Sword Art Online - Alchemy Edition (Side-Stories.)
By
Dark Dragen.
Summary: In this collection of chapters, we delve into the captivating side stories that intertwine with the central narrative of Sword Art Online - Alchemy Edition. Each story illuminates the journeys of specific characters, providing insight into their backgrounds, motivations, and the events that shaped their paths. Join us as we explore these rich narratives that enhance our understanding of the main storyline and reveal the intricate connections that bind these characters together.
Disclaimer: I do not in any shape or form own Sword Art Online. It's a light novel series written by Reki Kawahara and illustrated by abec, whilst A-1 Pictures produced the anime. Sword Art Online Variant Showdown. The only thing that I own is the idea of the alchemy part of it.
Warning: This narrative comes with a strong caution: it will explore themes of Death, Blood, and Violence. While these elements are central to the story, there should be no other significant issues to worry about. As for adult content, there are currently no explicit scenes planned. However, given the unpredictable nature of storytelling, it's wise not to completely dismiss the possibility. For now, rest assured that explicit material is not part of the plan.
Chapter Summary: In this chapter, we see the story of Vassago Cassals and how he got into Sword Art Online, and we see his first kills.
Vassago Cassals…
21st of November 2027 - Town of Beginning:
"So this is Aincrad, huh?" exclaimed a man, his voice bursting with enthusiasm and rapid-fire energy. He possessed an exotic allure, his striking features framed by waves of glossy black hair, while a bold tattoo traced its way down the right side of his face. Before him lay a breathtaking vista, a virtual world that seemed to challenge the very boundaries of reality. Despite being acutely aware that he was merely experiencing a digital simulation, he found himself awe-struck by the incredible attention to detail that made this game so immersive.
Above stretched an endless canopy of vibrant blue sky dotted with fluffy, white clouds that lazily drifted by. Underfoot, a carpet of lush, bright green grass swayed gently with the breeze as if welcoming him to this fantastical realm. As he took each step, the soft click of cobblestones echoed beneath his feet, harmonising with the serene ambience of the timeworn town that lay ahead.
'This was undeniably the pinnacle of modern science and technology.' he mused, marvelling at the whims of innovation.
Yet, as captivating as the scene was, it felt disingenuous.
'Where was the pungent stench of vomit, the acrid odour of sewage, or the foul remnants of excrement that should fill the air? Where were the litter-strewn roads, the buildings marred by graffiti, and the palpable tension of conflict that often erupted amongst the townsfolk? Where were the terrified screams or the shouts of anger that heralded chaos?' he pondered, reflecting on the reality that the simulation had so glaringly omitted.
Though his childhood memories were far from nostalgic, he recalled his former town, a place that had always embraced the gritty truths of existence. Until he turned fifteen, those surroundings - rough and unpolished - had been his home.
In stark contrast, the Town of Beginnings felt akin to a beautifully orchestrated façade, carefully crafted to conceal the imperfections of life. It radiated an artificial purity, a sanitised version of reality plucked from the dreams of its creator. In other words, it was a mosaic of deception, polished yet devoid of authenticity.
This man was Vassago Cassals.
Vassago was born in the gritty and chaotic Tenderloin district of San Francisco, a place often overshadowed by its struggles and misfortunes. His mother, a woman of Spanish descent, made her living as a sex worker, navigating the dangerous streets in search of survival. His Japanese businessman father stumbled into her world on a fleeting trip to the United States. Their encounter was transactional; he paid for her services, igniting an unexpected and tumultuous consequence: Vassago's conception.
Upon discovering her pregnancy, Vassago's mother initially sought to terminate it, burdened by the stigma and complications of her situation. However, her plans were thwarted when his father, who already had an elder son suffering from a severe congenital kidney defect, insisted she carry the child to term. Driven by the hope that Vassago might one day serve as a kidney donor for his ailing brother, he forced her to bring him into the world - a decision laced with desperation and a chilling sense of utilitarianism.
Filled with resentment towards the son she never wanted, Vassago's mother sought to impart her disdain even in his name. She aimed to label him with a moniker that would reflect her loathing, contemplating names that shimmered with darkness. However, faced with restrictions from the U.S. birth certificate agency against overtly offensive names, she settled on Vassago, borrowing from the pages of the Ars Goetia, where he is known as a minor demon, referred to as the Prince of Hell.
As Vassago grew, he was often left in the shadows, with his father making only rare visits to check on him, sporadically providing the barest essentials for his upbringing. His existence was a struggle; his mother's contempt loomed large, shaping a lonely and harsh reality. In a desperate bid for survival and a sense of belonging, Vassago found himself drawn into the chaotic world of gangs, resorting to fighting and theft. These actions, while dangerous, were his means of navigating a life filled with hardship, seeking some semblance of protection and survival amidst the unforgiving streets.
At the tender age of fifteen, Vassago unwrapped the harsh reality of his father's intentions: he was to serve as a mere organ donor. Caught in the vice of familial obligation and without the power to decline, Vassago reluctantly acquiesced to the demands placed upon him. However, he attached a single condition to his compliance - he yearned for the chance to escape to Japan and embark on a new life far from the shadows of his father's oppressive grip. The prospect of remaining in America offered him little more than despair, leaving him longing for a fresh start.
Yet, the dream of relocating to Japan quickly unravelled as Vassago discovered the labyrinthine nature of the country's legal processes regarding international adoptions. Despite his eagerness to flee, the reality was that even if he were adopted, the bureaucratic complexities would prevent him from securing residency status. With no viable options available to him, Vassago found himself at a precipice, forced to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld.
Vassago allied himself with a notorious Korean criminal syndicate, embracing this dark path. They armed him with a counterfeit identity, the lifeblood of his new existence, and began his training as an assassin. By the time he reached twenty, Vassago had executed nine assignments for the syndicate - each job solidifying his reputation in a world shrouded in shadows. Now, he stood on the brink of his tenth job, a task that would bring him to the Town of Beginning.
This assignment was unlike any he had undertaken before. Vassago was tasked with eliminating a particular player ensnared within the eerie confines of a digital realm. His employers had deemed this moment opportune as the game had morphed into a harrowing Death Game. With the target firmly ensconced in this virtual prison, it was deemed an ideal scenario to orchestrate his demise. The man was too closely guarded in the real world for a successful hit, and with no certainty that he would perish within the confines of the Death Game, Vassago's mission became fraught with tension and uncertainty.
In a meticulous briefing, his employers instructed Vassago to immerse himself in the treacherous depths of the Death Game. He was to weave an intricate web of manipulation, crafting scenarios leading to the target's demise while avoiding direct confrontation. This delicate orchestration was paramount; they sought to shield their involvement, leaving no evidence pointing back to them. The promise of an astronomical sum of money dangled before him like a siren's song, seducing him into this dark obligation and lending an electrifying urgency to his task.
Although nearly all the unused NerveGears had been confiscated by the police in a sweeping crackdown, the syndicate had ingeniously managed to secure one for Vassago, accompanied by a pristine copy of the game. They even provided the necessary medical care he would require whilst navigating the treacherous virtual landscape. Upon diving into the Death Game, Vassago carefully crafted his avatar, naming him PoH - short for Prince of Hell - the name that had resonated with his mother.
However, Vassago was no naive pawn in this deadly game. As a seasoned button man, he sensed the complications that lay in wait, fully aware that this mission would be far from straightforward. The labyrinth of deceit and danger beckoned him, and he understood that only the sharpest of minds could navigate the treacherous landscape he was about to enter.
"… Must be nice, up there in their ivory tower, orchestrating from the shadows while we do all their dirty work."
The thought lingered in PoH's mind, causing him a mix of curiosity and annoyance. He wondered what the next steps would be and what would unfold in this game world that had captivated so many.
He poured over every scrap of information about Sword Art Online in preparation for his dive, but he felt woefully unprepared despite his efforts. It had been quite a while since the infamous designer Kayaba had upended reality for all players, and by now, the landscape of the game had evolved dramatically.
If that were indeed the case, reconnaissance would be essential. He would need to assess the environment before making any moves.
"Hey, you over there! Are you alright?"
The voice broke through his thoughts, and PoH turned to see two figures approaching him.
Locking eyes with them, he noticed a swordsman stepped forward. Tall and imposing, he looked to be in his early twenties, exuding a buoyant cheerfulness that contrasted starkly with the gloomy atmosphere PoH had been immersed in. His demeanour was warm, with an open-hearted smile that could put anyone at ease as he ambled through the lush, grassy plain.
"We're here to collect a quest reward for some Cor. You know, the usual monster-hunting jobs. They're a breeze - low-level beasts spawn in specific areas, and all it takes to clear the quest is to take them down." the swordsman explained, gesturing animatedly, his excitement palpable.
"There's a plethora of quests available, but tackling these initial ones is a foolproof strategy for making progress."
Beside him stood a smaller man who seemed younger, perhaps by three or four years. He was dressed in lightweight equipment that spoke of his agility, his posture suggesting a readiness for stealth rather than brute force. A shadow loomed over his expression - a complete contrast to his companion's sunny disposition.
"While you can certainly tackle these quests alone, forming a party generally yields better results. More monsters defeated means greater rewards." the younger player chimed in, each word devoid of the warmth of camaraderie.
"Ah, where are our manners? I'm Castor." the swordsman beamed, gesturing toward his companion. "And this is Pollux."
"I'm PoH." The assassin introduced himself with a calculated smile, consciously suppressing his true intentions. He needed to stay friendly in order to uncover his target and decide on his next course of action. "So, the twins from Greek mythology? Does that mean you two are actually brothers?"
Castor chuckled, "We may not share blood, but we've been through thick and thin together. It's fitting for our player names, right? People immediately recognize we're a unit."
"Hey, don't spill our backstory to someone we've just met! You're embarrassing me." Pollux shot back, his brow furrowing in irritation.
"What? You were the one who devised our names in the first place!" Castor replied a playful glint in his eyes.
"I told you, it's embarrassing!" Pollux retorted, his pout deepening as he turned his head away in frustration.
"Sorry about him." Castor interjected with a hint of apologetic laughter. "He can be a little crabby." Then, his attention shifted back to PoH. "So, PoH… Is that pronounced like 'Pooh'? It's an adorable name."
"This name was given to me by my parents." PoH replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His expression was calculated, expertly crafted to charm and disarm as he masked the true nature of his intentions behind an inviting facade. "… Still, offering to form a party and help me with questing is quite a kind gesture. I appreciate it, but what's in it for you two to team up with a newbie like me?"
From the onset, PoH harboured lingering suspicions about the motives of these two strangers. Yet, those doubts quickly began to fade as he observed their demeanour. Despite having left the safety of the Anti-Criminal Code Effect Area - a zone where players were shielded from being attacked - they carried themselves with unsettling confidence. They didn't seem the least bit on guard, a clear indication that they hadn't considered the possibility of him turning against them or bolting in fear. If their intentions were truly nefarious, there was no way they would be so relaxed.
"Well, we called out to you because you looked like you were having a rough time." Castor said, his voice steady and earnest.
"I guess you could say it's not purely out of kindness." His tone shifted slightly, hinting at an underlying motivation. "Hey PoH, what do you think of the Town of Beginnings?"
"What do I think of it?" PoH echoed, momentarily taken aback. Reflecting on his experiences, he struggled to frame his thoughts on the town. The overwhelming impression it left on him was that of deceit and false hope, though he doubted that was the answer they were looking for.
After a brief moment of contemplation, he decided to respond honestly. "… It feels lifeless."
"That's right!" Castor exclaimed, his enthusiasm brightening the sombre air around them.
Castor nodded vigorously as if PoH's answer had unlocked a long-sought revelation.
"It's been a few weeks since this Death Game started, and yet there are players littered around the outskirts, paralyzed by fear, unwilling to venture further for fear of being killed." he continued, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "And then, of course, there are the Beta Testers, those who've progressed beyond this point. But despite their numbers, there's no chance we'll clear this game if we rely solely on them. The rest of us must step up eventually."
"Huh? So you're out here trying to gather players and actually clear this game?" PoH asked, incredulous.
"Well, I'm not exactly a born leader," Castor admitted, scratching his head sheepishly, "but I genuinely believe that if we band together, we stand a better chance at tackling this game." The determination in his voice was palpable, underscoring his desire to do something meaningful rather than merely waiting for the inevitable. "But first, we've got to empower the players - restore their confidence and rid them of this resignation that has swept through them like a relentless plague."
"I honestly think it's none of our business, but whatever." Pollux interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You really don't get it, Castor. People aren't naturally optimistic. Sometimes they just want to be left alone."
"That may be true." Castor conceded, though his expression remained resolute. "But nothing will change if we just sit here. The more players who actively engage in the game, the more Clearers we'll have. Even if only a handful of players succeed, it drastically increases our chances of overcoming this game."
"So, does that mean you think I've got what it takes?" PoH asked, a hint of curiosity sparkling in his dark eyes.
"Absolutely." Castor replied, a smile breaking over his face. "If you're out here struggling, it shows you have the determination to push forward and take action for yourself, doesn't it? That's the real benefit of us helping you. Alright, we're approaching our destination."
As their physiques implied distinct capabilities, each had a specific role to play: Pollux was the vigilant scout, always on the lookout for lurking enemies, while Castor thrived in the chaos of physical combat.
Castor particularly distinguished himself in battle. Recently, he dispatched several insect-like monsters singlehandedly, displaying his exceptional prowess with impressive ease.
"… Once again, stealing the spotlight, are we?" Pollux quipped, a playful note in his voice, "It would be nice if I could join in on the action now and then."
"Just hold on a moment longer." Castor replied, confidence radiating from him. "I'll give you the signal when the time is right. Besides, wouldn't it be wiser to focus on levelling up your stats first? After all, your life is on the line here."
"I-I know that… !" Castor's friend stammered, frustration evident in his tone.
"I'm strong enough to handle this. I'm the perfect guy for the job." Pollux assured him, trying to quell his own doubts.
As Pollux caught sight of Castor's smug grin, he begrudgingly relented, the competitive spirit ignited within him but held at bay.
In this world, players who stayed out of actual combat couldn't gain experience, but in the context of party quests, all members were eligible for a share of the completion bonus EXP. Hence, participating in battles wasn't the only path to enhancing their levels.
Thanks to this system, PoH could still enjoy the rewards of their skirmishes despite only observing Castor's exploits.
"… I don't have anything to contribute." PoH confessed to the duo, a hint of helplessness in his voice.
"That's perfectly fine." Castor responded with a reassuring smile. "If you can keep supporting us, that would be fantastic. But it's your choice - whether you want to sharpen your combat skills or delve into crafting. Discovering something you enjoy might just motivate you to keep pushing forward. As I mentioned before, if we can encourage more people to emerge from the shadows, I genuinely believe we can inspire meaningful change."
'Talk about being optimistic.' PoH mused, a cynical thought crossing his mind. Nevertheless, he decided to cast aside his reservations.
He had entered this realm primarily for his work - everything else felt secondary.
"… There's another presence approaching from the forest!" Pollux declared, his voice quaking with anxiety.
Before long, a plant-like monster ambled into view, catching the attention of Castor and PoH.
"… A Little Nepenthes?" Castor murmured a hint of intrigue in his tone. "This seems to be the target for our quest, but I've never encountered one before." He unsheathed his sword with practised ease, preparing for the impending conflict. "Hey, let me take this one. There are countless rewards and valuable intel about the monster for us. It's not like you have anything to lose sitting this one out."
"Then you could just let me -" Pollux attempted to interject, but Castor cut him off. "You two stay right here."
"Ugh, not again… It's just one monster. Even I could take it down." Pollux protested, yearning for a taste of battle experience.
"Someone has to look after PoH, remember?" Castor reminded him, his voice a blend of encouragement and command. "The enemy's health bar indicates its level isn't particularly high. If it unleashes any powerful attacks, I'll rush back to assist you."
With that, Castor strode confidently toward the foe, leaving Pollux standing in frustration, his desires left unfulfilled.
The Little Nepenthes stood around the size of a small child. Its elongated form resembled that of a decorative vase, complete with a wide, gaping mouth at its top. A blooming, round bud crowned its head, adding a touch of bizarre beauty. Instead of legs, countless roots sprawled below it, granting it nimble movement though not quite fast enough to pose a significant threat.
The creature's primary forms of offence involved its ivy-formed arms. For now, it appeared that Castor was making swift work of this peculiar adversary.
"…" Pollux couldn't tear his gaze away from the fight, a flicker of resentment flitting across his expression.
After a moment of contemplation, PoH broke the tense silence. "Hey, is it your influence that led Castor into this game?"
"… !" Pollux's reaction was almost instinctive as if the words had struck him straight in the chest. "Wh-What… ?! Why would you think that -"
"Well, it's not like I have any real evidence to go off of." PoH remarked, his voice laced with uncertainty. "It just seems to me that you two share a deep connection, even outside this game. There's this awkward guilt hanging over you, while he seems excessively concerned about your well-being. Am I off base here?"
As if to punctuate the moment, a Little Nepenthes unleashed its special attack, spewing a stream of light-green liquid from its gaping maw. In a fluid motion, Castor sidestepped the oncoming threat, showcasing his agility.
Turning to his partner, Pollux felt a weight slowly lift, allowing him to open up. "… He's an old childhood friend from the same neighbourhood. Our mothers were close friends, so it wouldn't be a stretch to say we're like brothers. He's always taken on the role of the protective older brother for me."
Castor had always radiated brilliance, and his talents were evident from a young age. Now, he found himself enrolled in a prestigious university, while Pollux, a struggling high school student three years younger, often felt out of place and had developed a habit of skipping his classes.
Their bond was solidified through a shared passion for video games, a love that had carried over into their current lives.
One fateful day, upon hearing about the NerveGear and the mysterious world of SAO, Pollux eagerly invited his closest gaming companion, Castor, to join him in this new adventure. Castor, preoccupied with the arduous task of job hunting, hesitated at first. However, Pollux's infectious enthusiasm proved irresistible, and soon Castor found himself diving headfirst into the perilous realm of SAO.
That impulsive decision led them both into this life-or-death game's complicated and dangerous events.
"… He never blamed me for anything, and he has always been by my side. He's exceptional at handling tough situations, and his level is much higher than mine. He could have easily chosen a stronger or more reliable partner long ago." Pollux confided to PoH, his voice tinged with appreciation and a hint of sorrow.
The embodiment of an ideal older brother - strong yet compassionate. Pollux couldn't help but marvel at the bond they shared, which was both beautiful and unbreakable.
As PoH listened intently, he felt an involuntary pressure in the left side of his torso, a reminder of the kidney he had lost. It was his only faint connection to an older brother he had lost, one who had been born to another mother. Yet in this virtual landscape, his avatar was stripped of any scars or remnants of his past struggles.
"I know he has my back, and it's not that I don't appreciate his support. But… if this continues, I'll never truly be able to make it up to him." Pollux confessed guilt and regret heavy in his tone. "This inferiority looms over me like a shadow. And if it doesn't change, he might as well…"
His voice barely rose above a whisper, "He might as well just abandon me."
"So, what you're saying is you don't want to grow complacent in your current situation, right?" PoH probed, delving deeper into Pollux's thoughts.
"W-Well, yes, of course not…" Pollux responded, his voice betraying a mix of uncertainty and resolve.
"Then let me offer you some valuable advice. Something that might help both you and Castor become equals, so you can shed that lingering sense of inferiority." PoH proposed, his tone steady and confident.
A complicated expression crossed Pollux's face - an intriguing blend of suspicion and curiosity regarding PoH's suggestion.
"Listen closely. Those Little Nepenthes you see around here actually have a significant weakness. If you can muster the courage to target their weak point, you could take it down in one decisive blow." PoH explained, his confidence shining through. "If you pull this off, it could be the first step in levelling the playing field between you and Castor, right?"
"A, a weakness? Seriously? H, how do you even know that -" Pollux stammered, astonished by the information.
"How do I know about stuff like this? … Well, I was actually a beta tester." PoH revealed, drawing a gasp from Pollux. "I kept it to myself, not wanting to draw attention or face any complications because of it… but you two have treated me with kindness, and I want to return the favour. What do you say? Are you interested in hearing more?"
For a moment, Pollux stared in silence at PoH, the weight of the revelation settling over him. Slowly, he nodded, a flicker of hope igniting within him.
Pollux clenched his fists as he absorbed PoH's words, determination igniting within him. He was resolute in his quest to prove to his friend that he was not fragile and far from being a burden. With a sudden burst of courage, he sprinted out to confront the Little Nepentheses, side by side with Castor.
As Pollux charged into the fray, PoH stood quietly, a sly grin curling at the corners of his lips. Deep down, he revelled in the situation. 'Who knew it would be so easy.' he mused maliciously, watching the eager hero run toward danger.
Not long before, PoH had spun two webbed lies to Pollux, carefully crafting a facade of knowledge and superiority.
The first deception was that he had not been a beta tester. In truth, his grasp of the game was rooted deeply in the insights shared by those brave enough to face the game's earlier version. The details he had gleaned about the Little Nepentheses stemmed entirely from beta testers' experiences, a treasure trove of knowledge he had manipulated for his own ends.
The second lie emerged from his lips with deceptive ease, claiming that he knew the monster's weak points. But that would imply -
A sudden, bloodcurdling scream shattered the tense atmosphere, slicing through the stillness like a blade. The sounds of battle erupted, a cacophony of screams and clashing steel that lingered for a few short while before silence fell.
"… So, is it over?" PoH wondered aloud, a dark smirk stretching across his face as he stepped out from the safety of the area, throwing his head back in a show of audacity and indifference.
"Wow. It seems we managed to scrape by on the skin of our teeth." Castor remarked, his voice tinged with a mixture of relief and irony.
Before PoH stood Castor, the tall swordsman, who appeared utterly drained after the relentless skirmish, the man's once-confident demeanour had crumbled, leaving only exhaustion etched upon his features.
"Y-You…" PoH started, genuinely taken aback. He had expected Pollux's reckless venture to result in tragedy, yet here stood Castor, visibly shaken yet alive. Slowly, Castor raised his weary head, revealing eyes filled with disbelief and weariness.
"Pollux came rushing in and split that thing's bud clean in half." he began, his voice faltering as he recounted the events. The memory stung sharply, and he continued, "But then… a horde of its allies surrounded us… and I couldn't manage to save him…" His words hung heavy in the air, laden with confusion and dismay. What had compelled his friend to charge forward, leaving safety behind?
The delicate, almost ethereal buds of the Little Nepentheses exhaled a wispy plume of smoke when damaged, a distress signal to summon its kin for aid. This ability, contrary to what many might perceive, was not a sign of vulnerability; instead, it served as a cunning trap, luring others into a false sense of security.
"I'm so sorry… I couldn't do anything to help either…" PoH said, his voice laden with a feigned mournfulness, struggling to mask the emotions simmering beneath the surface.
"As I watched the desperate struggle unfold, I felt the tension build to a breaking point… In a moment of reckless determination, I summoned my courage, let out a fierce battle cry, and leaped into the fray. But I never envisioned it would lead to this… never wanted it to come to such a tragic end."
An oppressive silence enveloped them.
"What do you think? I learned that his reluctance to engage in battle with you spoke volumes more than the answers I sought." PoH continued his tone sharpening.
"What?! No, that's not -" Castor's protest faltered as an invisible blow struck him, leaving him reeling. He instinctively tried to prop himself up with the weight of his sword, but the gravity of his exhaustion proved too great, and he succumbed, dropping helplessly to his knees. "I… I only sought to protect him, to shield him from danger. But by acting this way, was I truly being of any assistance… or was I inadvertently pushing him toward harm? Was he trying to drag me into his fate… because he desired to face death by my side? All I wanted was to bring him back to safety, back to reality… that was my sole intention. Now, I am left to ponder… what was it all for?"
"… Hmph."
As Castor sank deeper into despair, muttering incoherently to himself, PoH's demeanour shifted abruptly. A chill swept through him, draining away any semblance of empathy.
The coldness in his eyes mirrored the steel he now wielded. With a detached precision, he bent, his fingers closing around the hilt of Pollux's discarded sword. The metal felt familiar, almost comforting in its deadly purpose. He rose, the movement fluid and silent, a predator stalking its prey. In one swift, calculated motion, he plunged the blade into Castor, finding the vulnerable gap in his armour with unnerving accuracy.
The impact was immediate and brutal. Castor's health, represented by a dwindling bar in the corner of his vision, plummeted. It emptied in an instant, the digital life force extinguished with the finality of a slammed door.
"Wh-Wha?" Castor choked, the words bubbling with disbelief and a dawning horror. He hadn't even registered the betrayal, the fatal blow before his knees buckled. He crashed to the ground, the impact jarring, real. But it was the crimson bloom that genuinely shocked him. A dark, spreading stain against the polished steel of his armour, a stark and unsettling visual ripped from reality and thrust into the pristine world of the game. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"Well, that's new." PoH mused, his voice a low, almost conversational murmur in the sudden quiet. This wasn't the programmed death sequence he'd expected. From his extensive research before entering Sword Art Online, dying in this game meant a flash of light, a fading from existence, a clean and sanitised departure. No blood, no corpse, no lingering testament to the violence. This… this felt visceral. More accurate than he had anticipated and, perversely… satisfying.
He stared down at the fallen form, the crimson stain spreading further. No remorse flickered within him, only a cold, clinical observation. "I'd pity you, but your life was already worthless to begin with." PoH said, a dark smirk twisting his lips. He felt nothing, no guilt, no empathy. Only a detached amusement at the sheer gullibility of his victim. "I'd say, 'nice knowing you,' but I really don't think I can spare the time." The words dripped with contempt, a final dismissal delivered to a corpse that was already growing cold.
A mocking sigh escaped PoH's lips as he continued his twisted eulogy. "If you want to change the world, then you can't get all bent outta shape over a little setback like this. Why didn't you just get back up on your feet like a man? A sacrifice isn't a sacrifice if you don't try to make something of it, moron!" He spat on the ground near Castor's head, a final act of desecration.
He replayed the events in his mind like an old film reel, each frame flickering with the haunting images of missed warnings and glaring red flags that Castor had so blithely disregarded. The moments, once innocuous, now shimmered in his memory - subtle hints glimmering like distant stars in a boundless night sky, each one silently pleading for attention. What had transpired in the shadows between him and Pollux? How had Pollux uncovered the cryptic secret of the Little Nepentheses' bud? Each overlooked sign, each instance of Castor's blind trust, only fanned the flames of PoH's simmering contempt.
It should have been a straightforward endeavour to recognise that the very individual who had incited Pollux into action was precisely the one Castor should have sought vengeance against. Yet here he stood, engulfed by the cruel light of hindsight, which laid bare the foolishness of their intertwined fates, exposing the fragility of brotherhood.
"That you would place your unwavering faith in me - without a flicker of doubt - over a friend you've cherished for years! Ha!" He scoffed, a bitter taste curling his lips into a sardonic smile that held emptiness. "In my heart, there resides nothing but a profound sense of chagrin for your boundless weakness. If you had truly cared about him, if you had been there for him during his moment of despair, there's no way I could have spun such a captivating tale."
Ultimately, all the grand ideals of brotherhood they once espoused - the noble promises of loyalty that felt unbreakable - crashed before him like fragile glass, dust scattered in the wind at the mere hint of strife. It was pathetic, and PoH revelled in their unravelling, savouring the bittersweet taste of their once-unshakeable bond now reduced to a mere memory, lost in the echoes of betrayal. Even as the architect of this tragic play, the puppeteer orchestrating every intricate move, a discomfort lingered in the back of his mind. Something was still amiss, a gnawing dissatisfaction that clawed at the edges of his triumph.
"If the world is but an elaborate forgery, then perhaps the human heart is nothing more than a vault overflowing with lies." he contemplated, the realization striking him like a dark epiphany. The weight of this thought bore down on him, serving as both a twisted justification for the chaos he so desperately craved and a profoundly unsettling reflection on the very nature of existence.
Yet, amidst this introspection, PoH recognised the precious moments slipping through his fingers - time that could be so much better spent propelling himself toward the ultimate goal looming in his mind like a distant silhouette. His ambition surged like wildfire within him, demanding his undivided attention and fueling an unyielding pursuit.
'What am I doing here, frittering away my time like this?' he thought, his brow furrowing in frustration, lips curling into a self-scorning snarl as irritation bubbled within. The fleeting moment of contemplation evaporated into the ether, replaced instantly by a rekindled sense of purpose that coursed through his veins.
'There are still things I need to accomplish. That's why I'm here in the first place. But what is it that I truly desire to do?' The question loomed above him like a storm cloud, heavy with the unvoiced longings that lay buried deep within his soul.
'It's true - I found Castor and Pollux fascinating. Though they ultimately fell short of my expectations, it was oddly invigorating to witness their needless demise, much like the tragedies that had befallen my fellow countrymen, my brother, my father…' A flicker of something raw and primal ignited within him, a heated ember of emotion stirring in the ashes of his past.
'What is this feeling I feel…? Is it the urge to kill again?' The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a chillingly pleasurable sensation.
"… Next time, I'll try for more than just two." The words were barely a whisper, but they carried the weight of a promise, a chilling declaration of intent.
Without realizing it, the corners of his mouth began to twitch upwards, forming a predatory grin.
'I'll lead a gaggle of them to the slaughter, just like I led those two.'
'And let's try to make as many of them Japanese players as we can, yeah? Heh heh heh…' The laughter was silent, but it echoed in the cold depths of his soul.
'In a world where death is always by our side, people will surely be more than willing to bare their souls and expose their own lies for what they are.' He would be the catalyst, the instrument of their destruction.
Sheer joy began to wash over his whole body, a dark and intoxicating euphoria. But PoH felt one question still nagging at him, a seed of doubt planted in the fertile ground of his sociopathy. And that was― 'If… if among that filth I were to encounter one with an unbending spirit, one whom I could not defile… what would I do then?'
And then, almost as if guided by an external force, the true, horrifying answer crystallised within him. It wasn't about breaking them, not in the conventional sense. It was something far more profound, far more twisted.
'Should I meet that person,' he thought, the words taking shape with terrifying clarity, 'I will love them with all my might.' A dark, perverse love, a love born from the deepest recesses of his sociopathic mind. 'Oh yes,' he continued, the thought taking on a monstrous, seductive allure, 'love them with utter devotion. I'll love them so violently that there won't be anything left of them.'
A twisted perversion of affection, a desire to consume and obliterate, fueled by a desperate need to understand, to control, to possess. 'This is a fire in my heart,' he thought, the internal monologue burning brighter, hotter, 'that will transcend time, the universe, even death and rebirth.' It was a grandiose, delusional declaration, a testament to the scale of his self-deception and the depths of his depravity.
'My spirit,' he proclaimed silently, 'will forever be tethered in unending fascination to that which is "real".' The word 'real' hung in the air, pregnant with meaning only he could fully grasp – a reality defined by pain, by control, by the absolute power to break and remake.
'Oh yeah,' he recalled, the thought surfacing from the depths of memory, 'Castor said something like that, didn't he?' His gaze shifted, lingering on the motionless avatar of Castor, a faint smirk curling at the corners of his lips. He remembered their conversation, a fleeting, insignificant exchange, now twisted and repurposed to fit his own dark narrative.
"Whether you want to sharpen your combat skills or delve into crafting." Castor had said, his voice, even now recalled in PoH's memory, carrying a tone of genuine encouragement. "Discovering something you enjoy might just motivate you to keep pushing forward."
PoH scoffed silently. 'Enjoyment… motivation…' He looked back at the bodies, at the digital forest, at the vast, uncaring sky. "…He wasn't anything special," he admitted aloud, the words tinged with a dismissive contempt, "but I guess a dead clock's right twice a day."
A glance at the system menu displayed the date: November 21, 2022. 'Today,' he thought, a sense of grim determination hardening his resolve, 'today, I've found what I want to do.' A new chapter was beginning, a descent more profound into the abyss. 'Starting today,' he declared in the silence of his mind, 'the Prince of Hell will reside in a forest of delights.'
With his twisted plan solidifying, he knelt beside Castor's rigid avatar, his movements devoid of any respect for the digital corpse. He efficiently searched the body, his virtual fingers swiftly stripping it of anything of value: a handful of Cor and a few basic healing potions. He then moved to Pollux's body, his eyes widening slightly in a flicker of genuine surprise. The avatar was marked by digital lacerations, which is evidence of vine damage. A fleeting curiosity sparked within him. Someone else, something else, had been here. It added a layer of unexpected intrigue. He looted Pollux as efficiently as Castor, finding similar meagre spoils.
Considering the mechanics of this virtual world and the mechanics of death within it, PoH quickly dismissed the idea of taking their clothes. They were likely not his size, and besides, who knew if digital garments even functioned like real ones? But weapons, weapons were different. Weapons were tools. He stripped both avatars of their blades, adding them to his growing if still pathetic, arsenal.
Loaded down with the meagre spoils of his first kills, PoH turned his back on the site of his nascent awakening. He needed to find a settlement, a digital hub of civilisation, somewhere to acquire armour, better weapons, and the tools for his dark mission. He was ready to leave the forest, ready to begin his reign of twisted 'delights', ready to find that unbending spirit and show it the true, consuming nature of his dark, perverse love. The game had just begun, and PoH, the Prince of Hell in this digital Eden, was ready to play.
The End!
Author's Note: And so concludes the first side story of my Sword Art Online - Alchemy Edition narrative. I sincerely hope you found it enjoyable. The inspiration for this chapter emerged from the engaging tale told in Sword Art Online Variant Showdown. I believed it would be intriguing to explore PoH's entry into Sword Art Online, and upon discovering this content, I felt compelled to weave it into my own story. I utilized an AI tool to modify the original material slightly, infusing it with my own ideas and nuances along the way. Given that this occurs at the early stages of my storyline, I didn't have the opportunity to showcase my full creative scope as much as I would have liked. Nevertheless, I think it adds an intriguing layer to the narrative.
Looking ahead, I have at least one, possibly two more chapters of side stories planned. These upcoming instalments will delve into Asuna's journey into the game. While it's certainly possible for me to intertwine these accounts into the main narrative, my desire is to keep the main storyline focused primarily on Kirito. I aim to limit the inclusion of side tales within the main arc; the only exceptions will emerge during the real-life chapters where we see what's happening outside the game.
If you have any ideas that I could use for side stories, I would like to hear them, as it'll help me do more side stories.