Klein and I jumped to our feet, startled by a sudden ringing sound, blaring like an alarm at full volume. "Wha…?" "What's that?" We shouted simultaneously, then noticed each other's bodies, our eyes wide. Both Klein and I were enveloped in pillars of brilliant blue light. The scenery of the fields faded out behind the colored film. I'd experienced this phenomenon multiple times during the beta test. It was the teleport effect that took place when you used an item to travel instantaneously across the game. But I didn't have the right item, nor had I given the system any such command. If it was a system-side forced teleportation, why was it happening without any announcement? As my mind raced, the light surrounding me pulsed stronger, blocking my vision. The blue light faded, and the environment returned but was no longer the evening field in which we had been standing. I was greeted by wide paving stones, trees lining the street, and a cleanly elegant medieval town. In the far distance straight ahead, a massive palace gleamed darkly. I recognized it instantly as the central square of the Town of Beginnings, the game's starting point. I turned to face Klein next to me, his mouth agape. We stared out at the sea of humanity pressed in around us. It was a teeming mass of beautiful men and women, a clash of bristling equipment and hair in every color of the rainbow. These were all fellow SAO players. There had to be several thousand people here—nearly ten thousand, in fact. It seemed likely that every single player who was logged in to the game had been forcibly teleported to this square. For a few seconds, there was a tense silence as everyone took in their surroundings. Mutters and murmurs broke out everywhere, steadily rising in volume. Shards of conversation could be made out above the din. "What's going on?" "Can we log out now?" "Hurry it up!" The murmuring took on a distinct tone of anger and frustration, raised voices demanding the GMs come out to explain themselves. Abruptly, someone screamed, cutting through the noise. "Hey…look up!!" Klein and I instinctively raised our eyes, which were met with an unnatural sight. The bottom of the second floor hanging a hundred yards above us was bathed in a red checkerboard pattern. Looking closer, I could see that the pattern was made of two pieces of English text. I could make out WARNING and SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT in the red font. After my fleeting initial shock, the tension in my shoulders relaxed. Finally, the developers were going to give us an explanation. The roar in the square died down as the crowd strained its ears. But what happened next was nothing like what I expected. The center of the crimson pattern that covered the entire sky above suddenly sagged in the middle, pooling like an enormous drop of blood. The viscous drop slowly extended downward, but rather than breaking off and falling, it abruptly changed shape in midair. What emerged was the form of a giant person at least sixty feet tall, clad in a robe with a crimson hood. But this wasn't quite correct. We were staring up at it from the ground, at an angle that should have given us a glimpse underneath the hood—but there was no face. It was an empty space, the underside of the hood and the stitching of the seam clearly visible. The long, dangling sleeves also contained nothing but a faint darkness. I recognized the shape of that robe. It was the signature outfit of official Argus GMs during the beta test. But at the time, the male GMs were depicted as elderly magicians with long white beards, and female GMs were bespectacled young women. Perhaps some technical issue had prevented them from creating an avatar, with the robe being the best that could be managed, but the sight of that empty void beneath the hood filled me with a wordless dread. The mass of players around me must have shared that apprehension. Mutters of confusion arose in waves: "Is that a GM? Why doesn't he have a face?" As if to quiet the murmuring, the right arm of the enormous robe suddenly shifted. A white glove peeked out of the pendulous sleeve, but once again, there was a stark separation between robe and glove with no flesh to be seen connecting them. Now the other sleeve rose in turn. The empty white gloves spread apart, looming over ten thousand heads, and the faceless being opened an invisible mouth—or so it seemed. From above the crowd, a man's calm, deep voice cut through the din. "Welcome to my world, dear players." I didn't immediately register his meaning. My world? The red GM robe meant that he possessed the ability to manipulate the world as he saw fit. If he was already a god, why the need to announce it to everyone? As Klein and I stared at each other in disbelief, the robed figure lowered its arms and continued speaking. "My name is Akihiko Kayaba. As of this moment, I am the only human being alive with control over this world." "Wha…?" I was so shocked that not only did my avatar's breath catch in its throat, the same likely happened to my real body. Akihiko Kayaba!! I knew that name. I couldn't not know it. He was the brilliant young game designer and quantum physicist who transformed niche game studio Argus into one of the foremost developers in the business. Not only was he the executive director of SAO , he also designed the basic foundation of the NerveGear unit itself. Like most other hardcore gamers, I held a deep reverence for Kayaba. I bought every magazine profile and reread his precious few interviews until I could practically quote them from memory. Just the brief sound of that voice conjured my mental image of Kayaba, looking smart in his ever-present white lab coat. But he'd always preferred to stay out of the spotlight, avoiding media attention wherever possible, and he'd certainly never stepped into an active GM role within a game like this—so why now? I stood stock-still, urging my mind back into motion, trying to grasp the situation. But try as I might, the words that followed from the empty hood mocked my feeble attempts at comprehension. "You have likely noticed by now that the log-out button has disappeared from the main menu. This is not a bug. I repeat, this is not a bug—it is a feature of Sword Art Online ." "F-feature…?" Klein muttered, his voice cracking. The smooth baritone continued, overlapping the end of his question. "From this point onward, you will be unable to freely log out of the game until the summit of this castle is conquered." The word castle snagged on the inside of my brain. Where was there a castle in the Town of Beginnings? But my momentary confusion was instantly wiped away by his next statement. "Furthermore, the NerveGear cannot be removed or shut down via external means. If forceful means of exit are attempted…" A pause. A palpably heavy silence filled the air, ten thousand breaths held in apprehension. The next words came with a slow, awful finality. "…the high-powered microwaves emitted by the NerveGear will scramble your brain and shut down your vital processes." Klein and I stared at each other for several seconds, our faces blank masks. It was as though our brains themselves refused to process the words. But Kayaba's simple ultimatum shot through my body from head to toe with a palpable impact. Scramble our brains. In other words, it would kill us. Turning off the NerveGear's power or attempting to remove it from the user's head would prove fatal, according to Kayaba. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but no one screamed or raged. Everyone present, including me, either couldn't or wouldn't process the implications of his declaration. Klein's hand slowly rose to his head, attempting to grasp the NerveGear that existed only in the outside world. He let out a dry, quick laugh. "Ha-ha…what's he talking about? Is he crazy? That's not possible. The NerveGear's just a game system. It can't possibly, like…destroy our brains or whatever. Right, Kirito?" he finished in a rasping shout. Despite his pleading glare, I couldn't bring myself to nod in agreement. The underside of the NerveGear helmet is embedded with countless transmitters that emit faint electromagnetic waves, sending false sensations directly to the brain cells. It's a piece of ultra-sophisticated, cutting-edge tech, but it also works on the same fundamental principles as a home appliance that has been around for decades: the kitchen microwave. With enough power, the NerveGear could potentially vibrate the moisture in the brain cells, causing frictional heat strong enough to steam the brain from the inside out. But… "…In principle, it's not impossible…but he has to be bluffing. I mean, if you just pull the plug on the NerveGear, how can it produce enough juice to do that? Unless it's packing some massive…batteries…" Klein understood exactly why I trailed off. He moaned, a desperate expression plastered across his face. "But…it is . I heard that a third of the unit's weight is battery cells. But still, this is ridiculous! What if there's a blackout?" As though he heard Klein's roar, Kayaba continued his proclamation. "To be more specific, the brain-frying sequence will commence upon any of the following circumstances: ten minutes of no external power; two hours of network disconnection; removal, dismantling, or destruction of the NerveGear. The authorities and media in the outside world have already announced the details of these conditions to the general public. At present, the friends and family of several players have already ignored these warnings and attempted to forcefully remove their NerveGears, the result being…" The echoing, metallic voice paused for a breath. "…that sadly, two hundred and thirteen players have already been permanently retired from both Aincrad and the real world." A single shrill scream rang out from somewhere in the crowd. But the majority of players were stock-still, either unable or refusing to believe, their faces displaying absentminded smiles. Like them, my mind resisted Kayaba's words, but my body was more honest, my legs beginning to quaver. I hobbled backward several steps on buckling knees, trying not to fall. Klein simply fell straight onto his rear, his face still empty. Two hundred and thirteen players. The words reverberated over and over in my ears. Was Kayaba telling the truth? Were more than two hundred people who had been playing this game just minutes ago already dead? Some of them must have been beta testers like me. Possibly even people whose faces or names I recognized from my time playing. And now Kayaba said their NerveGears had fried their brains and killed them? "I won't believe it…I refuse to believe it," Klein muttered from the paving stones, his voice hoarse. "It's just a threat. He can't do this. Quit dicking us around and let us out already. I've got better things to do than sit around while your little stunt plays out. That's all this is, right? A stunt. A bit of excitement to juice up the game's grand opening, yeah?" The same thoughts had been racing through my mind at the exact same time. But Kayaba's dry, practical announcement continued, disregarding the wishes of his captive audience. "There is no need to worry about your physical bodies back in the real world. The current state of the game and today's fatalities have been covered far and wide on television, radio, and the Internet. The danger that someone will forcefully remove your NerveGear is already much diminished. The two-hour offline leeway period should provide enough time for your physical bodies to be transported to hospitals and other long-term care facilities with proper security, eliminating concerns over your physical well-being. You may rest assured…and focus on conquering the game." "Wha—?" A scream finally ripped out from my throat. "What do you mean? Conquer the game? You expect us to just sit back and enjoy the game when we can't even log out?" I glared at the headless crimson robe stretching up to nearly the upper floor and continued bellowing. "This isn't even a game anymore!" And again, as though he heard my voice, Akihiko Kayaba's monotone continued. "However, please proceed with caution. As of this moment, Sword Art Online is no longer a game to you. It is another reality. The standard means of player resurrection will no longer function as they did previously. When your hit points dwindle to zero, your avatar will be permanently deleted…" I knew what he was about to say before the words even came. "…and the NerveGear will destroy your brain." I felt an instant urge to burst into a high-pitched laughter bubbling up from my gut and had to stifle the impulse. In the upper left-hand corner of my vision sat a thin bar, glowing blue. When I trained my eyes on the bar, the numbers 342/342 popped up next to it. My hit points. My remaining life. If that number hit zero, I would actually die—the game console would fry my brain with microwaves and kill me on the spot, according to Kayaba. Yes, this was a game. A game in which my life hung on the line. A game of death. During the two-month beta test, I must have died a hundred times. When that happened, you popped back to life with a cackle in Blackiron Palace to the north of the square, free to rush back out to the battlefield. That's how RPGs work. You die and die, learning lessons each time and honing your skills. But now we couldn't do that? Die once, and we were dead forever? Without even the option of quitting the game? "This is ridiculous," I muttered. Who would possibly venture out into the dangers of the wilderness under those circumstances? Everyone was bound to stay within the safety of town. But as though anticipating the skepticism of all players present, Kayaba issued his next challenge. "There is only one condition through which you can be freed from this game. Simply reach the hundredth floor at the pinnacle of Aincrad and defeat the final boss who awaits you there. In that instant, all surviving players will be able to safely log out once again." A moment of sheer silence. I finally realized the meaning of his earlier phrase, "Conquer the summit of this castle." He wasn't referring to just any castle; he was referring to Aincrad itself, the mammoth floating fortress on whose very bottom floor we now stood, ninety-nine floors stacked above our heads. "Clear the hundredth floor?" Klein shouted abruptly. He clambered to his feet and shook his fist in the air. "W-we can't possibly do that! I heard the entire group of beta testers barely got through the very start of the game!" He was right. A thousand players took part in SAO 's beta test, and when the two-month period was over, we'd only cleared the sixth floor. True, there were nearly ten times that number taking part in the game now, but how long would it take to reach a full hundred floors? My guess was that the entire square was wrestling with the same apprehension. The silent tension shifted into low rumblings. But I wasn't hearing sounds of fear or despair. Most likely, the majority of players here couldn't make up their minds whether this was true danger or simply a flashy opening ceremony held in poor taste. Kayaba's statements were so bizarre and dreadful to comprehend that the story lacked credibility. I tilted my head upward, glaring at the empty robe, desperately trying to adjust to this new reality. I couldn't log out. I couldn't get back to my real room, my real life. The only way that could happen was if someone reached the top of this castle and defeated the final boss. And if at any point my HP reached zero, I would die. Real death. I would cease to exist. But… No matter how hard I tried to accept this information as truth, I simply couldn't. Just five or six hours ago, I'd eaten my mother's home-cooked lunch, spoken to my sister, and climbed the stairs to my room. And now I couldn't go back? Could this actually be happening? The red robe once again preempted the thoughts of all present, sweeping its white glove and continuing in a voice devoid of emotion. "Finally, let me prove to you that this world is now your one and only reality. I've prepared a gift for all of you. You may find it in your item storage." Without thinking, I made the two-fingered downward swipe to pull open the menu. Others around me made the same motion, the square filling with electronic chiming sounds. When I hit the inventory tab on the menu screen, I noticed something new at the top of the list. It was labeled HAND MIRROR. Curious, I tapped the name and selected the MATERIALIZE button from the list of options. With a sparkling sound effect, a small square mirror popped into being. I reluctantly picked up the mirror, but nothing happened. All I saw reflected in the surface was the painstakingly crafted face of my virtual avatar. Tilting my neck, I glanced at Klein. Like me, the chiseled samurai stood staring into his own mirror. Then… A brilliant white light enveloped Klein and several other characters nearby. In the next instant, my vision went blank as the same light surrounded me. A few seconds later, it faded, returning the same old sights. Except… This wasn't the Klein I recognized. The mismatched plate armor, ugly bandanna, and spiky red hair were the same as before. It was the face that had changed. The slender eyes were now bulging and round. The slender bridge of his nose was a beak. And his fine cheeks and chin were now covered in scraggly facial hair. If his former avatar was a gallant young samurai, the new Klein was a wandering ronin—or worse yet, a bandit. Forgetting everything for an instant, I muttered, "Who…are you?" The man before me returned the question. "Me? Who are you ?" And in a flash of enlightenment, I understood the meaning of Kayaba's "gift." Raising my own mirror again, I stared at the reflection within. Black hair in an inoffensive style. Gentle eyes set beneath long bangs. A soft, rounded face that still got me confused for a sister instead of a brother when strangers saw me side by side with my sister. There was none of Kirito's previous heroic look. The face I saw in the mirror… …was the real-life face I'd been trying to escape. "Whoa…it's me…" Klein murmured into his mirror, flabbergasted. We faced each other again and shouted in unison. " You're Klein?" " You're Kirito?" The voice-filtering function had apparently stopped working, shifting the sound of our voices as well, but that was the least of our concerns. Both mirrors slipped through our fingers, hitting the ground simultaneously with a faint crack . A quick glance around showed that the prior gathering of wildly colored, beautiful fantasy characters had changed dramatically. It was as though someone had taken the crowd of a real video game convention and given them swords and armor to wear. Even the ratio of men to women had gone frightfully askance. How was this possible? We had all gone from our virtual avatars to our real-life appearances. It was still presented in polygonal form with a few slight details felt out, but the degree of accuracy was startling. It was like I'd undergone a full-body scan. A scan. "…Of course!" I muttered, looking up at Klein. "The NerveGear's got those transmitters all over the underside of the helmet, including the part that covers your face. So not only can it read your brain, it also re-creates your facial details…" "But what about my height…and my weight?" Klein peered around, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. The crowd of players, still staring about in amazement, had clearly lost a few inches in average height after the "adjustment." Both Klein and I had set our avatars' heights to be about the same as our own, hoping to avoid throwing off our physical coordination during full dive due to any changes in eye-level. But judging from the crowd, the majority of players had given themselves an extra six inches, if not more. And that wasn't all. The average girth of the crowd had swollen considerably as well. But the NerveGear could only scan our heads. How could it have gauged our body size? Klein had the answer. "Wait a sec. I remember this 'cos I just bought my NerveGear yesterday. It did that thing during the set-up phase…What was it, calibration? It asked me to touch my body in all these different spots. Could that have been it?" "Oh…right, of course…" The calibration process was a measurement of how far the user needed to move to touch his or her body, such that the system could re-create the proper surface area digitally. In essence, it was enlisting the user's help to build an internal measurement of the user's body. It clearly worked. Every player in the world of SAO at this moment had been turned into a virtually perfect polygonal replica of themselves. The intent was obvious. "It's reality," I muttered. "He just said so. My avatar and my hit points are now my real body and life. Kayaba re-created our faces and figures to force us to recognize the truth." "B-but, Kirito," Klein wailed, scratching his head as his eyes bulged beneath the bandanna. "Why? Why would he do something like this…?" I couldn't answer that. Instead, I pointed upward. "Just wait. He's about to answer that, I'm sure." Kayaba did not disappoint. The solemn voice continued a few seconds later, ringing out from the bloodred sky. "You are likely asking yourselves, why? Why would Akihiko Kayaba, developer of SAO and the NerveGear unit, do such a thing? Is it an act of terrorism? An elaborate kidnapping to extract ransom money?" And for the first time, Kayaba's emotionless voice began to take on the faintest signs of color. Despite the situation, I felt a hint of longing in his voice. But that couldn't be right. "What I seek is neither of these things. I have no goals or justifications at this moment. In fact, this very situation was my ultimate goal. I created the NerveGear and SAO precisely in order to build this world and observe it. I have now achieved that aim." After a short pause, Kayaba's voice was back to its usual monotone. "This concludes the tutorial phase of Sword Art Online . I wish you the best of luck, dear players." His last word echoed briefly before dying out. The crimson robe silently ascended, the tip of the hood melting into the system warnings still displayed in midair. The shoulders, chest, arms, and legs followed into the bloodred surface, leaving a single outward ripple behind. The next instant, the giant wall of messages plastered across the sky disappeared as abruptly as it came. The wind blew over the top of the square, and the BGM from a band of NPC musicians slowly approached from afar, bringing life back to my ears. The game had returned to its original state. The only difference lay in a few very crucial rules. Finally, at long last, the throng of players exhibited the proper reaction. The square exploded into noise, convulsing with the sound of ten thousand voices all at once. "This can't be happening…You've gotta be kidding me!" "Screw this! Let me out! I want out of here!" "You can't do this to me! I'm supposed to meet someone tonight!" "No! Let me leave, let me leave!" Screams. Rage. Shrieks. Insults. Pleading. And roars. In the span of several minutes, we'd been turned from players to prisoners. We held our heads, sunk to our knees, shook fists in the air, grabbed others, and turned on one another. Oddly enough, the more the screaming continued, the clearer my thoughts became. This is reality. Everything that Akihiko Kayaba said was the truth. He, of all people, would be capable of this. That destructive, unpredictable genius was part of his allure. I would not be back in the real world for quite some time—months, if not longer. I wouldn't be able to see or speak to my mother or sister. I might never do so again. If I died here… I was really dead. The NerveGear—game console, shackles, and guillotine blade all in one—would fry my brain and kill me. I took a slow, measured breath and opened my mouth. "Come with me, Klein." I grabbed his arm, his figure still imposingly tall even after the shift to our actual body types, and quickly led him out through the hysterical mob. We must have been placed near the outside of the group, as it took little time to escape the crowd. I marched down one of the town streets radiating out from the square and stepped behind a stationary carriage. "Klein," I snapped at the dazed man in the most sober tone I could manage. "Listen up. I'm leaving this city right now and heading for the next village. Come with me." I pushed on, my voice low, as Klein stared at me from beneath his hideous bandanna. "If what he said is true, then we have to get stronger and stronger in order to survive. I'm sure you already know that MMORPGs are a battle over system resources. There's only so much gold, loot, and experience to go around, so the more you win, the stronger you get. Everyone's going to have the same idea, so the fields around the Town of Beginnings will be bled dry in no time. You'll be forced to wander around, endlessly waiting for mobs to repop. We need to take this opportunity to set up base in the next town. I know the way, and I know which spots are dangerous. I can get us there safely, even at level one." By my standards, it was a marathon speech, but Klein listened to every word. A few seconds later, he grimaced slightly. "But…remember what I said earlier? I stayed in line all night with some friends from another game just to buy this. They were logged in. They must still be back in the square. I can't just leave them behind." "…" I held my breath and bit my lip. The intention behind Klein's pensive stare was as plain as day. The jovial, faithful man couldn't leave his friends behind. He wanted to bring them with us. And I just couldn't agree to that. Even at level one, I was confident that I could protect Klein alone from the more aggressive monsters along the route to the next village. But any more than that would make the risks too great. What if someone died en route and, as Kayaba said, had his actual brain fried? The responsibility would lie with me: the guy who wanted to leave our initial haven and failed to keep everyone safe. I couldn't handle that unbearable pressure. It was impossible. Klein seemed to pick up on my momentary hesitation once again. A stiff but broad smile cracked his stubbly cheeks, and he shook his head slowly. "Nah…I can't ask for more of your help than you've already given. Hell, I was a guild leader myself back in the last game. Don't worry, I'll get by with the techniques you taught me. Besides, there's always the possibility that this really was just a bad prank, and we'll be able to log out in no time. So go on, jump ahead and don't mind me." "…" For a few seconds, I stayed silent, grappling with a conflict the likes of which I'd never faced before. And then I spoke the simple words that I would grow to regret over the following two years. "…Okay." I nodded, taking a step back. In a hoarse voice, I continued. "We'll part ways here, then. Shoot me a message if anything comes up. Well…see ya, Klein." As I averted my eyes and tried to turn away, Klein barked out. "Kirito!" "…" His glance said he wanted to ask something, but his cheekbones only twitched, and no words came out. I waved and turned northwest, the general direction of the village I sought to go next. After five steps, I heard his voice call out behind me again. "Hey, Kirito! Turns out you look pretty cute after all! Just my type!" I grimaced and called back over my shoulder. "And you look ten times better now that you're a mountain bandit!" And having turned my back on the first friend I ever made in this world, I started walking forward. After a few minutes traveling down the twisted back alleys of the city, I turned around to look. There was no one there, of course. Gritting my teeth and swallowing the strange sensation that seemed to block my windpipe, I picked up my heels and ran. First the northwest gate of the Town of Beginnings, then a vast field and deep forest, and finally a little village. I raced onward toward what lay beyond, headlong into a lonely battle for survival without end.
