"Hey… how long are you planning to sit there? The debuff ended ages ago." Argo glanced over at Satoru, who was still sitting in the corner.
"I've already contributed plenty, haven't I? Can't you let me rest a bit? I really don't want to go anywhere near that boss again." Satoru replied flatly without moving, sitting there as his HP recovered. "Besides, weren't you a little worried about me earlier? Let that worry last a little longer."
"Huh? I was worried about you?!" Argo froze for a second, then reacted like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. "Don't flatter yourself! The only death waiting for you is dying of smoking-induced cancer! That's all! You're just a wage slave!"
"..."
By the time they had this exchange, three minutes had already passed since Nezha began to shine.
Diavel and the others, who had been paralyzed first, had already recovered. After a quick regrouping, that decisive knight reorganized the front line and returned to the fight with obvious gratitude. Kirito and the others, who had also made it over here, joined them as well.
Even Sheeta had taken his place and joined Agil's party in battle, leaving only the two of them truly standing off to the side and watching.
The ones currently fighting closest to the enraged The Taurus King were the five-man party of the Legend Braves, led by Orlando.
Now that Nezha had completely shut down the boss's deadly lightning breath, the only troublesome move the King of Taurus had left was its hammer strikes with their stiffening effect. And against Orlando's group, whose equipment had all been upgraded to the limit, that wasn't much of a threat.
"My feelings on this are pretty complicated," Argo said, as though she had finally recovered from the mood Satoru had thrown her into. "That enhanced equipment of theirs. That all came from what Nezha swindled away, right?"
"In the end, the money gained through that swindling was used for the right purpose."
"Even so, it's still annoying that they might end up as the MVPs this time."
"The MVP is Nezha. And he… well, he's still technically one of their guildmates, so the line gets blurry."
Argo didn't respond. She simply watched the battle, which was gradually losing all suspense.
The raid on the second floor, after all those deadly twists and turns, was finally nearing its end.
As he watched the boss's HP bar shrink further and further, Satoru suddenly said,
"Actually, if we're talking about who the winners of this battle are, it's pretty troublesome."
"Why's that?"
"First, if we're talking about the universally acknowledged MVP, then Diavel for his command, me… Nezha, and even Orlando's group, who are showing off now, could all qualify. But if we're talking about who profits the most, it's probably someone else."
"Ah… I think I know who," Argo said, her expression turning a little strange.
Satoru nodded and pointed ahead.
"Look. The boss is almost out of HP, and there's someone over there acting like he just got pumped full of adrenaline. The rich last hit reward probably isn't going to Orlando's group after all."
The one he was pointing at was, without question, that player dressed in black.
Surrounded on all sides, The Taurus King swept its giant hammer in a wide arc, as if trying to unleash one final lightning breath before death. But in an instant, a smooth arc of light struck its forehead. Its body shook uncontrollably for a moment, and it let out a miserable howl.
"Beautiful!"
Diavel shouted in response.
"All units, focus fire. !!"
Everyone had been waiting a very long time for that command. A low, stifled roar rose from the players as they all unleashed their sword skills with everything they had.
Among them, the black-clad player whom Satoru and Argo had both been paying particular attention to chose this exact moment to show off his perfected last-hit stealing technique. With a charge skill, he shot forward at an almost diagonal angle.
A thunderous explosion rang out.
Fragments of that massive body burst apart and scattered through the vast room as if they were going to drift into every corner.
...
"Your teamwork is still as good as ever. But… the ones most worthy of praise this time aren't you."
Agil smiled at Kirito and Asuna, then shifted his gaze toward Nezha, who was staring blankly at the spot where the boss had disappeared, and Satoru, who had only now staggered over.
"Where's Argo-chan?" Sheeta looked at him and bounced on her feet, trying to peek behind him.
"She probably slipped away with a high-level Hiding skill," Satoru said, shaking his head.
Even louder cheers, filled with relief and excitement, erupted from the surrounding players.
Even someone as energetic as Diavel couldn't help collapsing to the ground. As the one commanding this nerve-wracking battle, he had carried the greatest pressure of all, because if anyone had died, the blame would have fallen on him.
Kibaou also lightly patted his shoulder. With that comedian-like face of his wearing a smile, he actually didn't seem so annoying.
"No one had it easy," Agil said with feeling.
"Thank you all. I really don't know how to say it…"
The former blacksmith walked toward them step by step, hands clenched tightly. It was hard to tell whether he was smiling or crying.
"I… I never even imagined I could be useful in a boss raid like this."
"Thank you, Kirito-san. Without the item and information you gave me, I couldn't have done it."
"Asuna-san, Sheeta-san too, and Yurnero-san… being able to keep the boss tied down without a dedicated throwing weapon was really incredible…"
As for getting knocked down hard at the end, there was no need to mention that.
Agil gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, flashed a hearty smile, and raised a thumb.
"The truly impressive one here is you. To use a weapon you just got that perfectly… and to face an enemy that huge the very first time without fear. If you hadn't joined the fight, someone definitely would have died," Kirito said, unable to hold back.
"Thank you, thank you… This means my dream has finally come true. Thank you all so much. Now that this has happened, I can finally…"
Nezha's voice trembled, then stopped. After bowing deeply to all of them, he slowly began walking toward the other side.
Orlando and the others were his companions too.
"Wait..." Asuna stepped forward to stop him, but Kirito, having realized something, gently shook his head and held her back.
Under their watchful eyes, Nezha kept walking forward slowly, while other players also began converging on him.
"You're that blacksmith who was doing business in Urbus a few days ago, aren't you?"
The man who spoke looked distinctly hostile.
"Yes…"
"Then why did you suddenly switch to a combat class? And where did you get a rare weapon like a flying-type one?"
At some point, even the cheers had started to die down.
Further away, even Orlando and the others looked hesitant.
"That guy was one of the people whose weapon got swindled away. I remember him," Satoru said, watching the player questioning Nezha, whose expression was growing uglier by the second.
"But we're the ones who gave him the chakram," Sheeta said softly.
"It doesn't matter. Once suspicion falls on someone, it makes no difference."
In this life-and-death battle, the sword that player was using wasn't of especially high quality. If he knew the truth, then during these few short days of preparation, he must have worked desperately to forge a replacement weapon.
Nezha cast one last glance at Orlando and the others, who remained where they were without moving, then curled his lips into a faint smile.
Quietly, he placed the chakram on the floor, dropped to both knees, and bowed his head deeply to that player.
"I used a switch to trick you out of your sword… not just yours. Many frontline players here suffered the same."
The cheering vanished completely.
Everyone who heard him turned to look at him.
Some of them knew him. Some had even had weapons strengthened by him… and had those same weapons ruined because of it.
Those players gradually closed in around him, and their faces clearly showed shock, suspicion, and anger.
"Do you still have the weapons you swindled away?"
someone asked in a low voice.
"No… I traded them for money. And I can't even compensate you anymore, because it's already all been spent on food, drink, and entertainment."
It was true that all of it had been spent.
Just not on those things.
It had all been exchanged for the heavy equipment Orlando and the others were wearing right now.
But by saying it that way… he had probably already decided to bear all the blame himself.
Asuna, watching him, wavered.
"Y-you bastard!"
One of them finally couldn't hold back any longer. His voice was loud and fierce.
"When the sword I carefully raised was destroyed, do you have any idea how dazed I felt?! And not only that. You actually used the fruits of my labor on eating and drinking? Staying in expensive inns, enjoying baths?! And in the end, you bought a rare weapon and became the hero of this battle?! Give me a break! You liar!"
"This lousy replacement sword of mine only came from my companions spending money and sacrificing their time for me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to gather strengthening materials?!"
His words lit the fuse.
At the very least, the people who had suffered losses could no longer restrain themselves.
"Traitor!"
"Apologizing now won't fix anything!"
"Lift your head and look at us, bastard!"
The angry scolding from all sides, the fury of being cheated, and the pressure they had just endured in battle all came pouring out at once. The entire boss room echoed with their furious shouts, spittle flying with every word.
Under that invisible pressure, Nezha shrank in on himself slightly.
And faced with a scene like this, there was very little Satoru and the others, standing outside the center of it, could do.
Asuna couldn't bear to keep watching and turned her head away.
Kirito wore a bitter expression.
Satoru shifted his gaze to Orlando and the others, who were talking among themselves.
What were they discussing now?
In the end, it was Diavel who raised a hand and stepped into the crowd.
His appearance dampened the noise a little.
"First… can you tell me your name?"
The knight looked tired after the battle, but he knew he had to speak now.
"Nezha…"
He gave the name quietly, without any emotion.
Diavel nodded in understanding. Only a few people knew that even that pronunciation was false.
"You said just now that you committed fraud. Is that true?"
"Yes."
Hearing the answer from Nezha himself, Diavel's expression grew troubled.
"If this were a crime recognized by the system, something that turned your name from green to orange, then there would be atonement quests. But your crime can't be judged by the system. And as you said yourself, you have no way to compensate for it."
Diavel hesitated for a long time, unable to come up with a proper solution right away.
"You took more than just items. You also stole precious time from the front lines. So from now on… in future raids, you must fight without pay, and all money you earn must be handed over to those you wronged. Can you accept that?"
In the end, that was all he could say.
Nezha kept his head lowered and did not refuse.
Seeing that, Diavel turned back to the still-agitated crowd.
"Everyone, can you accept this resolution? No matter what, we made it through this battle. And while he may be the culprit, what he did in the end unquestionably helped us. You could say misfortune and fortune arrived together. Even if everyone had still had their old high-quality weapons, without him appearing, there still might have been serious danger."
"Anyone can make mistakes. And he confessed of his own will just now. I think everyone should show a little tolerance."
It was a smooth, measured statement. And aside from the solution he proposed, there didn't seem to be any better option.
The others glanced at Diavel, then at each other, and fell silent for a moment.
"No… he stole more than just that!"
A sharp voice rang out from the crowd.
"I. I know this! One of the people he tricked out of a weapon went into the field with a cheap store-bought replacement, and ended up dying to a monster he used to be able to handle!"
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room.
Even Diavel's face changed instantly.
Almost everyone was caught off guard.
"There. There was a death… He's not just a fraudster. This is PK. He's a murderer!"
A nearby player spoke in a hoarse voice.
This was the first appearance of true PK in this death game.
Player Kill.
In an ordinary RPG, killing other players was nothing unusual.
But in Aincrad, it was no different from actual murder.
Slowing the pace of the front lines was the least of it. This kind of act was one of the cruelest crimes possible.
The moment he heard that, something in Satoru reacted.
He frowned deeply, and his gaze locked onto the one who had announced the death.
A curved-blade user. Thin body. Sharp, narrow face.
Not him.
Not the man in the rain cloak.
Not him…
Satoru's eyes flickered.
The frail curved-blade user, still under his gaze, continued shouting.
"You think kneeling is enough?! No matter how much you bow your head, no matter how much you pay back, the dead won't come back!"
Nezha remained kneeling, but his body had begun to tremble.
Perhaps even he was only now learning that his actions had led to such consequences.
His voice was close to breaking into sobs.
"No matter how everyone chooses to punish me, I'll accept it!"
There was a brief silence.
Then.
"Then take responsibility!"
The malice and condemnation deepened.
"Apologize properly to the dead! If this was PK, then repay it with PK!"
That had already crossed the line.
"Pay with your life, murderer!"
"Go die! Someone like you can never be trusted!"
Diavel turned back to look at the frenzied crowd.
For the first time, a trace of confusion appeared on his face.
Even he could no longer mediate this.
What had driven everyone to this point was not just Nezha's crime.
It was also the fear and pressure they had accumulated for so long while trapped inside this game.
That overwhelming repression was making everyone lose control.
Orlando and the others, who had been talking before, also stopped and stared blankly in this direction.
"Did they ever imagine something like this would happen…" Kirito clenched his hand.
"Please wait!"
The shout that rang out was so loud it was nearly desperate.
Only a voice like that could cut through the storm of overlapping shouts and make everyone hear it.
The people who had been yelling were themselves drowned out, and instinctively turned to look.
Satoru walked forward in silence.
"Yurnero?"
Many stared at him in confusion.
"Can I say a few words? No. Just ask a few questions."
Diavel nodded.
The moment they saw him, everyone remembered who it was that had first faced The Taurus King alone.
The crowd gradually quieted, finally leaving him a bit of space.
Satoru turned to the curved-blade user.
His direct, undisguised gaze was cold.
To the other man, it felt as sharp as a blade.
The man instinctively shrank back, then after a pause stepped forward again, craned his neck, and asked what it was.
"He indirectly caused a player's death. Is that true?"
Satoru's tone carried a trace of sorrow.
The curved-blade user hesitated.
"Y-yeah!"
"I had a friend named Tobios…" Satoru's voice dropped even lower, and he bowed his head. "He died by accident while hunting before, but with his ability, that shouldn't have happened. I'm only now remembering that he had changed his usual weapon. Was that person… him?"
His voice trembled, urgent enough that no one would doubt him. It sounded exactly like someone speaking of a friend.
But in Kirito and the others' startled eyes.
"Did that really happen?"
"I don't know…"
Sheeta also looked at him worriedly.
The curved-blade user froze for a moment too, staring at Satoru as he lowered his head and wiped at his face.
Then, as if mustering his courage, he spoke.
"Yes… I don't know the details, but I think that person's name really was Tobios. I'm sorry about your friend."
That confirmation made the expressions of the surrounding players grow even uglier.
It was easy to imagine what kind of explosion would come next.
But.
"Ah, you don't need to feel sorry."
The calm, emotionless voice left everyone stunned.
Satoru, who had sounded so sorrowful a moment ago, had already raised his head.
There were no tears on his face.
Not even sweat.
Wearing a blank expression, he looked at the curved-blade user with a hint of mockery.
"I don't have any friend named Tobios. But the way you answered so confidently is a little strange, isn't it?"
The curved-blade user stared at him, eyes wide.
"N-no, I remembered wrong… It should've been…"
Before he could finish that excuse, he was cut off.
The clear sound of a blade being drawn rang out.
Under the disbelieving eyes of the crowd, Satoru had drawn the Crimson Sickle Fang and began walking toward him, step by step.
His face grew colder and colder.
His voice turned icy, like frozen steel.
"Who told you to say that?"
He pressed toward the curved-blade user slowly, unmistakable hostility in his gaze.
"Who told you to stir people up like that just now?"
"W-what are you doing?"
Startled by him, the curved-blade user backed away.
"I asked who told you to incite them. Was it some guy wearing a…"
"What incitement?! It's the truth!" the curved-blade user cried out sharply.
Satoru narrowed his eyes.
An orange-red glow began to gather.
Under the man's horrified stare, Satoru started to activate a sword skill.
For an instant, the people around them were reminded of the performance with which he had killed Baran. The surrounding crowd instinctively backed away.
"Yurnero-kun!"
Diavel rushed up from behind and grabbed him, speaking in alarm.
"Calm down a little. Did this atmosphere get to you too?"
"..."
"Put your weapon away for now."
Satoru glanced at the somewhat anxious Diavel. At a time like this, the most difficult role fell to him as the commander.
A moment later, Satoru sheathed his curved sword, but before the curved-blade user could catch his breath, his voice, which sounded anything but joking, drifted over again.
"Is that news about someone being harmed true or false?"
The frail curved-blade user froze for an instant.
"I, I just heard it from someone else…"
"True or false?"
"I, I don't know…"
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Diavel fell silent for a moment. The look he gave the man carried a deeper meaning. Then he turned back and gave Satoru a firm nod.
"I'll handle this properly."
"Nezha… is our comrade. And it was us who ordered him to do such a thing."
The words, held back until now, finally came from Orlando and the others, as if they had made up their minds.
They pushed through the crowd and walked into the center. One by one, they came to Nezha's side, removed their helmets, and knelt down together.
The crouched blacksmith trembled slightly.
"I'm sorry… let's bear this together."
Orlando spoke in a low voice, tinged with relief.
...
"Um, Nero, do you really have a friend named Tobios?"
They walked one in front of the other along the stairs leading to the Third Floor. From behind, Sheeta asked her question, causing Satoru to pause.
"Of course not. I was just bluffing that guy."
"You were really scary when you drew your sword back then."
"Uh… words alone aren't enough. Sometimes you need to act too," Satoru replied vaguely.
Feeling the girl's gaze from behind, and the hint of sadness in her voice, he grew a little uncomfortable and silently blamed himself again.
"What will happen to Nezha-san and Orlando-san after this?"
Sheeta quickly changed the topic as they continued climbing.
"They'll probably sell off their equipment for compensation and start over from scratch," Satoru said softly.
Then he suddenly stopped and turned around.
"And also, calling him Nezha is wrong."
"Hm?"
"If you're just reading it phonetically, that works. But NeZha is also Nezha."
"Is that…?" Sheeta tilted her head.
"It's the name of a young hero from the East. In China, where filial piety is highly valued, Nezha is a rare rebel. He killed a sea dragon, defied the gods, and even broke ties with his parents, doing something considered extremely disrespectful. Cutting his bones to return them to his father, cutting his flesh to return it to his mother."
"You could say he should have been used as a warning example for future generations… but in the end, his later story and transformation were so remarkable that he's still remembered as a hero."
"It's kind of surprising, right? That such a small blacksmith would use a name like that."
Sheeta nodded.
"But… what he did later did live up to that name, in a way."
"And what about you, Nero? Your name?"
"It's the name of a Blade Master."
"That's a hero's name too, right? Do you have that kind of ambition, Nero?"
"Ah… about that…"
Satoru gave a bitter smile, but didn't finish his sentence.
"Huh? You can't even beat me."
Sheeta suddenly said with a mischievous, slightly teasing grin.
"..."
"Well, it's better than a common name like yours. Sheeta? Sounds like a name straight out of a spreadsheet."
Satoru snorted and turned away, continuing up the steps.
Because of that, he didn't notice the faintly dim expression on the girl's face behind him.
"Oh, right. One more thing."
Without turning back, Satoru spoke softly.
"I should thank you for showing up back then."
The girl froze for a moment.
Then she smiled, bright and warm.
"It's okay. Nero saved me too. But now that this happened, we can party up together, right?"
Satoru scratched his head awkwardly.
"I don't mind."
After all, it's not really me leading you. It might end up being you leading me…
The girl behind him let out a soft laugh, quickened her pace, and came up beside him.
Together, they continued climbing toward the higher floors.