Caenor strutted past the new faces standing in front of his desk, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's as he scrutinized their features. The new faces looked somewhat uncomfortable, but perhaps had there been more of them gathered here they would not need to feel so awkward, even if they were still required to stand at attention in front of the vice-commander.

Alas, that proved not to be the case. In the end, only two people, out of a guild numbering nearly a hundred, had arrived.

"This was as much as we could realistically get," Asuna had told Caenor as he had gotten ready to meet them.

"Did so few people really want to help with preventing more pointless lives from being lost?" Caenor felt compelled to ask. He was not surprised – in fact, he initially did not expect any reinforcements at all – but the reality of the situation still nonetheless disappointed him.

"Honestly, we had a decent amount of interest, not just from within Team B. Unfortunately, the players that wanted to join your team also had to obtain approval from their team leaders, and none of the vice-commanders wanted to deplete their own numbers before the relatively busier schedule we have in the coming months. So, I did what I could."

"And only two people from Team B wanted to join me?"

"Two out of half a dozen. We do have a lot of raids to run, and given that I've just lost five of my best to this new cause, I can't afford to thin my team any further – especially if we're allocated a vanguard role."

"Unfortunate that you have to be the one making all the sacrifices," Caenor said, though his tone was noticeably caustic. Asuna did not make any vocal objections to his rebuke; she merely spun around and left his quarters without another word.

She was not exactly wrong to look out for her own team. She had done him a favor that he knew none of the other vice-commanders would have granted in a million years. But, he could not help but feel that the vice-commanders as a whole seemed a little out of touch with the circumstances of the lay members laboring under them, risking life and limb so they might move just a little farther forward through the gloom.

Hunting parties were often more susceptible to unexpected casualties than boss battle raids, as boss battles were usually planned out extensively, with every single boss mechanic expounded in excruciating detail to the participants before they went in. On the other hand, a previously unseen or unreported monster – or worse – could set upon a hunting party that had not prepared for every eventuality. Given that hunting parties usually went to lower-leveled floors, adventurers were prone to underestimating the true scales of their respective tasks.

There was always a significant difference between a battle with a known enemy and a battle with an unknown one. The same difference there was between dodging a lethal attack – thus saving your own life – and failing to do so.

In any case, Caenor was now left to deal with his two new recruits alone. Though Seki had tried to put on a front of being well enough to meet them, Caenor had noticed her legs shaking and told her to get some rest for the day. It was a little concerning that she was still not well enough for combat, but he could not begrudge her the dearth of confidence she suffered from.

He gestured to the first person on the left, a gaunt, brown-haired young man ostensibly in his late 20s who wore creases and wrinkles all over his face – including a hideous scar on each cheek – as if his skin were telling the story of a lifetime's worth of experiences. "You're Altorius?" he asked.

Altorius nodded.

"I'm Cantabile, in case you didn't know," said the girl beside him. She had black hair with an indigo tinge, shaped into bangs that covered the majority of her forehead. Below that was a piercing gaze complemented by jade-green eyes, freckled cheeks, and ruby lips that were pressed tightly together as she reciprocated Caenor's scrutiny.

"I know. We've talked before."

"Yeah. And honestly, I'm surprised they made you a vice-commander. You didn't seem to have much of anything, and you still don't."

Caenor ignored her jibe and stared at the list on his desk. Twenty-two coordinates; twenty-two hideouts. Potentially dozens of names to track down and kill, each one hell-bent on staying alive no matter the cost. Not to mention that the more safehouses they eliminated, the more likely the remaining hideouts would be empty. Laughing Coffin were blatant about their desires, but they weren't stupid – they would be able to tell if they were being targeted. Hence why it was vital that once Caenor's team got the ball rolling, they did not take too long of a break between each hideout.

It was also imperative that they worked together. Their excursions would forgive no errors of judgment.

"Before we get started, I'd like to know a little more about the two of you." Caenor said. "I don't know anything about you beyond your names and a small chunk of your histories, even though we've fought together on several occasions. So, I want you to tell me why you volunteered to join this team."

"I'll start," offered Cantabile.

"Go on."

"I don't really have an in-game sob story or anything, and I don't have anyone I care about enough for me to want to avenge if they die. I just can't stand player killers. They're ruining the game for everyone else."

"There's a lot more 'ruining' the game than just player killers, but maybe I see your point."

"Is there really?" Cantabile queried.

"What do you mean?"

Cantabile leaned towards Caenor, placing her palms on the table as she drew closer.

"Do you know why the people in Laughing Coffin do what they do?"

Caenor tilted his head, as if not quite understanding the question. "Because they can?"

"What kind of an answer is that?" Cantabile recoiled, as though physically disgusted by Caenor's glib reply. "There's a lot of things we can do; doesn't mean we do them. You could hop off the edge of the 55th floor just because you could, but you're not going to, are you?"

"Yes, but what I meant is that they feel it's the best way for them to make their way through the game, and if they're allowed to do it, then they will. They've adopted a certain way of life because their perspectives have been warped to the extent that killing other players is seen as acceptable."

"Let me ask you this." Cantabile crossed her arms. "What do you think we're living in right now?"

"A… game? If you can call it that."

"You can call it that, because that's what it is. People came to this game to escape from the real world, first and foremost. It just doesn't matter to some people that they can't go back, because of how horrible and undesirable reality is. If you were living in a dump, abused and betrayed by the people you trusted, with no better future in sight, would you really care that you were trapped in a place where you could be something more? And if other people were trying to prevent you from elevating yourself to a higher, better plane of existence, then wouldn't you want to be rid of them?"

As Cantabile finished speaking, the realization dawned on Caenor that she was talking about herself.

"Is that why you're so keen on this?" Caenor asked. "Because they're spoiling your fun?"

"It's not 'fun'. This game has given more life to me in one year than the real world has in sixteen. It means more to me than you think. And it's the same for the people who you're trying to hunt down. For a lot of people in Laughing Coffin, this game is all they have. That's why they're willing to throw progress away for the sake of living the life they want to live, even if – especially if – that means we stay in Aincrad forever."

"So, why haven't you joined Laughing Coffin already?"

Caenor anticipated that Cantabile might lash out at him for posing that question to her. Instead, she grew quiet, and her sharp eyes seemed to soften.

"Because even after everything I've gone through, I'm still me. I don't want to see anyone suffering unnecessarily. Mobs and bosses are part of the game, and I've come to take them at face value, even if people die because of them. But Laughing Coffin are selfish, psychopathic, and a needless stain on this world. I've decided that I'll wipe the stain clean, whatever it takes."

"I… get what you mean." Caenor could only sympathize with her motivations. How could he not? "Sorry. That wasn't appropriate of me."

"If you're really sorry, then you'll do what's required of you." Cantabile stuck out a hand. "Take care of me and I'll take care of you."

Caenor shook her hand and smiled. "You won't have to worry about that. What about you, Altorius?"

Altorius' head jerked upwards, as if he never expected the focus to shift to him. Cantabile sighed.

"I think you'd be better off not asking," she said. "He's mute."

"He is? How does he communicate?"

"Sign language, or just simple gestures. I learned a bit of it to help him, though without a full glossary I can't really converse with him beyond the most basic things. It took a lot of asking him what certain words were in sign language, as well as messaging via text. Thankfully, he's a fast typer."

"Then maybe it would help if we added each other as friends, so we could talk to each other properly." The three of them duly brought out their player menus and exchanged friend requests.

A message popped into Caenor's view. Hello, Vice-commander, it read. Caenor nodded at Altorius, who gave him a half-smile.

"Would you be comfortable telling me about why you want to join us?" Caenor asked.

Altorius began typing furiously, and for a minute all that could be heard in the room was the sound of the holographic keyboard trilling under Altorius' fingers. Then, Altorius tapped the send button, and a second notification appeared.

"You mind me reading this aloud?" Upon receiving Altorius' approval, Caenor started to read.

"First of all, I would like to state that I do not share Cantabile's views on this game," he recited. "I would like for all of us to be able to escape as soon as possible, and I agree that as much effort as is available should be expended towards clearing the higher floors. That being said, eliminating player killers would allow us to maximize the efficiency of the existing community, as the longer their stink is allowed to fester, the more their toxic fumes will sap the strength of the players as a whole. I believe we should sweep through their dens as quickly as we can, so we may be able to return to our primary objective."

Caenor raised an eyebrow. It was an extremely logical piece of reasoning, even if his lack of personal motivation for the job was of some concern.

"Have you watched anyone die, or killed anyone before?" he asked.

A pause. Then, a third message.

"I have watched people die, and I have also killed someone. Neither were done in this game."

An enigmatic and unsettling reply, by all accounts. "I won't press any further if you don't want me to," Caenor said.

"I do not mind sharing. My house was burgled when I was a teenager. My parents were attacked first, and I woke up just in time to see them murdered. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife, but one of the robbers shot me in the cheek from close distance, removing most of my tongue. I managed to kill him and jump out of the window before his accomplices could retaliate, and eventually I dragged myself to a nearby hospital. I have been mute since then, and although I have been bestowed with a new tongue by the grace of the creator of this game, it has simply been too long – I have forgotten how to speak, and I have no desire to learn again."

Perhaps he did have his reasons after all. Still, one thing bugged Caenor about what Altorius had said – or typed, rather.

"Why don't you want to stay in the game for longer, like Cantabile? It doesn't seem like you're having the best time of things out there."

Altorius' stony expression shifted into one of unease.

"This game is a mirage, no matter how realistic its design. It is not my reality or my truth. I cannot help but feel at odds with my avatar, even if it has been coded to match my appearance. My newfound physique reminds me every day that I am not part of this world. Unfortunately, all body parts regenerate in this world – I have tried cutting my tongue off multiple times, to no avail."

Another message quickly followed the last.

"I want to be in my own body again. That is all I have desired ever since my virtual incarceration commenced."

Caenor tossed and turned, occasionally pulling the blanket over himself when the frosty air creeping around the bedroom grew too cold to bear, then throwing the quilt away again when his body heat overrode the external drop in temperature. In the end, he decided that he would be better off tiring himself out until he grew sleepy again, and so he roused himself out of bed and made his way towards his office.

It had been two days since he had essentially tripled his team's total head count, and his office desk was now already strewn with reports, notes, and various other potentially useful scraps of information. Altorius' notes took up a third of the desk space – he was an amazingly quick writer and logical thinker, and his thoughts on everything from orange guild recruitment to human body weaknesses were incredibly detailed, if a little difficult to read at times.

The layouts for the two Laughing Coffin hideouts that the guild had previously raided were also there, drawn hastily by one member from each of the hunting parties that had been tasked with clearing them. The first hideout had been a large cave consisting of two levels, one larger main area and one deeper floor that served as a storehouse and prison, which had required a joint effort between multiple guilds to flush out; the second hideout had been little more than a hut, hidden some distance from a well-used desert path, that had been stumbled upon by a passing guild party. Only one of that party had survived to tell the rest of the guild about it, and the Knights of the Blood had sent a small force to ensure that it would never haunt any passersby again.

Caenor's guess was that most Laughing Coffin hideouts would be similar to the latter variety. Large safehouses were expensive to maintain, and were not really Laughing Coffin's style – an orange guild like theirs would be more nomadic and decentralized than the legitimate guilds, who could afford to strike out from a single base of operations.

It would hence be sufficient for Caenor's team to be comprised of a small number of highly efficient and well-drilled operatives, rather than a bigger number of moderately-trained troops, which would be much better suited to boss fights. Altorius suggested eight as the maximum number, though in truth four or five would be enough until they reached one of the larger hideouts. With Cantabile, Altorius, himself, and hopefully Seki available, they would not require any more reinforcements for now.

Just as he felt his eyes start to droop from staring at Altorius' tiny writing in the weak lantern light, he heard the shuffling of footsteps passing by the door. Even in the day, having people come to this part of the building was a rarity – at night, it was an impossibility.

He tiptoed over to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. The footsteps were slow, deliberate, and slightly muffled, as though the person walking outside did not want to be heard. They faded away, but then soon returned, and stopped just as they were loudest – right outside his door.

Caenor darted behind one of the nearby shelves as the door creaked open. The dim lantern in the room failed to reveal the intruding figure's face, though Caenor observed that they had a head of long hair. They were clad in brown armor, meaning Caenor was unable to tell if they were a member of the guild or not, but it was highly unlikely that an adventurer not connected with the guild would be able to sneak in, especially since the front entrance was always locked by midnight.

The figure rummaged through the papers on Caenor's desk, lifting each sheet to the light and peering at it, then moving on to the next. Finally, they took the two Laughing Coffin hideout blueprints and stuffed the papers into their pockets. They continued to search through the mess, but eventually conceded defeat and turned to leave.

Questions inundated Caenor's mind, and he debated stepping out and intercepting the figure, or staying in the shadows and confronting them later. But before he could decide on his next course of action, the figure turned and abruptly dashed out of the room, precious cargo in tow. Caenor leapt out and ran after them, yet as he pulled the door open and rounded the doorway, he found himself face to face with a completely deserted hallway.

A burst of panic overtook him. The figure had vanished.

He sped down the left corridor, placing one hand on the pommel of the dagger sheathed in his belt. He could not take any offensive action against other players in the city's Anti-Criminal Area, and he could not take any damage either, but he touched his weapon out of instinct anyway. By now his regular sessions with Silica had taught him to be wary of any and all threats – especially where he might least suspect them.

Yet the adjacent hallways also turned out to be empty, and anxiety soon gave way to resignation. From what he knew of the headquarters' vast network of corridors, the only place the figure could have headed was the western annex, where a cluster of living quarters were located. Caenor could not exactly go around waking people up and asking whether they'd been snooping about, and so he had no option but to return to the office and survey the aftermath of the figure's encroachment.

Back in the office, as he sifted through the papers, he noticed that aside from the two blueprints, one document remained conspicuously missing – perhaps the most important document of them all. He had distributed the Laughing Coffin hideout coordinate list to the other two, but he always kept a copy of it on his person at all times. Luckily, he recalled taking his own copy with him back to his bedroom for another quick read, which meant that it had not been left in the office. A stroke of good fortune, given that the sanctity of this space had been so readily breached.

Satisfied that everything was in order, he returned to his bedroom, locking the office as he did so. He did not previously think locking the door every time he left was necessary, but now he knew that he would have to go that extra mile. More importantly, he had to find out who the figure was. Long hair and gray armor was little to go by as appearances went, but surely within the ranks of the Knights of the Blood there could not be that many people with that hairstyle. Asking for a full guild picture roster from Asuna would not be difficult, as long as he explained his reasons.

The figure's motivations were unclear, but for now all Caenor could think of was to try and sleep. Yet the episode had not helped his chances of that at all, and his beating heart would not be easily stilled. Though he crawled into bed and shut his eyes, it was only when the meek rays of dawn filtered through the windows that he finally gave in to slumber.

The three members of Caenor's team stood at the edge of the world.

Well, not quite. But from the vantage point that they had, the ground far below might as well be nonexistent.

The great cliffs of the 45th floor, promontories of packed sediment marred by streaks of marble and limestone, were matched only in scale by the immense lake that they surrounded. The outcrops ringed the banks like a titanic fence guarding the lake's pristine waters from interference by what lay outside – the expanse beyond the cliffs was a hazardous wasteland, full of crystal scorpions, fiery boars, and all manner of hostile wildlife. The density of the creature population on this floor made it an ideal place to train – that is, if you were ever allowed to catch your breath. It was common for high-level adventurers to go on "cliff runs", where they would fight their way to the protrusions overseeing the lakes, rest at the summits, then fight their way back to the teleport gate. As good a source of experience and loot as any, if you had your wits about you.

Caenor sat on a nearby rock, checking and double-checking the mechanism of his wrist-blade, ensuring that its durability remained at sufficient levels. Cantabile and Altorius stared out into the horizon, saying nothing. Their elbows touched, but they did not move any closer.

Caenor couldn't help but wonder if there was anything special going on between them. Cantabile had essentially nominated herself as Altorius' personal speaker when typing proved to be inconvenient, and Altorius seemed content for that to continue. They also never seemed to go anywhere without the other – even on their off days, Caenor could occasionally see them walking about town, side by side, hands agonizingly close to being held. Nevertheless, they never acted like anything more than close friends.

Plus, if Seki were mute, Caenor would likely do the same for her, and he did not yet see her in that particular light. For now, he would hold off the temptation of asking.

It was fascinating to see the ways in which their respective weapons reflected their personalities. Cantabile, ever the brash, no-nonsense warrior, carried a Morningstar, its golden spiked head reared every time Cantabile swung at her enemies, sickening crunches accompanying every impact against flesh and bone. Caenor could not help but be reminded of Ferramo, though Cantabile's lethal skill with the mace far exceeded that of any wielders of blunt weapons Caenor had ever seen.

On the other hand, Altorius did battle with a silver rapier, its needle-like tip piercing through the softest and weakest points of his opponents with surgical precision. Fighting with him and speaking with him were similar in many aspects – his focus was on nothing but the most rational and straightforward route towards the solution of whatever problem was at hand. It was hence nearly impossible to make small talk with him, not because he didn't understand you, but because he considered such conversations unproductive. If there were matters to be discussed, he would discuss them. If not, he would immediately go off on his own, or look for Cantabile.

They were a strangely dysfunctional group, in many respects. But perhaps this unusual mix of talents was just what Caenor needed. And as long as their targets aligned, Caenor was assured that they would give all they had to succeed.

Earlier in the afternoon, they had gathered in the office to discuss the previous night's incursion. After explaining the situation, Caenor had instantly been subject to Cantabile's berating.

"Why wouldn't you lock the door? Don't you realize how sensitive the information here is? It only takes like five seconds, surely you can remember to do that much every time you leave? Or is even that beyond you?"

"Yes, but we're deep inside guild headquarters, aren't we?" Caenor replied. "There was never really any reason to suspect anyone up until now. The other vice-commanders never lock their doors, either."

"The other vice-commanders deal in bosses. Monsters. Beasts. Our trade is people. Other humans. A hundred of whom share this building with us." Cantabile sighed, clearly frustrated by Caenor's naivety. "They're guild-mates, but they're not our allies by any stretch, let alone friends. They're here because it's more convenient being in a big group of people, rather than alone. You should know that, and you should know better."

"I… guess you're right." Caenor pursed his lips and looked down at his feet.

"At least they didn't take the hideout list. You still have that, right?"

Caenor nodded. "Good thing I took it with me yesterday."

"So, you're telling me you don't normally keep it with you?"

"I…"

"Oh man." Cantabile threw her hands up in resignation. "You are not prepared for this at all. Not one bit. We're 100% gonna die with you in charge."

"Don't you think you're making it a bigger deal than it is?" Caenor protested. "This was one oversight. I've managed everything else pretty well so far, even if I say so myself."

"There's literally been nothing to manage. We don't even have a date for our first operation yet. We haven't sparred or gone hunting together, so I have no idea how you fight, and you have no idea how we fight. Maybe we should rethink whether we wanna join your team or not."

A shadow passed over Caenor's eyes, and his heart turned to stone. Cantabile, who noticed the change in his demeanor, closed her mouth and took a step back.

"Look, Cantabile." Caenor gulped, as though trying to hold his emotions back. "You're right. Everything you've said has been spot on. I have been a vice-commander for less than a week. I know absolutely nothing about raid scheduling, about battle strategy, about being a team leader. Asuna has helped me with certain things, but she can only do so much for me. From here on out, I am on my own. You know this already, but I'll say it again. Of my two best friends, one was killed just one fortnight ago, and the other can barely function as a human being – let alone a soldier – because of her defilement. I'm all that's left of the three of us."

He paused.

"I am on my own," Caenor repeated. "And if the two of you won't help me, I will continue on my own. I may fuck up – or rather, I will fuck up. I will make mistakes, and I will learn from those mistakes. But, I will do what I must, whether that's with you or without you. If I die in the process, so be it – at least I tried, and at least this horrible world is a little less horrible than before. And if you'd rather sit this out than die with me, then you're free to do so."

Silence. Cantabile swallowed her words and bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Caenor's ears glowed red, though whether that was due to anger or embarrassment, he could not say.

Then, at last, Altorius began to type.

If we were not willing to work with you, then we would not be here. Altorius' facial expression remain unchanged, though the corner of his lip twitched in what Caenor thought might be an attempt at a smile. Rest assured that Cantabile and I remain committed. Cantabile desires our success – that is the only reason she acts this way.

"What Altorius said." Having read Altorius' message, Cantabile's voice softened into an awkward murmur. "I want the three of us to stay alive until the end, of course I do. But you're the one that gives the orders, and if you make an error, the rest of us follow that error into the grave. You have to care more than we do, because we're leaving our lives in your hands. I have to trust that you won't get us killed."

"I know." Caenor leaned against the desk as he put a hand to his head, massaging his temple. "I'll be more vigilant from now on. Like I said, you're absolutely right. We can't trust anyone else now, not even the people in this guild. We have to be as careful as we can – everything we do, we do in secret. That includes checking if people are following us, or locking up our things in secure places, or doing our training in remote locations. Stuff like that. Sounds reasonable enough?"

Cantabile and Altorius both nodded.

"Good. Also, it's funny that you mention dates, because I do have something planned for today. Have you heard of the 45th floor 'cliff run'?"

"I remember this floor," Cantabile said as she plopped onto the ground next to Caenor, letting her mace clatter onto the dirt. "The Labyrinth is only accessible via the lake. You have to finish a quest which reveals a walkway under the water, leading into a cave under one of the cliffs."

"The Labyrinth's a lot of fun." Caenor gazed over the lake's mirrored surface wistfully. "It has those whirlwinds that you have to ride upwards onto the next level. As long as you don't move around too much, you won't fall off."

"Right?" Cantabile's eyes lit up. "And you have to push levers in a certain order to get the whirlwinds to activate. We ended up doing a lot of backtracking on one of the levels because the information for that part turned out to be incorrect. I remember some of the other people in our team getting scared that we'd be stuck in the Labyrinth forever."

"It took a few hours, but we got it done in the end," Caenor said as he reminisced. "That's what I like about raids. Raids are nice and simple. You have a plan, you execute the plan. It's like being in an orchestra – everyone has their own role, and all they have to do is perform it to the best of their ability. No need to think about anything else. What we're doing now is like an impromptu freestyle performance. There's a starting point, but the plan changes as the song goes on."

"Nothing that's worth doing is ever simple. Even the training we did today wasn't that straightforward, although I have to say you made it look pretty easy." Cantabile smiled. "You don't have much of a brain, but you're one hell of a fighter. I see you in a new light."

"I'll take any compliment I can get."

The trek from the teleport gate to the cliffs had taken the better part of three hours; the return trip was on course to be completed in just under two. Familiarity with the terrain played a part, but so did familiarity with each other's fighting styles. Cantabile and Altorius were obviously already used to each other, as they seemed to have their own personal plan of attack – Cantabile would stun or incapacitate monsters with her club, and Altorius would then apply the finishing blow.

With Caenor in the picture, things got a little more complicated, and at the start they would often find themselves attempting the same moves only to get in each other's way. Eventually, Caenor found the role best suited for a third wheel like himself: a buffer against any monsters that got too close to the backs of the other two. They weren't working together in the conventional sense, but they were making good progress. That was as much as Caenor could ask for, at least for today.

A crystal scorpion lurched towards Caenor, snapping him out of his thoughts. As the razor-sharp stinger bore down on him, Cantabile leapt onto the scorpion's back, propelling her arm forward and smashing her Morningstar against its tail. The scorpion stumbled under Cantabile's weight, at which point Altorius threaded his rapier through the chink in the armor surrounding the scorpion's mandibles. The great beast gave one final screech and disintegrated, its shattered form vanishing into the sand.

"Stay alert," warned Cantabile as they moved on to their next targets. "A human player won't think twice about taking advantage whilst you're daydreaming."

"Don't worry about it," Caenor replied offhandedly. "These things aren't that strong."

Cantabile scowled. "That sort of attitude is exactly why I worry." She immediately jumped towards another scorpion, Altorius tailing closely in her wake.

That lack of hesitation in both speech and skirmish was perfectly emblematic of Cantabile's persona. But her throwing herself bodily into every battle, with little care for personal safety beyond her need to remain in the fight as long as she could, appeared to be more than solely a matter of personality. Watching her blast her foes away with nothing held back, all five senses trained on the enemies before her, was a sight redolent of Caenor's time alongside another immensely talented fighter – a certain black-robed, dark-haired swordsman.

Kirito and Cantabile both committed themselves fully to the game in the only ways they knew how. Caenor did not know if Kirito had a similar real-world backstory to Cantabile's, or if their rationales shared any common ground, but their approaches to battling the elements of this world were strikingly analogous to one another. Often it felt as if they would not mind dying, so long as they went out with a bang.

Most of the players here wanted to live to see the end of Aincrad, of course. But Kirito and Cantabile had apparently come to the conclusion that some games could not be played properly unless you went all-in. And this game was one of them.

Go big or go home, as they say. Or rather, go big or never go home again.