April 9, 2023. 12:18 PM — Stonecross, Floor 20

  Stonecross didn’t announce itself with towering walls or spires visible from miles away. It revealed itself differently: first the road widening, then the noise. Overlapping voices, constant footsteps, the dry crack of wood against stone. Before you even saw the city, you already knew you’d reached a place where Aincrad was still moving.

  The city stretched across a solid plain of pale rock and leveled ground, cut through by broad roads that crossed at right angles. There were no whimsical curves, no decorative plazas meant to impress. Everything in Stonecross looked built with a practical purpose: to keep traffic flowing, to keep trade moving, to handle the endless back-and-forth of players hauling goods and col.

  The buildings were tall by lower-floor standards—stone and reinforced timber, with simple, sturdy fa?ades. Most ground floors were open to the public, converted into shops, workshops, or storage, while the upper levels served as housing or private stockrooms. Signs hung without much care: some crooked, some freshly painted—proof of businesses opening and closing at a relentless pace.

  On the main avenue, the stream of people never stopped. NPC merchants offered crystals, processed food, and standard gear, while players set up temporary stalls to sell hunting surplus or materials fresh from outside. There were no criers, no music. The dominant sound was negotiation: numbers, comparisons, half-promises.

  Deeper in, the air changed. Down a side street, the rhythm was hammer blows. Smithies lined up one after another, each with its own furnace and its own pride. Hot metal hissed, and the smell of iron mixed with sweat and smoke. It wasn’t elegant—but it was honest. Here, damaged weapons were repaired, edges were reforged, and pieces were made that might never be legendary, but would be reliable.

  Stonecross didn’t invite you to stay because it was beautiful. It invited you because it was convenient. Inns were plentiful and varied in price, rentals were abundant, and commercial spaces were offered for rates unthinkable on lower—or more famous—floors. It was the perfect place to start something… knowing that sooner or later, you’d have to keep climbing.

  When night fell, the city didn’t go dark. Torches flared to life, covered galleries stayed busy, and warehouses kept taking deliveries. Stonecross never fully slept, because Aincrad didn’t either. It was a city built not for glory or rest, but to carry the weight of a world that kept moving no matter what.

  And for many players, that was enough to call it home.

  Veget walked the stone streets, watching how in barely a month Stonecross had gone from just another Aincrad city to the game’s commercial core.

  The Divine Dragon Alliance (DDA) had rented out an entire inn as their base on the floor—a deliberate display of status as the dominant force since the tragedy the Aincrad Liberation Army (AL) had suffered during the Floor 25 boss assault.

  Veget was headed there to officially join the guild. Lind himself had been trying to recruit him for months after seeing his command instincts in raid battles.

  Veget’s party had been the only one that hadn’t suffered losses again since the fight with Illfang.

  When he entered the inn, he found Lind and several other leaders waiting around a table.

  —Welcome, Veget —Lind smiled, shaking his hand—. We’re glad you finally accepted.

  —Thank you for waiting for me —Veget replied, returning the greeting politely.

  Lind nodded, confident.

  —The DDA is Aincrad’s most important elite force. It’s only natural we’d wait for an exceptional player like you.

  —We don’t just have the best players —Droit added—. We also have resources.

  —We usually require every member to bring their own high-level gear —Lind continued—, but in your case we’ve decided to provide starter equipment so you can integrate immediately.

  Veget nodded as the item delivery came through: shield, armor, sword, boots, cape. All of it higher level than what he’d used until now.

  He thought of Rin and Shiori. His odds of surviving the death game and returning to them had just improved.

  —We’ve decided you’ll lead a new assault party —Goldfire added, the DDA’s tactical lead.

  Veget looked at him, surprised.

  —Won’t the older members have a problem with that?

  —They won’t —Goldfire assured him—. We’ll introduce you to your team.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  They entered a spacious room. Six players waited there, all well-equipped: Norky, Betterfly, Jolt, Springer, RedSpider, and Isabella—the only woman in the group.

  —I’d like you to meet your new party leader: Veget.

  Isabella was the first to react, flashing him an open smile.

  —With you leading, I feel safer already —she said, winking.

  Veget answered with a courteous smile and then looked over the rest. He caught hesitation on a couple faces, but no open resistance. A good starting point.

  —Alright —he said at last—. From now on, until further notice, we’re a party. We’ll follow the central command directives and the assault leaders. But—

  He let the silence do the work.

  —Never forget that my orders take priority over anyone else’s.

  All six watched him closely.

  —Our goal is to clear all one hundred floors and get out of here. We’ll cooperate actively in taking each floor. But dying out of stubborn pride helps no one.

  His gaze hardened.

  —I don’t want heroes. I want a coordinated team. If I decide the risk is excessive, I will order an immediate retreat—even against superior orders. I’ll take full responsibility. Understood?

  —Yes, sir! —all six answered in unison, like they were already a single unit.

  Veget smiled, satisfied.

  And once again, he thought of the two most important people in his life.

  Almost there. Wait for me.

  April 9, 2023. 4:36 PM — Boss Dungeon, Floor 17

  Even though Aincrad offered infinite variations—giving every floor its own identity—the boss dungeons shared an unsettlingly similar structure: dark stone labyrinths, damp walls, and scattered torches that kept total darkness away, but never offered enough safety to truly relax.

  From one of the corridors, a woman’s voice boomed like thunder right after a deafening metallic crash.

  —Switch!

  A long-haired blond boy with hazel eyes lunged with his katana, chaining basic strikes without using a sword skill until the final blow.

  —Switch!

  A slender, beautiful girl with golden hair and blue eyes moved in instantly. Two daggers flashed as she activated an eight-hit skill that erased the snake-man before it could react.

  —That was incredible, Miwa-san! —exclaimed a boy holding a longsword.

  —Thanks, Iorin-san —she replied naturally, her smile unshaken.

  Beside Iorin were two other women: Daphne21, wielding a rapier, and Warinka, wrapped in heavy armor and carrying a shield nearly as large as she was.

  Female tanks weren’t common in SAO, but they existed. Warinka was tall—around five foot nine. She wasn’t striking in a traditional, delicate way, but her presence was imposing. She had a contagious laugh and a personality so overpowering that even Miwa seemed to fade slightly when Warinka was nearby.

  —Warinka-san, you were amazing too —Ryuho said, wearing a smile so warm it felt like his whole personality had changed along with his hair.

  It was the same irresistible charm Miwa had… refined by years.

  Warinka blushed instantly. Normally confident and commanding, she melted from a single gesture from the samurai.

  —I told you, you can call me Warinka-chan, if you want —she said, nervously twirling a strand of hair.

  —Only if you start calling me just Ryuho —he shot back.

  That hypnotic smile stole her breath.

  Warinka let out a nervous laugh as her teammates watched, not entirely sure what they were witnessing.

  And they weren’t the only ones.

  HappyGoose watched in silence. He couldn’t reconcile the man in front of him with the samurai who, days earlier, had nearly killed him just for knowing his sister in the real world.

  Ryuho was cold. Calculating. Relentless.

  But this player was warm, kind… almost gentle.

  He was, HappyGoose realized with a chill, the male version of Miwa.

  Miwa watched from the corner of her eye, her usual smile intact. She’d never seen her brother act this close with a girl. And while Warinka didn’t match classic beauty standards, in Aincrad strength could become strangely attractive.

  More than anything, Miwa was glad to see Ryuho open up with someone who wasn’t her. He’d been alone too long—smothered by the weight of being the heir to the Onodera empire.

  They pushed on for several more minutes until Iorin spotted an irregular section of wall.

  After examining it, a stone shifted under pressure and the wall slid aside, revealing a small room with a chest in the center.

  —Alright —Daphne21 said—. Your turn to take the loot, Ryuho.

  He nodded and stepped forward… then stopped, turning to Warinka.

  —Warinka-chan, could you help me again?

  Her heart kicked violently at hearing him call her that.

  —Of course, Ryuho —she answered, glowing.

  She barely started forward when Daphne21 grabbed her arm sharply.

  —Wake up, idiot! —she snapped—. Don’t you realize he’s using you to check if the chest is trapped?

  Warinka went quiet. Then she lifted her gaze to Ryuho.

  He offered her a smile loaded with guilt.

  —Your gear is the best in the group —he said—. Even if a mechanism triggers, you’ll be fine.

  He looked down, as if her eyes weighed on him.

  —You don’t have to do it… if you don’t trust me.

  His voice broke at the end.

  And with it, Warinka’s heart.

  —No! —she blurted instantly—. Of course I trust you. You’re right—nothing will happen to me even if it’s trapped. Besides… —she added with a flirty wink— if something does happen, you’ll rescue me, right?

  —Of course, Warinka-chan —Ryuho replied with absolute conviction.

  She smiled again, walked to the center of the room…

  and opened the chest.