Alicization Dividing

by Reki Kawahara

  If Seijirou Kikuoka was running Rath as an SDF officer, I could imagine any number of hostile forces. There could be some other internal group opposed to Kikuoka’s project, a major military company trying to maintain a stranglehold on the defense industry, perhaps even some foreign weapons manufacturer or intelligence agency.

  But if such powerful forces were involved in sabotaging Rath, would they really go to these subtle and particular lengths? If they had enough power to install a sabotage routine in the artificial fluctlights, surely it would be easier just to destroy the lightcube cluster itself and be done with it?

  In other words, the intention of this mystery saboteur was merely to delay the project, not shut it down entirely. Were they waiting for something to happen? Some massive counterproject that required plenty of time to prepare? Perhaps…

  The theft of the complete experiment results, including the lightcube cluster. A chill ran through my hands as they held Alice, who suddenly wailed, “How cruel…”

  I came back to my senses and glanced at her. Those graceful eyebrows were twisted in pain, little droplets sat at the corners of her eyes, and she’d bitten her lip so hard, it was bleeding.

  That lip trembled, the skin pale, as she continued, “How cruel…to have…not just my memories…but even my mind manipulated…by someone else…” Her hands on my shoulders trembled, out of either sadness or anger. “Was it…the pontifex…who burned this red sacred script…into my eyes…?”

  “No…I don’t think it was,” I admitted on the spot. “It’s one of the powers who created this world and observes it from the outside…One of the gods that don’t appear in your creation story.”

  “…Gods.” Clear drops fell from her eyes without a sound. “We knights engage in endless battle to protect the world the gods created…and yet, they do not have faith in us? They take my memories of family away, then place this terrible hex on me…to force my servitude…”

  Alice lived her life as a holy knight—I couldn’t imagine how much shock, disbelief, and despair she must have been feeling. As I watched, my breath caught in my lungs as Alice’s eyes bolted open.

  The letters running across her right iris were still a brilliant red. But she stared right through the message into the sky—at the pale moon floating between the heavy clouds.

  “I am not a puppet!” she announced, her voice clear and strong, if ragged around the edges. “Perhaps I was constructed. But I still have a will! I wish to protect this world…and the people in it! I wish to protect my parents! My sister! That is my primary duty!!”

  With a high-pitched metallic whine, the letters on her eye glowed brighter. The rotating bar code around the edge of her iris sped up.

  “Alice!” I cried, sensing what was about to happen.

  Without looking back at me, she whispered, “Kirito…hold me down firmly.”

  “…Right.”

  There was nothing else I could do. I let go of Alice’s face and moved my grip to her armored shoulders. Through the golden plate, I squeezed her tight as she trembled.

  She gestured up to the sky, long golden hair waving, and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Administrator…and you unnamed gods! For the sake of my mission…I swear to oppose you!!”

  Her declaration of independence rang out, crisp and clear.

  Barely a moment after the words left her mouth, the red glow in Alice’s right eye surged into a burst of flame.

  A spray of hot blood moistened my cheek.

  2

  Eugeo.

  Eugeo…

  What’s wrong?

  Did you have a bad dream…?

  With a soft thrum, orange light filled the lamp.

  Out in the hallway, Eugeo buried the bottom half of his face into the pillow in his arms and, without emerging from the darkness, peered through the slightly ajar door into the room.

  It wasn’t very big and featured two simple wooden beds. The one on the right was empty, its freshly washed blanket crisply folded. The bed on the left held a thin figure sitting upright, watching Eugeo. The face was hidden due to the light of the lamp in the figure’s hand. The shining white pajama top was slightly open at the chest, revealing even whiter skin. The long hair that hung down to the bed looked as soft as silk.

  Beyond the glow of the lamp, the only thing visible were her full lips, curled into a gentle smile.

  It must be cold over there. Come here, Eugeo.

  Underneath the covers, the bed was full of rich, warm, inviting darkness, which only served to remind him of the chilly breeze in the hallway. Just then, he was through the door, tottering toward the bed on uncertain legs.

  For some reason, the closer he got, the weaker the lamplight became, and the darker the face of the woman on the bed. But Eugeo kept moving onward, driven by the desire to nestle into the pleasant darkness. His steps got shorter and shorter, and his viewpoint fell lower and lower, but he didn’t find this strange.

  When he reached the bed at last, it was terribly tall. He threw down his pillow and used it as a stepping stool to clamber up the side of the bed. Then a soft layer of cloth covered his head, plunging his vision into blackness. He crawled farther, farther into the dark, urged by a kind of primal longing.

  His outstretched fingers brushed warm, soft skin. Eugeo clung to it, buried his face in it. The smooth skin wriggled and folded to welcome him in. Clinging to it brought him a numbing satisfaction, and twice as much longing. Smooth arms circled his back and brushed the top of his head.

  “Mother…? Is that you, Mother?” he asked, his voice tiny.

  The answer was immediate.

  That’s right…I’m your mother, Eugeo.

  “Mother…my mother…,” he mumbled, sinking deeper and deeper into the warm, clammy darkness. As his mind went dull and numb, one little piece of it raised a concern, as dull as an air bubble rising from a muddy swamp.

  Was his Mother always so thin…and soft? She worked the barley fields every day—why were her hands so perfectly pristine? And…what had happened to his father, who should have been sleeping in the bed on the right? Where were all his brothers, who always got in the way when he sought comfort from this woman…?

  “Are you…really my mother?”

  That’s right, Eugeo. I’m your mother, and your mother alone.

  “But…where’s Father? Where did my brothers go?”

  Ha-ha-ha.

  Oh, you silly boy.

  Remember?

  You killed them all.

  Suddenly, his fingers slid.

  He held up his hands and spread them apart.

  Even in the darkness, he could clearly see the bright-red color of blood dripping from his fingers.

  “…Aaaaaahh!!” Eugeo screamed and bolted upright. He frantically rubbed his clammy hands against his shirt. After several shouts and much hasty friction, he finally realized that it was not blood smeared on his palms but sweat. He was lying on the ground in the fetal position.

  It was just a dream. And yet, the wild beating of his heart and the sour sweat exuding from his skin showed no signs of calming. The remnants of a horrifying nightmare stayed stuck to his back, chilling and unpleasant.

  I’ve hardly even thought of Mom and Dad since I left home, he realized, then clenched his eyes shut and panted. Back in Rulid, his mother was so busy with fieldwork, taking care of the sheep, and doing all the housework that she hardly ever had time to dote on Eugeo like that. At the time of his oldest memories, he was already sleeping in his own bed, and he’d never had a problem with it.

  So why would I have a dream like that now…?

  He shook his head, trying to dispel the vision. A person’s dreams were decided by the whims of Lunaria, the moon goddess. There was no meaning to that nightmare, surely.

  Once his breathing was steady again, his mind turned to the question of where he was. Without uncurling his body, he lifted his eyelids.

  The first thing he saw was a dark-red, stunningly deep carpet, woven
with an intricate design. He couldn’t begin to guess what the textile merchants in District Five of North Centoria would charge for such an item. He gradually raised his head, but there was no end to the carpet. Only when his head was fully level did he finally see a wall in the distance.

  The “wall” wasn’t wood paneled or made of stone blocks. It was an arrangement of golden pillars made to look like gigantic swords, connected by massive sheets of glass. That made it less of a wall than a very long, continuous window. In any case, he doubted that even the emperors’ palaces made such decadent use of valuable glass.

  Beyond the glass wall was a carpet of clouds glowing blue in the moonlight. So this chamber was located above the cloud layer. Hanging in the night sky above was a full white moon. A stunning canopy of stars sparkled around it. The rays of light coming down from the display above were so strong that Eugeo was late to realize it was still the middle of the night. Based on the position of the moon, it was probably just after midnight. So while he slept, the date changed, making it the twenty-fifth day of the fifth month now.

  He looked straight up. Far above, the ceiling formed a perfect circle, with no sign of any staircase up to the next floor. Did that make this the very top floor of Central Cathedral?

  There was a vivid painting on the vast ceiling: shining knights, vanquished monsters, mountains jutting from the earth. It seemed to be a depiction of the creation of the world. There were even crystals embedded into the surface here and there, twinkling like stars.

  But based on the content of the painting, there was one absolutely pivotal figure who was not present in the center, where she belonged: Stacia, goddess of creation. That part of the painting was done all in white, leaving a bizarre void that drew attention away from the rest of the work.

  After puzzling over that for a bit, Eugeo got up from his hands and feet, then spun around in a panic when something brushed his back.

  “…?!”

  He gaped. Right behind him was the side of a shockingly large bed. It was circular, like the room itself, and nearly ten mels in diameter. Four golden pillars supported a golden canopy, with several layers of fine purple fabric hanging between them. The bed itself was wrapped in a white sheet of what looked like silk from the eastern empire, which shone softly in the moonlight coming through the window.

  And lying in the middle of that bed was a single figure. The sheer hanging fabric blocked the light, revealing nothing but the general silhouette.

  Eugeo sucked in a sharp breath and jumped to attention. He’d been here for at least a few minutes, and he hadn’t sensed the other person’s presence at any point. That was hard enough to believe, but even more difficult was the realization that he’d been sleeping against the side of the bed for hours. How had that happened…?

  At last, Eugeo recalled the most recent memory from his vague, jumbled chronology.

  That’s right…I fought against Commander Bercouli…the hero of yore. I used my sword’s Memory Release to freeze us both…and just before both our life numbers ran out, some little man dressed like a clown—Prime Senator Chudelkin? He waltzed in and said some very strange things. Then he crunched the ice roses with his shoes…and…

  That was the end of his memories. Perhaps the clownish man had brought him here, but the reason was unclear. Without thinking, he rummaged around his waist, but there was no sword there.

  Plagued by a sudden sense of vulnerability, Eugeo squinted at the figure on the bed. Was it friend or foe…? But this was Central Cathedral, and likely the top floor, at that. Nobody he found here would be an ally.

  He considered sneaking right out of the room, but his desire to know the identity of the sleeping figure won out. No matter how he stretched, though, he couldn’t make out the face behind the hanging fabric.

  He held his breath and put his knee on the bed. It sank deep into the white silk, like a layer of powdered snow, and Eugeo had to reach out and prop himself up on his hands. They, too, sank into the smooth fabric.

  The memory of that terrible dream and the sensation of its enveloping bed returned to him in a flash, and he shivered. Eugeo put his other leg on the bed and slowly crawled toward the center.

  As he crossed the impossibly large bed, Eugeo had to wonder: If the bed beneath him was filled with the finest, softest down, how many feathers would there be in total? When he carefully collected the loose, fallen feathers from the ducks the family kept out back in Rulid, it had taken half a year to make one thin, shabby blanket.

  He stopped just before the sheer hanging curtains and listened closely. At the very edge of his hearing was the sound of smooth, regular breathing. The mystery person was still asleep.

  Carefully, so carefully, he slipped his right hand under the curtain and lifted it, achingly slowly. When the light of the evening finally landed on the interior portion of the bed, Eugeo’s eyes bulged.

  It was a woman.

  She was dressed in a light-purple nightgown—the same color as a Stacia Window—hemmed with silver thread, with pale and delicate hands folded atop her stomach. Her arms and fingers were as slender as a doll’s, but the swelling mounds pushing up the gown were rich and full, and he hastily looked past them without lingering. At the wide-open neck, her skin was smooth and dazzlingly white.

  Lastly, he looked at her face. Instantly, he felt as though his soul were being sucked out of his body. He went into tunnel vision, unable to sense anything else.

  What incredible perfection. She didn’t even seem human.

  Alice the Integrity Knight had an unassailable beauty, of course, but hers was still a beauty that existed within the human spectrum. And that was natural—Alice was a human.

  But this person sleeping no more than a mel away was…

  The finest sculptor in Centoria could spend his entire life in pursuit of total mastery and still be unable to create such beauty. Eugeo couldn’t think of the words to describe even a single feature of her face. He would say that she had “lips like flower petals,” except that Eugeo did not know of any flowers with such delicate, pristine curves.

  The lashes on her closed eyelids and the long flowing hair that spilled over the bed looked like molten silver. It gleamed coldly in the blue darkness and white moonlight.

  Like some kind of fly lured by sweet nectar, Eugeo was stunned, unable to think. The only thing filling his empty head was the desire to reach out and touch that hair and cheek, to feel them with his own skin.

  He slid forward a bit more on his knees, until a scent like nothing he’d ever smelled before rose into his nostrils. His outstretched fingertips were closer…almost there…on that smooth, flawless skin…

  No, Eugeo!

  Run!

  He felt like a voice had shouted from somewhere in the distance.

  There was a burst of sparks inside his head, driving away just a bit of the thick fog clouding his mind. Eugeo’s eyes blinked and bulged, and he abruptly drew his hand back.

  Why did that voice…sound so familiar…? he wondered in a daze, his ability to think slowly returning. What…happened to me…? What am I doing here…?

  He stared at the woman sleeping before him, trying to reconcile his presence there, and suddenly felt another heavy layer of sleep threatening to engulf him. He tore his eyes away and shook his head in an attempt to fight it off.

  Think. I’ve got to think. I should know who this is. It’s a person sleeping alone on an extravagant bed on the top floor of Central Cathedral. In other words, this must be the most powerful figure in the Axiom Church—and the ruler of all the human lands in existence…

  It was the church pontifex, Administrator.

  Eugeo repeated that name over and over, now that he could remember it. This was the person who stole Alice, took out her memories, and made her into an Integrity Knight. The most powerful caster of sacred arts, whom even the wise and unfathomable Cardinal couldn’t defeat. The ultimate enemy of both Eugeo and Kirito.

  And here she was, sleeping right before him.


  Could I…beat her now?

  Without thinking, he reached for his waist with his trembling hand, but he found no sword there. Either Chudelkin had taken it, or it was still at the bottom of the Great Bath, buried under ice. Even asleep, she was too much for Eugeo to handle without a weapon…

  Wait.

  There was still one. A very small one, but in a sense, a weapon more powerful than any Divine Object.

  Eugeo reached up to his chest and pressed down on his shirt. The sensation of a hard cross pushed back into his palm. It was his final ace, Cardinal’s secret weapon.

  If he stuck this dagger into Administrator’s body, Cardinal’s special attack arts would cross time and space to burn her alive.

  “…!”

  But he could only exhale in anguish, the dagger clutched in his hand through his shirt.

  The knife was supposed to be for Alice. She wouldn’t be killed, of course, merely put to sleep by Cardinal’s magic so her memories could be restored, returning her to the original Alice. If he used it on Administrator, that might stop her, but it would hold no meaning to Eugeo. Perhaps there was a way to bring Alice back without the dagger once Administrator was out of the picture, but there was no guarantee of that.

  As he hesitated, grappling with a question with no easy answers, he thought he heard that strange voice again.

  Eugeo…run…

  But before the message from that terribly faint voice could take root in his consciousness—the woman’s silver eyelashes twitched.

  Eugeo could only gaze on in dull surprise as her pale eyelids slowly opened. He couldn’t even move his eyes, much less the hand holding his dagger. The mental acuity he’d fought so hard to regain began to shred apart again.

  The woman’s lids closed before they had opened all the way, then resumed their upward drift, teasing him. By the third blink, they were entirely open at last.

  “Ah…”

  Eugeo didn’t even register the sound that tumbled out of his mouth. The woman’s eyes were a pure silver color he had never seen in any human iris in his life. Around that mirrorlike surface was a pale rainbow shine that wobbled and rippled like water. They gleamed with such a beautiful richness that every gem in the world paled in comparison.