Chapter Text
The forest outside Tolbana was still half asleep when Kirito slipped through the trees. Dawn had barely touched the sky, leaving the world tinted in pale blue. Mist drifted low across the ground, curling around roots and stones like it was reluctant to leave.
Kirito breathed in the cool air and felt his shoulders loosen. This was his favorite time of day. No crowds. No merchants shouting prices. No knights marching in formation. Just the quiet hum of the waking forest.
He reached the grove a few minutes later. It was a wide clearing carved out of the woods, the ground packed flat from years of training. Adventurers used it when they wanted privacy. Soldiers used it when they wanted to avoid being watched. Kirito used it because it felt like a place where he could breathe.
He scanned the clearing, confirmed it was empty, and began his training.
After a while, he climbed the nearest tree looking for a break.
The branches were thick and sturdy. He settled into a comfortable spot halfway up, leaning back against the trunk. From here, he could see the entire grove. He liked watching the sunrise from this angle. It made the world feel bigger, like there was more out there than the same streets and the same expectations.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet settle around him.
A faint sound broke the silence.
Metal slicing through air.
Kirito’s eyes snapped open. He shifted, peering through the leaves toward the far side of the clearing.
Someone was there.
A girl.
A swordswoman.
She stood in the center of the grove, her back straight, her posture perfect. Her long chestnut hair was tied back with a simple ribbon. She wore a white and red training uniform that marked her as someone from a military family. Her sword moved with precise, controlled arcs, each strike clean and deliberate.
Kirito blinked. He had never seen anyone his age move like that.
He stayed still, watching from the tree. She was fast. Not just fast, but disciplined. Every motion had purpose. Every step was measured. She looked as if she expected nothing less than perfection.
He leaned forward slightly, fascinated despite himself.
She pivoted, blade cutting through the air with a sharp whistle.
Then she stopped.
Her head turned. Her eyes locked onto him.
Kirito froze.
She had noticed him. From that distance. While mid‑swing.
He dropped lightly from the tree, landing on the ground with a soft thud. He raised his hands slightly, trying to look nonthreatening.
“Uh… morning,” he said.
She lowered her sword but did not relax. Her expression was calm, unreadable, and cold in a way that reminded him of the knights who patrolled the city.
“You were watching,” she said.
Her voice was soft but carried a formal edge, like she was speaking to someone beneath her rank.
Kirito rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I did not mean to stare. I just did not expect anyone else to be here this early.”
“This grove is open to the public,” she replied. “You are free to use it. Just do not interfere with my training.”
Interfere?
Kirito almost laughed. He was not planning to interrupt her. He was just surprised someone else was here at all.
“Right. Sure. I will stay out of your way.”
He moved to the opposite side of the clearing and drew his sword. He tried to focus on his own drills, but it was impossible not to notice her. Every time he swung, he could feel her presence. Her movements were so precise that they made him painfully aware of his own rough edges.
He tried not to look.
He failed.
“You are staring again,” she said without turning.
Kirito froze mid‑swing. “Sorry. I just… you are really good.”
“That is expected,” she replied. “I have been training since childhood.”
He blinked. “Well, that explains it.”
She did not respond. She simply resumed her drills, her blade cutting through the air in perfect arcs.
Kirito tried again to focus, but curiosity tugged at him. Who was she? A noble’s daughter? A knight in training? Someone important, judging by her posture and the way she carried herself.
He risked another glance.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes were intense, focused on something far beyond the grove. She looked like someone who carried expectations on her shoulders. Heavy ones.
Kirito exhaled quietly.
Definitely someone from a military family.
He sheathed his sword. “I will get out of your way. Did not mean to intrude.”
“You did not intrude,” she said, still not looking at him. “But I do prefer to train alone.”
“Got it.”
He turned to leave.
As he walked toward the trees, he felt the weight of her gaze on his back. He did not turn around, but he could sense it. A brief pause in her movements. A moment of curiosity.
Then the sound of her blade resumed, steady and disciplined.
Kirito stepped into the forest path, the mist curling around his boots. He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
Whoever she was, she was someone he could forget easily.
But he had a feeling this would not be the last time he saw her.
****
Kirito followed the narrow dirt path leading from the grove back toward Tolbana. The morning mist had thinned, but the air still felt heavy, like the forest was holding on to something it did not want to release. Birds called from the treetops, but even their songs sounded cautious.
He stepped over a fallen log and paused when he reached a small rise in the terrain. From here, he could see the faint outline of Tolbana’s outer wall in the distance. The stone looked darker than usual, reinforced with new layers of enchanted metal that glinted faintly in the early light.
The city had been changing.
All of Aincrad had.
Centuries ago, Aincrad had not been a nation at all. It had been a fractured land of warring territories, each fighting for control of dwindling resources while magical catastrophes tore the land apart. People called those catastrophes Surges. Sudden eruptions of unstable magic that twisted the land, corrupted wildlife, and swallowed entire settlements in a matter of hours.
Kirito had grown up hearing stories about them. Every child did. But lately, the stories felt less like history and more like warnings.
He continued down the path, boots crunching softly against the dirt. A patrol of soldiers marched past him, their armor clattering in steady rhythm. They carried spears etched with glowing runes, the kind used to pierce corrupted hides. Their expressions were grim.
Kirito stepped aside to let them pass. The captain gave him a curt nod.
There had been more patrols lately. Twice as many as last season. Sometimes entire companies moved through Tolbana, their banners snapping in the wind. The red and white of the Knights of the Blood Oath. The green and gold of the Salamander Legion. Even the blue crests of the Sylph Vanguard had appeared once or twice, which was unusual this far south.
Tolbana was not a border city, but it was close enough to feel the strain.
Kirito resumed walking. The forest thinned as he approached the small wooden bridge that crossed the stream leading into the city. The water rushed beneath him, clear and cold. He paused at the center of the bridge, leaning on the railing.
His mother used to tell him stories about the two legendary swords used by the hero who had ended the Great Surge. One wielded sacred swords. The other wielded sacred defensive magic. Together, they were used to stabilize the first Magical Core, an ancient crystal structure buried deep beneath what was now the Capital Territory.
People said the Magical Core was the reason Aincrad had survived at all. It kept the land stable. It kept the Surges at bay.
But lately, the Surges had been stirring again.
Kirito looked toward the horizon. The sky was pale and cloudless, but he could feel something beneath the calm. A faint vibration in the air. A tension that did not belong.
He crossed the bridge and joined the short line of people waiting to enter the city. A farmer in front of him shifted nervously, clutching a basket of vegetables.
“Is it true the border barrier flickered again last night?” the farmer asked the guard.
The guard hesitated. “There was a disturbance, but it was handled.”
“Handled how?”
“By the Knights,” the guard said. “That is all I can tell you.”
The farmer nodded, though he did not look reassured.
Kirito stepped forward when it was his turn. The guard eyed his sword.
“Training in the forest again?”
“Yeah,” Kirito said. “It is quieter out there.”
The guard gave a tired sigh. “Be careful. Monsters have been sighted closer to the city. The border is under strain.”
Kirito frowned. “This close?”
“Too close,” the guard said. “If the Magical Core is weakening, the Surges will return.”
Kirito felt a chill run down his spine. “Do you think that is what is happening?”
“I hope not,” the guard said. “For all our sakes.”
He waved Kirito through.
Tolbana was awake now, bustling with merchants, adventurers, and families going about their day. But even with the noise and movement, there was an undercurrent of unease. People spoke in hushed tones. Shopkeepers kept their doors half closed. Children were warned not to wander too far.
Kirito walked down the main street, watching a group of adventurers gather near the guild hall. They were arguing over a job posting, voices tense.
“Another nest near the river,” one said. “That makes three this week.”
“They are getting bolder,” another muttered. “If the military does not reinforce the border soon, we will be overrun.”
Kirito kept walking, but the words stayed with him.
The world felt like it was shifting.
Like something old was waking up.
Something that had been quiet for centuries.
He thought of the girl in the grove.
Her precision.
Her discipline.
Her cold, unreadable eyes.
People like her were trained for moments like this.
People like him were supposed to stay out of the way
****
A couple of days later, Kirito walked into the adventures guild still thinking about an augment he had with his parents that earlier that morning.
Tolbana’s adventurer guild hall was louder than usual. The long wooden tables were crowded with mercenaries, part‑timers, and young swordsmen hoping to earn a few coins. The air smelled like sweat, steel, and the faint spice of morning stew drifting from the kitchen.
Kirito pushed through the crowd, scanning the job board. Most postings were routine: escort a merchant caravan, clear out a pack of wolves, retrieve herbs from the forest. Nothing special. Nothing that paid well.
He sighed. “Everything decent gets taken before noon.”
A familiar voice called from behind him. “You are up early again.”
Kirito turned to see Klein weaving through the crowd. His red bandana was tied crookedly, and he carried two wooden practice swords slung over his shoulder.
“Klein. You look like you slept in a stable.”
“I did not sleep,” Klein said. “I was training. Unlike some people, I do not nap in trees.”
Kirito smirked. “It was one time.”
Klein jabbed a thumb toward the board. “Looking for work?”
“Trying to. My parents want me to stay in the city, but I need money if I am going to join a real adventurer company.”
Klein raised an eyebrow. “You are still thinking about that?”
“Of course I am.”
Klein opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden commotion near the front desk caught their attention. A guild officer pinned a new posting to the board. Adventurers surged forward, trying to read it.
Kirito and Klein pushed through the crowd.
The posting read:
Temporary Party Request.
Location: West Forest Outskirts.
Objective: Clear a small monster nest.
Reward: Standard hazard pay.
Minimum party size: Two.
Klein whistled. “A nest job. Not bad.”
Kirito nodded. “It is manageable. And it pays better than escort work.”
Klein clapped him on the shoulder. “Go for it. I have training with my squad today.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Besides, you need the practice.”
Kirito rolled his eyes but stepped toward the front desk. The guild officer looked up as he approached.
“Name?”
“Kirito.”
The officer checked a ledger. “You need a partner for this job. It is not solo approved.”
“I know. I will find someone.”
“You will not need to.” The officer pointed behind him. “Someone already signed up.”
Kirito turned.
His stomach dropped.
Standing near the entrance, dressed in the same white and red uniform he had seen in the grove, was the girl from two days ago.
She was speaking quietly with another guild worker, her posture straight, her expression calm and unreadable. Her sword hung at her side, polished and well maintained.
Kirito blinked. “You have got to be kidding.”
The officer raised an eyebrow. “You know her?”
“Not really.”
“Good. Then you will not argue. She requested a partner for the job. You are the only one who signed up.”
Kirito hesitated. “Is she even an adventurer?”
“She has temporary clearance from the military. They send trainees sometimes.”
Kirito exhaled slowly. “Fine.”
He walked toward her.
She noticed him immediately. Her eyes flicked to his sword, then to his face. No recognition showed, but he could tell she remembered him.
“Hello again,” Kirito said.
She inclined her head slightly. “You are the one from the grove.”
“Kirito.”
“Asuna,” she replied.
Her voice was as formal as before. Calm. Controlled. Not unfriendly, but not warm either.
Kirito gestured toward the posting. “Looks like we are partners for this job.”
“I requested a partner because the guild requires it,” Asuna said. “I do not mind working with you, but I expect you to follow instructions.”
Kirito raised an eyebrow. “Instructions?”
“Yes. I have experience with mass scale nest clearing. Do you?”
Kirito opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. She was probably right. And he did not want to start a fight before they even left the city.
“Fine,” he said. “Lead the way.”
Asuna nodded once. “We depart immediately.”
They left the guild hall and headed toward the west gate. The streets were busy, but people stepped aside when they saw Asuna’s uniform. Military trainees were respected, even feared a little. Kirito walked beside her, trying to ignore the curious looks they received.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “So. You do guild jobs often?”
“No,” Asuna said. “I was recommended to gain field experience outside the military structure. It is useful to understand how civilians operate.”
Kirito frowned. “Civilians?”
She glanced at him. “You are not military.”
“Right. But you do not have to say it like it is a bad thing.”
“It is not bad,” Asuna said. “It is simply different.”
Kirito sighed. “You really are formal, huh?”
She did not respond.
They reached the west gate. Guards checked their papers and waved them through. The forest stretched ahead, sunlight filtering through the branches.
Asuna stopped at the edge of the path. “We will proceed quietly. Monster nests are unpredictable.”
Kirito nodded. “Got it.”
The forest grew darker as Kirito and Asuna moved deeper into the west outskirts. The trees were tall and close together, their branches blocking most of the sunlight. The air smelled like damp earth and moss. Kirito kept his hand on his sword, listening for anything out of place.
Asuna walked ahead, her posture straight, her steps silent. She moved like someone who had memorized every rule of combat. Kirito moved like someone who trusted his instincts more than any manual.
They made an odd pair.
After several minutes, Asuna raised a hand. “Stop.”
Kirito halted beside her. “Tracks again?”
“Yes. And listen.”
Kirito strained his ears. At first, he heard nothing. Then a faint scraping sound reached him. Something was moving through the underbrush. Something big.
Asuna lowered her voice. “Prepare yourself.”
The creature burst from the bushes before Kirito could respond.
It was a boar, but larger than any normal one. Its fur was coarse and dark, its eyes glowing faintly with corrupted magic. Its tusks were long and jagged, dripping with saliva. It charged straight at them.
Asuna stepped forward. “Left flank.”
Kirito moved without thinking.
Asuna met the boar head on, her blade slicing across its snout. The creature roared and swung its head, trying to gore her. She sidestepped with perfect timing, her movements sharp and controlled.
Kirito darted in from the side, slashing at its hind leg. The boar stumbled but did not fall. It turned toward him, eyes blazing.
“Kirito, move,” Asuna ordered.
He jumped back just as the boar lunged. Asuna struck again, her blade cutting deep into its shoulder. The creature staggered, weakened but still dangerous.
Kirito saw an opening.
He sprinted forward, jumped, and brought his sword down in a clean arc. The blade struck the boar’s neck. The creature collapsed with a heavy thud.
Kirito landed, breathing hard. “That was bigger than the last one.”
Asuna wiped her blade clean. “Corruption is spreading faster than the reports suggest.”
Kirito frowned. “You think this is connected to the border problems?”
“Most likely.”
Before Kirito could respond, another growl echoed through the trees.
Then another.
Asuna’s eyes narrowed. “There are more.”
Three smaller creatures emerged from the shadows. They were wolf‑like, their bodies twisted by corrupted magic. Their movements were jerky, unnatural.
Asuna stepped forward. “I will take the center. You handle the flanks.”
Kirito nodded. “Got it.”
They had no idea when they fell into sync.
The wolves attacked at once.
Asuna met the center wolf with a swift upward strike, her blade slicing through its jaw. Kirito blocked the left wolf’s lunge, sparks flying as their bodies collided. He twisted, slashing across its ribs. The creature yelped and fell.
The third wolf leaped at Asuna from behind.
Kirito reacted before she did.
He sprinted forward and slammed his shoulder into the wolf mid‑air, knocking it off course. It hit the ground hard. Asuna spun, her blade flashing, and finished it with a clean strike.
She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “You reacted quickly.”
Kirito shrugged. “You would have done the same.”
Asuna did not answer, but she did not correct him either.
They continued clearing the nest. More creatures emerged, drawn by the noise. Kirito and Asuna fought back to back, their movements gradually syncing. Asuna’s precision balanced Kirito’s instinctive style. She called out directions. He responded without hesitation.
At one point, a creature nearly caught Kirito off guard. Asuna stepped in, her blade intercepting the attack with perfect timing.
“Focus,” she said.
“I am,” Kirito replied, panting.
“Then focus more.”
He almost laughed.
By the time they finished, the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The nest was cleared. The area was quiet again.
Asuna sheathed her sword. “We should return.”
Kirito nodded. “Yeah. Before it gets dark.”
They walked back toward the city. The forest was calmer now, the tension easing with every step. Kirito glanced at Asuna. She walked with the same disciplined posture, but her breathing was slightly heavier than before.
“You fight well,” Kirito said.
Asuna looked straight ahead. “You adapt quickly. That is useful.”
Kirito grinned. “Is that your way of saying I did a good job?”
“It is an observation.”
He laughed softly. “I will take it.”
They reached Tolbana just as night settled over the city. Lanterns lit the streets with warm yellow light. The guild hall was still open, but the crowd had thinned.
Asuna stopped near a bench outside the hall. “We should report the job.”
“Yeah,” Kirito said. “But I am starving.”
Asuna hesitated, then sat down on the bench. “I brought food.”
Kirito blinked. “You did?”
She opened a small cloth bundle. Inside were neatly packed sandwiches and a small container of fruit. She held it out to him.
“You may have some,” she said. “It is inefficient to fight on an empty stomach.”
Kirito sat beside her. “Thanks.”
They ate in silence for a moment. The night air was cool. The city was quiet. It felt strangely peaceful.
Kirito glanced at her. “So, do you always pack food like this?”
“It is standard practice for long missions,” Asuna said. “You should consider doing the same.”
“I usually just buy something on the way.”
“That is unreliable.”
Kirito smiled. “I guess you’re right.”
They finished eating. Asuna stood. “I will file the report. You may go home.”
Kirito stood as well. “See you around?”
Asuna paused. “Perhaps.”
She walked toward the guild hall, her steps steady and controlled.
Kirito watched her go.
****
The sun had already dipped behind Tolbana’s rooftops by the time Kirito reached his street. The lanterns were lit, casting warm pools of light across the cobblestone road. His legs felt heavy from the long day, but not as heavy as the knot in his stomach.
He had left home that morning in the middle of an argument.
He pushed open the door quietly.
His mother looked up from the table. She had been mending one of Suguha’s training uniforms, needle paused mid‑stitch. Her expression softened with relief, then tightened with worry.
“You are home,” she said. “We were waiting.”
Kirito stepped inside and closed the door. “Sorry. The job took longer than I thought.”
His father sat in his usual chair, leaning on his cane. The injury in his leg made him shift uncomfortably. Even after eight months, he still could not stand for long.
His father’s voice was calm, but tired. “Sit down, Kirito.”
Kirito hesitated, then took a seat across from him.
His mother set aside the uniform. “About this morning…”
Kirito looked down. “I know. I should not have yelled.”
His father shook his head. “I am not upset about the yelling. I am upset because you think joining the military is the answer.”
Kirito clenched his hands. “It would help. They pay well. They provide housing. Food. I could take pressure off the house.”
His father’s grip tightened on the cane. “I know what the military pays. I know what they promise. I also know what they take.”
Kirito looked up. “You think I cannot handle it.”
“I think you are only seventeen,” his father said. “And I think you do not understand what you are asking for.”
Kirito’s voice rose before he could stop it. “I understand that you are hurt. I understand that you cannot work like before. I understand that we are struggling.”
His mother flinched.
Kirito froze. “I did not mean it like that.”
His father’s expression softened, but the pain in his eyes remained. “I know you did not. But you are not responsible for fixing everything.”
Kirito swallowed hard. “Someone has to help.”
“We will manage,” his mother said gently. “We always have.”
Kirito shook his head. “I want to do more than just manage.”
A small voice came from the hallway.
“Kirito?”
Suguha stood there, hugging her practice sword to her chest. Her eyes were red, like she had been crying earlier.
Kirito stood. “Suguha…”
She walked toward him slowly. “Are you still thinking about joining the military?”
Kirito hesitated. “I do not know.”
Her voice cracked. “Please do not. I do not want you to go.”
Kirito knelt in front of her. “I am not going anywhere right now.”
“That is not a promise,” she whispered.
Kirito felt something twist in his chest. “I will not leave without talking to you first. I swear.”
Suguha nodded, but her eyes stayed sad. She turned and went back to her room, closing the door softly behind her.
Kirito stood slowly.
His father exhaled. “We are not your enemy, Kirito. We are scared. That is all.”
Kirito nodded. “I know.”
****
The next day, the training yard behind the guild hall was quiet except for the sound of wooden swords clacking together. Klein stood in the center, swinging a practice blade with exaggerated flair.
Kirito approached. “You look ridiculous.”
Klein grinned. “I look amazing. You look miserable.”
Kirito tossed him a look. “Family stuff.”
Klein nodded knowingly. “They want you to get a stable job?”
“They want me to stay inside the city walls forever.”
Klein winced. “Ouch.”
Kirito picked up a practice sword. “Let’s just train.”
They sparred for a few minutes, the familiar rhythm easing some of the tension in Kirito’s chest. Klein was not as fast as Kirito, but he was persistent, and he had a knack for reading Kirito’s mood.
After a while, Klein stepped back. “So. You thinking about joining a guild?”
Kirito nodded. “It is the only way I can earn real money without joining the military.”
Klein lowered his sword. “Then you should know something.”
Kirito raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“The Knights of the Blood Oath are recruiting.”
Kirito blinked. “The knights? Here?”
Klein nodded. “They set up a temporary outpost near the north gate. And they are taking anyone with combat experience.”
“That is unusual.”
“That is desperate,” Klein corrected. “Recruitment numbers are way higher than normal. They are practically begging for new fighters.”
Kirito frowned. “Why?”
Klein’s expression turned serious. “Monster activity near the border is getting worse. Some say the barrier flickered again. Some say a Surge is building.”
Kirito felt a chill run down his spine.
Klein tapped his wooden sword against Kirito’s. “If you want to get stronger, this is your chance. But it is dangerous.”
Kirito looked up at the night sky. The stars were faint behind a thin haze.
Dangerous or not, he knew one thing:
He could not stay on the sidelines forever.