Sword Art Online Progressive - Volume 01

by Reki Kawahara

  “I went by a different name in the previous game...I used a name that anyone would recognize as a hero, like Orlando or Cuchulainn. The reason I changed it to Nezha was a sign of humility, or flattery. I was trying to say, ‘I won’t call myself a great hero like you guys, so can I still stick around?’ When they asked what it meant, I said it was based on my real name–that was a lie, of course. Every time they call me Nezuo, I want to say that it’s still a hero’s name. I don’t know...It’s silly...”

  Neither I nor Asuna denied or agreed with Nezha’s self-flagellation. Instead, a quiet question emerged from her hood, which was still up, even indoors.

  “But then things changed when we got trapped in here, didn’t they? You stopped venturing into the fields and switched to crafting. As a blacksmith, you can still support your friends without fighting. But...why would you make the jump to swindling people? Whose idea was it in the first place? Yours? Orlando’s?”

  She leapt to the point as quickly and accurately as if she were in battle. Nezha had no response. When he did answer, it was a surprise.

  “It wasn’t me, or Orlando...or any of us.”

  “Huh...? Then, who?”

  “For the first two weeks, I tried to cut it as a fighter. There’s one skill, just one, that allows you to fight remotely...I thought I might be able to hack it that way, even without being able to judge distance...”

  That didn’t seem like it would work to me, but I explained for Asuna s sake. “Ahh, the Throwing Knives skill. But that’s kind of...”

  “Yes. I bought as many of the cheapest throwing knives as I could in the Town of Beginnings, hoping to train up my skill, but once I used up my stock, there was nothing I could do. Plus, the stones out in the field you can throw hardly do any damage. So it wasn’t really much use as a main weapon skill...I gave up once my proficiency reached fifty or so. And because the other Braves stuck around to help me with that, we ended up getting off to a slow start...”

  The Legend Braves’ slow start was probably not due to them helping Nezha train with throwing knives, but because the other beta testers and I rushed off at top speed on the very first day and left everyone in the dust. I had a feeling Asuna would throw me some very dirty looks if I mentioned that, however, so I kept it to myself.

  “Things got very...tense when I said that I’d give up on learning how to use throwing knives. No one said it out loud, but I’m sure they were all thinking that the guild got off to a slow start because of me. Even after becoming a blacksmith, training a crafting skill takes a lot of money...It seemed like the other guys were just waiting for someone to suggest that they cut me loose and leave me back in the Town of Beginnings.”

  He bit his lip before continuing, “Really, I should have offered on my own...but I just couldn’t say it. I was afraid of being alone...Anyway, in the corner of the bar where we were talking, someone I thought was just an NPC came up and said, ‘If you’re going to be a blacksmith with some weapon experience, there’s a really cool way to make more money.’”

  Asuna and I shared a look. It hadn’t occurred to us that the idea for the Quick Change weapon trick came from someone outside of the Legend Braves altogether.

  “Wh-who was it ...?”

  “I don’t know the name. They only told me how to switch the weapons, and left immediately after that. Haven’t seem ‘em since. It was a very...strange person, too. Funny way of talking...funny outfit. Wore a hooded cape like a rain poncho-glossy and black...”

  “Poncho...?” Asuna and I repeated together.

  Hooded capes were a fairly common item in fantasy-styled RPGs like SAO–practically a staple of the genre. Asuna herself was wearing one of her own at this very moment, though it was on the shorter side.

  Just minutes earlier, she had claimed she wore it for its warmth, but the real reason for those hoods was not the ability to keep out the cold and rain but to hide her face. And whoever this man in the black poncho was, he likely wore it for the same reason...

  Asuna seemed to read my mind, and she pulled back her gray hood with a snort. Even in the empty room, lit only by a single lamp, her gleaming chestnut-brown hair and pale skin seemed to give off a light of their own.

  Upon seeing her face clearly, Nezha’s wide eyes squinted, as though staring into the sun. Given that player names were not displayed by default in SAO, the main means of recognizing a person was the face, followed by the body. Eventually, the equipment and fighting style of a player might become part of their persona, but at this point in the game, everyone was rapidly switching to newer gear and even changing their main weapon skill. Someone playing a knife-wielding thief in leather armor one day might be a heavy warrior decked out in full plate armor the next.

  Essentially, with an average build and a concealed face, pretty much anyone could pass anonymously. Even voices could be altered using a few special means, such as the great helm I was wearing when I approached Nezha.

  But there might be a way to learn more identifying features of this man that taught Nezha how to swindle others. He was still staring at Asuna, so I brought him back to the topic at hand. “About the guy in the black poncho...”

  “Ah...y-yes?”

  “How did he demand the margin be paid? I mean, how did he want you to hand over his share of the money you made?” I asked. Asuna nodded in understanding. If they were making cash handoffs, we could stake out the place and catch a glimpse of the man.

  But Nezha’s answer blew that possibility to smithereens. “Um, actually, he didn’t really say anything...”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Well...like I said, he taught me how to use Quick Change and the Vendor’s Carpet to pull off the weapon-switching trick, but he didn’t say a word about a share, or the payment for his idea, or anything.”

  Asuna and I stared at each other again, dumbfounded.

  The trick was brilliant and nearly flawless. I made sure Nezha knew my opinion of it. The trick was certainly possible back in the beta test, but not one of the thousand testers had come up with the idea. Whoever devised it was a creative genius. If Nezha had chosen a player handle based on his own given name, or Asuna hadn’t asked Argo for info on “Nataku,” I would never have figured the trick out.

  But because of that, it was very jarring to hear that the poncho man who devised this brilliant idea would hand it over without asking for anything in return. If he hadn’t asked for col...what did he stand to gain from giving his idea to the Legend Braves?

  Clearly it wasn’t out of sheer altruism. It was fraud, a means of ripping off other players.

  “So you’re saying...he just butted into your conversation, explained how to switch weapons like that, and then disappeared?” Asuna asked. Nezha was about to agree, but he stopped before committing.

  “Well...Technically, he did say a bit more. A scam is a scam, so Orlando and the others weren’t into the idea at first. They knew it was a crime. But then he just laughed. It wasn’t put on or menacing. It was just a really pleasant laugh, like out of a movie.”

  “Pleasant...laugh?”

  “Yes. It was like–like just hearing it made everything seem so unimportant anymore. The next thing I knew, Orlando, Beowulf, all of us were laughing with him. Then he said, ‘We’re in a game, don’t you know? If we weren’t supposed to do something, they’d outlaw it in the programming, right? So anything you can do...you’re allowed to do. Don’t you think?’”

  “Th-that’s total nonsense!” Asuna exploded before Nezha had barely finished. “That would mean you could butt in and attack someone else’s monster, or create a train that attacks someone else, or any other thing that’s completely against proper manners! In fact, since the anti-crime code is turned off outside of towns, that would mean it’s totally okay to –”

  She stopped mid-sentence as if afraid that saying it out loud might cause it come true.

  Without thinking, I reached out and brushed Asuna’s arm, the
white skin even paler than usual. In most cases, she would pull several feet away in disgust, but now, that contact grounded her emotions and the tension drained out of her.

  I pulled my hand away and asked Nezha, “Was that all the poncho man said?”

  “Er...yes. We nodded to him, he stood up, said ‘good luck’ and left the bar. I haven’t seen him since,” he said, his eyes wandering as though searching his memory banks. “Now it all seems very mysterious...After he left, the guild most certainly changed.

  Everyone seemed very gung ho on the idea. I’m ashamed to admit that I decided I would rather be the centerpiece of the money-making scheme than be relegated to useless baggage, dragging everyone down. But...”

  Expression flooded back into Nezha’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.

  “But...the first time I tried the trick...when I broke that substitute weapon and saw the look on the customer’s face, I knew. Just because it was possible within the game didn’t make it right. I should have given the real sword back and explained everything...but I didn’t have the guts. When I went back to the hangout bar, I was going to say we should call it quits but...but when they saw the sword I stole...they were so, so happy, and they said how great I was, and...and...and I just couldn’t–!”

  Wham! He suddenly slammed his forehead down straight onto the table. Purple light flashed off the walls of the room. He did the same thing again, then again, but his HP were protected by the game code in town.

  He didn’t know what to do. We’d prevented him from attempting suicide, he had no means of replacing the victims’ belongings, and he couldn’t even return to his friends.

  If there was one way to atone for his sins, it would be to publicly admit his actions and apologize to the player base. But I couldn’t demand that he do it. I couldn’t guarantee that all of the honest, upfront players fighting to free us all from Aincrad, some of whom were his victims, would forgive Nezha for his actions. And I couldn’t imagine the punishments they might devise for him if they didn’t.

  The only realistic solution I could come up with was to have him go through the teleporter back to the Town of Beginnings and hide himself in that vast city. Or perhaps he could reverse course, going back to fighting, and find some way to contribute through battle. The problem with that was that throwing knives were a total sub-skill, better for nothing more than distracting enemies...

  But then I remembered a rare piece of loot I had gotten from a difficult Taurus Ringhurler in the labyrinth just earlier that day.

  It was rare but not particularly valuable, and of no use to me–something very eccentric and long-ranged.

  “...Nezha.”

  He raised his forehead off the table an inch. I saw cheeks wet with tears.

  “What’s your level?”

  “...I’m level 10.”

  “Then you’ve still only got three skill slots. What are you using?”

  “One-Handed Weapon Crafting, Inventory Expansion...and Throwing Knives...”

  “I see. If I told you that I had a weapon you could use...would you be prepared to give up on crafting? On your Blacksmith skill?”

  11

  Wednesday, December 14, 2022.

  The tenth day since we had beaten the boss of the first floor, and the thirty-eighth day since we’d first been trapped inside this game of death.

  The collective “front-line players” including me and Asuna, had finished progressing through the massive labyrinth tower brimming with muscled bull-men, and finally reached the chamber of the second-floor boss.

  Our raid, made up of eight different parties, was at a total of forty-seven, just under the limit allowed by the game. Despite the loss of Diavel the knight and those too shocked by his death to take part, the group had grown, thanks to the addition of the five warriors from the Legend Braves.

  Lind the scimitar user, formerly Diavel’s right-hand man, led his blue group with three parties totaling eighteen members. Once we’d cleared the second floor and they initiated the guild quest on the next floor up, they were planning to establish the Dragon Knights guild. The knights part was clearly an homage to the spirit of their fallen leader, but I didn’t know where the “dragon” came from.

  With another eighteen was the green group, gathered around their opposition to beta testers. Led by Kibaou, who swung a one-handed sword just like me, they’d already decided on their own guild name: the Aincrad Liberation Squad.

  That accounted for six parties and thirty-six members. Next was Agil, the massive axe-wielder and his three friends (all muscled like he was, for some reason), Asuna the fencer, the only female in the group, and then Kirito the evil beater. That made forty-two. With the five added members of the Legend Braves, that made a total of forty-seven, just one under the limit.

  I sat in the corner of the large safe zone just outside the boss chamber, watching the separate groups check their equipment and distribute potions. I leaned over to Asuna, who was once again wearing her trademark hood, and whispered, “Just one more and we’d have a full raid.”

  “True...I guess he didn’t make it in time.”

  “We got to the boss chamber a lot faster than I expected...It’s a tough quest to beat in just three days,” I bemoaned. Asuna shot me a dirty glare.

  “Well, from what I hear, it even took a certain someone three days and two nights to finish it.”

  Three days earlier, in the village of Taran near the labyrinth, I had given Nezha a special kind of ranged weapon and a map.

  The map pointed out the location of an NPC hidden in the rocky mountains along the outer perimeter of the second floor, and the secret passageway to reach him. This NPC was none other than the bearded Martial Arts skill master who had drawn the whiskers on my cheeks that turned me into Kiriemon.

  I asked Nezha if he was prepared to give up on the weapon-crafting skill he’d spent so much time on, and take up Martial Arts instead. The weapon I’d picked up in the second-floor labyrinth required both the Throwing Knives and Martial Arts skills to use.

  Abandoning a skill was not an easy decision to make, even when it was only a day or two of experience being lost in the case of a blacksmith, working the skill upward was both a matter of time and considerable money. In other MMOs, it was as easy as rolling an alternate character, but now that SAO was a “one character per account” system by virtue of our predicament, that wasn’t an option. The most rational choice was to wait until he reached the level that would open up another skill slot. Another choice might be to remove the Inventory Expansion skill that gave him extra room for items.

  But instead, in exchange for the weapon and map, I demanded that Nezha remove his blacksmithing skill.

  In SAO’s current state, attempting to balance crafting and combat was too dangerous. A player venturing into the field needed to focus everything under his control on maximizing the chances of survival, from his skill choices, to his equipment, to his inventory. Plenty of even the most well-prepared players had lost their lives because they were missing that last bit of attack strength, or armor value, or one more potion. Nezha took just one deep breath before accepting my harsh demands.

  “As long as I can be a swordsman here, I don’t need anything else,” he said, then smiled and added, “but I suppose using this thing won’t make me a swordsman.”

  Surprisingly, it was Asuna who answered, “Everyone fighting to help beat this game is a swordsman. Even a pure crafter.”

  We had guided Nezha past the battles to the entrance of the secret passage and left him there. His level was high enough, and I considered inviting him to join the boss battle if his Martial Arts training finished in time, but it seemed three days wasn’t enough for him to break that rock. There was no need to rush.

  Nezha wouldn’t be risking danger by attempting weapon fraud again.

  “He’ll be a big help in beating the third floor, I’m sure. It’s a pretty good weapon if you can master it, and he’ll be
able to find a spot in some guild or other. One aside from the Braves, I’m guessing...”

  “Yes...I hope so,” Asuna agreed. We looked across the safe zone at a group of five. Orlando was wearing his usual pointed bascinet helm and Anneal Blade. Beowulf was the short man with the double-handed sword next to him, and the skinny spearman was Cuchulainn. There were also two others that weren’t present during the battle against the Bullbous Bow: Gilgamesh, who fought with a hammer and shield, and Enkidu, who was outfitted with leather armor and daggers.

  At this morning’s meeting, I detected a mixture of unease and discontent among the Legend Braves. I had to assume it was the disappearance of Nezha, their sixth member. If they had been an established guild, they could use location trackers to find him, but here on the second floor, guilds were nothing but names.

  I could understand their concern, but I was under no obligation to explain the situation to them. After all, they’d forced Nezha to undertake a weeklong string of dangerous scams that easily could have led to his execution if anything was exposed to the public.

  “That’s all nice and good, Kirito, but we shouldn’t be spending our time worrying about the state of other parties.”

  “Oh? Why?” I blinked. She sighed in exasperation.

  “Lind said we’d put the raid group together just before the boss fight, but think about it. There are three parties for the blue team, three parties for the green team, one for the Braves, and probably one last one for Agil’s group. That makes eight.”

  “Oh...g-good point.”

  I hadn’t given it any thought since she mentioned it, but eight parties was the maximum for a raid. In the first boss fight, we’d had a lower number, and Asuna and I got to be in our own leftover party, but that wouldn’t be an option this time.

  Without any magic, SAO didn’t have the usual full-raid heals and buffs, so it was quite possible for extra people to take part in the battle outside of the raid. The problem was that being outside the group meant you couldn’t see the HP of the other members, and they couldn’t see yours. It made gauging the proper timing of potion rotation very tricky.