Sword Art Online Progressive 1 Read online

  The spiky-haired swordsman with the fierce name glared out at the gathering with small but piercing eyes. As they swept sideways, I had the fleeting impression that they stopped on my face for a moment. But I’d never heard his name and didn’t remember meeting him before. After his lengthy survey of the gathering, Kibaou growled again.

  “There gotta be five or ten folks in this midst what owe an apology first.”

  “Apology? To whom?”

  Diavel the knight, still standing on the edge of the fountain behind him, grandly gestured with both hands. Kibaou spat angrily, not bothering to turn around. “Hah! Ain’t it obvious? To the two thousand people who already died. Two thousand people died because they hogged everythin’ to themselves! Ain’t that right?!”

  The murmuring crowd of forty or so suddenly went dead silent. They finally understood what Kibaou was trying to say. I did, too.

  The only sound through the heavy silence was the distant strains of the NPC musicians playing the evening BGM. No one said a word. Everyone seemed to understand that if he spoke up, he would be branded one of them. It was certainly that fear which gripped my mind at the moment.

  “Mr. Kibaou, when you refer to ‘them,’ I assume you mean…the former beta testers?” asked Diavel, arms crossed, a look of grave severity on his face.

  “Obviously,” Kibaou said to the knight behind him with a glance, the thick scale mail sewed to a leather frame jangling as he turned. “The day this goddamn game started, all them beta testers up an’ ran straight outta the first town. They abandoned nine thousand folks who didn’t know right from left. They monopolized all the best huntin’ spots and profitable quests so’s they could level up, and didn’t spare a backward glance for no one. I know there must be more’n one or two standin’ here right now, thinkin’ they can get in on the boss action without anyone knowin’. If they don’t get down on hands and knees ta apologize, and donate their stockpile of col an’ items for the cause o’ fightin’ this boss, I ain’t gonna put my life in their hands, is what I’m sayin’!”

  Just as the “kiba” in his name—the word for fangs—suggested, he ended with a snarl of bared teeth. Unsurprisingly, no one spoke up. As a former beta tester myself, I clenched my teeth, held my breath, and didn’t make a sound.

  It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to shout back at him, to ask him if he thought no beta testers had died yet. A week earlier, I bought a piece of intel from Argo—technically, I had her look into something for me. I wanted a total of dead beta testers.

  The SAO closed beta, which ran during summer vacation, only had a thousand open slots. Every member also got exclusive first rights to buy the official package edition when it was released. Based on the number of people logged in at the end of the beta, I estimated that not every person was going to keep playing when the game was released. It would probably be seven or eight hundred—that was my guess as to the total number of beta testers present at the start of the game of death.

  Finding out who was a beta tester was the tricky part. If there was a β mark next to the player’s color cursor, that would clear up the matter at once, but (fortunately) that was not the case. And physical appearance was not a factor either, as the GM Akihiko Kayaba had ensured that every player was now modeled after their own real-life appearance. The only hint to go on was player name, but many of them could have changed names between the beta and the full release. The reason Argo and I recognized each other as beta testers had to do with the circumstances of our first meeting, but that’s a story for another time.

  At any rate, Argo’s investigation should have been incredibly hard. Yet she came back to me with a number after just three days.

  In her estimation, the total number of beta testers who were now dead was about three hundred. If that figure was correct, it meant that of the two thousand dead, seventeen hundred were new players. Put into percentages, that meant the death rate of new players was 18 percent—but the death rate of beta testers was closer to 40.

  Knowledge and experience did not always translate to safety. At times, they could be one’s downfall. I myself nearly died on the very first quest I followed after the game of death began. There were external factors as well. The terrain, items, and monsters were virtually the same in the finished game as in the beta, but just the slightest little difference could pop up, as small and deadly as a poison needle …

  “May I speak?”

  A rich baritone voice echoed throughout the evening square. I looked up with a start to see a silhouette proceeding from the left end of the gathering.

  He was large, easily over six feet tall. The avatar’s size was supposed to have no effect on stats, but he made the two-handed battle axe strapped to his back look light. His face was just as menacing as the weapon. His scalp was completely bald and chocolate brown, but the chiseled features on his face fit that bold look quite well. He didn’t even look Japanese—for all I knew, maybe he was of a different race.

  As the burly man reached the edge of the fountain, he turned and bowed to the crowd of forty before turning his attention to the woefully outsized Kibaou.

  “My name’s Agil. If I have this right, Kibaou, you’re claiming that many newbies died because the former beta testers didn’t help them, and therefore they ought to apologize and pay reparations? Is that correct?”

  “Y… yeah.”

  Kibaou was momentarily taken aback, but he recovered and stood straight, glaring back at the axe warrior Agil with his glinting eyes. “If they didn’t abandon the rest of us, that’s two thousand wouldn’t be dead right now! And that ain’t just two thousand random folks, that’s the best of the best from other MMOs that we lost! If those beta assholes had the decency ta share their loot and knowledge, we’d have ten times as many folks here … In fact, we’d be on the second or third floor by now!”

  Three hundred of the people you’re mourning are those “assholes,” jerk! I wanted to yell, but I held back the impulse. I didn’t have any proof backing that number, and in more self-centered terms, I just didn’t want to be singled out. This much was clear: Outing myself as a former tester could not possibly help my situation.

  The four or five hundred testers left were hiding among the players new to the game. In terms of level and equipment, they likely weren’t any different from the other top players. But if I stood up and revealed my background, not only would it fail to smooth over tensions between the two groups, it would probably just end with a witch hunt. The worst possible outcome was in-fighting between new players and testers among the elite players on the frontier. We had to avoid that outcome at all costs. Whether in the fields or the dungeons, the “outdoor” areas of SAO were free rein for attacking other players.

  “So you claim, Kibaou. While I can’t argue with the loot, we’ve certainly had the information out there,” Agil spoke in his rich baritone while I hung my head pathetically. He reached into the pouch on the waist of the leather armor stretched over his rippling muscles and produced a simple book made of bound sheets of parchment. On the cover was a simple rat icon with round ears and three whiskers on either side.

  “You got one of these guidebooks too, didn’t you? They were handing them out for free at the item shops in Horunka and Medai.”

  “F-for free?” I murmured. As the icon on the cover suggested, it was a guide to the area that Argo the Rat sold to other players. It contained detailed maps and lists of monsters, their item drops, and even quest information. The large splash text on the lower half of the cover that said “Don’t worry, this is Argo’s guidebook” wasn’t just a cheeky bit of fluff. Admittedly, I’d bought the entire set myself to keep my memory fresh—but from what I recalled, they went for the hefty price of five hundred col a book …

  “I got one, too,” the hitherto silent fencer whispered. When I asked if it had been for free, she nodded. “It was stocked at the item store on consignment, but the price was listed as zero col, so everyone took one. It was really helpful.”

&nbs
p; “But … what the hell …?”

  The Rat—a scheming dealer who would sell her own status numbers for the right price—giving away information for free? It was unthinkable! I shot a glance back to the stone wall where she’d been sitting minutes ago, but there was no one there. I made a mental note to ask her the reason the next time I saw her, then reconsidered when I heard her voice inside my head saying, “That’ll cost ya a thousand, dig?”

  “Yeah, I got one. What of it?” Kibaou snarled, bringing me back to the present scene. Agil put the strategy guide back in his pouch and crossed his arms.

  “Every time I reached a new town or village, there was always one of these books at the item shop. Same for you, right? Didn’t it strike you as too quick for the information to have been compiled already?”

  “What’s the point if it’s too quick?”

  “I mean that the only people who could have offered this information and map data to the informer are the former beta testers.”

  The crowd stirred. Kibaou’s mouth shut, and Diavel the knight nodded in agreement. Agil looked at the group again and spoke in his loud baritone. “Listen, the information was out there. And yet people still died. I’m thinking it’s because they were veteran MMO players. They assumed that SAO worked on the same principles and standards as other titles, and failed to pull back when they needed to. But now’s not the time to be holding anyone responsible for this. It seems to me that this meeting is going to determine whether we meet the same fate or not.”

  Agil the axe warrior’s tone was bold but reasonable, and his argument was so sound that Kibaou had no immediate retort. If anyone other than Agil had argued the same thing, Kibaou would likely have accused him of being a beta tester himself, but in this case, he could only stare daggers at the large man.

  Behind the two silent debaters, standing on the edge of the fountain with his long flowing hair almost purple in the light of the setting sun, Diavel nodded magnanimously.

  “Your point is well taken, Kibaou. I myself nearly died on several occasions due to my ignorance of the wilderness. But as Agil says, isn’t this the time to look forward? If we’re going to beat the floor boss, we’ll even need the former testers … no, especially need the former testers. If we exclude them and get wiped out, then what was the point of it all?”

  It was a sweeping speech more than worthy of a noble knight. Many in the crowd nodded in agreement. As the mood seemed to tilt toward forgiveness for the testers, I sighed with relief and not a small amount of shame. Diavel continued.

  “I’m sure you all have your own thoughts on the matter, but for now, I would like your help in clearing the first floor. If you simply can’t bear the thought of fighting alongside beta testers, then we’ll miss you, but I won’t force you to participate. Teamwork is the most important part of any raid.”

  His gaze slowly swept across the crowd until it fixed on Kibaou. The cactus-headed swordsman met the gaze for several long moments, then he snorted loudly and growled, “Fine … I’ll play along for now. But once the boss fight’s over, we’re gonna settle this once and for all.”

  He turned, scale mail rattling, and walked back to the front row of the crowd. Agil spread his hands, signaling he had nothing else to say, and returned to his spot.

  In the end, this scene was the highlight of the meeting. There was only so much detailed planning to be done for a battle when we’d only just reached the floor the creature was on. How does anyone plan a boss fight when no one’s even seen it yet?

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. I knew that the first-floor boss was an enormous kobold, that he swung a huge talwar, and that he was accompanied by a retinue of about twelve heavily armored kobolds.

  If I revealed that I was a former beta tester and offered my knowledge of the boss, our odds of success might rise. But if I did that, people would ask why I hadn’t spoken up before, and it might inflame the undercurrent of anger against the testers again.

  Plus, my knowledge was only of the previous incarnation of Aincrad, and there was always the possibility that the release version of SAO had a redesigned or rebalanced boss. If we formulated a plan based on the beta information and charged into the room only to find it had a different appearance and pattern of attack, the ensuing confusion would be the downfall of the raid. Ultimately, until someone opened the door to the boss chamber and got him to pop into the world, we couldn’t begin to plan.

  This was the excuse I told myself to hold my silence.

  At the end of the meeting, Diavel led an optimistic cheer and got the rest of the gathering to shout in approval. I raised a fist in solidarity, but the fencer beside me did not even pull a hand out of her cape, much less join in the cheer. She turned around to leave even before the call of “Dismissed!” rang out. Before she went, she spoke in a whisper that only I could hear.

  “Whatever you were about to say before the meeting … Tell me, if we both survive the battle.”

  As she headed into a dim alley, I silently answered.

  Yes, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you how I left everything else behind for the sake of keeping myself alive.

  6

  THERE WAS NO DISCUSSION OF ANY STRATEGIC MERIT at the meeting, but it had apparently served the valuable purpose of bolstering morale, as the twentieth level of the labyrinth was mapped with unprecedented speed. On Saturday, December 30, the day after the meeting, the first party (again, Diavel’s band of six) discovered the double doors of the boss chamber. I knew when it happened because I was solo adventuring nearby and heard the cheers.

  Boldly enough, they opened the door to catch a glimpse of the resident within. At the fountain-side meeting in Tolbana that evening, the blue-haired knight proudly announced his findings.

  The boss was an enormous kobold that towered over six feet tall. His name was Illfang the Kobold Lord, and his weapon fell into the Curved Blade category. He was attended by three Ruin Kobold Sentinels with metal armor and halberds.

  This much was the same as the beta. From what I recalled, the sentinels respawned with each of the four stages of the boss’s HP bar, making a total of twelve over the course of the battle, but as usual, I didn’t have the guts to say this out loud. It would become clear as they tried a few test skirmishes, I told myself. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried, because something cleared it all up in the midst of the meeting.

  Coincidentally, the NPC shop stall in the corner of the fountain square began selling a very familiar item. Three sheets of parchment bound together, more of a pamphlet than a book. It was Argo’s First-Floor Boss Guidebook. Price: zero col.

  The meeting was temporarily adjourned so that everyone could “purchase” a copy from the NPC and pore over the contents.

  As usual, the amount of information was impressive. The first three pages were stuffed with all manner of details: the just-revealed boss’s name, estimated HP, the reach and speed of its talwar, damage, even sword skills. The fourth page covered the accompanying Kobold Sentinels, including a note that they spawned four times, making a total of twelve.

  On the rear cover of the book was a message in a red font that had not been present on any of Argo’s other guides. It read: This information is from the SAO beta test. Details may not match the current version of the game.

  When I saw this, I looked up, searching for Argo around the square. But I saw no sign of the Rat or her plain leather armor today. I looked back down and murmured, “She’s really going out on a limb …”

  This red warning was going to topple Argo’s usual stance of “this is just information I bought from some former beta tester, identity unknown.” Anyone who read this warning would suspect that the Rat herself was a former tester. There was no proof, of course, but with the widening gap in sentiment between the new players and beta testers, she was clearly putting herself at risk of being the first hunted down.

  On the other hand, it was clear that this guidebook would remove the need for tiresome and dangerous scouting missions. Once all
forty-plus players had finished reading, they looked once again to the blue-haired knight standing on the lip of the fountain, as though putting their decision in the hands of a leader.

  Diavel’s head stayed down for many long seconds, deep in thought, before he finally straightened up to address the crowd.

  “Let us be grateful for this information, my friends!”

  The crowd murmured. This was clearly a call for peace with the beta testers rather than antagonism. I thought Kibaou might leap up to protest, but the brown cactus hair near the front the gathering stayed firmly in place.

  “Regardless of its source, this guide is going to save us two or three days of scouting out the boss. I’m actually quite grateful for this. It’s the reconnaissance missions that carry the greatest risk of fatalities, after all.”

  Heads of various colors nodded throughout the square.

  “If these figures are correct, the boss’s numerical stats aren’t too dangerous. If SAO was a normal MMO, we could probably take it out with an average level three—no, five levels below the enemy’s. So if we work on our tactics and come equipped with plenty of pots for healing, it should be possible to win without any deaths. No, let me rephrase that: We’re not going to have any deaths, period. On my pride as a knight, I swear this to you!”

  Someone in the crowd raised a cheer, and a round of applause followed. Even as a twisted solo, I had to admit that Diavel had a gift for leadership. The guild function didn’t unlock until the third floor, but he would certainly have his own on the day we reached that far.

  But my breath caught in my throat at his next words.

  “All right, now I think it’s time to actually start planning out the battle! After all, we can’t start taking roles until we’ve formed a proper raid party. First off, form into parties with your friends and others around you!”

  ……… What?

  He sounded like a PE teacher at an elementary school. I did some quick calculations. A full party in SAO was six members, and there were forty-four present, so … that made seven parties with two left over. Should we shoot for average, and have four parties of six and four parties of five? But that was unlikely to happen on its own if our leader didn’t make the order …