17.1 Hanzou, and Diabel
The Twentieth Floor. In terms of layout, it was a series of atolls in an ocean. Or rather, the Floor itself was a sea, containing atolls from what would have been the ocean if it wasn’t fenced in by the walls of the Floor.
Islands shaped like large thin donuts, scattered roughly across the entirety of the Floor. They were like mountains that rose up from the seabed, the true base of the Floor, and then collapsed in the middle, holding a lagoon, like a cup of water placed in a saucepan. The actual land rising above the seawater was like the rim of the cup, a ring of coral, rock, and sand that was colonized by hardy palm trees from coconuts that had drifted across the sea.
The largest and most irregular island was the one right in the middle. Shaped like an exaggerated crescent, the only Safe Zone large enough to be called a town, let alone a city, sat on the fattest part of the lump, opposite where the island thinned out to open onto the sea. The equipment was poor and expensive, the metal-starved populace of the Safe Zone unable to compete with the gear that could be purchased from other Floors, from other places. However, there were several NPC tutors that taught a new skill that was an offshoot of the Building Construction Rules; that skill was [Boatbuilding]. By default, they mostly taught how to make small boats out of wood from coconut trees.
Compared to the lagoon that opened onto the sea, then, it was fairly obvious how the developers broadly intended Players to interact with the Floor. Build a canoe in the lagoon, get comfortable piloting it, and then strike out onto the [Ocean], sailing from atoll to atoll, looking for [Adventures], whether that be [Quests], valuable and rare mats, or [Dungeons] up to and including the [Floor Dungeon].
Generally speaking, most of the Clearing Guilds were even moving in kind of that direction. Well, the Divine Dragon Alliance had reduced the size of the canoes as much as possible, until what they had built instead were more like surfboards or even water-skis, but combined with their weight-reduction and jetpack spellcraft, that still resulted in high-speed movement across the bay.
Meanwhile, the Fuurinkazan had gone the opposite route and imported a vast amount of raw material from other Floors, and were prototyping something that was more like a military cruiser than a yacht, let alone a mere canoe.
And, then there were the Fuumaningun.
Hanzou dashed, racing with his head down and his arms out behind him, feet pushing off the very surface of the water as he sprinted towards the island that was become more visible as he drew near. Reducing the air resistance by gently parting the air to slip his body through, by carefully managing how the air gathered in his wake without creating a partial vacuum to suck against his back; that kind of action was already instinctive. But by drawing the air beneath him, compressing it and sliding it along the surface of the water before him, by moving at high enough speed that the surface tension of the water would provide enough resistance to his legs; adding those tricks allowed him to actualize the dream of running on water.
The beach was coming close. Hanzou frowned, focusing. He no longer needed to babysit his stamina bar, making sure that he didn’t deplete it too quickly so that he had to stop, catching his breath while floating. It wasn’t so hard to carry an emergency flotation vest to prevent drowning, but getting back up to speed afterwards was annoying. And more importantly, it wasn’t cool enough for being a ninja.
And the last challenge awaited him. When he got close to shore, and the waves broke against the rocks, those waves he was striding across became treacherous footing. It wasn’t a big deal in the sense that if he wiped out here, all he had to do was swim the last ten-odd meters, then find his footing on the sea floor and walk among the waves up onto the beach. But, it was still undignified, as a ninja. Diving beneath the surface and going ashore from underwater for the last stretch to sneak onto the beach was fine in terms of dignity though, but right now he was really trying to challenge himself.
So Hanzou focused, dashing forward, surging ahead. More speed allowed him more flexibility in terms of firmly stepping off the water, but it gave him less time to react to unexpected problems. Like the wave in front breaking early-!
Hanzou grunted, attempting to push off a third of a step earlier than his stride, an ungainly motion. Unable to recover his steps, he tumbled, pitching forward. Accepting the inevitable, he tucked, pushing forward into a roll, so that he would slip along the water as he cut through, instead of simply crashing into it.
The waves caught around him, cutting off his eyes with saltwater, filling his ears with the roar of the waves, and plunging his extrasensory perception of the air around him into the chaos of the froth and surf. Remaining calm, Hanzou rolled once more, recovered his bearings from the sense of down, and then pushed forwards towards the beach, swimming smoothly for three strokes, before the wave broke as it passed backwards across his shoulders and back out to sea. Then, he put his feet beneath him, found the sandy ground, and walked forward towards the beach and the land.
As he crossed the threshold of the tide, stepping from the moist smooth sand onto the dryer, choppier sand of the dunes, an enormous crab popped out of the ground, the red HP Bar of a mob appearing above it. It screeched an angry challenge.
Hanzou reacted instantly, juking sideways in a feint, then dashing forward to jump, placing an axekick against the joint of the claw reaching towards him. And even as he kicked, he gathered the wind around his leg. But the method was a little different. His hand reached behind himself, grabbing the hilt of the knife that was tucked at the small of his back. Although he had never once drawn it and fought with it, that blade was the strongest and best weapon to ever cross his palm, a sword that the [Sixth Ranger] had crafted personally for him.
Hanzou’s magic worked by pouring his prana into the air around him and lightly taking hold of the individual molecules of air, and binding them to his will. It was hard for him to explain, but it was like cupping his hand to hold a pool of water in his palm, rather than trying to firmly grasp it in his fist, where it would simply leak between his fingers. Alternatively, it was like reaching out with his hand to push against water to swim. That kind of motion, but even lighter, more ephemeral, because it was the [Air].
But this sword allowed him to do something else. A [Mystic Code], such that when he used it as a conduit, flowing prana through it before sending it out to grab and manipulate the [Air] around him, a new trait was added. It was still air, a wind created from his imagination, but it was definitely as sharp and piercing as a [Sword] as well.
Thus, he poured prana into his sword, circulated the prana that came out the other end of the sword into the air around him, gathered it like syrup around his leg, and then his leg whipped out and down, an axe-kick that was surrounded by air as sharp and powerful as the axe of a giant.
The claw was cleanly severed from the body of the crab, and the sand beneath was driven down and parted, a giant wedge of air that was yet somehow hard blasting into it. And that blurry instant when the air was still air but also as hard and sharp as a steel axe, Hanzou took double advantage by stepping strongly off the back of that axehead, using it as a foothold to jump even higher, leaping up and over the back of the crab.
It was a clean front flip, Hanzou’s legs tucked against his chest, before curling and tensing powerfully. At the top of the arc, he arched his back, one hand against his chest in a guard, the other hand still behind his back, gripping the blade that was tucked there.
And kicked down. This time, rather than an axe, it was a ferocious spear. Hanzou used the reaction to flip himself around, pushing himself up as he thrust down with another spear of air. A third, a fourth, a fifth time, before he grimaced, tumbling and slipping, losing control as he couldn’t maintain the rhythm, falling to the side. He tucked, recovering as he came in for a landing, putting himself into a crouch. As soon as he hit, he lunged, sprinting sideways and around to get behind the enemy, purely out of habit.
He realized he didn’t need to have bothered. The enemy HP bar was already empty, and with a chittering cry that was as much frustrated as angry, it disappeared into pixels.
Hanzou grimaced. He still couldn’t maintain himself in the air indefinitely, juggling himself off the reaction of spears he launched ground-wards. In terms of actual application it wasn’t really that useful, since having to maintain altitude like that considerably reduced his functional mobility. It left him exposed to ranged attacks from a hypothetical third party. And since many mobs traveled in packs, it wasn’t like that third party was really all that hypothetical.
No, it was more that he still needed to get to a position of absolute control. The reaction force from using his blades of wind was still a little off-balance. His ultimate goal was to make it into something like a cloak, a barrier of wind that wrapped around him and cut everything within two-three meters. But he couldn’t maintain it, and his body reactions to the pushback from the blades still wasn’t at the level of instinct.
In terms of raw DPS, the best and most reliable thing to do was something like the [Aura of Blades]. Hanzou was still working on details, including the exact name. Of course it would be something involving a [Kamaitachi]. He closed his eyes, breathing out as he took control of his heart-rate.
It was quiet. The waves crashed against the beach behind him, the distinct sound of water rushing which built up, until it smoothly broke and churned against itself as it broke against the sand. Distantly, far away, he could hear waves breaking against a rocky cliff. It had the same rhythm, but it was somehow more ferocious, more abrupt.
The air around him was also moving, a subtle hint of the back-and-forth of the waves, but mostly a smooth breeze from the east, a constant caress of air carrying the tang of salt. He could taste it on the air, but also from the water that had soaked him from his failed dive. Well, the warmth of the sun beating steadily down, a cloudless sky, meant the water was quickly evaporating out of his clothes, leaving behind the hint of salt-crust, a mild discomfort that broke the perfect luxury of standing on a tropical beach, listening to the wind. (Of course he had disabled the BGM; only psychopaths left it on after the first week.)
Hanzou was happy.
The thought came to him suddenly, but it had a truth to its suddenness. His days were interesting and fun. He went out and explored places like this tropical paradise. Rather than a [Game], the immersion was perfect. It wasn’t just that the water was a perfect simulation, that felt and sounded and maybe even tasted exactly like water IRL. It was because they were trapped in a bona fide [Death Game] that the immersion was never broken by logging out.
Should he feel guilty about enjoying the [Death Game]? It wasn’t that he felt guilty about being permanently logged in; that wasn’t his fault, and anyway, he had maintained an appropriate ratio of game-time to IRL obligations all the way into college. Well, he’d have to retake that semester and restart the year, but whatever.
No, he felt a little guilty because it felt wrong to derive satisfaction from being trapped in a [Death Game]. Hanzou was one of the elite, a Front Liner. A [Ninja] that served their great master, Diabel-sama.
…And, it was only because the morality was black-and-white that it was so easy and simple to throw himself into roleplaying as a [Loyal Ninja]. It had been a way to deal with fear. The guild Fuumanin had been strangers that enjoyed playing games the same way, they hadn’t really been true companions. They weren’t… nakama, not really. So putting a layer of ninja roleplay over it, talking about Service and all that, had been a way to obliquely talk about putting their lives on the line.
And somewhere along the line… it had become real. It was like doublethink, sometimes. Pretending to be a ninja, but remembering he was actually a college student, thinking about a Sengoku period that probably wasn’t even like that in the first place. But it was easier to stay in character. The emotions were becoming more real. Believing in the Guild, in each other. Hanzou trusted them, Isamu and Kotarou and Sanada. More than he’d trusted anyone. And it was easy to believe in the [Mission], too. In Clearing the Game. In serving Diablel-sama.
But Diabel-sama could only be pure white, pure good, because he defined himself opposing an existence that had dyed himself jet black, pure evil. Kayaba Akihiko. It was because Kayaba made things so simple, and that Diabel was competent and charismatic enough to rise up to that; if it wasn’t that simple, then Hanzou might feel a little uncomfortable pretending to be someone else’s unquestioning minion. Like he could become complicit.
But he would die for them. For his people, and for his master.
And it was good.
I I I
Diabel smiled. It was very difficult not to look too smug, especially when Lind’s scowl deepened. He nodded at her slightly, and then turned his attention across the others, leaning back into his chair.
It was extremely comfortable. Diabel made a mental note to ask the new boy about getting one for his office.
“Thank you for all attending the meeting.” He said. “This will be a typical Dungeon Finding Meeting. Based on the raw numbers, we’ve surveyed 60% of the surface area of the Twentieth Floor. To date, there have been no Dungeons discovered, but of course this is the forum to announce otherwise. And on that note, I yield the Floor to Ilya-san of the [BSM] for the first report.”
In front of him was a heavy circular table, with a pitched depression in the middle shaped like a bowl. Well, rather than “like a bowl”, it might be better to say it was a bowl, a steel hemisphere that you could pour water into. Around the depression, there was a rim of hardwood that was nearly a meter wide.
With a gesture, Diabel tapped his menu, activating the table. Lights and runes glowed in the surface, blinking intermittently. Above the bowl, a holographic circle appeared, floating in the air a few inches above the rim. It was a default map of the Floor, showing the Edge that circled around it, with a tiny marking for the big island they were on and the bit of sea that was [Visible] from where he stood, a marker for the [Safe Zone] they were in popping up above it. Resetting his map data for the Floor still felt instinctively wrong, but it was worth it for the theater of it all.
“Un!” Ilya said, nodding her head imperiously as she surveyed them. She was sitting directly across from Diabel; if he was at noon, then she was at six. That put Lind to his left at three, and Thinker to his right at nine. The new boy, who Diabel really needed to address as [Keita] even in his own head, was beside Ilya at about seven o’clock, just to Ilya’s left. His Guild, the [Moonlit Black Cats], had made their debut as a satellite guild of the BSM, and been formally granted the status of [Front Liners]. Well, Diabel privately had doubts they were actually going to contribute much in terms of scouting.
She triumphantly tapped her menu, sending the map data out to everyone around the table. As it was appended to Diabel’s, the table automatically updated, the blank gray of some of the floor fading to blue as if mist was being blown away, threading out towards several islands.
“Silica-chan and Kuradeel-kun are both making excellent use of familiars to explore the islands and lagoons!” Ilya reported. “The guild is focusing on supporting them as they quickly map areas from the sea and the sky!” And here her smile became a little more real, a little more predatory. “And of course, Rosalia-chan is our secret trump for finding new islands!”
“Excellent.” Diabel replied genially. Well, that was the BSM for you. Silica-kun’s big freaky sharks and Kuradeel-kun’s creepy crocodile-things could cover a lot of ground, and Rosalia’s [Rare Element] apparently allowed her to directly look clear across the Floor. But at the same time, not one of them had bothered with the [Boatbuilding] skill, so their basic mobility on this floor was terrible. Well, from Diabel’s position it was beneficial that they were bad-to-mediocre at things they couldn’t use their [Rare Elements] for.
Or rather, Keita’s group had been working on it, but they simply hadn’t moved fast enough compared to more experienced Clearing Guilds. Diabel hoped they wouldn’t get too discouraged; he made a mental note to talk to the boy – Keita – and encourage him. And maybe get his own hooks in Keita, as well, to pull him into Diabel’s orbit once Ilya did something sufficiently Ilya.
Well, compared to the meeting he was running that was a digression, so Diabel shelved the thought for the moment. “Thank you, Ilya. Next, I hope that Lind will provide us with an update on her activities.”
“Yes.” Lind said. “I’m proud to say that we of the [DDA] completed the mapping of the first 20% of the Floor.” Diabel appreciated that she didn’t take every opportunity to brag about how the DDA did things. “We are of course ready to assist in the mapping of any remaining islands.”
With a slightly imperious gesture, Lind tapped her menu, sending out her map data. A good-sized wedge of water popped into appearance, spreading outwards from the island they were on.
The DDA hadn’t found any dungeons. Diabel felt slightly conflicted about that. For the Front Line as a whole it was a disappointment, but conversely, it wouldn’t be great for their group dynamics if the DDA were the ones that discovered the Boss Dungeon again.
“Thank you, Lind.” Diabel complimented. “And of course, speaking on behalf of both myself and the Fuumanin, we completed an additional 20% of the raw Floor survey ourselves.”
Beside him, at the eleven o’clock position, Sanada nodded stiffly, almost a bow, as he pressed the button to update the map from his menu. He was working on some kind of spell (Diabel only knew it was named [Whale Meat], everything else was a Ninja Secret apparently); since he was focusing on that, Hanzou had dispatched him as a stand-in while Hanzou himself kept Scouting.
“And of course, the heroes of the hour.” Diabel said, turning to his left.
“A-ha-ha-ha!” Klein said, laughing as he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “It’s only thanks to how great all the guys in the Guild are that we got this far!”
Diabel had privately thought it was a little cute. Fuurinkazan had been building bigger and bigger boats, crossing the line to where you really had to properly call them ships, and that had awakened Kibaou’s lightly-sleeping competitive streak. So now Diabel had an office in a mobile base that would be better to call a floating fortress.Kibaou had been so smug when the hull that the Fuurinkazan had built exploded, and they’d been in the lead, Kibaou hadn’t even thought to ask what the devil they were doing that would make a ship explode.
Klein smiled, and spoke. “Since we got the rocket engine to work, I’m proud to announce that [Boaty McBoatface 3] has allowed us to bring the Floor Map to approximately 90% complete!” With that, he reached out and tapped a button on his menu, and the entirety of the map appeared, the fog blown away from all the water, showing only little pools trapped inside the lagoons of the islands dotted around, clearly delineated.
Yes. While Kibaou had focused on building something really big, the Fuurinkazan had focused on building something that could go really fast. When they’d started up the second one, and the engine didn’t immediately explode, so instead the thing took off and rose out of the water and started surfing along on hydrofoils, he’d been amazed, somewhere between awed and just bemused at their raw audacity. Then it spun out of control and slammed into the water and shattered into pieces, the rocket engine wildly corkscrewing end-over-end until it flew off towards the day-after-tomorrow.
But the third one apparently had worked the way it was supposed to. They’d all watched the Fuurinkazan depart in triumph to start mapping yesterday morning, after the test voyage didn’t end in total destruction.
They’d even painted the damn thing red, and come on, wasn’t that overkill. And what was with that stupid naming sense anyway, at least give it something cool rather than half-heatedly recycling some old meme! Ah, Kibaou, your furious rants are the best.
Diabel coolly kept his private amusement off his face while Klein continued talking. “We’ve charted the location of all the islands, two of which have large ruins that probably indicate dungeons, and another two that have strange characteristics in their central lagoons!”
“That’s excellent news.” Diabel complemented, meaning it. Privately he had serious reservations about actually riding that thing over as transport to the islands in question, but that was beside the point. He still gratefully accepted the mapping data when Klein transferred it over, though.
“Klein, for which potential dungeon would you like to call dibs?” Diabel asked. It was the rule of Floor Mapping meetings; everyone shared their mapping data, but if a Guild found a potential Floor Dungeon, they had the right of first entry to explore it. Getting there had taken some gymnastics on Diabel’s part, but it was the right mix of openness and maintained advantage, to produce the optimal outcome.
“Hmm.” Klein said, frowning as he considered it. Well, obviously he would have already decided, but speaking too quickly would, equally obviously, be crass.
“I think we’ll take this one.” Klein said, nodding to himself as he pointed at the map, a blinking marker appearing over one of the Islands with [Ruins].
“I wish you luck.” Diabel courteously answered. “Lind, as your Guild achieved [Second Place], I believe it would be appropriate for you to take the second pick.” Yes, since Klein had discovered four [Potential Dungeons] and there were four Front Liner factions, that was the best way to play it.
“Hmm.” Lind frowned, leaning back as she considered it. “If you’re offering, then we’ll take this one.” She tapped her menu, and an icon appeared over one of the non-Ruin islands. An interesting choice; Diabel would have thought she’d have gone for the last one with Ruins.
“Hm hm hm!” Ilya laughed, before crossing her arms. “Well, we’ll take this one, then!” She said, selecting the one with Ruins that Klein had not picked. Diabel felt annoyed that Ilya had jumped ahead of the sequence; her [Raid Group] had been in last place, after all, in terms of mapped area. Well, it wasn’t really worth making a fuss over, since she hadn’t actually challenged his authority directly.
“An interesting choice.” Diabel said, with wry amusement. Yes, that barely-patronizing tone was perfect. A little too subtle for Ilya to notice, but enough to indicate his feelings to the other Guild Leaders. “Very well, I believe that my [Group] shall take this one.” Diabel indicated with his own marker. He had almost said ‘the last one’ but that would have undermined his vague condescension towards Ilya. It was annoying that she made these kinds of power games necessary.
“If that is all?” He said, glancing around the table. “Very well. I will send the results to Argo for publication, and thank you for attending. The next meeting will be called when the Floor Boss Dungeon is conclusively identified. Meeting adjourned.”
He stood, and nodded briefly to Sanada, who left so quickly it might be better to say he escaped. None of the Fuumanin were good with participating in these kinds of meetings. It was a little too modern for them to have a reliable way of roleplaying, Diabel thought. Well, that was an advantage in its own way, he didn’t want them getting too deep into it.
He made eye contact with Thinker, and jerked his head to the side. The other man raised an eyebrow, but also nodded slightly. Good.
Diabel smiled and exchanged pleasantries with Lind. It was as coldly formal as always, but the outright hostility wasn’t there anymore. He’d win the woman over yet.
After that, it was time to gladhand Klein a little bit. That was more exhausting in a sense; Klein didn’t have much skill at manipulating the conversation, but his empathy and emotional intuition were both excellent, so handling him required Diabel’s utmost ability. But in another sense, it was relieving because Klein was an honestly good person, so all Diabel had to do to play it safe was point Klein at problems that his Guild were best-suited to handle.
He still used Klein as a sacrifice to distract Ilya so he could quietly leave though.
“Walk with me.” Diabel said to Thinker, as he turned and strode away from the meeting place. He’d send one of his people to retrieve the furniture later. Oh, and he should write down his mental notes while they were still fresh, including his action items. Talk with Keita; encouragement and ask for a chair. He needed to decide on his angle. Ask Kibaou for an update on the boat. Tell Godfree about the Dungeon and have him organize teams. Send the meeting data to Argo.
“It’s a regular tropical paradise.” Thinker said, beside him. Thinker was walking along with his hands clasped behind his back, looking around and taking in the scenery.
Diabel paused, looking up. It was true. Sunny and hot, deep-blue waves crashing against white sand beaches. He looked at Thinker, weighing his options, and decided to be mostly honest.
“It bothers me.” Diabel said.
“What, because the whole Floor is practically a Beach Episode?” Thinker said, with a leading expression, his eyebrow up again. His smile was a touch mocking, deliberately nervous.
So Thinker saw that too, huh. Good. “Yes.” Diabel simply replied. “And the beach episode is always a bit of filler, of low-pressure fluff, before the anime ramps up towards the climax arc of Season One.”
“You’re talking about the Twenty-Fifth Floor?” Thinker asked. “I have to admit it bothers me, as well.” He looked around. “I’m glad the monsters are weak, though. This place is going to be a popular Floor to visit for the Mid and Rear Lines.”
Diabel had considered that only in the most distant senses. “Can I leave it to you to consider the implications and practicalities of that?” He said.
Thinker nodded confidently. “Yes, I will look after it.”
Diabel smiled, picking up the pace. They were near a beach. “That’s good.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and they broke through the palm trees, the not-quite path they had followed opening up as they came out onto a rocky beach facing the ocean.
“There’s something else that bothers me.” Diabel admitted.
“Go on.” Thinker encouraged. Diabel wasn’t sure whether he was honestly trying to share his fears with a friend, or using that as a motif to bind Thinker to him as a confidante. Diabel supposed it didn’t really matter which way it was in his mind.
“I don’t like that [Water Levels] are a thing now.” Diabel admitted. “We’ve had an Ice Floor where the cold was a serious challenge, and now a Water Floor that requires boating. It’s….” He hesitated. He put on a show of hesitating. He had gotten ahead of himself and hadn’t planned his words.
“It feels like the game is changing genres, you mean?” Thinker said. “That [Sword Art Online] was supposed to be a combat MMO, about [Sword Arts] whatever that meant exactly. And now there’s all kinds of things showing up, from base-building to these strangely realistic environmental challenges.”
“Yes.” Diabel said, smiling to show his appreciation for Thinker’s articulation. “Yes, but what makes me nervous about it is extrapolating. What kind of environmental challenges will we have on the Sixtieth Floor?”
“Hmm.” Thinker grunted, one hand coming up to rub his chin. “In the sense that we run up against something that’s unbalanced, an impossible challenge?”
“Something that breaks our momentum.” Diabel replied. “The whole social system we have is built around climbing Aincrad, of Clearing Floors. I’m respected as the Leader of the Front Line because my management makes Clearing faster and more efficient. Without that legitimacy, we’d fracture into chaos.”
“And the structure of the Mid and Rear Lines would break down, as well.” Thinker agreed. “Without a [Front Line], there’s nothing to orient off of to say there even is a Mid or Rear.” Thinker nodded again. “But you know what? That’s all hypothetical anyway. And I think you’d be able to handle it just fine.”
There was a folder in Diabel’s inbox that had exactly one PM in it. Diabel honestly lived in dread of a second one.
Should he share that burden? Diabel searched Thinker’s face, examining the man that he had designated his successor. Above all others, this was the man that needed to know the critical importance of maintaining forward momentum. Thinker believed in him. Diabel could tell. It would be delicate, but he’d already broadly planned this conversation. And Diabel decided.
“Thank you.” Diabel said instead, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m relieved to hear that.”
It wasn’t that Diabel was afraid of the outcome of that conversation. It wasn’t even that he was afraid that Kayaba would retaliate; he could edge into that discussion with oblique warnings. Thinker was technologically savvy enough for that to work. From an institutional integrity standpoint, it would be the correct thing to make Thinker aware of the threat. It was the logical thing to do.
But Diabel allowed himself to be a little greedy, and a little jealous. He would maintain his position as the only one that knew, for at least a little longer. The measures and communications he had that would trigger in the case of his death were sufficient anyway. So for at least a little longer, he would allow himself to be special.
“I’m going to head back.” Thinker said. Diabel appreciated that; the other man could sense that he wanted to be alone.
“Thank you.” Diabel replied. “I’ll be along shortly. Tell Yulier I said hello.”
Thinker grunted in embarrassment as he waved without looking back.
And Diabel turned, looking out across the tops of waves crashing against the rocky shore, as he contemplated. Looking beyond the horizon, beyond the wholeness of the game, as he considered the motivations and desires of a stranger he’d never spoken with.
What did Kayaba want?
End
1) After ten thousand years…! It’s not like I’ve been that busy, really, or anything. It’s just that I got out of the habit of writing at the turn of the year because of how my calendar worked out, and then… well, I’m trying to get back into the habit of writing is the important takeaway for you folks.
2) I was originally planning to start this chapter checking in with Hexadecimal, but I decided it worked better to swap that later in the chapter and open 17 with this bit.
3) That being said, rather than Hanzou and Diabel talking, it was more like each of them doing their own thing? I question whether the division worked out quite right. It’s been so long I’m not confident I got back into their heads correctly either LOL, I had to go back and reread a lot.
4) Now with threadmarks!
The Twentieth Floor. In terms of layout, it was a series of atolls in an ocean. Or rather, the Floor itself was a sea, containing atolls from what would have been the ocean if it wasn’t fenced in by the walls of the Floor.
Islands shaped like large thin donuts, scattered roughly across the entirety of the Floor. They were like mountains that rose up from the seabed, the true base of the Floor, and then collapsed in the middle, holding a lagoon, like a cup of water placed in a saucepan. The actual land rising above the seawater was like the rim of the cup, a ring of coral, rock, and sand that was colonized by hardy palm trees from coconuts that had drifted across the sea.
The largest and most irregular island was the one right in the middle. Shaped like an exaggerated crescent, the only Safe Zone large enough to be called a town, let alone a city, sat on the fattest part of the lump, opposite where the island thinned out to open onto the sea. The equipment was poor and expensive, the metal-starved populace of the Safe Zone unable to compete with the gear that could be purchased from other Floors, from other places. However, there were several NPC tutors that taught a new skill that was an offshoot of the Building Construction Rules; that skill was [Boatbuilding]. By default, they mostly taught how to make small boats out of wood from coconut trees.
Compared to the lagoon that opened onto the sea, then, it was fairly obvious how the developers broadly intended Players to interact with the Floor. Build a canoe in the lagoon, get comfortable piloting it, and then strike out onto the [Ocean], sailing from atoll to atoll, looking for [Adventures], whether that be [Quests], valuable and rare mats, or [Dungeons] up to and including the [Floor Dungeon].
Generally speaking, most of the Clearing Guilds were even moving in kind of that direction. Well, the Divine Dragon Alliance had reduced the size of the canoes as much as possible, until what they had built instead were more like surfboards or even water-skis, but combined with their weight-reduction and jetpack spellcraft, that still resulted in high-speed movement across the bay.
Meanwhile, the Fuurinkazan had gone the opposite route and imported a vast amount of raw material from other Floors, and were prototyping something that was more like a military cruiser than a yacht, let alone a mere canoe.
And, then there were the Fuumaningun.
Hanzou dashed, racing with his head down and his arms out behind him, feet pushing off the very surface of the water as he sprinted towards the island that was become more visible as he drew near. Reducing the air resistance by gently parting the air to slip his body through, by carefully managing how the air gathered in his wake without creating a partial vacuum to suck against his back; that kind of action was already instinctive. But by drawing the air beneath him, compressing it and sliding it along the surface of the water before him, by moving at high enough speed that the surface tension of the water would provide enough resistance to his legs; adding those tricks allowed him to actualize the dream of running on water.
The beach was coming close. Hanzou frowned, focusing. He no longer needed to babysit his stamina bar, making sure that he didn’t deplete it too quickly so that he had to stop, catching his breath while floating. It wasn’t so hard to carry an emergency flotation vest to prevent drowning, but getting back up to speed afterwards was annoying. And more importantly, it wasn’t cool enough for being a ninja.
And the last challenge awaited him. When he got close to shore, and the waves broke against the rocks, those waves he was striding across became treacherous footing. It wasn’t a big deal in the sense that if he wiped out here, all he had to do was swim the last ten-odd meters, then find his footing on the sea floor and walk among the waves up onto the beach. But, it was still undignified, as a ninja. Diving beneath the surface and going ashore from underwater for the last stretch to sneak onto the beach was fine in terms of dignity though, but right now he was really trying to challenge himself.
So Hanzou focused, dashing forward, surging ahead. More speed allowed him more flexibility in terms of firmly stepping off the water, but it gave him less time to react to unexpected problems. Like the wave in front breaking early-!
Hanzou grunted, attempting to push off a third of a step earlier than his stride, an ungainly motion. Unable to recover his steps, he tumbled, pitching forward. Accepting the inevitable, he tucked, pushing forward into a roll, so that he would slip along the water as he cut through, instead of simply crashing into it.
The waves caught around him, cutting off his eyes with saltwater, filling his ears with the roar of the waves, and plunging his extrasensory perception of the air around him into the chaos of the froth and surf. Remaining calm, Hanzou rolled once more, recovered his bearings from the sense of down, and then pushed forwards towards the beach, swimming smoothly for three strokes, before the wave broke as it passed backwards across his shoulders and back out to sea. Then, he put his feet beneath him, found the sandy ground, and walked forward towards the beach and the land.
As he crossed the threshold of the tide, stepping from the moist smooth sand onto the dryer, choppier sand of the dunes, an enormous crab popped out of the ground, the red HP Bar of a mob appearing above it. It screeched an angry challenge.
Hanzou reacted instantly, juking sideways in a feint, then dashing forward to jump, placing an axekick against the joint of the claw reaching towards him. And even as he kicked, he gathered the wind around his leg. But the method was a little different. His hand reached behind himself, grabbing the hilt of the knife that was tucked at the small of his back. Although he had never once drawn it and fought with it, that blade was the strongest and best weapon to ever cross his palm, a sword that the [Sixth Ranger] had crafted personally for him.
Hanzou’s magic worked by pouring his prana into the air around him and lightly taking hold of the individual molecules of air, and binding them to his will. It was hard for him to explain, but it was like cupping his hand to hold a pool of water in his palm, rather than trying to firmly grasp it in his fist, where it would simply leak between his fingers. Alternatively, it was like reaching out with his hand to push against water to swim. That kind of motion, but even lighter, more ephemeral, because it was the [Air].
But this sword allowed him to do something else. A [Mystic Code], such that when he used it as a conduit, flowing prana through it before sending it out to grab and manipulate the [Air] around him, a new trait was added. It was still air, a wind created from his imagination, but it was definitely as sharp and piercing as a [Sword] as well.
Thus, he poured prana into his sword, circulated the prana that came out the other end of the sword into the air around him, gathered it like syrup around his leg, and then his leg whipped out and down, an axe-kick that was surrounded by air as sharp and powerful as the axe of a giant.
The claw was cleanly severed from the body of the crab, and the sand beneath was driven down and parted, a giant wedge of air that was yet somehow hard blasting into it. And that blurry instant when the air was still air but also as hard and sharp as a steel axe, Hanzou took double advantage by stepping strongly off the back of that axehead, using it as a foothold to jump even higher, leaping up and over the back of the crab.
It was a clean front flip, Hanzou’s legs tucked against his chest, before curling and tensing powerfully. At the top of the arc, he arched his back, one hand against his chest in a guard, the other hand still behind his back, gripping the blade that was tucked there.
And kicked down. This time, rather than an axe, it was a ferocious spear. Hanzou used the reaction to flip himself around, pushing himself up as he thrust down with another spear of air. A third, a fourth, a fifth time, before he grimaced, tumbling and slipping, losing control as he couldn’t maintain the rhythm, falling to the side. He tucked, recovering as he came in for a landing, putting himself into a crouch. As soon as he hit, he lunged, sprinting sideways and around to get behind the enemy, purely out of habit.
He realized he didn’t need to have bothered. The enemy HP bar was already empty, and with a chittering cry that was as much frustrated as angry, it disappeared into pixels.
Hanzou grimaced. He still couldn’t maintain himself in the air indefinitely, juggling himself off the reaction of spears he launched ground-wards. In terms of actual application it wasn’t really that useful, since having to maintain altitude like that considerably reduced his functional mobility. It left him exposed to ranged attacks from a hypothetical third party. And since many mobs traveled in packs, it wasn’t like that third party was really all that hypothetical.
No, it was more that he still needed to get to a position of absolute control. The reaction force from using his blades of wind was still a little off-balance. His ultimate goal was to make it into something like a cloak, a barrier of wind that wrapped around him and cut everything within two-three meters. But he couldn’t maintain it, and his body reactions to the pushback from the blades still wasn’t at the level of instinct.
In terms of raw DPS, the best and most reliable thing to do was something like the [Aura of Blades]. Hanzou was still working on details, including the exact name. Of course it would be something involving a [Kamaitachi]. He closed his eyes, breathing out as he took control of his heart-rate.
It was quiet. The waves crashed against the beach behind him, the distinct sound of water rushing which built up, until it smoothly broke and churned against itself as it broke against the sand. Distantly, far away, he could hear waves breaking against a rocky cliff. It had the same rhythm, but it was somehow more ferocious, more abrupt.
The air around him was also moving, a subtle hint of the back-and-forth of the waves, but mostly a smooth breeze from the east, a constant caress of air carrying the tang of salt. He could taste it on the air, but also from the water that had soaked him from his failed dive. Well, the warmth of the sun beating steadily down, a cloudless sky, meant the water was quickly evaporating out of his clothes, leaving behind the hint of salt-crust, a mild discomfort that broke the perfect luxury of standing on a tropical beach, listening to the wind. (Of course he had disabled the BGM; only psychopaths left it on after the first week.)
Hanzou was happy.
The thought came to him suddenly, but it had a truth to its suddenness. His days were interesting and fun. He went out and explored places like this tropical paradise. Rather than a [Game], the immersion was perfect. It wasn’t just that the water was a perfect simulation, that felt and sounded and maybe even tasted exactly like water IRL. It was because they were trapped in a bona fide [Death Game] that the immersion was never broken by logging out.
Should he feel guilty about enjoying the [Death Game]? It wasn’t that he felt guilty about being permanently logged in; that wasn’t his fault, and anyway, he had maintained an appropriate ratio of game-time to IRL obligations all the way into college. Well, he’d have to retake that semester and restart the year, but whatever.
No, he felt a little guilty because it felt wrong to derive satisfaction from being trapped in a [Death Game]. Hanzou was one of the elite, a Front Liner. A [Ninja] that served their great master, Diabel-sama.
…And, it was only because the morality was black-and-white that it was so easy and simple to throw himself into roleplaying as a [Loyal Ninja]. It had been a way to deal with fear. The guild Fuumanin had been strangers that enjoyed playing games the same way, they hadn’t really been true companions. They weren’t… nakama, not really. So putting a layer of ninja roleplay over it, talking about Service and all that, had been a way to obliquely talk about putting their lives on the line.
And somewhere along the line… it had become real. It was like doublethink, sometimes. Pretending to be a ninja, but remembering he was actually a college student, thinking about a Sengoku period that probably wasn’t even like that in the first place. But it was easier to stay in character. The emotions were becoming more real. Believing in the Guild, in each other. Hanzou trusted them, Isamu and Kotarou and Sanada. More than he’d trusted anyone. And it was easy to believe in the [Mission], too. In Clearing the Game. In serving Diablel-sama.
But Diabel-sama could only be pure white, pure good, because he defined himself opposing an existence that had dyed himself jet black, pure evil. Kayaba Akihiko. It was because Kayaba made things so simple, and that Diabel was competent and charismatic enough to rise up to that; if it wasn’t that simple, then Hanzou might feel a little uncomfortable pretending to be someone else’s unquestioning minion. Like he could become complicit.
But he would die for them. For his people, and for his master.
And it was good.
I I I
Diabel smiled. It was very difficult not to look too smug, especially when Lind’s scowl deepened. He nodded at her slightly, and then turned his attention across the others, leaning back into his chair.
It was extremely comfortable. Diabel made a mental note to ask the new boy about getting one for his office.
“Thank you for all attending the meeting.” He said. “This will be a typical Dungeon Finding Meeting. Based on the raw numbers, we’ve surveyed 60% of the surface area of the Twentieth Floor. To date, there have been no Dungeons discovered, but of course this is the forum to announce otherwise. And on that note, I yield the Floor to Ilya-san of the [BSM] for the first report.”
In front of him was a heavy circular table, with a pitched depression in the middle shaped like a bowl. Well, rather than “like a bowl”, it might be better to say it was a bowl, a steel hemisphere that you could pour water into. Around the depression, there was a rim of hardwood that was nearly a meter wide.
With a gesture, Diabel tapped his menu, activating the table. Lights and runes glowed in the surface, blinking intermittently. Above the bowl, a holographic circle appeared, floating in the air a few inches above the rim. It was a default map of the Floor, showing the Edge that circled around it, with a tiny marking for the big island they were on and the bit of sea that was [Visible] from where he stood, a marker for the [Safe Zone] they were in popping up above it. Resetting his map data for the Floor still felt instinctively wrong, but it was worth it for the theater of it all.
“Un!” Ilya said, nodding her head imperiously as she surveyed them. She was sitting directly across from Diabel; if he was at noon, then she was at six. That put Lind to his left at three, and Thinker to his right at nine. The new boy, who Diabel really needed to address as [Keita] even in his own head, was beside Ilya at about seven o’clock, just to Ilya’s left. His Guild, the [Moonlit Black Cats], had made their debut as a satellite guild of the BSM, and been formally granted the status of [Front Liners]. Well, Diabel privately had doubts they were actually going to contribute much in terms of scouting.
She triumphantly tapped her menu, sending the map data out to everyone around the table. As it was appended to Diabel’s, the table automatically updated, the blank gray of some of the floor fading to blue as if mist was being blown away, threading out towards several islands.
“Silica-chan and Kuradeel-kun are both making excellent use of familiars to explore the islands and lagoons!” Ilya reported. “The guild is focusing on supporting them as they quickly map areas from the sea and the sky!” And here her smile became a little more real, a little more predatory. “And of course, Rosalia-chan is our secret trump for finding new islands!”
“Excellent.” Diabel replied genially. Well, that was the BSM for you. Silica-kun’s big freaky sharks and Kuradeel-kun’s creepy crocodile-things could cover a lot of ground, and Rosalia’s [Rare Element] apparently allowed her to directly look clear across the Floor. But at the same time, not one of them had bothered with the [Boatbuilding] skill, so their basic mobility on this floor was terrible. Well, from Diabel’s position it was beneficial that they were bad-to-mediocre at things they couldn’t use their [Rare Elements] for.
Or rather, Keita’s group had been working on it, but they simply hadn’t moved fast enough compared to more experienced Clearing Guilds. Diabel hoped they wouldn’t get too discouraged; he made a mental note to talk to the boy – Keita – and encourage him. And maybe get his own hooks in Keita, as well, to pull him into Diabel’s orbit once Ilya did something sufficiently Ilya.
Well, compared to the meeting he was running that was a digression, so Diabel shelved the thought for the moment. “Thank you, Ilya. Next, I hope that Lind will provide us with an update on her activities.”
“Yes.” Lind said. “I’m proud to say that we of the [DDA] completed the mapping of the first 20% of the Floor.” Diabel appreciated that she didn’t take every opportunity to brag about how the DDA did things. “We are of course ready to assist in the mapping of any remaining islands.”
With a slightly imperious gesture, Lind tapped her menu, sending out her map data. A good-sized wedge of water popped into appearance, spreading outwards from the island they were on.
The DDA hadn’t found any dungeons. Diabel felt slightly conflicted about that. For the Front Line as a whole it was a disappointment, but conversely, it wouldn’t be great for their group dynamics if the DDA were the ones that discovered the Boss Dungeon again.
“Thank you, Lind.” Diabel complimented. “And of course, speaking on behalf of both myself and the Fuumanin, we completed an additional 20% of the raw Floor survey ourselves.”
Beside him, at the eleven o’clock position, Sanada nodded stiffly, almost a bow, as he pressed the button to update the map from his menu. He was working on some kind of spell (Diabel only knew it was named [Whale Meat], everything else was a Ninja Secret apparently); since he was focusing on that, Hanzou had dispatched him as a stand-in while Hanzou himself kept Scouting.
“And of course, the heroes of the hour.” Diabel said, turning to his left.
“A-ha-ha-ha!” Klein said, laughing as he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “It’s only thanks to how great all the guys in the Guild are that we got this far!”
Diabel had privately thought it was a little cute. Fuurinkazan had been building bigger and bigger boats, crossing the line to where you really had to properly call them ships, and that had awakened Kibaou’s lightly-sleeping competitive streak. So now Diabel had an office in a mobile base that would be better to call a floating fortress.Kibaou had been so smug when the hull that the Fuurinkazan had built exploded, and they’d been in the lead, Kibaou hadn’t even thought to ask what the devil they were doing that would make a ship explode.
Klein smiled, and spoke. “Since we got the rocket engine to work, I’m proud to announce that [Boaty McBoatface 3] has allowed us to bring the Floor Map to approximately 90% complete!” With that, he reached out and tapped a button on his menu, and the entirety of the map appeared, the fog blown away from all the water, showing only little pools trapped inside the lagoons of the islands dotted around, clearly delineated.
Yes. While Kibaou had focused on building something really big, the Fuurinkazan had focused on building something that could go really fast. When they’d started up the second one, and the engine didn’t immediately explode, so instead the thing took off and rose out of the water and started surfing along on hydrofoils, he’d been amazed, somewhere between awed and just bemused at their raw audacity. Then it spun out of control and slammed into the water and shattered into pieces, the rocket engine wildly corkscrewing end-over-end until it flew off towards the day-after-tomorrow.
But the third one apparently had worked the way it was supposed to. They’d all watched the Fuurinkazan depart in triumph to start mapping yesterday morning, after the test voyage didn’t end in total destruction.
They’d even painted the damn thing red, and come on, wasn’t that overkill. And what was with that stupid naming sense anyway, at least give it something cool rather than half-heatedly recycling some old meme! Ah, Kibaou, your furious rants are the best.
Diabel coolly kept his private amusement off his face while Klein continued talking. “We’ve charted the location of all the islands, two of which have large ruins that probably indicate dungeons, and another two that have strange characteristics in their central lagoons!”
“That’s excellent news.” Diabel complemented, meaning it. Privately he had serious reservations about actually riding that thing over as transport to the islands in question, but that was beside the point. He still gratefully accepted the mapping data when Klein transferred it over, though.
“Klein, for which potential dungeon would you like to call dibs?” Diabel asked. It was the rule of Floor Mapping meetings; everyone shared their mapping data, but if a Guild found a potential Floor Dungeon, they had the right of first entry to explore it. Getting there had taken some gymnastics on Diabel’s part, but it was the right mix of openness and maintained advantage, to produce the optimal outcome.
“Hmm.” Klein said, frowning as he considered it. Well, obviously he would have already decided, but speaking too quickly would, equally obviously, be crass.
“I think we’ll take this one.” Klein said, nodding to himself as he pointed at the map, a blinking marker appearing over one of the Islands with [Ruins].
“I wish you luck.” Diabel courteously answered. “Lind, as your Guild achieved [Second Place], I believe it would be appropriate for you to take the second pick.” Yes, since Klein had discovered four [Potential Dungeons] and there were four Front Liner factions, that was the best way to play it.
“Hmm.” Lind frowned, leaning back as she considered it. “If you’re offering, then we’ll take this one.” She tapped her menu, and an icon appeared over one of the non-Ruin islands. An interesting choice; Diabel would have thought she’d have gone for the last one with Ruins.
“Hm hm hm!” Ilya laughed, before crossing her arms. “Well, we’ll take this one, then!” She said, selecting the one with Ruins that Klein had not picked. Diabel felt annoyed that Ilya had jumped ahead of the sequence; her [Raid Group] had been in last place, after all, in terms of mapped area. Well, it wasn’t really worth making a fuss over, since she hadn’t actually challenged his authority directly.
“An interesting choice.” Diabel said, with wry amusement. Yes, that barely-patronizing tone was perfect. A little too subtle for Ilya to notice, but enough to indicate his feelings to the other Guild Leaders. “Very well, I believe that my [Group] shall take this one.” Diabel indicated with his own marker. He had almost said ‘the last one’ but that would have undermined his vague condescension towards Ilya. It was annoying that she made these kinds of power games necessary.
“If that is all?” He said, glancing around the table. “Very well. I will send the results to Argo for publication, and thank you for attending. The next meeting will be called when the Floor Boss Dungeon is conclusively identified. Meeting adjourned.”
He stood, and nodded briefly to Sanada, who left so quickly it might be better to say he escaped. None of the Fuumanin were good with participating in these kinds of meetings. It was a little too modern for them to have a reliable way of roleplaying, Diabel thought. Well, that was an advantage in its own way, he didn’t want them getting too deep into it.
He made eye contact with Thinker, and jerked his head to the side. The other man raised an eyebrow, but also nodded slightly. Good.
Diabel smiled and exchanged pleasantries with Lind. It was as coldly formal as always, but the outright hostility wasn’t there anymore. He’d win the woman over yet.
After that, it was time to gladhand Klein a little bit. That was more exhausting in a sense; Klein didn’t have much skill at manipulating the conversation, but his empathy and emotional intuition were both excellent, so handling him required Diabel’s utmost ability. But in another sense, it was relieving because Klein was an honestly good person, so all Diabel had to do to play it safe was point Klein at problems that his Guild were best-suited to handle.
He still used Klein as a sacrifice to distract Ilya so he could quietly leave though.
“Walk with me.” Diabel said to Thinker, as he turned and strode away from the meeting place. He’d send one of his people to retrieve the furniture later. Oh, and he should write down his mental notes while they were still fresh, including his action items. Talk with Keita; encouragement and ask for a chair. He needed to decide on his angle. Ask Kibaou for an update on the boat. Tell Godfree about the Dungeon and have him organize teams. Send the meeting data to Argo.
“It’s a regular tropical paradise.” Thinker said, beside him. Thinker was walking along with his hands clasped behind his back, looking around and taking in the scenery.
Diabel paused, looking up. It was true. Sunny and hot, deep-blue waves crashing against white sand beaches. He looked at Thinker, weighing his options, and decided to be mostly honest.
“It bothers me.” Diabel said.
“What, because the whole Floor is practically a Beach Episode?” Thinker said, with a leading expression, his eyebrow up again. His smile was a touch mocking, deliberately nervous.
So Thinker saw that too, huh. Good. “Yes.” Diabel simply replied. “And the beach episode is always a bit of filler, of low-pressure fluff, before the anime ramps up towards the climax arc of Season One.”
“You’re talking about the Twenty-Fifth Floor?” Thinker asked. “I have to admit it bothers me, as well.” He looked around. “I’m glad the monsters are weak, though. This place is going to be a popular Floor to visit for the Mid and Rear Lines.”
Diabel had considered that only in the most distant senses. “Can I leave it to you to consider the implications and practicalities of that?” He said.
Thinker nodded confidently. “Yes, I will look after it.”
Diabel smiled, picking up the pace. They were near a beach. “That’s good.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and they broke through the palm trees, the not-quite path they had followed opening up as they came out onto a rocky beach facing the ocean.
“There’s something else that bothers me.” Diabel admitted.
“Go on.” Thinker encouraged. Diabel wasn’t sure whether he was honestly trying to share his fears with a friend, or using that as a motif to bind Thinker to him as a confidante. Diabel supposed it didn’t really matter which way it was in his mind.
“I don’t like that [Water Levels] are a thing now.” Diabel admitted. “We’ve had an Ice Floor where the cold was a serious challenge, and now a Water Floor that requires boating. It’s….” He hesitated. He put on a show of hesitating. He had gotten ahead of himself and hadn’t planned his words.
“It feels like the game is changing genres, you mean?” Thinker said. “That [Sword Art Online] was supposed to be a combat MMO, about [Sword Arts] whatever that meant exactly. And now there’s all kinds of things showing up, from base-building to these strangely realistic environmental challenges.”
“Yes.” Diabel said, smiling to show his appreciation for Thinker’s articulation. “Yes, but what makes me nervous about it is extrapolating. What kind of environmental challenges will we have on the Sixtieth Floor?”
“Hmm.” Thinker grunted, one hand coming up to rub his chin. “In the sense that we run up against something that’s unbalanced, an impossible challenge?”
“Something that breaks our momentum.” Diabel replied. “The whole social system we have is built around climbing Aincrad, of Clearing Floors. I’m respected as the Leader of the Front Line because my management makes Clearing faster and more efficient. Without that legitimacy, we’d fracture into chaos.”
“And the structure of the Mid and Rear Lines would break down, as well.” Thinker agreed. “Without a [Front Line], there’s nothing to orient off of to say there even is a Mid or Rear.” Thinker nodded again. “But you know what? That’s all hypothetical anyway. And I think you’d be able to handle it just fine.”
There was a folder in Diabel’s inbox that had exactly one PM in it. Diabel honestly lived in dread of a second one.
Should he share that burden? Diabel searched Thinker’s face, examining the man that he had designated his successor. Above all others, this was the man that needed to know the critical importance of maintaining forward momentum. Thinker believed in him. Diabel could tell. It would be delicate, but he’d already broadly planned this conversation. And Diabel decided.
“Thank you.” Diabel said instead, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m relieved to hear that.”
It wasn’t that Diabel was afraid of the outcome of that conversation. It wasn’t even that he was afraid that Kayaba would retaliate; he could edge into that discussion with oblique warnings. Thinker was technologically savvy enough for that to work. From an institutional integrity standpoint, it would be the correct thing to make Thinker aware of the threat. It was the logical thing to do.
But Diabel allowed himself to be a little greedy, and a little jealous. He would maintain his position as the only one that knew, for at least a little longer. The measures and communications he had that would trigger in the case of his death were sufficient anyway. So for at least a little longer, he would allow himself to be special.
“I’m going to head back.” Thinker said. Diabel appreciated that; the other man could sense that he wanted to be alone.
“Thank you.” Diabel replied. “I’ll be along shortly. Tell Yulier I said hello.”
Thinker grunted in embarrassment as he waved without looking back.
And Diabel turned, looking out across the tops of waves crashing against the rocky shore, as he contemplated. Looking beyond the horizon, beyond the wholeness of the game, as he considered the motivations and desires of a stranger he’d never spoken with.
What did Kayaba want?
End
1) After ten thousand years…! It’s not like I’ve been that busy, really, or anything. It’s just that I got out of the habit of writing at the turn of the year because of how my calendar worked out, and then… well, I’m trying to get back into the habit of writing is the important takeaway for you folks.
2) I was originally planning to start this chapter checking in with Hexadecimal, but I decided it worked better to swap that later in the chapter and open 17 with this bit.
3) That being said, rather than Hanzou and Diabel talking, it was more like each of them doing their own thing? I question whether the division worked out quite right. It’s been so long I’m not confident I got back into their heads correctly either LOL, I had to go back and reread a lot.
4) Now with threadmarks!
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