"How does it feel?"
Klein was still brimming with enthusiasm—at this rate, even if a level 10 monster showed up, his level 1 self would probably charge straight at it. Kirito sheathed his sword on his back and walked over, looking at Satoru, who had been staring at his panel the whole time.
"It feels great," Satoru nodded.
Kirito nodded along as well, like someone whose prized possession had just been praised.
"But…" Satoru shook his head. "It's kind of troublesome."
"Hm?"
"This game… doesn't have magic or anything like that, right?"
"Right. Just all kinds of sword skills."
"So it's aiming for a realistic experience—just like the ads said, an adventure in a fantasy world." Satoru gazed out over the vast grasslands stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The emerald green had been dyed a dusky gold by the setting sun. The outline of the northern forest shimmered faintly, while the lake to the south reflected the light in quiet ripples.
Golden clouds drifted beneath the clear sky. Even just lying back and taking in the scenery of this other world felt like it could satisfy a person for an entire day.
"It's hard to believe this is inside a game."
"That's the appeal of FullDive." Kirito spoke comfortably as he felt the breeze. "Here, with just a single iron sword, you can go anywhere. There's no sense of restriction… it really feels like a childhood dream come true."
"You're a pretty hardcore gamer, aren't you?" Satoru asked.
"I'd like to say no… but during the two months of closed beta, I was completely hooked. Honestly, when the beta ended and my character got wiped, it felt like I'd lost half of myself." Kirito laughed awkwardly.
Enjoying the game, huh…
Satoru thought to himself.
"It's so detached from reality—it's addictive. But I probably… can't play this." A trace of gloom crossed his system-generated, sculpture-like handsome face.
"Something wrong?"
"It's stuff in real life. No matter how much I want to, I still live over there. When it comes to choices, that side has to come first."
"I see… sorry, that was too personal." Kirito looked a little embarrassed. Asking about someone's real life in-game was always a bit rude.
"Anyway, thanks for taking the time today. For a closed beta player with plenty of information, this early launch period should be prime time, right?"
"I'll make up that gap soon enough."
There was confidence in his tone. That bright, spirited expression of his looked just like the one on the game's promotional cover—Satoru couldn't help but feel a little envious.
Back when he was a kid, he could get excited all day over a few cheap arcade tokens. Even if he got beaten when he got home, he still enjoyed it.
Now, even though he could stay locked in his room all day playing games—with no one to bother him—the loneliness made it suffocating.
Survival…
Reality really is the hardest game.
Here, you just swing a sword.
There, you can't.
He humbled himself, chasing opportunities, yet found nothing worth extracting. His still-immature heart rejected the social circles of others, and in the end, he slunk back into his room, staring with dark circles as he tried to squeeze out a living.
The skills he'd honed and the accounts he'd built were discarded again and again as games updated and replaced each other.
If it were someone else, gaining all that in a virtual world might bring pride.
But not him.
Instead, it only made him more disgusted.
The stronger he became in virtual worlds, the more it proved how insignificant he was in reality.
Maybe… he really didn't have a future.
What pulled him back from those thoughts was Klein's excited shout.
"Hey! Yuyu! Kirito! I did it!"
Standing proudly with hands on his hips, fragments scattered around him—he had finally taken down a wild boar.
"Looks like you're getting the hang of it… What next? Keep going until you're comfortable?" Kirito asked.
"Of course! I'm hitting Level 20 today—well, I'd love to say that, but the pizza I ordered earlier should be arriving soon. It's already five." He glanced to the side at the time display.
"Oh, right—some friends are coming over later too. After I eat, how about we all play together?"
Kirito looked a bit troubled, like he wasn't sure he could handle a big group.
"As for me, I probably won't log back in after I log out. This game's not really for me," Satoru said first.
"Oh? Why's that?"
"If I had to say… work."
"Yeah, can't be helped. But drop in when you get a break. Don't you think we've got some kind of fate going on here?"
"…We'll see." Satoru gave an awkward smile.
He hadn't ordered anything. Living alone, there was no one waiting to heat up a meal for him. After logging out, he'd just microwave some convenience food, then rush to find the next game that could keep him afloat.
"But… thanks."
Satoru slid his finger down, making the gesture to bring up the menu window.
Klein still looked reluctant, while Kirito sat down, seemingly organizing the materials he'd gathered.
A moment passed.
"Klein…" Satoru spoke hesitantly. "Do you see the log out button?"
"…No. I was just about to ask you that."
"No button? That's impossible. Look carefully." Kirito raised his head. "It should be at the bottom of the character menu."
"No… I checked earlier. Right after logging in, I went through the whole system menu to get familiar with it. I know where it should be. But…" Satoru frowned. "It's gone. There's just an empty space."
Kirito froze for a moment, then checked himself. His movements were more practiced than theirs—but he also stopped at the final step.
"It's not there, right?" Satoru asked.
Kirito paused, and the two exchanged looks.
"It's probably just a bug. First day of launch, after all. Bad timing, though—it's dinner hour. Everyone should be logging out right now, so the GM channel's probably flooded. The devs must be scrambling," Klein said lightly, a hint of mischief in his tone.
"…Didn't you order something? How are you going to get it?"
Klein froze.
"Oh—oh no! My anchovy pizza and ginger ale!!"
This guy really might be an idiot.
Satoru sighed.
"Kirito, let me ask—there's no other way to log out? The GM channel isn't responding."
For once, Kirito didn't answer immediately.
"Other than logging out manually… there isn't."
A strange chill crept down Satoru's spine.
It was that same feeling—like facing an unavoidable disaster.
To log out, you had to press the button in the main menu. But now that button was gone. And most in-game actions wouldn't help—there were no gesture-based shortcuts for logging out, since that would risk accidental disconnections during play.
Just as expected, Klein tried shouting commands like "log out," even raising his hands to his head as if to remove the NerveGear.
None of it worked.
In pursuit of perfect immersion, they had lost the ability to leave at will.
The grasslands were still comfortable. The setting sun still warm. There was no fatigue in this world.
And yet, Satoru felt uneasy.
"We'll have to wait until the bug gets fixed… or until someone in the real world removes the headset," Kirito said slowly.
"I live alone…" Klein said awkwardly.
"Me too," Satoru added.
"I live with my mom and little sister. If I don't come down for dinner, they'll probably come check on me."
"Oh."
Klein looked at him.
"Oh…"
"…Oh?"
His expression gradually shifted—from disappointment over missed pizza… to something else.
"A little sister, huh… How old is your sister?"
Kirito immediately shoved him back.
"She's in a sports club. She hates guys like us. We'd never interact," he said with a wry smile. "More importantly, shouldn't you be thinking about what to do right now?"
"If we can't log out…" Satoru said quietly, "then we lose control over our time. That means real-world losses. If the operators can't fix this quickly, they should shut down the servers immediately and force a disconnect."
"But there hasn't even been an announcement. That's strange. As the first large-scale VRMMO, having this happen at launch would damage their reputation. There's no way the company isn't paying attention—especially today."
The three of them fell silent, exchanging looks.
They could think it through, but in the end—they were just players.
All they could do was wait.
Satoru took a deep breath.
The air no longer felt as fresh. It carried a dry, cold edge—SAO reflecting the shift from autumn into winter in the real world.
Feeling that artificial breath fill his lungs, he slowly lifted his gaze toward the distant sky.
Above, the base of the second floor of the floating castle was hidden within clouds.
It was a perfect world—one stripped of the blemishes of reality.
If only… it were nothing more than a game.