"Alright, listen up."

It was late afternoon, and the sky had begun to turn a deep orange. As usual, the four members of his team were lined up in front of the desk for their daily meeting. Unlike most days, however, all four of them were deadly silent, and completely rigid to boot. Even the sound of their breathing seemed to ebb away as they listened keenly to the words Caenor was about to impart on them. They knew that all the boundless toil they had put into improving themselves, and into improving each other, was about to bear fruit. However, what sort of fruit was borne would, ultimately, depend on a combination of strength, will, and simple luck.

"We've come a long way." Caenor paused, tapping the table as he tried to force the words he wanted to say out of his mouth. "We've done so many things together. Sparring, raiding, hunting, training – you name it, we've done it. And yet… none of that will matter if we don't get the next few days absolutely spot on. We're not going after programs, or AIs, or machines. We're going after people – living, breathing people, people who want to survive as much as we do. You might be tempted to take pity on them, to give them a second chance, just because they're humans like us. But you have to remember that, above anything else, they are player killers. And they will not hesitate to take a mile if you give them just an inch. They've lived this long because they've learned not to feel sorry for their victims. We have to be the same if we want to get out of this alive."

His four teammates nodded. The importance of staying alert could not be understated, and it seemed like that had, by now, been fully impressed on them. In each of their eyes, Caenor could see nervousness, as was to be expected, but also an undercurrent of determination. This was quite literally going to be the fight of their lives, and they knew it, felt it, all the way down to their bones.

"We're doing three hideouts today," he continued. "I've allotted two hours per floor. The first one, on the 46th floor, will be at 6pm when the sun is just about to set. It's one of the earlier sunset times, but it should be night-time for the other hideouts by the time we're done there. The second one, on the 51st floor, is at 8pm. The third, on the 32nd floor, will be at 10pm. We should be at the teleport stone for each location at six, eight and ten on the dot at the latest, so we have to move fast, but two hours should be more than enough to make up for any… unexpected emergencies. Is that clear?"

The four of them nodded again.

"Good stuff. Remember, they are a guild, but we are a team. We have the advantage as long as we work together. Cover each other's backs, help each other out, and make sure everyone is up and running, because if one of us is down, that drastically reduces the chances of the rest of us surviving. The chainmail I obtained for all of you – except for Wing, which I'll get around to tomorrow morning – should block pretty much any blow you take to your upper bodies, so you shouldn't have to worry too much about backstabs or ambushes or the like. Fight carefully, but fight freely. That's how we've done things, and that's how we'll keep doing them."

Caenor glanced at the clock in the corner of his personal UI. Four forty-five. It was about time they got going.

"Cantabile, you and Wing go first. Take the street looping around the back." It was still relatively early in the evening, so many eyes would be present both inside their headquarters and around Granzam. They would leave at staggered times and take different routes towards the teleport plaza so as to reduce the amount of suspicion they aroused – all five of them departing in unison would attract a more than undue level of attention. "After five minutes, Altorius will follow, and then finally me and Seki. Remember where our rendezvous point is." He clapped his hands. "Let's roll."

Cantabile and Wing spun on their heels and strode purposefully out of the room. Caenor listened to their footsteps vanish down the corridor before leaning back into his seat and looking up at his two remaining teammates.

"How are you two feeling?" he asked.

Very well, thank you, came the message from Altorius. I am happy to see that we are finally going to take the fight to them, instead of them to us.

"You and me both," Caenor replied. "What about you, Seki?"

"I… don't really know." Seki puckered her lips. "I've always wanted to do something about the pain, about the hurt that I've had inside me for so long, but now that we're actually here, I'm not really sure if this is the way to go about it. Maybe I should just… try and move on. I know it's silly of me to say this now, but…"

"It is silly," Caenor snapped. "We're literally just about to leave. If you can't get your act together even now, you can sit this one…"

Seki's head jerked around, and she stared at Caenor. As Caenor gazed back, seeing the mix of fear and shock in Seki's features, he realized what he had just said to the one remaining friend he had left. He rarely spoke without thinking, but the words had simply poured out of his mouth before he could halt them, and she had borne the full brunt of his subconscious irritation.

Her look was simultaneously wary, angry, and aghast. It was as though she were looking at a creature, a monster sitting in the chair beside her, and not her closest friend and companion. As though she were saying with her eyes, Who are you, really?

Who was he, really? Caenor was no longer quite sure.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm just, you know, really stressed out right now."

"It's… alright." Seki shook her head, though her reticence did not subside. "I know I need to be more aware of how things are. Be less naïve."

"I suppose so. Just… just try not to lose yourself. Like last time."

"You too." Seki smiled, but the expression did not reach her eyes. Neither of them spoke again after that.

Five minutes passed, and Altorius silently made his way out of the room, giving them a quick wave as he departed. Then, another five minutes later, it was Caenor's and Seki's turn.

"You ready?" Caenor eased himself to his feet and stretched his arms upwards, hoping to untie the burgeoning knot that was forming in his chest. Alas, the discomfort remained.

"Yeah," Seki said as she smacked her cheeks and blinked as hard as she could to rouse herself. "Yeah. I'm ready."

"That's the spirit. C'mon."

He opened the door, and they gingerly stepped out. As they traversed the corridors, Caenor could not help but feel his heart skip a beat every time another guild member passed by and made eye contact with him. Were any of them aware of his team's plans? Were any of them Laughing Coffin members wearing green-cursor masks, waiting for the opportune moment to foil them and nip their designs in the bud? Or was he just being overly paranoid?

They exited the headquarters, finding themselves facing a familiar scene. The plaza was, as was typical for this time of day, abuzz with the hustle and bustle of adventurers returning from a good day's work, guild members and solo players alike chattering, laughing, unwinding themselves from the stresses of their duties. In another timeline, Caenor would have been just like them, relaxing and enjoying himself, rewarding himself with a good meal alongside his friends before going to bed.

Maybe that would be his life once Laughing Coffin were gone. Maybe he would finally be able to return to normalcy if he expunged the demons both within and without, before going back to being a lay member of the Knights of the Blood. Maybe he could once again become a speck of dust in the grand cosmic scheme of things, having no more to worry about than the next grunt in line.

But was that truly what he wanted?

He had not told the others, but he'd privately come up with a name for their team. He knew Cantabile would probably laugh at him for being corny and naming the team something other than the word "Team" with a letter following it – as was the case for the Knights' other squads – but he couldn't help but feel that, given how unique his team's role was, it should also have a special label of its own. As a mark of just how much he believed in the name, he'd had it stitched just under the hem of his robe, a string of white letters etched into a sea of crimson.

Bloodwatch. They were the Knights of the Blood's watchers in the dark, so that became the name. Their name.

And he would not relinquish it, or his team, so easily.

The two of them stepped up to the teleport stone and selected the options they were looking for. Casting one last glance at each other, they nodded, and disappeared in a stream of effervescent light.

The rendezvous point on the 46th floor was at a location far removed from the tiny settlement constructed around the teleport stone, more of a camp than any sort of actual town or city. A couple of wooden houses here and there, some tents, and that was it. Beyond that, there was nothing but dirt roads and uneven hills. The entire floor was cast in a hazy, whitish glow that emanated from the thin veins of iridescent ore coursing through the rock, though the hypnotic effect was noticeably less pronounced by the time night had closed in and the sun had sunk below the jagged horizon.

Cantabile, Altorius and Wing were sat in a circle atop a large boulder, checking and double-checking the condition of their weapons, as well as flicking through their inventories to make sure they had stocked up properly on the supplies they needed. As Caenor and Seki drew near, Cantabile hopped off the boulder and motioned for the others to do the same.

"Have you seen anyone?" Caenor asked.

Cantabile shook her head. "As far as I can tell, all the people at the settlement were NPCs. No players have shown up."

"Perfect." Caenor glanced around at his team, all of whom returned his gaze expectantly. "If we're all ready, then let's not waste any time. Have your lamps ready, but don't bring them out unless it's absolutely necessary. Cantabile, you scouted this floor, so you lead the way."

"Gotcha." Cantabile clambered over the boulder, and the rest of them quickly followed. They weaved through the gaps in the rock, hopping from stone to stone, making sure to soften the sound of their steps as much as possible. It had now gotten quite dark, and despite the remnants of the ore's glow lighting up some segments of their trek, most of their effort was spent towards maintaining a solid footing on the potentially slippery surfaces. Once every so often, Cantabile would halt and hold up a fist, then carry on after ensuring that the noises she had heard were just the wind – or perhaps a nocturnal critter waking up – and not the scurrying of a lookout watching over the area.

"We're around two minutes away," she observed as they reached a much flatter region, where the protrusions gave way to a smooth slope running down the side of one of the taller hills.

"Then we'd better ready up. Weapons out," Caenor ordered, and his teammates duly obeyed. "Form up as we practiced. Altorius and I are the vanguard. Wing, stay just behind us. Cantabile and Seki, you two back up the rear."

They crept across the expanse, feeling the breeze prickling their necks as the crisp night air seeped into their armor. They were horribly exposed, but they had no real alternative – their target, a structure built into a naturally forming cave, lay at the foot of the valley, and the landscape surrounding the slope was scattered with pebbles and errant stones which would swiftly give their positions away if they tried walking over them.

"Thirty seconds," Cantabile whispered, pointing at an unusual cluster of gray mounds several dozen yards away. They slowed to almost a crawl, creeping towards the aberration. Upon reaching it, they leaned over to find a set of roughly cut stairs leading down into a hole in the ground, from which the faint flickering of torchlight could be seen.

"This is it." Caenor patted Altorius' arm. "Let's go."

Altorius nodded, and the two of them straddled the overhang and began tiptoeing down the stairs. Wing, Cantabile and Seki trailed close behind.

The end of the stairwell edged into view, and Caenor stopped to peer around the corner. The light was coming from an array of braziers lined along the walls of a rotunda-like antechamber, the back of which led to another room, secured by a brass-latched wooden door. Aside from a small table and an empty shelf, the room was mostly deserted save for a sickeningly familiar pattern emblazoned on the wall: the leering skeleton insignia he had come to know well and despise. At least they now knew they were in the right place.

Caenor gave those that were gathered behind him with bated breath a quick thumbs up. "Coast's clear for now, but there's another room," he reported. "Spread out as quickly as you can."

They fanned out into the antechamber, surrounding the door. Caenor inched towards it, pressing against the wall beside it, reaching his hand out towards the latch.

He raised three fingers, then two, then one. Then, he snapped the latch and yanked the door outwards.

"Go!" he hissed.

Altorius swept into the open doorway, Caenor and the others hot on his heels. He'd barely emerged into the next room when the sound of scrabbling chairs and surprised yelps met his ears. In the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a flurry of activity as Altorius bore down upon the first prey in line.

And thusly did Bloodwatch's first ever skirmish commence.

The whole encounter only took the better part of a couple of minutes, but in the heat of battle, each second seemed to stretch on for hours. There was Cantabile, a whirlwind of steel and sweat, landing blow after blow via her trusty Morningstar, battering opponents into submission with fervent and wanton abandon. Any that managed to slip through her rampage were met by an equally potent force in Seki, silver axe fully mended and in spanking health, cleaving lines of scorching red into soft flesh. Wing and Altorius, both wielding less wildly destructive weapons, were no slouches themselves – they danced through the hapless and desperate ranks of their enemies, stabbing, spearing, striking at any opening, any orifice. All of them had trained tirelessly for this very moment, and it showed in each synchronized swing, in every parry and block made to protect their comrades, and in the multitude of other unified aspects of their combat.

Caenor played his part too, of course, and as the last vestiges of resistance faded, he wasted no time in darting towards the last remaining survivor, who was scrambling to reach the door. He never got there – a swift plunge of Caenor's wrist-blade into his back saw to that. With that final gasp of air leaving his victim's lungs, it was over almost as soon as it had begun. The carcasses scattered across the ground exploded rhythmically, one after the other, as though they were playing an ode to the good work Caenor and his team had just done.

Yet as the room fell silent and relieved smiles began to form on the faces of those who remained standing, the expected satisfaction and jubilation of victory did not arrive. Caenor had anticipated a rush of relief, or at least some indication that he was on the right track. Yet for him, there was simply… nothing. Nothing but an unpleasant sense of desolation.

This had not been a fight. It had been a massacre.

"Great work," he said, though he didn't completely feel the words he spoke. "Glad we got this done quick – a lot quicker than I expected, honestly. Let's check around this room, then we can head to the next spot early."

As his teammates busied themselves with examining the shelves, racks and other furniture, Cantabile came up to him.

"What's wrong, Vice-commander?" she asked, having noticed his apprehension. She was as sharp as ever, even after having expended such momentous effort. "You don't look so happy."

"I'm just a little dazed, I think," Caenor replied, still looking somewhat hesitant. "That was almost… too easy. Not much of a challenge."

Cantabile frowned, clearly unsure of why Caenor would have any such qualms at all. "The easier it is, the sooner we can all go home. Why would you want it to be harder?" Her eyes narrowed. "We're not hunting mobs here, you know. It's not a sport. We do this because we have to, not because it's fun."

"You're right. I get that." Caenor let out an insouciant chuckle, but Cantabile did not look appeased. Seeing that his teammates were done with their search, he hurriedly added, "Anyway, if there's nothing else here, we should get a move on."

Taking once last glance around the hideout, they filed out of the room and ascended the stairs back into the darkness. As they climbed the steps, Caenor used that brief window of time to collect his thoughts, hoping to quell the growing discontentment within him. Yet the harder he tried to justify his emotions, the worse it made him feel, to the point that he came out of the cave in a far worse mood than when he had gone in. He didn't know why he felt this way, nor what exactly he'd expected going into this mission.

His conflicting notions were evidently revealing themselves on his face and in his actions, because he returned to the present to find his teammates staring quizzically at him, betraying varying expressions of concern and suspicion. Seki's was the former; Cantabile's was comprehensively the latter.

"Are you alright?" Seki asked.

Caenor, unsure of whether to nod or shake his head, simply decided to shrug.

"Yes," he replied. "I will be."

The 51st floor, the location of the second hideout, was a poignant place in the same way the 60th floor had been, though thankfully the scars did not cut anywhere near as deep. Barely a fortnight ago, Caenor and his two best friends had been sent to gather Blood Wolf pelts for the treasury. A combination of bad luck and poor planning meant that they had been driven further and further into the dense jungle that matted this level, with no discernible way back to the teleport stone. Just when they had given up all hope, a mysterious man had shown up, wiped out the Blood Wolves that had backed them into a corner, and then vanished before they could even utter a word of thanks. With Asuna's blessing, they had attempted to track him down and ask for his aid in future engagements.

The rest, as they say, was history.

This floor – along with the 53rd – had been under Caenor's scouting remit, and so his current task consisted mainly of leading the way and retracing his steps through the thicket. Unlike the eerily quiet environs of the floor they had just departed, the jungle here at night was awash with sound – the breeze whistling through the canopy; the crunch of the foliage as the many nocturnal animals that called this place home stalked about the trees; the hooting and trilling of birds as they called to one another. This made it easier to mask the sound of their movement, but it also conversely made it harder for them to hear if someone was coming. They would have to keep their eyes peeled.

"How far in are we going?" Seki tried to put on a brave face, but it was clear she was being affected by the same reminiscences that currently haunted Caenor. "Maybe we should have a lamp out, just in case."

"That's the last thing we should be doing. Don't worry," Caenor assured her, "I know the way."

He'd kept a mental note of any landmarks he could see during the day, whether they were larger-than-average trunks, trees with rare flowers, clearings or the like, as well as marking out which areas were likely to have a higher concentration of monsters. There were far more diurnal mobs than nocturnal ones, but that did not make the journey any less dangerous. One fallen domino could topple the rest, and send the whole operation spiraling down into the cesspit of abject failure.

Their lack of preparation prior to their previous excursions had led to Ferramo's death. Caenor was adamant he would not make that mistake again.

They were soon within eyeshot of the hideout, a cottage not dissimilar to the one on the 53rd floor where he'd rescued Beni the day before. The crooked shadow of its roof loomed large, blotting out the meager moonlight guiding them through the forest. Unlike yesterday, however, this structure had a tiny window through which one could ostensibly see what was going on within. Caenor had not attempted to peer through the window earlier in the day, as his head would have blocked out the sunlight and immediately alerted the hut's inhabitants to his presence. Now, however, with the lights on inside, they would be able to look through the window…

…that is, if the lights were actually on. The entire cottage was shrouded in darkness, and not even the faint hint of a lamp or lantern was visible.

"Weird," Cantabile muttered.

"You see it too?" Caenor scratched his head. "Maybe they're asleep or something. Or maybe they're away."

"No one would be asleep at this time of night. Especially not them. And I doubt they would leave a place like this unattended if they didn't need to." Cantabile scurried up to the wall, leaned against it and closed her eyes. "I don't hear anything."

"Perhaps it really has been abandoned then," Caenor suggested. "Or they're waiting for us."

"At this point, I think the latter's more likely. We should be careful."

They snuck towards the door, and Caenor reached out a hand towards the latch. To his surprise, he found it hanging loose from its socket, and he motioned for the others to ready themselves. Withdrawing the lamp from his inventory, he eased the door open and stuck his lamp inside.

The place showed obvious signs of residency, but its only occupants now were the leaves that had just been blown in. The usual default furniture lined the room, tables, chairs and shelves alike, and the room as a whole did not appear as though it had remained unused for long.

But which Laughing Coffin members had used it, and where were they now?

"Search the house," he instructed. "Watch out for ambushes."

They each took their own lamps out and spread out within the area, peeking under stools, overturning the pots and pans sitting on the fireplace, and filtering out into the two adjoining rooms, both of which were equally vacant.

"This is… strange," Wing commented.

Caenor frowned. Wing had not spoken much – if at all – throughout the day's events, so for her to bring her raspy voice to bear meant that something was indeed, as she observed, quite strange. "What is?"

"They would… never leave a safehouse unoccupied like this. It's… not their way."

"All the more reason to suspect a trap of some kind, then," said Cantabile, who had completed her scan of the neighboring rooms. "That, or…"

She glared at Wing. Caenor immediately knew what she was implying.

"Cantabile, listen-"

"Guys," Seki interjected. They turned to find her holding a piece of paper, a stunned look freezing her eyes. "You'll… probably wanna see this."

Caenor took the paper and lifted his lamp up to read it. As he made out the words, his blood ran cold, and his breath lodged in his throat, suffocating him and every last spark of hope he had left.

Come to the 42nd floor if you want your brother to live.