A crimson Salamander slowly stepped through the doorway. Behind him, the magnificent double stone doors he had pushed open were drawn shut by an invisible force, meeting with a clear, heavy crash. He lifted his foot again and walked forward step by step. In that vast, silent space, only his footsteps echoed.
Satoru walked unhurriedly to the very center and stood beneath the halo of light falling from the top of the dome. Bathed from head to toe in that lucid radiance, he raised his eyes and looked up.
The place was almost entirely sealed. Everything within sight lay in shadow. Such was the current state of this world's holy ground.
Riiip.
Amid the dust motes drifting in the light, translucent wings of blazing heat unfurled from his back.
The elves may not soar forever through the heavens. Aside from receiving the blessing of the Holy Elf, those who come here must display a devout heart and proud martial strength. That was one passage from the quest log for this Grand Quest.
Satoru's body slowly lifted from the snow-white floor.
A pilgrim's heart? I don't have one.
A thread of battle fever, eager and almost hungry, rose across his face.
But martial strength? I have a little of that.
Bzzzt-!!
Inside the beam of light piercing from floor to ceiling, he abruptly accelerated, shooting straight upward like a blade driven into the sky.
In that instant, the newly arrived Salamander revealed pure, undisguised fighting intent. His irreverent, violent action seemed to wake the guardians that had long been sleeping. Below his rising feet, the egg-shaped gray void began to ignite. From the bottom upward, white, molten radiance flashed one after another.
The dim sacred ground was set ablaze and turned into a trial arena bright as noon.
"They certainly know how to make an entrance," the Salamander said as he shot toward the ceiling.
A tremor spread through the space. The pure white, sacred ceiling began to churn with heat. Drop after drop of viscous liquid fell naturally with gravity, but the moment each drop separated, it transformed into a white humanoid soldier.
Snow-white armor enclosed a powerful body more than two meters tall. Rather than a humanized design, it looked like an austere mechanical knight. The place where its eyes should have been was covered by a layer of clear crystal, leaving no pupils at all, yet the gaze stabbing down from above felt far too real.
Four shining, holy wings opened from the white knight's back. Carrying the force of wind and thunder, it roared downward at the Salamander coming up to meet it.
The snow-white greatsword, so large it took both hands to grip, swung without mercy toward Satoru's neck.
Boom!!
Blazing sparks burst outward with a thunderous detonation.
The crystal over the snow-white knight's eyes lost its color, and its towering body broke apart. No, it was more accurate to say that enemy and weapon alike had been cut cleanly in two by a single stroke.
Its "corpse," the crystalline fragments of its "flesh and bone," scattered powerlessly around Satoru. The man who had killed a Guardian Knight in one blow casually caught one of its white wings, glanced at it, and tossed it aside without interest.
"Then let me, the Destroyer of Aincrad, give this World Tree a score."
Holding the slender scimitar in his right hand, he watched more White Knights appear overhead. Gold began to drift through his eyes.
It was almost possible to hear the savage roars of the White Knights that guarded the sacred site. They fell like a sudden downpour, unleashing invisible slashes at him as he hung alone in midair.
Satoru's wings beat once.
He charged upward with speed even more arrogant than before, showing no fear before the wall of knights above him. Compared to the mass of White Knights, he was too small to matter. Yet the instant his figure and blade touched that white, thunderous explosions and light shook the entire space.
Within his crimson wings, he cut through the knight formation like lightning. Each time that fierce red shadow flashed, it tore brutally through the white ranks.
"Come on-!"
His words, already beginning to burn, were swallowed at once by the humming dance of blades and the sound of White Knights shattering.
Charging straight into an enemy formation and letting himself be attacked from front and rear was bold, but it was also a grave taboo. When truly outnumbered, the first priority was to keep the enemy in front of you. That way, there were no worries behind you, and the space in front of you could not possibly hold every enemy at once. Dividing the number of opponents was the first consideration in a solo fight.
An experienced street thug had once said it.
If you are taking on a crowd alone, put your back to a wall and beat them one at a time as they come.
Now, however, he was not even on the ground. He was in the air. Sword edges came from every direction, as if he had been thrown into a meat grinder. Under normal circumstances, dozens of greatswords would pierce his body, and his virtual avatar would turn into the ash of death.
Unfortunately for them, the current him could now accomplish what had once been only a "theoretical situation."
What if, in the first second, he could sweep his gaze across the front, left, right, above, and below, then estimate the movement of the enemies behind him?
What if, in the second second, he could replay the scene several seconds ahead inside his mind and decide how to defend, counter, and strike back?
In the third second, he would select the best method.
Stand ahead, and place his thinking ahead of his opponent. That had once been the way he survived, the way he fought. And now, he had truly accelerated his consciousness beyond the future of the battlefield.
This was invincibility.
Satoru's golden eyes spun with a speed close to collapse, taking in everything around him. Then, as if he had known it beforehand, he shifted aside and let the greatsword stabbing from behind pass by. The scimitar in his right hand came down, severing the sword-bearing arm, while his foot lashed out and sent the White Knight attacking from behind flying.
Several ownerless greatswords still carried the momentum of their thrusts. With exquisite precision, his left hand caught the severed arm and pushed it forward.
The White Knight in front of the greatsword was viciously impaled by its ally's weapon and fell.
After briefly clearing the threats before and behind him, he hurled his scimitar to one side. A White Knight was knocked into a brief stun by the impact, and the rebounding blade returned to Satoru's hand with eerie accuracy. He dove after it, aimed at the chest of the White Knight frozen for an instant, drove the scimitar in, twisted, and cut sideways through its waist.
The scimitar emerged from the White Knight's side. He grabbed the upper half of the bisected knight and flung it to the right like trash, using it to block the remaining attacks.
"Again-!"
Restless battle intent flashed in his golden eyes. He charged into one edge of the knight formation, and the wings behind him spun open like red lotus thorns.
His long blade pierced straight through an enemy's chest. Using that pitiful White Knight as a shield, he forced his way brutally forward. He let the scimitar remain lodged in the knight's chest and fall away, then caught the wrists of another knight almost within arm's reach and guided its strength in front of him.
An enemy greatsword blocked an enemy greatsword, while another enemy's greatsword cut through the enemy's wrists.
Just like that, he seized a White Knight's weapon with effortless flair, and his thanks to its former owner was to lop off its head with one stroke.
"Again-!"
Ignoring the seemingly endless sea of knights above him, he gave only a proud, reckless roar.
ALO was a game that placed extreme weight on technique. Its barrier to entry was high, and its ceiling was just as high. Increases in level and skill proficiency offered almost no dramatic improvement in damage. Its physics engine also tried to remain realistic while supporting aerial combat. That was why, even with low character stats, his attacks were still effective against the White Knights around the World Tree.
This was a virtual game closer to reality. What players could train were reflexes and muscle memory, not enormous Strength and Agility values gained by simply completing quests.
But in the end, it was still a virtual game. Precisely because of that, it allowed a terrifying player like him to exist.
Without level-based damage restrictions, he did not need to spend any more time leveling.
When it came down to it, combat was nothing more than avoiding attacks, hitting the enemy, or simply making sure the enemy died before you did.
So don't say I'm just going full Musou here.
Because what I'm doing is simple.
He opened his golden eyes wide and looked at the tide of White Knights. The scene was like a giant wave crashing down on a single pebble.
I'm only dodging and cutting you all down.
He held the seized white greatsword in both hands. Unfortunately, the weapon demanded a certain Strength value. It was not unusable, but every swing felt painfully heavy. He charged into the enemy formation again and opened a sword dance against the crowd like a berserker. Amid a skin-crawling series of impacts, even the white greatsword shattered into fragments.
His fingers spread, and a jingling window flashed open.
He gripped the long blade and longsword that appeared in his two hands and laughed low in his throat.
Everything before his eyes moved slowly, like bullet time. Countless openings appeared. But that sensation was probably only the result of his thinking speed becoming too fast to explain.
And in fact, that was how it looked from the outside.
His fiery-red hair and wings had become crimson lightning, sharp, keen, and lethal as they cut through the white glow. The Salamander drifted among countless sword tips, thrusting the weapons in his hands with perfect precision. In the same second, he could take down two White Knights. He was like the most efficient cleaner imaginable, and every movement left a trace that could be followed.
With another crisp sound, the weapons in his hands shattered again after their durability was exhausted.
But before that happened, he had already opened the window. With a reverse grip, he seamlessly caught a fresh pair of weapons.
If anyone else had really been watching, they would probably think the game operators were playing a joke.
"Hm...?"
Satoru's godlike speed faltered for an instant. He turned his head and saw, through the dense gaps between the White Knights, new knights materializing all around the walls. They did not rush in blindly. Instead, both hands extended forward, they formed ring after ring of circles in the air.
Ranged support types that use spells?
As expected of a Grand Quest. It was not that simple.
Otherwise, if he spent enough time and kept his focus... No, that would not work either. The number of weapons he carried would not last that long.
He continued harvesting the endless White Knights with mad intensity, but the thought of retreat had already begun to form.
He had more or less learned the difficulty anyway.
His attack stopped abruptly. He withdrew, casually slipping past a beam of polar daylight that missed him by only half a meter, and silently watched a White Knight split apart under its ally's spell attack.
"It would be too much trouble to fight my way back." He glanced at the doorway far below on the ground, sighed, and released both weapons. "And I'm getting a little tired."
His forehead was already starting to throb.
"I'll give this life to all of you diligent workers."
He folded his arms. His eyes, returned to a calm black, watched unmoved as the White Knights charged madly toward him.
The next second, Satoru, offering no resistance at all, was pierced in midair by greatswords from every direction. His character's HP fell to zero almost instantly.
His vision turned black and white.
After paying the price of several hundred White Knights, they finally executed him. The mindless soldiers withdrew their hands in unison, ignored the flame of his soul hanging in the air, and all returned.
Satoru watched the respawn countdown.
Then he sent a short message.
"All right. Come revive me."
"I'm at the entrance. Coming now. That was faster than expected. You were only in there for about ten minutes, right? Did you really figure out the mechanics?"
"It's stable. If this is how it works, we can break through the World Tree in fifteen minutes."
"Hoho? We?"
"Instead of using all those first kills for publicity, why not go for a full clear?"
"You really are different from Grannis. You have a noble fighter's soul! Wait there! I'll make the arrangements right now!"
"Then I'll leave it to you."
He smiled helplessly.
"Boss."