Sword Art Online – Progressive - Volume 1 - Chapter 1.09

9 
10:00 AM, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 4. 
The game had launched at one o’clock PM on Sunday, November 6, so in three hours, it would be exactly four weeks since it all began. 
When I first noticed the lack of the log-out button, I assumed it was simply a system error, and at worst, it would be a matter of minutes before order was restored and I could leave. But before long, Akihiko Kayaba, in the guise of a faceless GM, assigned us to the task of clearing all one hundred floors of Aincrad. At the time, I foresaw an imprisonment lasting a hundred days. In essence, I expected that we’d average about a floor a day. 
Now it had been four entire weeks—and we hadn’t even finished the first floor yet. 
I could only laugh at how optimistic I’d been, and depending on the outcome of today’s boss battle, it could become brutally clear that time wasn’t the real issue with our escape. The forty-four players in the fountain square of Tolbana were the best of the best in the game at the present time. If this squad fell entirely or even lost half of its members, the news would spread throughout the floor, and a prevailing view would form: SAO was unbeatable. No one could say how long it would take for a second raid party to be formed—there might never be another attempt at the boss. Even grinding for levels wasn’t an option, as the effective experience gain from the monsters on the first floor had long passed its peak. 
Everything rode on whether or not the stats of Illfang the Kobold Lord, boss monster of the first floor, had been altered since the beta. If the king of the kobolds was only as tough as I remembered him being, it shouldn’t be impossible to get through the fight without any fatalities, even with our limited levels and equipment. It just depended on whether or not everyone could remain calm and perform their duties knowing their lives were on the line … 
My brain overheating with all the mental calculations, I looked to the player at my side, took a short breath, and let it out with an awkward smile. 
Asuna the fencer’s side profile, half-hidden by her deep hood, seemed no different from the time I’d first seen her in the labyrinth, two mornings before. It was both as fleeting and fragile as a shooting star, and as sharp as steel. Compared to her calm manner, I was a nervous wreck. 
I continued staring until she suddenly turned and shot me a cold glare. 
“…What are you looking at?” she whispered, voice quiet but full of menace. I shook my head rapidly. She’d warned me this morning that if I so much as recalled the reason why she was furious, she’d force-feed me an entire barrel of sour milk. Whatever happened, it was a blank blur in my mind. 
“N-nothing,” I tried to say nonchalantly. She flicked me another glare as sharp as the tip of her rapier and turned away. I began to wonder if this foul mood might affect today’s battle. True, no one else was relying upon us for help—we were practically extras—but still. 
“Hey,” came a decidedly unfriendly voice from behind. I spun around. 
A man with short brown hair fashioned into spikes stood before me. I flinched backward. Of all the people I expected might talk to me today, Kibaou was the last. 
I stood there, dumbfounded. He glared up at me and growled, “Now listen up and listen good—y’all stay in the back today. Don’t forget your role: You’re our party’s support, nuttin’ more.” 
“…” 
I was already quiet by nature, but no one could have come up with a better response. This was the man who’d tried to buy my weapon for forty thousand col yesterday and hired an agent to ensure his identity stayed hidden, both of which failed spectacularly. Typically, a person under those embarrassing and awkward circumstances would rather stay at least fifty feet away from me. 
But Kibaou’s attitude seemed to suggest that I ought to be feeling intimidated. He sneered at me arrogantly one more time and spat, “Be a good lil’ boy and pick off the spare kobold scraps we let drop from the table.” 
And with a glob of spittle on the ground for a final flourish, Kibaou turned on his heel and strode back to his party, team E. I was still staring in dull amazement when a voice beside me snapped me back to my wits. 
“What’s up with him?” 

It was Asuna, the other half of “y’all.” Her stare was about 30 percent scarier than the one that had just been fixed on me. 
“D-dunno … I guess he thinks solo players shouldn’t get full of themselves,” I murmured without thinking, then tacked on a silent addendum. 
Or perhaps that beta testers shouldn’t get full of themselves. 
If that hunch was correct, Kibaou almost certainly suspected that I was a former beta tester myself. But on what evidence? Even Argo the Rat would never use the identity of beta testers as a business product. And I’d never spoken a word of my beta history to anyone. 
I watched Kibaou’s retreating back with the same sense of unease I’d felt yesterday. 
“… Huh …?” 
And without realizing it, I let out a grunt of understanding. 
Yesterday, he had tried to buy my Anneal Blade +6 for the massive price of forty thousand col. That was an undeniable fact. He clearly meant to use it in today’s boss fight. Putting aside whether he could handle the extra weight of the points I’d put into durability, his motive seemed obvious enough to me: He wanted to show off a powerful weapon at a crucial moment to add to his influence and leadership qualities. 
But if that were the case, he ought to have used that forty thousand col on a different set of weapons or armor when the deal fell through. Today was the big day. 
But Kibaou’s scale mail and the one-handed sword on his back were the same as what he’d worn at the planning meeting. It wasn’t a bad weapon, but he had the time and more than enough money to arrange something better. In fact, at my advice, Asuna had upgraded her weapon from the store-bought Iron Rapier to a rare drop weapon, a Wind Fleuret +4. What was the point of keeping forty thousand col in storage when you were about to undertake a battle that could easily be fatal? 
I had no more time to follow that line of thinking. Diavel the blue-haired knight was standing in his familiar spot on the lip of the fountain, exercising his clear, loud voice. 
“Okay, everyone—first, thanks! We’ve got all forty-four members from all eight parties present!” 
A cheer ripped through the square, followed by a spray of applause. I begrudgingly abandoned my musing and clapped along with the others. 
With a hearty smile for the crowd, the knight raised a fist and shouted, “To be honest, I was prepared to call off the entire operation if anyone had failed to show up! But … it seems that even entertaining that possibility was an insult to the rest of you! I can’t tell you how happy I am. We’ve got the best damn raid party you could possibly want … except for a few more bodies to round us up to a nice even number!” 
Some laughed, some whistled, some thrust their fists just like him. 
There was no doubting Diavel’s leadership. But inwardly, I wondered if he was getting the crowd a little too revved up. Just as too much tension could lead to poisonous fear, too much optimism caused sloppiness. It was easy to laugh off a few mistakes in the beta, but failure here would lead to death. Being on the uptight side was preferable in this case. 
I scanned the crowd around me and saw the axe-warrior Agil and team B, arms crossed, their faces hard. They could be counted on in a pinch. Kibaou had his back turned to me, so I couldn’t read his expression. 
After everyone had gotten out their jeers, Diavel raised his hands in the air for a final cheer. 
“Listen up, everyone … I just have one thing left to say!” He reached down and drew his silver longsword, brandishing it high. “Let’s win this thing!!” 
I couldn’t help but feel that the roar of excitement that ensued bore more than a little resemblance to the screams of ten thousand I’d heard at the center of the Town of Beginnings four weeks earlier.