The steam filled the air like a white veil that slid gently between their bodies, blending the sound of water with the aroma of the flowers floating on the surface. The atmosphere was warm, intimate—almost too quiet for two girls who once shared battles and laughter in another world.
Asuna sat at the edge of the onsen, letting her legs soak in the water. Her damp chestnut hair clung to her neck as she watched Mito calmly rinsing her hair.
"You look kind of lonely," Asuna said with a teasing smile.
Mito paused for a moment. Her eyes, once distant, focused on her. A short, almost awkward silence followed before a small smile curved her lips.
"And you? You don't look like a mud monster anymore," she replied with a mocking tone, crossing her arms.
Asuna puffed her cheeks slightly, pouting."Hehehe...Aomine's crazy ideas always end up getting me into trouble," she said, shrugging, her voice tinged with playful resentment.
"I know. They always get carried away," Mito replied with a nostalgic tone. "You remind me of yourself back when we played in the real world… every time you picked the strongest character, you got way too excited when you won."
"Hey! It wasn't that bad!" Asuna protested, looking away and waving her hand. "It's just that… well… I was strong, and... never mind, it wasn't that bad."
Mito chuckled softly. The steam swirled between them, and for a few seconds, only the murmur of falling water could be heard. Then the tone shifted subtly as Mito lifted her gaze toward her, more serious now.
"So…" she said quietly. "Did you want to talk about something in particular? Or did you just come to say hi?"
Asuna looked at her with a hint of surprise. There was something in Mito's eyes—a mix of feigned calm and emptiness. She lowered her head slightly, searching for the right words.
"You really are different," she finally said. "You've changed a lot since the last time I saw you. Mito… are you okay?I mean, I don't want to pry, but… you're in a relationship now, right?" Asuna tilted her head slightly. "You always said guys weren't your thing. You even turned down a lot of them, saying you hated them…"
Mito sighed softly, though her expression stayed firm."Let me guess—a nosy flat-chested girl told you that, right?" she said with a half-smile, though her tone was defensive. "Don't worry. If you're worried something's wrong with me, it's fine. Aomine is… different. He's considerate, he helps me a lot, and he's always by my side. In battles, during meals… he's good emotional support.Almost the same as you with that black-haired guy," she added playfully. "Tell me, do you like him?"
"W–What!?" Asuna almost jumped out of the water, blushing to the tips of her ears. "Like him! Me! Well… I don't like him, but… I mean, he's kind and polite, and he lent me his bath at his hou—"
Her words cut off abruptly. Asuna covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide open.Mito, meanwhile, smiled triumphantly, the steam swirling mischievously between them.
"Hehe~… so he lent you his bath, huh?" she said teasingly. "How interesting, Asuna."
"Don't start, Mito!" Asuna protested, sinking deeper into the water, her face as red as the sunset reflected in the steam.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The metallic sound of boots echoed against the damp stone of the corridor.Thirteen figures advanced in tight formation, their steps firm—though one of them staggered slightly, creating an irregular rhythm that echoed through the tunnel.
The four in the vanguard carried polished steel shields. Their battle-worn armor reflected the bluish light of the crystals growing from the walls. They wore navy tunics with brown pants, while those on the right flank wore yellow jackets paired with black trousers—a contrast of tones that, in that shadowy environment, felt almost symbolic.
Behind the main group marched a tall man with an arrogant expression, holding a spear with a confident air. The weapon's tip gleamed faintly, casting flashes that vanished into the darkness.
A little further back, three figures walked in silence: a blond-haired young man in front, followed by an orange-haired girl and a brown-haired boy surrounded by five others chatting beside him. Their conversation, a low murmur between the echoes of the tunnel, blended with the distant voices of the group's rearguard.
"Still nervous, Aomine?" a calm, curious female voice asked.
The blond young man lifted his gaze slightly. The dungeon's pale light flickered in his eyes.
"It's strange going in alone," he said with a brief sigh. "You know, with all the dangers down here... I don't get how you can be so calm, Asuna-san."
His words came out heavy with tension—almost a confession.
"The murderers…" he added after a pause. "They already wiped out two full groups that explored this same dungeon."
The air grew heavier.Even the group's footsteps faltered for an instant, as if that phrase had awakened something lurking in the shadows.
Asuna turned slightly toward him, her hazel eyes steady and sharp, their glow defying the gloom.
"Why would I be afraid?" she said firmly. "Sure, there's danger—but if I let fear stop me, I'm doing exactly what they want: living scared. I'd rather live or die my own way. Besides, I brought a spear along with my sword."
Aomine stared at her for a few seconds, the image of Asuna etched in his mind. It was strange to imagine her wielding a long sword instead of her thin rapier. The thought surprised him—a familiar person adopting a new stance always stirred something inside.
"And why a spear?" he finally asked, curiosity tinged with disbelief.
Asuna shrugged slightly, as if it were obvious. A brief shadow crossed her face—small but noticeable enough for Aomine to catch it.
"I'm versatile. Since I was a kid, I had to learn different weapons and fighting styles," she said with her usual calm. "Trying new things to see if they work makes sense."She paused, her voice momentarily losing its confidence. "Though… there are things I'd rather not remember."
The last words hung in the air, echoing faintly through the stone corridor. She didn't add more, but Aomine felt there was a story she didn't want to dig up. Asuna smiled again—the kind of smile that asked for no pity, only resolve.
The group resumed their march. The blue crystal light glimmered on their armor. Each step measured the distance between what they knew and what awaited above, in the shadows of the sixteenth floor.
Aomine turned slightly, glancing back. There, a brown-haired swordsman with a faint beard advanced with rigid precision. Each step seemed driven more by discipline than will. His eyes, framed by a crimson bandana, avoided the darkness around them; something was clearly keeping him on edge.
The white hakama he wore swayed with each motion, stained by the dungeon dust. The red gi beneath his dark leather armor stood out vividly under the crystal light. On his chest, a breastplate marked with a diamond emblem stayed still, heavy with tension. The katana at his waist hung quietly—a stark contrast to the unease radiating from its owner. A warrior at rest… but a restless soul walking too straight a path.
(Klein-san… he's been acting strange ever since that meeting Michael mentioned.) Aomine thought, sighing before murmuring inwardly, (I can't believe he convinced me to come here. And what's even weirder… Mito didn't come. Not that I mind, but… well…)
He scratched his head in frustration, his gaze drifting into the dark. Asuna noticed, arching a brow at his distracted look.
Then, firm footsteps approached. A hand landed on Aomine's shoulder. He turned, startled, to find Klein looking at him with a mix of nerves and solemnity.
"It's an honor, as leader of my group… and as part of this guild," Klein said, his voice trembling slightly as he extended his hand toward Aomine.
(Huh? What's up with him…?) Aomine thought, confused, watching the swordsman force a smile.
Asuna nudged him lightly."Did you do something to him?" she asked playfully.
"Me? No… I just met him on the first or second floor, I guess. Not enough to 'do' anything," Aomine replied, tilting his head.
Each word seemed to hit Klein like invisible blades. His face tightened, as if those simple sentences weighed heavier than a sword.
But the swordsman drew a deep breath and continued proudly:"No, not at all. The Liberation Army of Aincrad helped a lot on the lower floors, supporting my group without expecting anything in return. They gave us training and guidance. We decided to join them on the sixth floor, though… we didn't take part in many boss raids."His smile grew steadier. "My group's right behind me—Issin, Harry One, Dale, Dynamm, and Kunimittz."
Aomine turned toward them.
Issin, with a white bandana tied around his forehead, smiled calmly while holding a polearm tipped with a trident. His dark-plated armor gleamed, and his posture radiated composure.Beside him, Harry One peeked from behind, his dark helmet revealing a shadow of beard and a quiet smile. He gave a small, polite nod with his shield.Next to him, Dale wore simpler black armor. His tranquil face radiated loyalty; a faint smile and slight bow conveyed respect.Dynamm, more formal in bearing, stood out with a dark-plated armor and a conical jingasa-style helmet. His smile was courteous, almost professional, as he raised a hand in a disciplined salute.And finally, Kunimittz—the largest of them all. His bulky armor and heavy helmet barely revealed his face, yet his energy was infectious. He greeted with his whole body, his broad smile filling the tunnel with warmth and strength.
"Hol—" Aomine began, but didn't finish.
All the group members spoke in unison, their voices strong and resonant, merging into a single, powerful echo:
"Thank you so much for supporting us!"
The sound reverberated through the corridor—so genuine that even Asuna looked mildly surprised. Aomine blinked a few times, unsure how to respond, before smiling awkwardly.
(…This is going to be a long trip.) he finally thought, as the group continued into the depths of the sixteenth floor.
The clash of steel echoed through the corridor. The metallic sound of swords and shields mixed with the harsh growls of the goblins charging without pause. There were dozens of them—green-skinned, yellow-eyed, wielding crude clubs and rusted blades that gleamed with a sickly light under the dungeon's dim glow.
The four Tanks of the group formed a compact wall, their shields raised in perfect synchrony. Every impact reverberated through their arms, but they held their ground with discipline. Behind them, orders and footsteps followed in rhythm, each player waiting for their moment to advance and counterattack according to the frontline's tempo.
Among them, one figure stood out. A tall man with an imposing presence walked forward with a calmness that bordered on arrogance. His short silver hair caught the faint light of the place with a metallic gleam, and his gaze exuded a dangerous confidence. His shoulders and chest were encased in polished steel plates that shone like mirrors—each flash a warning: this was no novice.
But it was his spear that truly drew every eye. The shaft, black as ebony, ended in a crimson blade so sharp it seemed to slice the air itself without contact. The tip glowed like a star in the abyss, radiating a dangerous, living aura—as if the weapon itself breathed with a thirst for battle.
The man smiled—a small, confident smile."Heh..." he chuckled softly, tilting his head.
Without another word, he moved.
The ground trembled beneath his sprint. He shot past the Tanks like a silver flash and, without slowing, leapt forward. The spear came down like lightning: the crimson blade pierced through a goblin's skull in one clean motion. The creature vanished into a burst of light before its body even hit the floor.
He landed gracefully, using the spear itself as leverage to absorb the impact. In a single spin, he swept through the nearby enemies. The red edge traced a perfect arc—cutting flesh, metal, and air alike. Two more goblins fell instantly, dissolving into glowing fragments.
His fighting style was impeccable: he maintained the exact distance—never too far, never too close. Each strike was measured, precise, almost elegant. He didn't move on impulse but on instinct. His breathing was steady, and there was no fury on his face... only unshakable confidence.
Aomine watched from behind, mesmerized, gripping his sword."He's... really good," he murmured, unable to look away.
Asuna, beside him, frowned slightly."That technique... it feels familiar," she said in a low, serious voice. "I feel like I've seen that person before."
Klein tightened his grip on his sword, watching the man with a mix of respect and curiosity."He's incredible... someone that skilled, and still not part of a guild."
(Where did Michael even find this guy? And why didn't he recruit him into the clan first...) Aomine thought, sighing inwardly.
The sound of battle continued. With each step, the silver-haired warrior advanced through the enemies, his armor ringing in a steady rhythm. It was the perfect contrast—heavy metal and light movement. Despite his imposing frame, he moved with feline grace, like a predator that knew its prey had no escape.
And as his spear once again glowed with the crimson light of digital death, one thing became clear to everyone watching: this man wasn't fighting to prove his strength...He fought because he already knew no one there could match it.
"Wow." Aomine let the word slip, his eyes unable to capture all the awe before him.
Before them stretched a citadel carved into the stone itself: balconies and structures etched into the walls, passageways that seemed to merge with the mountain, and waterfalls spilling from cracks into the void below. The cascading water formed translucent curtains that shimmered with light; for all its strangeness, the place felt oddly serene. In this stretch, there were no monsters—only a calm walk through ruins whispering old stories.
Aomine approached the edge of a ledge. There, almost hidden beneath moss, stood a colossal statue of a centaur carved from white stone. Its body remained intact—majestic and monumental—but the head lay shattered; from the fracture, a thin stream of clear water flowed into nothingness. It was a disturbing yet beautiful contrast, and Aomine leaned in, curious, to examine it more closely.
Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he found Asuna beside him; surprise flickered across her face as she caught the genuine smile he couldn't suppress. After a brief silence, she murmured,"Yes, Asuna-san?" he said, half in question, half in acknowledgment.
"Eh... nothing. We should keep moving." Asuna forced a small smile and stepped ahead. Her posture carried a hint of distance; for a fleeting moment, an image crossed her mind—a boy reaching out his hand to her over a shallow stream, a tiny bridge above them; her accepting that hand with quiet astonishment. The vision was brief, unspoken, and it pushed her to keep walking, her expression faintly veiled.
They continued marking the path, noting corners just in case, careful not to lose track of the route toward the boss room. Everything seemed calm—until tension exploded without warning.
The silver-haired man at the front—arrogant in demeanor, refusing to shelter behind the Tanks—suddenly stopped and turned toward them with a smile that reeked of bad intent. No one noticed until it was too late.
In one perfectly calculated motion, he raised his spear, adjusted his stance—one foot forward, one back, tightened his grip... and threw. The crimson tip sliced through the air with surgical precision and struck the third shield-bearer in the chest. The sound was sharp and final; the man didn't even have time to scream. His body collapsed as if the strings holding him upright had been cut.
The corridor erupted in chaos. Before anyone could mount a defense, the lancer had already dashed forward to retrieve his weapon, moving with cold, precise speed. The Tanks, caught off guard, failed to react as one: some jumped aside, others froze—but none could stop the unimaginable betrayal. Another spear was raised to block him, but his own slid past it effortlessly, guided by a master's control, retreating just enough to strike again.
"Fascinating. You handle a spear well. Tried to hit my blind spot," his voice drawled, mocking, as if describing a minor observation.
"What the hell is this, Lancelot?" a woman's furious voice demanded.
(An assassin...? How the hell did Michael not realize who he hired?) Aomine thought, his stomach turning cold.
The lancer began to spin his spear with measured grace, displaying unnerving skill, and stared at them all with defiance in his eyes.
"Let's be clear—'Lancelot' isn't my real name, but I'll let you keep believing it," he said with a smile that never reached his eyes. "As for this 'attack'... eliminating every group trying to reach the boss rooms cuts down the number of heroes. Fear spreads, interest in clearing floors dies out. That's all. My team will arrive soon... and finish you off."
There was no remorse in his tone; it was cold, tactical—spoken with the clarity of someone executing a plan. That crimson smile didn't fade, not even as he spoke of killing.
Klein stepped back slightly, his breath unsteady."What the hell was that?" he said, his voice shaking. "His shield was up—how could he die like that?"
Klein's group froze. No one had expected such a cold-blooded betrayal; hands clenched around their weapons, eyes darting for answers in others' faces but finding only confusion. Still, Klein reacted as he always did—by stepping forward to shield his comrades, forming a wall with his own body. His legs trembled—it was clear he was afraid—but his stance spoke of a protective, almost brotherly resolve.
Aomine approached, not hastily, observing with analytical calm."Shields are meant to stop monster attacks," he explained quietly, trying to bring logic to the chaos. "Against other players' weapons, they have a limit. They have to activate—a sort of invisible projection that absorbs impact... but it's not perfect."
"That makes no sense. It'd be unfair," someone muttered.
"Unfair, yes—but that's system logic," Aomine replied, frowning. "Kayaba modeled the physics to stay consistent with reality. A spear, with enough force behind it, can pierce a shield. And... there's something else. Some players level up through disgusting means—by killing others. The mechanic exists, and it works. Think about it—it's a brutal way to climb floors. I thought there'd be more balance between killers and normal players, but... the gap's enormous." His words came out heavy, full of frustration.
Asuna needed no further explanation. Anger flared in her eyes; her breathing quickened, and her crimson cloak billowed behind her, as if it too accepted the call to confrontation. She stepped onto a nearby ledge, taking a battle stance. The light filtering through the ruins outlined her in gold, every tense muscle like the string of a drawn bow. Her hazel eyes burned with restrained fury; the spear in her hands shone with a pale, cold light—as if the very tip carried her will to strike.
"Well, I love that look," Lancelot said with a crooked, teasing grin. "Come, little speedster. Come kill me. Be a real murderer."
The challenge broke the silence—and they lunged. Spears clashed with a sharp crack, the sound of metal reverberating through the citadel like a contained thunderclap. Asuna fought with restrained fury, aiming to disarm, to stun, to incapacitate. Lancelot countered with fluid, lethal precision, each move betraying mastery—and a complete lack of hesitation to kill.
Aomine watched, eyes narrowed, analyzing every flick of the lancer's wrist, every shift in breathing, every step that powered each strike. "At this rate... Asuna will lose," he murmured hopelessly.
"Damn it!" Klein shouted, frustration spilling from his clenched teeth.
Only one girl was fighting for everyone else, while the rest stood back—not even the Tanks dared step in. Aomine didn't attack; his cold gaze said everything. He was observing, calculating, searching for a way to neutralize Lancelot's deadly choreography—and more importantly, to predict when his allies would arrive. In his mind, the pieces fit together cruelly: Asuna wasn't fighting to kill, only to stop him. Lancelot, on the other hand, had no such restraint.
(Asuna doesn't fight to kill, Aomine thought. Her style's all about defense and disabling. He... he doesn't hesitate to kill. That's the line between morality and immorality.)
As the clash of spears continued, the citadel seemed to hold its breath. Each blow Asuna blocked or received carried the weight of fresh betrayal on everyone's throat—the illusion of a fair game shattered, replaced by the harsh truth of power... and how far some would go to claim it.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The metal clashed violently, echoing like a deep heartbeat that reverberated through the citadel. Sparks flew into the air, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to narrow down to that single sound—spears against spears, steel demanding attention. Even so, amidst the chaos, Aomine had already stepped aside and approached Klein. They began to talk in low voices—short, tense words that blended with the echo of the ongoing battle.
Meanwhile, beyond the shimmering falls and ruined walls, another group advanced from the shadows. They were hooded; the cloaks concealed their faces entirely, leaving only the outlines of their bodies and the determined rhythm of their steps. They were heading toward Aomine's group—shadows emerging from the stone itself.
One of them, walking ahead of the others, suddenly broke into a run. His voice rang out clearly, slicing through the distance:
"Hey, wait! Don't go ahead!" he shouted in irritation.
But the response that came back was cold and sharp, laced with disdain:
"I don't care. I'll do what was agreed—kill them and leave. If you want to get there first, then run." The female voice spat the words and kept running without looking back.
The exchange rang out like a verdict in the corridor. That scornful tone made one thing clear—they weren't here to talk or capture; they were here to end it quickly. And while the water kept falling and the clash of spears continued, the shadow of a greater threat was drawing near.
"Do you want me to jump into that fight?" asked Klein, confusion etched in his tone.
"Yes. Look," said Aomine briefly. "Klein, you're one of the few who still moves even while afraid—but you move. I need you between Asuna and Lancelot. They're fighting one-on-one right now; if you follow what I tell you, you'll make it out fine."
Klein paled for a moment. "I'm not much of a swordsman," he admitted humbly. "I may look like a samurai, but I barely know the basics… just a few tricks."
"That's fine," Aomine replied calmly. "That's your limit for now. Who says you can't improve? I'm scared too. I'd like to run or stay back, but more are coming. We only have one choice—fight. Let's kill this problem so Asuna doesn't wear herself out and we can handle the other groups."
Klein grimaced, hesitated, glanced at his team. The old armor of shyness began to crack inside him. But he clenched his teeth and turned toward the battle.
"I'm ready," Klein said firmly, gripping his sword.
"Good," ordered Aomine. "Leg—then an upward diagonal slash."
Klein nodded, took a deep breath, and charged.
In the center of the fight, Asuna and Lancelot crossed spears with such intensity that the air seemed to vibrate. Both showed signs of exhaustion—shorter breaths, tense muscles—yet Lancelot still wore a sardonic smile, as if mocking the situation. Aomine watched him coolly. I just need to wait until the others show up; once they're surrounded, there'll be no escape, he thought.
Aomine's shout drew Lancelot's attention for an instant. That was the opening Asuna needed. With a swift motion, she forced his guard aside; Lancelot dodged, but at that moment Klein appeared and slashed his thigh. The movement was clumsy, his leg trembling from the impact, but it worked—Lancelot staggered back, shocked by the sudden strike.
"What the hell…?" Lancelot growled in anger.
"Good. Asuna, break his defense. Klein, attack. Let's finish him quickly," Aomine commanded sharply. "Klein, vertical strike."
An imaginary helmet—the emotional armor Klein had worn since the early floors—began to shatter. The young man raised his sword higher than before and brought it down with all his strength. Lancelot blocked skillfully, but Klein intentionally yielded to the clash, letting its force push him back—faking defeat to open another window.
Asuna didn't waste the chance. With a swift and precise lunge, she drove her spear into Lancelot's ribs. The impact sent him sprawling; he rolled across the ground and rose again, his body throbbing in pain.
Lancelot cursed under his breath, fury distorting his face. Damn it, I won't last… I got cocky, and now I'm surrounded. I should've killed her when I had the chance instead of toying with her… Rage boiled in his mind.
When he looked up, Lancelot saw someone moving their head in the shadows—a hooded figure had stopped dead in their tracks, and their expression wasn't that of someone about to attack. Lancelot took the hesitation as cowardice, as waiting for reinforcements. But the hooded one's eyes told a different story—a mix of shock and dread, as if witnessing something they wished they hadn't.
Lancelot's face tensed. What's going on? Why aren't they attacking?
The hooded figure stepped back, bumping into their own group, who watched with unease.
"What's wrong? We need to move—Lancelot's about to—" one began.
"He already killed them," another blurted out, trembling.
The words fell like an absurd sentence. Everyone froze, uncertain. The one who spoke repeated it, trying to sound steady: "He said he already killed them. He was playing around with a girl… before killing her. He uses women for that."
Disbelief spread like a virus. They wanted to see it for themselves, but fear paralyzed them. In the end, fear won over curiosity.
"If that's true, we can't do anything," said one, resigned.
"Yeah, and you know how Lancelot is. If he turns on me, I'm dead," added another.
"Let's just head back. If he's already done the job, there's nothing left for us," another said quickly.
One by one, they began to retreat. Only the young woman stayed behind for a few seconds; she clenched her fists in frustration, then turned away with a broken smile no one saw, and fled with the rest.
Aomine seized the moment. "Panxin, cover him with your shield," he ordered.
"On it!" Panxin replied immediately, stepping between Lancelot and the others, shield raised.
Still surrounded, Lancelot felt fury rise inside him at his allies' betrayal and retreat. "You'll pay for this, you damn cowards!" he roared, blocking an attack with sheer rage.
With a fierce motion, Lancelot shoved Asuna and Klein backward, used his spear like a pole to vault over the group, and with bestial force, sprinted toward the exit. His face was twisted, veins bulging—he wasn't running away; he was running to kill. And in a cruel twist, the scene ended with the shouts of victory from those who thought they had won a prize—they felt as though they had defeated a boss. Klein collapsed to the ground, exhausted; Asuna and he breathed heavily, the air thick with the relief of having survived a deadly fight.
Aomine opened his inventory and pulled out a medieval-looking canteen, handing it to Asuna. She drank, and her expression softened, pleased by the comfort of a warm sip. Klein expected the same, hungry for relief, but instead received a playful smack on the head—almost cartoonish in tone. Their friends laughed and comforted him.
"It's delicious," said Asuna, smiling with surprise and gratitude. "How did you get orange juice? There's no fruit to buy or order in restaurants right now."
"I saved some," he replied calmly. "It's not orange juice—it's orange tea. I like to cook, so making my own drink isn't that different."
"Wow, you're really good," she said, smiling warmly.
"Yeah, and for stepping up when everyone else was scared," another teammate added cheerfully. "Even Asuna-san said so—you're amazing."
"Wow," joked another. "If you can smile that sincerely more than once, you should do it all the time."
"Maybe in the future," Klein answered quietly, as the group recovered and, for a brief moment, the citadel seemed at peace once again.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
February 14th, 2023 — Floor 16, City of Oraion
The battered group finally reached the citadel. Their faces showed relief—they had fought too long, and exhaustion clung to every gesture. Only one of them seemed to carry the fatigue differently, rubbing his temple as if his mind weighed heavier than his body.
"At last… we made it," said the blond-haired man, his voice rough from effort.
"I can't feel my legs anymore," a female voice declared, heavy with exhaustion.
Around them, the others bore the same expression—a grimace of weariness mixed with faint smiles, as if they had conquered fear and achieved their goal, though the bitter taste of recent loss still lingered in their throats.
"I'll go report everything that happened and send each of you your payment with a bonus," one of them announced with a bow. "It won't change what happened… but I'm sorry for everything."
They stood in silence for a few seconds, looking at him. Then, the group—now reduced, mostly two Tanks—nodded and began to walk away in different directions.Aomine watched with a tight expression, guilt flickering in his eyes. A gentle tap on his back snapped him from his thoughts.
"Come on, don't make that face. It's not your fault," Asuna said softly, smiling at him. "None of us could've known how this mission would turn out. It hurt me too—losing someone like that. I even attacked that traitor out of anger… but it wasn't your fault."
Klein raised a thumbs-up in encouragement, backing her words with a grin. Confidence slowly returned to their faces, even as fatigue still marked their steps. One by one, they dispersed; Asuna was the last to leave, her calm smile radiating both relief and resolve.
"See you soon, Aomine-kun!" she called cheerfully before vanishing into the bustle of the citadel.
As Aomine stood still, a deeper truth struck him harder than any wound: he had no one by his side.All around, the city overflowed with life—people walking, friends laughing, couples holding hands—yet in the middle of all that noise, he was completely alone.
He wandered aimlessly through the crowd as night descended over Oraion. Magical lamps flickered to life, painting the cobblestone streets in warm hues. Amid the stream of people, he accidentally brushed shoulders with an elderly man. His hair, white streaked with gray, contrasted with a formal office-like outfit, oddly reinforced with metal plates on his shoulders and arms. A sheathed sword hung at his side—half warrior, half citizen.
"I'm terribly sorry," Aomine said, bowing slightly.
"No worries, boy. Take care," the old man replied in a calm, mature voice before disappearing into the crowd.
Aomine kept walking until he reached the base of his guild, ALS. Two guards stood at the entrance; when they saw him, they smiled in greeting. Just as he was about to step inside, he felt a light tap on his sword. He turned instinctively—and saw a young woman with chestnut hair wearing an outfit impossible to overlook: a wide-brimmed white hat with a blue feather, a white cape draped over her shoulders, and a short blue outfit trimmed with golden patterns and light armor plates.
She waved brightly."You're back, Yuna-chan!" said Aomine, surprised.
"Yup! I just got back from the first floor," Yuna replied with a radiant smile. "It was so much fun! The kids from the orphanages and those aimless adventurers in the Town of Beginnings needed a bit of joy… so I gave them some. I'm planning more concerts on the upper floors too—but first, I'll clean up my place." Her tone was cheerful, almost musical.
Aomine smiled faintly. "You never change, do you? Still… be careful. Things can get dangerous."
"Relax, I…" Yuna's voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm not afraid like you are."
"Did you say something?" Aomine asked, confused.
"Nothing, nothing." Yuna laughed and waved dismissively. "Come on inside! I can't wait to see you explain today's mission to everyone."
She stepped in first, light and carefree, as if danger didn't exist in her world.Aomine sighed, watching her vanish through the door, then followed a few seconds later.
After a quick bath and a change of clothes, he made his way to the main office. His teammates were already there—Keyki, Historia, Elsa, Gundou, and Michael. Conversations died as the door opened again: Mito had just arrived. Michael watched her quietly; his expression tightened for an instant before he masked it with a neutral smile.
Michael straightened calmly. Pressing his fingertips together, he formed his usual thoughtful gesture, a faint half-smile forming as the room waited for him to speak.
"So, you're finally back, huh?" he said with contained curiosity. "Took you longer than expected."
Aomine drew a deep breath, trying to put order to the chaos in his head. The murmurs in the room faded; all eyes were on him. He began to speak, choosing his words carefully.
"To be honest… it was a roller coaster from the moment we reached the boss gate," he said, using the metaphor to compress the chaos into something understandable. "At first, it felt like a normal run… but near the end, when everything speeds up and shakes you violently—things got out of hand."
"In short?" Historia interrupted, clearly impatient with his vagueness. Her brows furrowed, demanding clarity.
Aomine nodded and switched to a concise report, his voice calm but steady."There was a casualty. The lancer—Lancelot, I think—turned out to be a member of the Assassins. They've been killing other groups heading to boss chambers. Their goal was clear: to eliminate us. He had allies coming from behind, but they never showed. That gave us time to set a plan and corner him. Even so, during the fight, he managed to escape in desperation."
He paused, gauging the room before continuing."Asuna-san was a huge help. She's a valuable ally—her instinct made all the difference. Without her, the outcome could've been much worse."
A respectful silence followed. He went on with the practical details."We'll also need to pay the Tanks their bonuses. One of them died, so we should compensate him fairly. Other than that, we located the boss room entrance and secured the map for the raid."
Then his tone shifted, colder, analytical."If you're wondering about their objective—it's psychological. They want to spread fear among explorers. By killing boss scouts, they reduce the number of willing parties. Interest in progressing drops, forcing us to deploy stronger players. That weakens our overall offense."
When he finished, Aomine added quietly,"That's all for now. I can give more details if needed."
The room fell into thoughtful silence until Michael's look broke it—a glance that quietly said thank you.
He leaned back, pressing his thumbs together thoughtfully, his tone calm but sincere."I see… I'm sorry I put you through that, especially knowing how you've been feeling lately."
Aomine lowered his head slightly, offering a tired yet genuine smile."Well… I'd be lying if I said I didn't have fun," he admitted with a light tone. "I'm not saying I enjoyed being attacked, but… it felt freeing, in a way. Like I could actually experience something again. Helping… was fun."He smiled more openly, his voice less heavy than in days past.
The atmosphere eased. The others exchanged glances, some smiling; hearing him sound that way again was almost a relief. He no longer spoke like a burdened strategist, but like someone slowly returning to life.
Only Mito didn't share the mood. Her face remained calm, but the slight twitch of her brow betrayed something deeper—a quiet pang of frustration hidden behind her gaze.
(If I don't do something… I'll lose him.) she thought, pulse quickening.
Michael's tone regained its authority, though his smile turned slightly mischievous."I'm glad to hear that. That means we'll have you back in action soon." He leaned an elbow on the table, smirking playfully. "I'm jealous, you know? I wanted to see those skills of yours in action—especially when you teamed up with Asuna-san and Kirito-san. I heard you really shined out there."
Aomine chuckled. "Who knows… maybe next time."
Michael nodded, satisfied."Good. Then that's all for now. Go get some rest—you've earned it. We'll stay here a bit longer to plan the next step. You handled most of the fieldwork, so let us take care of the strategy. You can share your updates tomorrow."
"Understood," Aomine said, bowing slightly before leaving the room.
The sound of the door closing marked the start of murmured strategy among the rest. Michael began giving orders, Historia took notes, and the team reorganized. Everything seemed to return to normal—until a few minutes later, another door opened and slammed shut. The room froze.
"Was that Aomine again?" Keyki asked, puzzled.
But as they looked around, they noticed something else—someone was missing.
"Mito…" Elsa whispered.
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Aomine caminaba por el pasillo silencioso, el eco de sus pasos rebotando contra las paredes de piedra. Al llegar a su habitación, abrió la puerta con un suspiro pesado. No alcanzó a reaccionar: un empujón brusco lo hizo tambalearse hacia atrás. Sintió unas manos rodeando su cintura, firmes, temblorosas.
—¿Eh...? —giró el rostro, desconcertado.
El aroma familiar lo hizo entenderlo al instante. Cabello largo, violeta oscuro, y un silencio cargado de emoción contenida. Era Mito. No levantaba la cabeza; se refugiaba en su espalda, escondiendo su rostro.
El rubor subió de golpe a las mejillas de Aomine. Su corazón se aceleró con fuerza, y aunque su cuerpo se tensó por el nerviosismo, no la apartó.
Miró hacia el pasillo, temiendo que alguien pasara y los viera así, y con un gesto instintivo, la sostuvo con cuidado. Dio un paso hacia atrás, entrando completamente a la habitación junto con ella, y cerró la puerta detrás de ambos.
El suave clic del cerrojo selló el silencio.
Y dentro de ese espacio cerrado, solo quedaban sus respiraciones entrelazadas... y todo lo que Mito no se atrevía a decir.
The room was almost swallowed by darkness.The hallway lights barely slipped through the crack beneath the door, tinting the air with a faint, cold blue.Everything was silent… until a trembling voice broke the stillness.
"This… Mito–s—" Aomine began cautiously, his words quivering in the air.
"I told you to just call me Mito," she interrupted softly—but there was a sharpness in her tone that allowed no argument.
Aomine let out an awkward laugh."Right, sorry. I'm a bit forgetful…" he said, averting his gaze, uneasy. "But, um… could you tell me what's going on? Hugging me out of nowhere like this is… a little strange."
Mito didn't move. Her face remained hidden against his back, her warm breath brushing faintly against his neck.
"Strange that I want to feel the warmth of my partner?" she asked in a quiet voice, filled with a sadness that didn't sound entirely fake.
"No, that's not what I meant," Aomine replied quickly, raising his hands nervously. "It's just that… doing it so suddenly caught me off guard. But I'm not uncomfortable."
"Then it's fine," she said calmly. Her tone was so steady it almost sounded rehearsed.
He tried to relax, but something in the atmosphere felt heavy.The way Mito held him wasn't affectionate—it was desperate, as if she feared that letting go would make him vanish.
"Mito," he murmured, lowering his tone. "You're acting… different. Did I do something wrong?"
She was silent for a few seconds before replying.
"I heard you went on an expedition without me."Her words were firm, unwavering—but her fingers clutched tightly at his clothes.
Aomine turned slightly, startled."Ah… that." He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. "It wasn't my idea. Michael said I needed to check some guild supplies. By the time I realized it, I was already outside the city."He sighed, uncomfortable."The team was ready, and they made me leader. I couldn't refuse. It was a setup."
"I see," Mito said, still clinging to his back.Her voice remained calm, but a trace of irony laced her words. "But you went with Asuna, didn't you? She told me she had a lot of fun. That you even… gave her a drink."
Aomine froze for a few seconds before answering.
"Well…" he searched for words. "She worked really hard. It was just a small reward, nothing more."
The air grew heavier.Mito slowly lifted her face, her eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light.In her gaze, there was more than irritation—there was a wound, a quiet shadow of jealousy she couldn't hide.
"You never gave me anything when I was the one protecting you. That's… kind of frustrating, you know?" she said softly, though her lips trembled. "I put in effort too."
Aomine averted his eyes, trying to find a way out."Next time I can bring you something…" he said, attempting to sound kind. "I can cook—maybe something for the boss raid in a few days."
She raised her head slowly, her expression blank."You said you accepted that I'd be your number one," she whispered. "In return, I'd protect you."Her eyes, once warm, were now hollow."Do you not want that anymore? If so… I can stop helping you."
Aomine felt a tight knot forming in his chest. He couldn't find the words.His silence said everything.
Images from the past flashed in his mind: battles from the previous floors, screams, the digital blood staining the ground.He remembered the young lancer who fell before him, pierced by an enemy spear, reaching out his hand before vanishing in a burst of light.His body began to tremble.
Mito, noticing it, loosened her embrace and moved to face him.Their eyes met — Aomine's filled with guilt and fear; Mito's, dark yet gleaming, with a faint but unsettling smile.
She raised a hand and gently brushed his cheek.Before he could react, her lips met his.
The kiss was slow, but far from innocent — there was desperation in it, an attempt to possess him, to mend something broken.Aomine didn't move. He didn't reject her, but he didn't return it either.It was as if his body simply… surrendered.
Breathing heavily, Mito opened her menu and, with a few taps, unequipped her gear.A soft glow enveloped her body as her armor vanished, leaving only the system's underclothing.
She hugged him again — tighter this time — pushing him gently toward the bed.He fell onto his back, startled.
"Please… accept me," she whispered through tears. "I promise I'll protect you. But don't leave me… not again."
Her words were a naked plea.
"Let's stay together… in every way. I don't want… to be alone."
Tears slid down her cheeks and fell onto Aomine's face.He looked at her — confused, torn between duty and guilt.
Instinctively, he unequipped his gear as well.The system registered the change, and the soft lights of the room shifted to a warm, amber hue.
Mito smiled when she saw him like that, believing it was his answer.She leaned forward and kissed him again — tenderly, yet tinged with sadness.
(I'm scared… scared that I can't face this. I can do it, right? No… I'm still a coward. I'm only doing this to save myself. To not be alone… but I disgust myself.) thought Aomine.
Silence stretched on endlessly.Their breaths mingled; their hands clung to each other.To an outsider, it might have looked like a scene of love…but the feeling was different — a pact of dependence and pain.
(This way, he'll know I just want him to be mine… I don't want to be alone.) thought Mito, closing her eyes.(This way, I can keep living a little longer… as a coward.) thought Aomine, letting himself fall into the darkness.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Meanwhile, in another brightly lit room, the rest of the guild had gathered to discuss their next strategy.The atmosphere was calmer, though tension still lingered in the air.Sheets of paper, maps, and steaming cups of digital coffee covered the table.
Sitting at the head, Michael looked up."Um… I'd like to ask something, if you don't mind."
Everyone turned toward him, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic.
"I'm not trying to be a bad teammate," he continued, "but… don't you think Mito-san's been going a bit too far lately?"
Silence settled for a few seconds.Gundou raised an eyebrow before returning to his notes.Keyki crossed his arms, recalling a few awkward past interactions with her.Historia frowned.Elsa glanced curiously in Michael's direction.Yuna, on the other hand, smiled serenely as she tuned her instrument.
"She's a little strange, sure, but she's a good friend," Yuna said casually."I don't talk to her much," Elsa added, "so I can't really say."
Historia sighed, resting her elbow on the table."'A bit too far' is putting it lightly. What she's doing borders on obsession. She clings to Aomine constantly. Every time I try to talk to him, she cuts in. It's like she won't let him be himself."
"I think she's a good teammate," Keyki interjected, scratching his head. "A bit weird, yeah, but not bad."
Historia gave him a teasing smile."Could it be you liked her?"
"W–What?! Of course not!" he snapped immediately, his face turning red.
Historia laughed mischievously."That's what you said when you tried to confess to Elsa and she turned you down because she was already with me."
"Shut up! I'm over it already!" Keyki retorted, trying to keep his composure.
Gundou raised a hand."Alright, enough. I wouldn't say she's obsessive… but something's definitely off about her."
The air grew quiet again until Yuna spoke once more, her tone gentler now."I'd say Aomine-chi and Mito-chan make a nice pair. I even wrote a song for them. Though…" —she smiled uncertainly— "somehow, it doesn't quite fit."
Everyone looked at her, intrigued.Yuna took a deep breath and began to sing, her soft, melancholic voice filling the room:
"It's as if only you and I exist in this world,it feels like, in this world,there's only you and me~and it's something I dreamed of,just a little, without meaning to.
The moonlight so gentle,the flowers with a faint scent,the touch of your hand on mine.
The time has come,today I must forget,disappear,my final farewell.
I walk barefoot among shattered glass,blood spreadingwith every throb of pain.Please, follow the path of crimson feet~Just come… I'll be waiting."
Silence fell across the room.The song didn't sound like a love story—it sounded like a goodbye.
Elsa was the first to speak."That sounded… sad."
Historia lowered her gaze."Yeah… sad. But real," she whispered.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
February 26, 2023 – Floor 24, Boss Chamber Entrance
The door stood tall before them: an imposing stone structure, carved with intricate patterns and guarded by two figures resembling ancient Greek sentinels.The entire group prepared for battle.Mito clung tightly to Aomine's arm, while he forced a faint, uneasy smile.
Michael stepped closer."You look happy. Want to take the front and show off your skills?" he asked, smirking slightly.
"I… think it's better if I stay—" Aomine began to say.
But Mito cut him off."I think he should—"
Before she could finish, a sharp voice came from behind her."It's rude to interrupt someone mid-sentence, Mito-san."Elsa appeared, her smile elegant, her gaze unflinching.
"You're right, Elsa-san. I just thought that, as his girlfriend, I could speak for him," Mito replied sweetly, her tone sugary but arrogant.
Historia crossed her arms, clearly irritated."Doesn't he have a voice of his own?"
Mito's lips curved into a smile—but her eyes did not."Since when do animals speak?"
"What did you say, you venomous snake?" Historia snapped, stepping forward.
"Come on, Historia-san!" Aomine intervened, moving between them. "There's no need to fight."
Historia looked at him with disdain."Shut up. It's pathetic seeing you like this. You used to be a leader. Now… you look like a lapdog."
Aomine lowered his gaze."I'm just saying… I don't have the level to fight at the front."
Historia's expression softened for a brief moment, then hardened again."And whose fault do you think that is? You used to grow stronger with us. But ever since you've been with her, you've stagnated. Even Yuna's been leveling up faster. She's…" —she clenched her fists— "turning you into someone I don't recognize."She turned away. "Forget it."
Elsa paused before following her."Historia only worries about you, you know?" she said softly. "In the real world, you helped her a lot.But now… we see someone different. Think about it, Aomine."Then she walked off.
Aomine didn't answer.He just stood there in silence, feeling the weight of their words sinking into him.Mito watched him with a forced smile, though her eyes… carried a faint shadow of irritation.
"Well… I guess it'll be the same as always."Her tone was polite, but her voice trembled slightly. "I'll wait for your plan," she added, smiling in a way that concealed more than it revealed.
The echo of her words lingered in the air, heavy… like a promise beginning to crack.