Broadly, animal life within Aincrad can be divided into two distinct classes. Natural fauna, and monsters. The distinction, is however, counter intuitive. Boar, foxes, and rabbits, are all natural fauna, but so are Vespid Sting Wings, Salary Beatles, and Carbuncles. Meanwhile Dire Wolves, Grand Boars, and most Kobolds are classified as 'beasts'. The distinction is simply a matter of their body composition. Upon death, all, or the great majority, of a beast's body will rapidly evaporate until nothing is left save for any incidental articles. Fauna will leave behind a complete carcass which may be rendered or left to decompose naturally.
The small residue of some monster may have unique qualities, or serve as bounty marks, making them valuable to recover. The remains of fauna are valued for obvious reasons.
The tendency for Castle Folk and Outlanders to also disintegrate after death, remains a topic of further research.
- From Argo's Guide to Everything volume. I
Dreamers of the Day - Book One - Part One - The Swordsman I
In the fading light of Aincrad's first floor, a youth ran alone along a dusty dirt road, the sun, the Town of Beginnings, and lingering regrets at his back.
"To all of you gathered in the Square of Origin, I bid you greetings. In your old lives you knew me as Kayaba Akihiko, the creator of Sword Art Online. But now, the circle has been closed, I stand before you as my true self."
He had made the right call, he told himself, over and over again, he'd made the right call. But still a knot formed in his Avatar's stomach, in his stomach, where no such feeling should be possible.
"I am Lord Rotmantel, the Architect and Master of Aincrad Castle. And I welcome you to my world!"
His lungs burned as he sucked in cold air, and the muscles of his legs ached, each moment a reminder of the impossibility he was experiencing.
"You doubtless have many questions. And you shall have many more in the days ahead. But time is short, the energy to pierce the veil, and to realize you here, was no small thing."
What Akihiko Kayaba had said was impossible. It couldn't be true. And yet logic felt hollow in the face of what Kirito had witnessed. He'd tried to stop Klein when the man had doubled over to puke his guts out, the safety interlocks should have prevented nausea from reaching the player's real body, but if he did vomit, for some reason, and couldn't log out, his life could be at risk.
Klein had vomited alright, thin spittle and bile from an empty stomach, then dry heaving. But it hadn't endangered him. It had been the first sign of something much worse.
"First, allow me to warn you, that what you are feeling now is no trick. It is not an illusion or a hallucination. It is very real. From this day forward, you have been born anew as your Avatar Selves, you will persist, you will propagate, and you will cease, entirely within the boundaries of this world, as living beings complete unto yourselves. Doubt at your own peril."
He'd spoken those words, and they'd formed sentences. But they didn't make any sense. The milling crowd was full of nervous humor at first. Then the mirth drained away. The joke wasn't funny.
"I repeat myself. This is not a Full Dive sensorium. From this day forward, what your senses report is your reality. And death too, is a reality. If you are to perish, you will vanish from this world, and all others, forever."
Kirito had turned to see an anxious Klein, the aspiring Samurai was looking to him, a kid, for the answers. But at that moment, Kazuto didn't look like a boy, his form was that of a young man. And Klein, for all he knew, could be even younger than himself.
"You are no doubt asking why I have done this. What do I have to gain? I have not enough time to convey understanding, let alone belief. Nor does it suit my purposes to do so. Better by far that you learn for yourselves the shape of things."
Scanning the crowd, Kirito discerned Sakuya and Alicia, looking severe and confused respectively, Eugene and Mortimer, both men wearing the same reserved grimace. And Achilles, the most 'hero-like' of the Beta testers, sunken to the ground, mouth agape.
A horrible realization occurred. Achilles believed every word. And Kirito began to think he should too.
"If you wish to discover my reason, and attain true freedom, you will find that I have granted you all of the tools you will require. Your objective is no different than within Sword Art Online. Ascend Castle Aincrad and Reach the Ruby Palace. At that time, all will stand revealed."
"Klein. Klein!"
"Oi, what the hell is going on. Can you believe this guy?" The noobie shook his head, sending the long red hair behind his bandana swinging. "Kirito?"
"Just, come on!" He'd grabbed Klein by the wrist and started leading him towards the edge of the square. If they could get outside the colonnades then Kirito was confident he could navigate the back alleys by memory and get them well clear.
He wasn't good with people. But even he knew this place was a bomb about to go off.
Could he reach Achilles? Sakuya? What about Diavel? He thought he glimpsed that woman from the tavern, that had to be the big guy Pito had been with, over there.
But they were too far, and he was out of time.
"Players . . . No Outlanders . . . Newcomers to this fallen Castle. I wish you all the best of luck, and pray for your success. Farewell . . ."
The echoing voice began to fade, and with its last words, the cloaked figure itself began to tatter, as if the fabric was turning once more thin and insubstantial before evaporating away. Leaving behind only silence, and the memory of what they had all just witnessed.
A murmur was spreading through the crowd. Confusion, unease. They didn't understand. Not yet.
Then . . . as Kirito pulled Klein along with growing urgency, a scuffle broke out nearby. Someone who had believed everything the depiction of Kayaba had said, and someone who didn't believe any of it, trying to shake sense into him.
"Get ahold of yourself! This is just some sick joke and . . . " -Thud- The believer had swung blindly, sending the other man sprawling. And then . . .
"What? W-What the h-hell is this?! It hurts! Why does . . . is this blood?!"
Everything was primed, it was just waiting for a spark.
A young woman, a pictish, small ears sprouting from her long gray-silver hair, silver eyes widened as she covered her mouth. Witnessing it had been too much.
She screamed. "NO!"
And like that, the spell was broken, and everything started to happen everywhere, all at once. Shouts, cries of fear and of rage, people were pressing against one another, fighting to flee.
People, it was always people, Kirito thought, they were the most dangerous things in the world. But, at least when there were thousands of them, they were predictably bad.
He managed to get himself and Klein ahead of the mob, glimpsing a few Pictish and Si rocketing away faster than any anyone else, scaling walls or using their wings to boost themselves onto rooftops. Those were the lucky ones, beta testers who knew how to move in these bodies.
The less lucky found themselves carried along. And the less lucky still, they were pulled under and trampled. The Safe Haven protections did not activate. Somehow, that made sense to the dispassionate part of his brain that was analyzing the situation as it unfolded. The rest of him looked away.
Somehow, Kirito managed to keep them ahead of the wave, somehow, it took every shortcut he knew, but by the time they reached the gates, a few bewildered NPCs watching, he could count the running figures beyond the walls on one hand.
They were almost out in the open, the light of the setting sun on the far side, when Klein planted his feet and dragged them both to a stop.
"What are you doing?!" Kirito panted. He was panting! He could feel his own labored breathing where there should only have been a steady cycle, filtered in from his real body, to assure him that he wasn't suffocating. "We have to get out of here!"
"But . . ."
"Listen, Klein, did you not see what happened when people went down?" There had been no system warning, no object protection. Whatever else Kayaba had said, the town was no longer a safe haven. And if twenty five thousand fearful people were trapped inside, tearing each other apart, and death was somehow impossibly real . . .
"I know."
"Huh?"
The way Klein had said it through Kirito off. All afternoon he'd been helping this hapless newby, and suddenly the total incomprehension was gone. Klein didn't know what was happening either. He didn't need to. He knew enough.
"The thing is, Kirito, the friends I was talking about . . . they're still back there." Klein rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head.
"So they . . ."
"Yeah, they logged in . . . just in time." He cursed. "I don't even know what they look like right now! And shit . . . would ya look at that, HUD's down too."
Kirito blinked, now that he mentioned it, the clock, the HP and Stamina bars, they were missing. SAO had always used a lean and clean visual system, but now it was entirely gone.
"So y'see, that's why. They're my buddies. I can't abandon them." He grinned.
"Klein." Kirito whispered tightly, biting at his lip. Klein seemed like a good guy. Someone he could maybe work with. But he barely knew him. Sticking his neck out for one stranger, maybe, but his friends too?
The problem was solved for him. "Oi! Don't sweat it, Kirito." The Kurosawa wannabe put a hand on his shoulder as he spoke gruffly. "Whatever the hell's happening, you're not responsible for us."
"But . . . "
"Giving me a head start before I have to dive back in is already more than enough. And ya don't gotta worry bout me or nothin', I can see what you're thinking, I'm an adult. So I can look after myself."
It didn't matter if Klein was an adult. This wasn't Japan. He couldn't just . . .
"Once you find them, message me, okay?" Kirito said. "We can try to meet up, maybe."
"Yeah." Klein nodded. "I'll do that. And . . . Kirito . . . "
"Yeah?"
"I just wanted to say, I been thinking all day your avatar's a bit scrawny . . . but the look sorta suits you, y'know."
Kirito shook his head, not wanting to look too hard at the bravery in the other man's eyes that might make him doubt his decision.
"Yours . . . Doesn't suit you at all." He laughed tightly. He said he was ronin, he looked more like a bandit, a bandit prince maybe, but still a bit of a rogue.
"Ha! I'll have you know, I'm even more handsome in person." The sounds of voices were echoing down the street. The chaos was spreading this way. It was like a slow explosion, people trying to get as far from each other as possible. "Now get going!"
There was nothing more to say.
The familiar fields, forests, and hills of Orignia opened out before him as Kirito ran, his mind was blank, his avatar, his body, was thinking for him, keeping him sprinting full tilt with only the vaguest idea of what he would do next. There was only danger in the ToB, too many people in too little space. And he had no idea what they were going to do.
Happy laughing people acting like friends. As long as they had food, and showers, and safe warm beds. What would they be like without those?
He didn't know. And not knowing was the scariest thing in the world. He'd learned to survive by hiding from what he didn't know. It wasn't hard, it just came with its own costs.
"Oh and remember, CERO says you should take a break every hour to move your body and get lots of liquids!"
This was their world now.
"I'll try to remember that."
For so many reasons, he believed Kayaba.
"Good!"
He didn't know how. But he believed. Was that really going to be the last thing he said to his family? To his little sister?
The familiar roads of Orignia began to change around him. It began with the setting of the sun as he climbed the hills of the floor's lip. The shadows grew longer, deeper, and more sinister than they ever had before. Devoid of the reassuring blue glow of Aincrad's artificial nights. The wind felt not just cold, but biting against his skin, burning his eyes, and setting tears flowing.
It didn't stop there. The further he went, the less sure he became. A familiar road, curving on for too long. A narrow path, a short cut, that was too steep. Everything was where it should be, but it felt farther, harder to reach.
And then he felt it, he was being watched. Sly shapes slipped from the deep shadows as he approached a narrow wooden bridge. Falls cascading down from someplace on the second floor, forming a lake that fed a river, cutting through the hills. It was the fastest way, Kirito had chosen without thinking, without really thinking. If this world were real, then he couldn't assume monsters would simply spawn.
They would hunt.
And these were really monsters. The apex predators of Aincrad's first floor, only superseded by floor bosses and the Kobold warrior of the Labyrinth. Dire Wolves.
Kirito had never seen a real wolf before, except in a zoo. And brought to life, Aincrad's wolves were nothing like those. These were the wolves that came out of deep, dark, nightmares. Ancestral memories of huddling around a campfire, with only light and flint spears for protection.
Bodies long, low, and sleek, fur thick and coarse. Jaws that could snap a femur in two. And eyes of glowing badmoon. They were coming up on Kirito, from behind and in front. One was already on the far side of the bridge as he drew his iron short sword.
A damned tooth pick!
If this was real, if he was a Swordsman of Aincrad, he would not die. He shouted as the dull blade began to glimmer and glow. He would not leave this world without a fight!
Kirigaya Kazuto woke slowly, in fits and starts. He became aware of footsteps and muted voices. The smell of smoke and cooking. His eyes rolled open, blearily registering gray predawn light, before shutting again. Each observation came and went before sinking back into a deep and dreamless sleep.
It must have been a real all-nighter, he thought in these brief half lucid moments, wondering when his alarm would sound and force him to get up for school. He barely recollected anything from the day before except getting ready for the SAO launch and then . . . Kiragaya Kazuto's dark eyes snapped open.
The events of the day before played back to him, flowing into his conscious mind like water poured into a glass. Logging in, meeting Klein, the tournament, the tavern, and then . . . the square . . . He groaned, in part from that, and in part from the aching that wracked his body as he struggled to sit upright.
There was a tightness stitching its way down his ribs, and his shoulder wasn't as free to move as it ought to be. The source of that, at least, was clear. His chest and upper arm had been bandaged to secure poultices exuding a bitter herbal odor, touching them yielded spikes of unfamiliar pain.
He didn't understand.
Taking stock, he found himself upon a crude bed in a small room, almost a cell, except the doorway had no bars, not even a door, simply a curtain hung for privacy. The walls were cracked white plaster over stone. The floor was brick, covered by a simple woven rug. Besides the bed, there was only a simple wooden stool, a small table, and a darkly aged chest of drawers.
How had he gotten here?
His hand came to his cheek, another bandage under his eye.
Howls filled the air, Dire Wolves closed in, the pack was swift and possessed of an animal cunning. The only way for Kirito now, was to break through, cross the narrow bridge and he could round on them to fend them off one at a time, and the pack knew that. One of their members barred the way, stocking down the length of the bridge, hair bristling as they gathered speed.
The creature was called a wolf, but it didn't run like any canine, its body in motion was more like that of a wiesel, spine long and flexible, body low to the ground, moving like a furred missile.
Spurred by the will to live of the boy within him, the swordsman let out a cry, the dull iron of his short sword glimmered and glowed as, for a moment, he exceeded that which was physically possible. The pure white line of a Hate Spike drove him forward, skewering and tearing into the wolf as it leaped.
Guttural sounds and the snapping of jaws turned into pained yelps as the Dire Wolf slammed into the railing and tumbled over the edge, taking the long plunge into the river below trailing streamers of red particles. Burning ignited beneath Kirito's right eye, he could feel blood weeping down his cheek.
He rounded, the three other wolves of the pack were right on his tail, and were uncowed, no time to prepare another Art. If only he'd had a decent length sword, Trinity Slash could have made this so much easier! He leaned into the first one, pushing its muzzle down and driving the short sword into the base of its spine. Red particles geysered as the wolf went limp. The second wasted no time climbing over its fallen packmate, jaws clamping on Kirito's right shoulder.
The Swordman's eyes went wide and his throat tightened, pain, unbelievable pain worse than anything he'd ever comprehended in his short and comfortable life, before adrenaline and raw survival instinct took hold. His sword's short length was finally an asset as it dropped from his right hand and was caught in his left to plunged between the ribs, once, twice, three times before the final wolf fell on him, snapping and biting, clawing at his shirt, and throwing him against the railing where, together, the three of them had gone over the edge.
Kirito's last clear memory was looking up at the light of the surface as red clouded the water . . .
Kazuto shivered as sweat beaded on his brow and damped his dark hair. With each recollection, the respective wound had ached. And now he was left to wonder how he was still alive.
"You are awake." A soft voice issued from the doorway. Kazuto looked up, the curtain was parted by a woman carrying a wooden tray containing a simple bowl and mug.
Kirito blinked as he examined her. She looked, broadly, western european. She wore a shawl over a cream blouse and long green skirt with an apron. And she must have been very beautiful when she was younger. She was still beautiful, in fact, her loosely braided brunette hair peppered with gray, and her pale features pressed with faint lines. Soft brown eyes watched him benevolently.
Wake up, Kazuto. You'll be late for school!
He shook his head, banishing the unbidden memory. "Who . . . are you?" He managed to croak past dry lips. His tongue felt fat and had a texture like sandpaper.
"Who am I?" She paused mid step, catching Kazuto's attention as her features froze. "I . . . I am called . . . I am called Verdell." She pronounced carefully after a pause that was just a little too long to have been natural, then her speech resumed calmly. "I am the medicine woman of this village."
"Medicine woman, huh?" Kirito frowned, that behavior . . . Kayaba had called this world real, and Kazuto believed him but . . . He tried something. "How did I get here?"
"You were found washed up on the riverbank." Verdell answered calmly. "A villager brought you to me to tend to your wounds." There was another pause, a tilt of her head and quizzical frown. "You heal . . . very quickly."
"Oh, do I?" Kirito rubbed his face. "That's good I guess . . ." He began to discern a faint chill, a draft had set up between the open curtain and the window. It had all been a lot to process in a very short amount of time, so he hadn't really noticed, but now he looked at himself, at the body of the swordsman Kirito.
It was . . . different . . . than what he was used to. For all the time he'd spent in full dive, Kazuto had never been a voyeur. He'd never stripped his avatar down in front of a mirror and looked at himself. An avatar, even an AS, wasn't his real body. And besides, he was more concerned with the overall look, and the stats his equipment would grant him. He'd never been the sort of player to run around in his underwear shanking monsters for fun, either.
But now, this body breathed, it felt pain, it bled, and a whole lot more. He could feel his pulse in his throat, the saliva in his mouth, the minute tightening of muscles keeping his torso upright, even the churning of his insides. It was hard not to feel possessive as he looked down at the lean, smoothly muscled, physique not too different from what he'd probably have built up if he'd stuck it out with Kendo.
And he had no problem observing all of this because, at that moment, bandages aside, the only thing he was wearing was the linen sheet just barely clinging to his hips . . .
This was 'reality'.
There were no safe zones.
And clearly there was no 'ethics code'.
Faster than he'd ever drawn a sword in his life, Kirito seized the sheet and pulled it up to his nose as he slammed back into the bed, turning red all the while. He half expected the emotion engine to kick in and pipe steam from his ears, but thankfully, reality had done away with those sorts of comedic flourishes. It really wasn't anything to laugh about.
Verdelle tilted her head. "Please, you must eat." She set the tray down on the small table. A bowl of steaming porridge, an egg slowly cooking itself on top, and a peach, already halved and its pit removed.
"And . . . Where exactly are my clothes?"
"I stripped you to clean your wounds and wash your body. This was done to prevent infection from taking hold." Verdelle informed him, matter of factly. "Your trousers needed mending. Though I am afraid the shirt cannot be made good again."
"Oh." Kirito said in a small voice. So she'd seen everything already . . .
"Now eat." Verdelle said again, more insistent this time as she held out the bowl with a simple wooden spoon. Kazuto was about to decline, until the smell reached his nose, all at once, the body of the Swordsman Kirito was informing him, very plainly, that it had fought to keep them alive, so now he needed to return the favor. So he took the bowl, and an experimental spoonful of what appeared to be a healthful oat porridge, and before he knew it, the bowl was empty and he was devouring the peach as well, his body still demanding more.
Verdelle had gone for a second serving while Kirito eyed his surroundings once more. More awake, and more fed, he was aware of sound beyond the room, growing with the light of day. He was aware of something else too, in the corner of his vision, hard to focus on without it drifting away, was a blinking mailbox . . .
This was his 'reality' Kirito reminded himself. Whatever that meant. Even so, he made the familiar menu swipe and found himself strangely unsurprised as a pane of glass sedately conjured itself, turning opaque and presenting him with what was . . . not at all the expected menu.
It was truncated for one. Fewer tabs, and the ones that remained, he blinked, trying to discern the symbols, they were neither english alphabet nor Japanese, but as he watched them, a blinking . . . appeared in the center of the menu's working space, and then, the symbols crawled about, changing their shape into a familiar mix of hiragana, katakana, and kanji.
Language Preset Complete! The menu announced helpfully.
Except it was still truncated. Inventory was missing. So was the status sheet for his character. The Options/Settings was still there, but navigation only led to options to customize the menu. And of course, of the logout button, there was simply no trace.
He navigated back to the main menu and then to messages. At the moment, he had precisely two people on his friends list. Which was not a lot less than he'd completed the Beta with. Which was why he was surprised to see seven messages waiting.
Klein - Found my dudes! We're getting the hell out of here. Place is a mess. Let you know where we wind up.
Klein - Heading North from ToB for now. Not a lotta people going this way yet. Haven't heard from you. Hope you're safe.
Kirito was about to start typing back when he started reading Argo's message.
Argo - I know you're gonna wanna talk, but I don't got time right now, Kii-bou!
Argo - Okay, I'm with A-kun and Sa-chan, we're up on the northern battlements, ToB, we'll stick it out for an hour. What the hell is going on?
Argo - What's going on? Are you ignoring me Kii-bou?
Argo - I know you're still alive, your name isn't grayed out, we need to talk!
Argo - Where are you?
Kirito squinted at the time stamps, they weren't the normal string, time of day, day of month, month, and year, but they did progress sequentially.
Kirito - Hey Argo, I'm live again, what's going on?
He was about to close the window when he got an almost immediate reply.
Argo - Where the hell have you been?!
It was the least Argo message he'd ever received from Argo.
Kirito - I'm not sure . . . A village, I think.
Argo - You think? Nevermind, are you safe for now?
Kirito paused before typing an answer.
Kirito - I think so. Maybe. Not in immediate danger, anyways. I think I passed out. I've lost track of time.
Argo - Passed out? What?! Look, I'll trust you know your business. This is start of third day, counting from launch. Hope that helps. Can we meet up?
Kirito - Not right now. I'm safe, but need to sit tight a while.
No need for Argo to know how bad it was, or how close it had been.
Argo - Gotcha. You're not the only one laying low. I'm wrangling my contacts and trying to make sense of this. When I know more, I'll be in touch. Stay safe.
He'd been out of it for two days then . . . So this was the third day, he reasoned. The third day of their new reality. Jeez, he was already behind.
Kirito - Same. And I'll let you know if I come across anything interesting.
He dismissed the window, and fell back into bed. Digesting what Argo had just told him, and combining it with what he already knew. Flesh and blood, but the menu was still here, sort of. Whatever the hell was going on, their new 'reality' certainly was off to a good start proving itself stranger than fiction.
Verdell returned with another helping of porridge, she sat quietly on the stool, legs tucked primly as a cat, watching him. "You said your name was Verdell, right?" Kirito asked as he ate.
"That's right. Though I do not know yours."
"It's Kirito." He spared her a surreptitious glance.
"Kiri-to . . . Kirito. Is that right?"
Kirito frowned, it was close to the way the natural language processor did it. But not spot on. What if he tried this? "So, you said you fished me out of the river."
"A villager did."
"What's this villagers name?" Kirito asked with a smile, "I'd like to thank him personally."
"Thank him?" Verdelle tilted her head.
"For saving my life, that is." Verdelle seemed to understand and accept this.
"His name is . . ." Her eyes grew distant and then near again " . . . His name is Jacques."
"Jacques the villager?"
"He is . . . a farmer." She answered carefully.
"Jacques the farmer?" She nodded without hesitation. "And you're Verdelle the medicine woman?" She nodded again, without any pause.
"And do you know Jacques well?"
Verdelle paused again, for the longest time, Kirito's eyes narrowed. "I treated his daughter, last winter, for pneumonia. The winter was very harsh." Was it now? Kazuto wondered. But then she went on, "His daughter is a beautiful little thing. She is friends with my Gervaise."
That was odd, he'd expect the first part, but the extra information was superfluous. He tried one more thing. "Thank you for the food, Verdelle." He offered the empty bowl back. "It's not what I'm used to. But it tasted good." To be fair, paste would have tasted good given how hungry he'd been. "You wouldn't happen to have anything else."
"What sort of foods do you like, Kirito?"
He smiled, "Oh, you know, this and that." He watched her face go slack.
"Excuse me, I have patients to see too." She stood, taking the bowl, mug, and tray, and departed, leaving Kirito alone with his thoughts.
Strange, he lay back, allowing his body to rest a while longer. Very strange.