temporary one.
The flow of people was steady and slow. None pushed or shoved, everyone remained in the winding queue except for two, one dressed in steel plates and brown underclothing while the other remained under a black cloak. They watched a brown haired girl barely out of her teens place some flowers beside the Monument of Life, weeping muffledly. She looked through her tears at a crossed out name at her eye level: Impala.
"You impress me yet again, Chieftain." the taller cloaked one commented, "All without blood on your hands. No traces?"
"No traces," Chieftain replied, his bluntness half worn by a long night, "Besides, I enjoy my job really. Sometimes you have to be creative to get around the current system. No need to alter it drastically to benefit yourself or claim it benefits everyone, but adapt to the loopholes and take advantage of every opportunity."
"Indeed… Some creativeness to our killings does add some flavour. Like having the last survivors fight to the death, before killing the last one."
Both mutely cackled.
"As for his followers, Prince of Hell," Chieftain continued, his voice without feeling, "They are scattered among the lower floors without a leader to guide them. The message sent to them shortly before Impala's death is likely to be the cause."
Opening his menu and shifting through the tabs almost mechanically, he quickly found the message before playing it as loud as a whisper:
"Members of the Red Light,
As of this moment, I resign of my post as guild leader.
This decision may come as a surprise to many of you, but that is because I have hidden this from you all for far too long.
While I wish for the best for everyone across Aincrad and in the real world,
reality has caught up with me.
Reality has shaken me to the core and… well…
sigh
Made me realise my current path will only lead to disaster.
A path many have walked on, and died upon.
I do not wish for this fate for anyone in Red Light.
Instead, all members of Red Light should look into themselves,
And see what is truly the best path.
Our-no my path is not a good path.
If you are to break free of our prison,
You must work alongside the very people I said we must oppose.
They are our best shot in reaching the real world again,
But, do not be their slaves, be equals in all regards.
For me… I will not see any of these events with my own two eyes.
My sins are too great to walk among any of you.
So, for a final time,
Thank you for everything."
Message ends
Click
"We can rid of the rest them if you wish."
"No, it would raise too much suspicion. Leave them to their fate. If left alone, none of them shall remain a threat to us as they do not know the truth behind their former guild leader's actions. As for this 'Impala' guy, of what you said, how much of it was the truth?"
"Enough for his doubts to take control."
"And how much do you believe?"
"Enough."
They exited the Palace behind a small group of mourners, shadows shifted and shrunk, fearful of what the light brought. Shops had fully opened, each full of customers. The Town of Beginnings was now awakened from its slumber. All of the first floor and beyond felt its economic might as the gears of trade clunked and turned, a well oiled machine of Cor. Each street only grew in organised chaos, not exactly suitable for those that work in the shadows and out of sight of authority. Both PoH and Chieftain knew this all too well. Yet, who would believe those who proclaim that 'the leader of the largest and most infamous murder guild met with a close associate in one of the hectic and bustling places in the entirety of Aincrad'?
They reached the circular central plaza. This area sat in the back of thousands of minds, even for those that had not stepped onto these ground since that fateful day. Here was where all were told of their entrapment by Kayaba. After that, he simply vanished. Did Kayaba walk amongst them or did the mastermind return to the real world to laugh at those who failed? Whatever the case, dozens died within his creation. Directly or indirectly, he would take the fall.
Before they parted ways, PoH raised one last question: "What will you do when I inevitably close down Laughing Coffin or sell everyone out?"
"Simple; serve Justice elsewhere. We are your Justice Division, always a call away. Even when this wretched game is eventually beaten, and those that survive are freed from our virtual chains, that does not mean the idea of 'Laughing Coffin' will die. They will simply transform into something else, with or without us. Ideas are not men, but they fight like men. Those who survive will continue to commit acts in the guild's name. We shall not. Only in your name we serve."
Author's Notes:
My contribution to the SAO fanfiction server's Secret Santa event, for my good friend and fellow Sage: Len. You said you wanted a surprise, so I gave a surprise. Although, this was a surprise for myself as well. Came up with the idea a few months ago and left it at that. But, with very little planning (the least I've done), this has been a first as well as writing characters like this. Hope it reads well! (even with the rough edges).
Feel free to check out Len's stuff! (remove spaces)
AO3: archiveofourown users/ lenerk01
FFN: www. fanfiction u/ 7726352/
This idea has been going around for a little while as Laughing Coffin, never really has a proper chance to shine and reveal their true colours. So, why not make something just around the guild? Thus, this was made. Furthermore, the name 'Justice Division' and their role in Laughing Coffin is heavily inspired by the 'Decepticon Justice Division'. Please do let me know what you think of the Original Characters introduced here, especially the Justice Division. Though only currently planned as a one-off, if enough people like it, I may continue this fic.
I'm a part of the SAO fanfiction server, feel free to join to discuss with fellow authors and readers alike! Link (remove spaces): discord .gg /HTauXae2gd
