“Do you know that guy’s name from the Lind team?” I asked. Asuna thought it over.
“I think his name is Shivata.”
“With a V? Not Shibata?”
“It was spelled ‘S-h-i-v-a-t-a.’ Seems pretty clear to me.”
“… All right, then.”
We both practiced the foreign sound of the letter V by biting our lower lips. Meanwhile, Nezha and Shivata had finished their negotiation, and the Stout Brand changed hands, sheath and all.
This was the important point. We craned as close as possible to the window without being visible from the plaza and focused on the blacksmith’s hands. Inevitably, our shoulders and even hair brushed up against each other, but the proud fencer would certainly understand, given the circumstances.
If it was a maintenance request, Nezha would remove the sword and place it against the small grindstone affixed to the side of his anvil. But he turned away from his client and reached out with his right hand to one of the many leather sacks on the carpet. Those sacks presumably contained different types of crafting materials. Meaning …
“An upgrade!” I hissed.
Asuna nodded vigorously and whispered, “The left hand! Keep your eyes on his left hand!”
She didn’t have to tell me. I kept my eyes fixed on that left hand, fighting the natural urge to follow the movement of his right.
Shivata’s broadsword hung from Nezha’s hand, still in the sheath. There was nothing unnatural about the position or angle of his arm.
Very close to the sword was a display of premade weapons for sale, but there was no way he could switch them. All of the display weapons were common iron weapons; there was not a single rare weapon among them, and certainly not another Stout Brand. Besides, dropping the sword onto the carpet and lifting a nearby weapon would draw too much attention. I couldn’t imagine that we’d have missed such an action when the Wind Fleuret was nearly stolen …
Nezha’s left hand was completely still, holding the broadsword, while the right hand did all the work. He picked out all of his materials from the leather sacks and tossed them into the forge next to the anvil. The dozen or so items burst into flame and eventually melted into one big lump—I assumed. I wasn’t actually watching. At any rate, it was the highlight of the upgrading process. For an instant, the deep red light that signified a Heaviness upgrade shone from the forge, then subsided into the waiting state.
“… !”
Every muscle in my body twitched.
At the same moment the red light flared, Nezha’s left hand did something. Asuna must have sensed it as well, because our shoulders jumped.
“Did he …?”
“The sword …”
We kept staring but couldn’t finish our sentences. That brief flash of light, barely half a second, was enough to blind us from the exact sight we needed to witness.
As I watched, teeth grinding, the blacksmith gingerly raised the Stout Brand. If he had indeed done something to it, the sword looked absolutely identical to the one Shivata gave him.
He grabbed the hilt with his right hand and slowly pulled the sword out, then placed the thick blade into the red flames of the forge. After a few seconds, all of the light transferred to the weapon. He placed it on the anvil, picked up his smithing hammer with his right hand, and began striking the sword. Five. Eight … Ten.
Just as we feared, the dark gray blade of the Stout Brand shattered into pieces. This time, neither of us missed it.
“…What now?” Asuna asked, watching the quiet plaza from the windowsill.
It was clear what she was referring to. Shivata showed remarkable restraint in bottling up his anger and disappointment, and left with minimal complaint to Nezha. Asuna was wondering if we should track him down and reveal the existence of the deception.
From a sympathy standpoint, I wanted to tell him, because within an hour, he could use the Materialize All Items button to retrieve his sword. But from a more practical standpoint, Shivata would not be happy just to get his sword back. He would surely return to the plaza and confront Nezha with this evidence, and I could not predict what would happen after that.
Nezha’s actions were evil—of that there was no doubt. He ought to suffer proper punishment for his misdeeds. But without a GM holding court in this virtual world, who would determine what was “proper”?
Even a crafter could not just hang out in town all the time. What if, when he left the safety of the village limits, some player attempted to punish him through means within their control? What if they took it to the ultimate conclusion?
If we told Shivata now, it could ultimately lead to the very first PK in Aincrad. That concern was the driving force behind Asuna’s question, and I did not have an easy answer in mind.
As I sat wracked by indecision and unease, I heard the calming ringing of bells. It was eight o’clock. At the same moment, the hammering outside stopped. I moved next to Asuna and looked to see that Nezha was closing up his shop. He extinguished the forge, put away the tools and materials, folded the sign, and began laying them all on top of the carpet. His back looked so very small and unassuming.
“Why did Nezha and the Legend Braves decide to start doing this fraud, anyway…? And how?” I murmured to myself. Asuna shrugged. “I mean, even if they came up with the idea to switch the weapons, there’s a huge hurdle between something that is theoretically possible within the system, and actually doing it. SAO’s not just a normal VRMMO. Our lives are on the line now. Surely they have to realize what might happen if they steal other people’s weapons …”
“Maybe they do realize … and decided to kick over the hurdles anyway.”
“Huh?”
“Ignoring the ethical side of it, the actual hurdle is just knowing that you could risk your life if you get exposed, right? So they can eliminate that issue if they just get far stronger than anyone else before anyone finds out what they’re doing. That way they can fight off any attempts to take their lives in the wilderness. The six—er, five members of the Legend Braves probably aren’t that far off from their goal.”
When Asuna’s words sank in, I felt my virtual skin crawl.
“C-come on, don’t tell me that. A team of guys that doesn’t shy away from wicked acts, strong enough to destroy any front-line players? I mean …”
My throat became so constricted that even I could barely make out the next words I said.
“…They’d rule the world.”
While I wasn’t inclined to think that this weapon scam wasn’t my problem in any way, I also assumed that I wouldn’t have to suffer from it. I just had to make sure I didn’t ever give Nezha my sword.
But that was a terribly shortsighted view of the situation.
Thirty-three days before, the moment we were trapped in this game permanently, I left behind my first and only friend in the game, Klein, and abandoned him back in the Town of Beginnings. I avoided the wilderness zones, which I expected to be bled dry in no time, and headed straight for Horunka, the next town. In other words, I prioritized the quickest and most efficient way to upgrade my equipment and stats so that I could maximize my chance of survival.
Using all the knowledge from my beta experience, I tore through countless quests and mobs, racing onward and onward. From the moment I chose to sprint out of the gates, I’d never slowed in my progress.
But the speed of my advancement was always based purely on the rules of the game (if not personal morals). If I were to ignore those rules, there were far more efficient ways to advance than what I did now—for example, monopolizing the best hunting grounds, or stealing rare loot from other players.
Of course, swindling weapons only earned them col and the item itself, not experience or skill points. But as Asuna had said, with enough money, there was no limit on how much you could power up your gear.
I had bumped my main weapon up to +6, but my armor was currently averaging around +3. Against a player with fully upgraded armor, even at a lower level, there was n
o way I could win.
In other words, allowing the Legend Braves to continue in their weapon fraud would be tantamount to allowing the creation of a group of players stronger than me and unbound by rules or morals.
“… I’m sorry. It took me until just now to realize how serious this is,” I murmured. The fencer looked at me suspiciously.
“Why would you say sorry?”
“Well, you almost had your sword stolen, right? And this whole time, I’ve only been half-concerned, as if it was someone else’s problem…”
The words emerged naturally, without thinking, but for some reason, Asuna scowled even harder, blinked a few times, then yanked her head in the other direction, angrily.
“There’s no need to apologize. It’s not as though you and I are total strangers … I mean, um, we know each other and we’re party members, but there’s nothing more than… arrgh! Look what you did! You’re acting so weird, I’m all confused!”
I thought I was more confused than she was, but before I could respond, she looked out the window and her eyes narrowed.
“That carpet …”
“Huh…?”
“So keeping your items from wasting away isn’t its only function.”
I turned to look at the east plaza of Taran. In the northwest corner, Nezha had finished packing away all his tools and was now fiddling with the pop-up menu on his Vendor’s Carpet. It started rolling itself up, and the assortment of objects on top of it was automatically sucked into storage.
“Hey … Do you suppose he’s using that function to switch the weapons?”
I shook my head instantly. “No, that’s not possible. The carpet’s absorption ability has to be activated via the menu, like he’s doing now, plus it swallows up everything on top of the carpet. You couldn’t have it take just one sword and spit another one out … in … exchange …”
I trailed to a stop.
The Vendor’s Carpet’s ability to store items could not be used to exchange them.
However, what if he used his own storage… meaning, the inventory tab of his main menu? I rolled away from the window and slumped to my knees.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Asuna asked. I didn’t reply. I brought up the menu with my right hand and switched to the item list. As I had done the last night when I showed Asuna the equipment mannequin, I tapped the top and bottom edges of the window to make it adjustable, then lowered it down until it was almost stuck to the floor—right below where my left hand would dangle if I let it hang.
Lastly, I pulled the Anneal Blade, sheath and all, off my back and held it in my dangling left hand. I didn’t have a folding chair, but I was about the same distance off the ground as Nezha was when he accepted the weapon from his customer.
Asuna held a deep breath, understanding what I was about to try. I looked up at her face and said, “Watch close and count the time.”
“Okay.”
“Here goes…Three, two, one, zero!”
I dropped the sword directly onto the window. Just as it touched the surface, the sword vanished in a puff of light and turned into text in the menu. I promptly touched the item name. When the sub-menu appeared, I selected “materialize.” With another splash of light, the sword reappeared and I picked it up again.
“… How was that?”
I looked up and met the fencer’s wide-eyed gaze. Her hazel eyes blinked slowly, moved to my left hand… and she shook her head.
“It was a similar sight. But much too slow to be the same thing. It took well over a second for the sword to disappear and reappear.”
“Maybe if I practice, I can do it faster …”
“There were other differences. There are big fancy effects when you put it in and take it out of the menu. Even timed to happen at the same time the upgrading materials flash in the forge, you can’t hide that kind of effect. Plus, it shines twice.”
“… I see …” I sighed, and tapped the window on the floor to make it disappear. I stood up and slung the sword back into position.
“I thought I was onto something. I figured all the stuff stacked on the carpet could hide his menu…”
“Wouldn’t that be impossible, too? I mean, if you put something on top of a window set to the inventory tab, wouldn’t it all sink into it?”
“… Urgh.”
She was right. I nodded and looked out the window again. Nezha was just leaving the plaza, rolled-up carpet balanced on his shoulder. His head was down, as though feeling the weight on his shoulder, and plodded heavily away. It was not the image of a man who had just scored himself a rare and valuable Stout Brand.
“If we can’t expose the trick he’s using, I suppose we’ll just have to go reveal the truth to Shivata,” she said.
“If the sword returns to him, that will prove that there was a deceptive attempt to steal it. But if that happens, all the blame will fall on Nezha’s shoulders, and the other five Braves could get away scot-free. Obviously, what he’s doing is wrong. But … I just get this feeling …”
I trailed off. Asuna fixed me with a direct stare. For a moment, it seemed as if the powerful light in her eyes softened just a bit.
“You can’t imagine that Nezha is doing all of this entirely of his own volition…Am I right?”
“Huh …?”
My eyes widened. She’d hit the nail on the head. Asuna turned away and leaned against the wall, looked up at the dark ceiling and spoke in a slow cadence.
“Do you remember what he said yesterday, when I went to ask him to upgrade my Wind Fleuret? He asked if I wanted a new weapon or to repair my old one. It was as though he left out the option of upgrading, hoping he didn’t have to do it …”
“I see … Good point. That would explain why he made such a sour face when you asked him to upgrade.”
“Honestly, if Shivata was able to expose his fraud and all the Legend Braves stood up for Nezha and said they were false charges, I wouldn’t mind that much. But … if they abandoned him and tried to pin all of the responsibility on his shoulders …”
In a worst-case scenario, all the rage of the player population would be focused on Nezha, and he might be executed. In fact, the probability was fairly high. After all …
“The five warriors all took the names of legendary soldiers and heroes, and they didn’t include Nezha the crafter in that pattern …”
“Oh, about that.” Asuna held up a finger as though just remembering something.
“What?”
“Something’s been bugging me ever since you told me he was a member of the Legend Braves. His name … Nezha. So I asked Argo …”
At that precise moment, a purple icon started blinking on the right side of my vision, and I held up a hand to cut her off. I clicked the icon and it opened a long private message. Speak of the devil—it was from Argo.
FIRST REPORT
Beneath that header was all the information I’d requested about the Legend Braves: names, levels, rough character builds. It was an impressive amount of info to compile in such a short time.
I set my window to visible mode and beckoned Asuna over to look at the message. At the top was Orlando, their leader. Level 11, used a longsword and shield, heavy armor.
Along with these data was a simple sentence explaining the source of his name. That part was requested by Asuna. As my uncertain memory recalled, he was indeed based on one of the Twelve Peers of Charlemagne, his paladin knights. But Orlando was the Italian styling of his name, while in the original French, he was Roland.
“Where do you suppose Argo got this information?” I noted wryly. Asuna giggled.
“She must know someone who’s a major history buff… So Beowulf was Danish, not English. Cuchulainn was from Celtic mythology, like we guessed.”
We went down the list, ignoring the character info and reading the sources of their names. When we reached Nezha’s name at the bottom, I let out a long breath.
His level was 10, a fairly high number thanks to the fact that crafting gave e
xperience points on its own. But it didn’t help his combat skill proficiency, which would make fighting on the front line difficult for him. Naturally, his player build was tuned to be a blacksmith. And at the end, the source of his name …
“Huh?!”
“What…?”
We yelped together. The answer was totally unexpected.
“Does this mean… we were pronouncing it wrong?”
“B-but I remember the other Braves were calling him Nezuo…”
We looked at each other, then back to the message. If what was written in his lengthy name background was true, I had terribly misunderstood him.
A moment later, several pieces of information stored in my brain as separate clumps suddenly began to rearrange themselves, linking together and shining bright.
“Oh … !”
I lifted my left hand and squeezed it, watching closely. Opened again, and closed.
In that instant, I knew that I had finally grasped the secret of Nezha’s weapon-switching trick for good.
“Of course … That’s what it was!!”
10
“UPGRADE, PLEASE.”
I roughly thrust my sword and scabbard forward. Nezha the blacksmith looked up at me doubtfully.
He was suspicious because he wasn’t looking at my face, but the great helm that completely covered it. The only thing it featured were narrow slits at the eyes. Such helmets were excellent in terms of defense but terribly limited the player’s vision. It was one thing for a tank in the midst of a group battle to use it, but hardly any player would bother to wear such a thing in town.
As I was a vowed disciple of light, versatile armor, the only reason I’d ever wear this great helm was for disguise. And because I’d been present for the destruction of Asuna’s Wind Fleuret three days earlier, I couldn’t use my favorite bandanna instead, or Nezha would recognize me.
Perhaps this disguise was not that much better, but Asuna insisted that if I didn’t want to stand out because of the funny helm, I should commit to the full outfit, and simply play one of those people.
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