The next few days were spent in a reverie, the sort of mind-numbing trance that only descends upon a person that is devoting themselves fully to the mastery of their craft. When the duo were not performing drills and practicing movements, they were sneaking through the labyrinthine thicket of the 35th floor, prowling across the soft grass, hunting their hulking yet unwieldy prey. The more they stalked the forest, the more certain aspects of their game, and of stealth as a whole, became clearer to Caenor. He learned how to adjust the magnitude of pressure he applied on the soles of his feet so as to make the least noise when his boots touched the grass; how to slide the knife between the bones on a Drunk Ape's back so that its health gauge would drain faster; how to judge the direction from which the next attack might come based on the Drunk Ape's current posture.
Of course, no lesson in this game could truly be learned without pain, and Caenor spent many a day rubbing his throbbing backside or flailing about in the crisp afternoon air as the apes mercilessly took their turns sending him flying into the canopy. It was a good thing he stocked up on as many health potions as his inventory would allow at the nearby town every morning, or he would have perished long ago.
"That's it," Silica would say as he thrust his wrist-blade into a nearby tree for the two-hundredth time that day. "Remember that velocity is paramount. You only have a split second to puncture the exposed area, so you have to make each blow count. Twist your torso around to give you extra momentum, but remember to immediately return to your guarding position, otherwise you'll leave your chest and shoulder exposed. Remember that 90% of your style is dodging and avoiding attacks, but it's the remaining 10% that matters most. Extend, retract. Extend, retract."
One morning, Caenor lay in the shade of the oak, eyes closed as the errant sunlight streaming through the net of leaves above him flitted across his eyelids. Silica had granted him a reprieve for today, as she had her own errands to run, and so he was left largely to his own devices, with little else to do other than whittle the day away on his lonesome.
The visions of the day his life had been irreversibly overturned no longer haunted him on a regular basis, and for that he was eternally grateful. Yet the scars would perhaps never fade – that is, if he wanted them to heal at all. It seemed that his life was now carefully constructed around the fact of his traumatic ordeal, the fact of the knife in his hand that had slid into the throat of his assailant. His training, his new weaponry, his newfound friendships – all of them depended on his ability to kill.
Without it, he was nobody, merely another lay member of the guild, little more than one of many players trying to make it out of here alive. But with it, he could be more. He could rise above the hoi polloi and carve out a name for himself: as one who helped those who could not help themselves.
The thought exhilarated him, and rightly so. Yet in order to maintain the passion and drive required for such a task, he could never allow himself to let go of the moment that had triggered his rebirth in the first place. He had to grasp it firmly with both hands, even if it were covered in thorns that might one day bleed him dry.
There was also the matter of Seki. She had finally shown her face the day before, and Caenor had been so shocked by her appearance in the corridors of the guild headquarters that he had to blink several times before he could convince himself that she had truly risen from her self-imposed exile.
"Is that you?" he asked.
"Is that me? That's the first thing you say to me?" Seki chortled, though the laugh seemed to mask a few sobs here and there.
"I mean, I haven't seen you in a week and a half at least. You sure you're okay being out and about like this?"
"Asuna paid me a visit yesterday. Told me that I couldn't stay holed up forever. And honestly, I had to agree. Only way I can get over this is by putting myself back out into the world, even if it kills me."
"I see. Either way, I'm glad. I've missed you."
"So have I." The two of them embraced, ignoring the quizzical looks of the other guild members that passed by. As they released their hold on each other, Seki pointed at the wrist-guard on Caenor's arm. "That looks really nice. What is it?"
"It's a mithril wrist-guard dagger." Caenor tapped the button on his palm, showing Seki the blade that poked out on command. "Apparently it's real good for player killing, but not so much for fighting mobs – which is why no one really uses them."
"I see." Seki stepped back hesitantly, as if the person before her had somehow transformed right in front of her eyes. "You're serious about this, aren't you? The whole player killer team thing."
"Never been more serious about anything."
That was the truth – Caenor had never felt so invigorated in his life. Perhaps it was because he had finally found a singular purpose to which he could devote himself, one that he could truly throw himself into, because there was little else left for him to do. Yet the reluctance that lingered in Seki's tone and facial expression told Caenor that she still needed more time for herself, even if he wanted her to join him.
She had been trembling when Caenor had hugged her, and he suspected that the tremors visible in her demeanor would never fully go away. Not until she could find some sort of closure. Closure that could possibly be provided if she, like Caenor, wished to turn her fear into something more productive.
That could wait, however. For now, rehabilitation and recovery were key, and he was merely glad to see her face again.
They traded words of comfort before they left to attend to their own matters. Caenor could still see the back of Seki's figure walking away with a slight limp in the step – evidently her legs were still strained from the shock of her violation. As long as the body remembered, the mind could never forget. And as long as the blade that punctured his ribs also remained lodged in his memories, the same could be said for Caenor.
Sometimes, though, it was not the physical wound that cut the deepest. Caenor wondered if Kirito would ever be able to obtain the penance that he sought for the sin of deceiving his comrades and leading them unwittingly to their graves. Even during the few moments where he seemed happy and content, Caenor noticed that Kirito continued to keep his distance, as though his mind were subconsciously punishing him for daring to try and find any semblance of joy in life when the shackles that bound his feet had not yet been shaken off.
Kirito's crusade would carry on for as long as Kirito needed it to. And so would Caenor's.
"What're you doing?" asked a voice.
Caenor opened his eyes. He remembered that he had been looking for a spot to rest after lunch, and as his mind had wandered, so had his feet. The place he was in looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but there was nothing unrecognizable about the silhouette that peered down at him.
"Vice-commander," he said, pushing himself up into a seating position.
The maroon-haired maiden smoothed her robes out and sat down next to him. "How go the preparations?"
"I had a look at the information you sent me. Obviously, it would be best to go after the safehouse just outside Granzam's city limits first, but I feel that if we move too methodically or linearly we might alert the other hideouts to our activities. So, perhaps a more scattergun approach to weeding them out might be advisable."
"What do you suggest?" Asuna asked.
"Instead of going floor by floor as you have suggested, it would be better to attack the hideouts at random. For example, we might go from the 44th floor to the 59th, then to the 37th, and so on and so forth."
"I see. That makes logical sense. I'll leave it to you – once you have a schedule for the operations set up, come to me and we'll discuss things further."
"I suppose I am a vice-commander now, then. Though I don't quite feel like one, and I don't think I ever will. Especially since I'm still reporting to you, and not to Heathcliff."
"Well, you're invited to the vice-commanders' meeting, which is set to happen this Sunday. Consider this my cordial invitation to you to attend."
"I'll try to be there."
"You have to go," Asuna said sternly. "It's your responsibility as a vice-commander."
"I thought invitations were supposed to be optional."
"This is a mandatory invitation." Asuna rose to her feet and turned to look at Caenor, a wry smile now etched across her sleek features. "You're in a position of power now. Best to look the part."
The vice-commander of Team B of the Knights of the Blood made her way down the hill. The newly anointed vice-commander of a team that did not even yet exist closed his eyes and returned to silent contemplation.
The conference chamber of the Knights of the Blood's headquarters was the largest of all the rooms in the complex, even dwarfing the armory and mess hall, which spoke to the guild's priorities as much as it did the building's impressive scale. Lay members of the guild were forbidden from entering, even if the room was empty most of the time, though that didn't stop the occasional inquisitive peek through the keyhole. It was thus with no little consternation that Caenor, an erstwhile lay member, found himself standing in front of the great oaken doors, each with the great white cross of the guild emblazoned across their surface, the brass handles on the doorknobs clattering loudly as he placed his hands on them and pushed as gently as he could.
The long banners hanging from the ceiling had been unfurled, one hovering over each tall stone chair. The vice-commanders were seated around the table in the center of the room, turning to face the newcomer in unison as he entered, which only caused even more chills to run down Caenor's back. At the far end of the chamber, sat at the head of the table, was the man who oversaw everything relating to the guild: Heathcliff, the commander of the Knights of the Blood.
The name of the player who seemed invariably clad in his usual suit of crimson armor had been derived from the character of a well-known novel, though the Heathcliff of that particular story had ultimately consumed himself and those that he loved in a fit of poisonous envy and torturous rage. However, the Heathcliff that the guild members knew and adored could not be farther from his namesake: he was a calm, kindly, and strong leader who had the tactical and martial nous to back up his impressive reputation. His silvery gray hair, sleek features and muscular frame only contributed to his renown.
"I'm glad you could join us," he said as Caenor walked unsteadily towards the nearest available seat and claimed it for his own. "Please, sit."
Caenor peered at the other people present at the meeting, hoping that the heads currently turned in his direction would soon redirect their focus elsewhere. As his eyes met Asuna's, she smiled and nodded at him, which at least provided him a modicum of comfort. The air in the chamber was cold, and the marble that comprised his seat colder still, but Caenor felt that rubbing his elbows to warm himself up might show a lack of decorum, and so he clenched his stomach tightly in a bid to stave off the effects of the dip in temperature.
"Now that you're here, I think we can begin – especially since the first item of today's agenda is to congratulate you on your promotion. Welcome to the club, Vice-commander Caenor."
A brief smattering of applause rippled around the table. Caenor, unsure what sort of expression he should be making, stretched his lips slightly upwards in a half-grin. "Thank you," he murmured.
"The second matter that needs to be discussed also pertains to you. Vice-commander Asuna and I have discussed the formation of a new team for the sake of performing more… specialist missions. I'm sure all of you will be aware of what I am talking about." Heathcliff leaned forward and stared at each vice-commander in turn. "One guild member lost is one too many, regardless of whether that's in a boss battle or elsewhere. We will try to ensure the safety of those under our care as best as we can, whilst making all possible progress upwards through the floors. Our prerogative as a clearing guild is to face forwards unto the end, but we cannot do so at the expense of those who have fallen behind. Is that clear?"
All of the vice-commanders nodded.
"Vice-commander Caenor, I hereby allot you the same powers as those of the other vice-commanders present. You may recruit members for your team as you see fit, including from other existing teams within the hierarchy, though those who you select to enter your team must join purely of their own free will, and with the approval of their team leaders. You will be given an office, from which you will plan attacks and patrols. You should have already received a copy of the list of Laughing Coffin hideouts, which you will distribute to your subordinates. All other details regarding your operations will be left to your discretion. You will continue to report to Vice-commander Asuna for the time being, as she is best acquainted with you and Seki, whom I presume will join your team. She will assist you in searching for reinforcements within our ranks. Understood?"
"Yes," Caenor and Asuna replied.
"Very well. I wish you the best of luck. Now, moving on to the next topic of discussion."
"That wasn't so bad," Caenor commented as he and Asuna exited the chamber.
"Most meetings are like this anyway – there's never really much more to talk about than raid schedules, boss information, and so on," Asuna said. "Heathcliff doesn't really mince words – he says things like they are. A good skill to have if you're leading a guild as large as ours."
"I know he called us in for a discussion, but it really wasn't much of one. Mainly just him giving orders and us listening."
"He is the best of us, after all. Though he mostly leaves the battles and strategies to the vice-commanders in the end. Anyway, I'll show you to your office."
Caenor's new quarters were located on one of the higher floors in the back end of the building, where activity was often minimal, and the only ones walking past were people who had ostensibly gotten lost in the labyrinth that was the headquarters of the Knights of the Blood. Nevertheless, though it was a spare office, it was an office all the same, and by Caenor's best estimates it was spacious enough to house approximately thirty people with some space to spare. A pair of empty shelves had been pushed against the walls, and two large windows alongside each shelf allowed the light of the midday sun to seep in.
In the center of the room was a large desk, and it was towards this desk that Caenor now moved, running a hand along its coarse surface as he approached. He suspected he would be feeling this texture under his fingers more times than he could ever care to count.
Asuna went over to one of the windows, staring down at the players milling about in the streets below. "Your office has a better view of Granzam than mine does. Maybe we could swap," she joked.
"Your subordinates would leave your team if they had to walk five minutes every time they wanted to come see you." Caenor chuckled. "I don't have any such problems."
"That should hopefully change soon. I've asked each of the vice-commanders to scout a member each from their own teams for you to consider. That way, you should at least have enough people for a raiding party by the time you start."
"That's a massive help – I don't think any of them would have listened to my requests, since I get the feeling they still don't quite see me as a vice-commander. So, thanks."
"You're very welcome. Now then, I have a raid to go to this afternoon. I trust you'll be fine on your own."
Caenor nodded. "I'll get started on moving some of my things in here."
"Want me to call Seki in for you?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Asuna departed from the office, leaving Caenor alone to stare at the door, with nothing but the hum of activity outside to keep him company. It was a surreal sensation, to have the mantle of responsibility thrust upon one's shoulders at such short notice. A week and a half ago, he would never have been able to even imagine a moment like this.
But then again, a week and a half ago, he had two close friends instead of just one. If this position was his reward for enduring such agony, then he would gladly hand it back if it meant he could see Ferramo again. Some things were just not worth the price.
The day he had met Ferramo and Seki had not exactly been the most memorable of moments. The first floor's Labyrinth had ruthlessly cut the wheat from the chaff, leaving only those who were serious about clearing the game – as well as those who were lucky enough to make it through – to advance to the second floor. The players had gathered in the town of Urbus, the second floor's human settlement, waiting to re-form their parties and make their next moves. The party Caenor had been sticking with had somehow split up after the battle, as new allegiances had been forged in the fires of combat, leaving Caenor alone with little choice but to hope for someone to reach out to him.
That night, as he was eating alone in one of the town's inns, he noticed a shadow creeping over his plate, eclipsing the meager light from the inn's few lanterns. Looking up, he found himself face to face with a bulky and broad-shouldered figure, who seemed just about ready to bash his head in with the mace he had slung over his belt.
"Can I help you?" Caenor asked nervously.
For a while, the man said nothing, simply standing and staring at him. But when he did speak, the soft and polite tone of voice he used, so at odds with his overall demeanor, shocked Caenor into silence.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," said the man. "I noticed you were alone, and I was wondering if I could join you. You see, I've sort of been discarded by the rest of my party, and I needed to find a new one."
"Oh. Yes. Certainly." Caenor gestured for the man to sit opposite him. "My name's Caenor. What's yours?"
"Ferramo," the man replied.
"Good to meet you, Ferramo. I'm not sure we'll make much of a party with just the two of us, but it's a start."
"Maybe if we sit here and wait, someone will come over," Ferramo suggested.
"That's not how it works. We have to go and ask people if we can join their party."
"I don't really feel like doing that, to be honest with you. I'm not the greatest at talking to people."
Caenor rolled his eyes. "Then I guess we're not getting anywhere tonight. Anyway, you might as well grab some grub now that you're here."
The two of them sat in relative silence for the rest of the night, occasionally making small talk as they ate. Ferramo, as Caenor learned, was a plumber who had left a terminally ill mother, his only surviving parent, behind in the real world. He had been looking for a distraction from the tedium of both his job and his constant care for his only remaining parent. It was his sheer bad fortune that the first game Ferramo ever played would end up trapping him inside a virtual prison for the foreseeable future, with no way of even contacting his mother or getting her to a hospital. The anxiety about what might happen to her chewed away at him every day, and so he had resolved to clear this game as quickly as he could, so he might be able to return to her before she passed on.
Caenor's own backstory was considerably less exciting. He was an average high school student, like many of the other players here. The few friends he had in real life had not joined the game together with him, which was a significant obstacle in his attempts to be useful to the other players, but at least he did not leave any real regrets behind. He missed his friends and family, and he knew they missed him too, but unlike Ferramo's case it was not of the utmost importance to him that he escaped as soon as possible. Not a lot to be grateful for, but it could be much worse.
As the night drew on, the inn slowly emptied, its drunk and tired occupants gradually filing out until only two tables were occupied: their own, and another table several feet away. Taking up that table was a single girl, brown hood over her head obscuring her features, trying her best to appear as inconspicuous as possible. It seemed that she had been waiting for Caenor and Ferramo, and so Caenor decided to expedite the process.
"Hey," he called to her.
She pulled the hood back, revealing the feather-light vermilion locks that flowed from her crown. She had an almost elven elegance to her appearance, but she seemed weary and somewhat sorrowful, as though weighed down by the pressures of the circumstances she had been thrust into.
"Are you looking for a party as well?" Caenor asked.
The girl nodded fervently. "My name's Seki."
"I'm Caenor, and he's Ferramo." The two of them stood up and made their way over. "I think we'd do well to stick together. What do you think?"
Seki nodded again. "I'll be in your care."
The trio exchanged handshakes, and so the tale of the three friends thus commenced. It had seemed destined to be a jovial and hopeful story at the time. Who knew, Caenor mused as he returned his mind to the here and now, that the tale would eventually be brought to such a heart-wrenching end. Perhaps they had each foreseen that such a tragedy might occur, but they chose to ignore it for the sake of morale. It would not do them any good to constantly brood on possibility – only the certainty of present reality really mattered.
The door to Caenor's new office opened. The reticent girl he had met on that fateful night stepped in, and the sight of her smiling warmly heartened him to no end. He would have to rely on her in the days ahead, because he knew no others he could trust in the same way he trusted her, and he was sure she felt the same about him.
"Reporting for duty, Vice-commander," said Seki, grinning as she offered Caenor a mock salute.