"Four glasses of dark beer," Satoru said to the bartender NPC in the mid-range tavern.
He glanced at the girl beside him, then added,
"And one glass of milk."
"I can drink too, you know!"
Sheeta puffed out her chest slightly. Her voice sounded firm enough, but it was not very convincing.
Satoru did not give her the indulgent smile he usually would, nor did he reach out to stroke her small head of smooth golden hair. If it were Sheeta, who trusted him so completely, she surely would not have rejected that kind of affectionate gesture. Their relationship had always been close in such a complicated way.
This time, he only looked at the girl.
His mouth opened slightly, but he did not know how to put it into words, so he let silence cover his reply.
Her eyes were still as clear as ever. Even when lowered toward the dust, what they reflected still held a faint glow.
Just like his own.
She had never been a fragile or sensitive person. She was pure, like a sheet of white paper dug out of snow, so clean it was almost dazzling.
But now, Sheeta was looking straight at him.
And unlike him, she did not turn her gaze away.
Even someone like you can sense changes in a person's heart?
Satoru's lips twitched, forming a weary, bitter smile. At last, he reached out and took her hand, holding it with a little more strength.
After that, he still could not help looking away.
"What's wrong? The hero who carried a princess away from the Knights of the Blood is unexpectedly gloomy."
From behind them came the good-natured teasing of several people who had already taken a small round table.
"The Knights of the Blood aren't exactly a dragon's den. If anything, I'm the rude one for barging in and demanding someone."
Even so, Satoru still led Sheeta over by the hand and sat down beside her.
Looking at the deep-blue player in front of him, who had changed almost nothing from before, he said with a little emotion,
"So you can talk in that tone too... Diavel."
"Back then, I still had the burden of 'clearing the game' on my shoulders. Things are much easier now. Someone else is doing that part. Thinking back on it, why did I take all of that onto myself in the first place?"
The former Guild Leader, once a knight with upright values and a sense of responsibility, spoke freely.
"Though I really did have that feeling in SAO, that if one player prospered, everyone prospered, and if one player suffered, everyone suffered. But in the end, the competitive mindset between online game players was mixed into it too."
"I understand that feeling very well."
Satoru rarely showed such an ashamed expression. He took out an expensive pack of cigarettes and offered one.
"I caused you trouble."
"Even your apology feels like something straight out of working society," Diavel said with a smile. "But I don't smoke. And after Argo explained everything to me in detail, I didn't feel like holding you responsible anymore. You were just trying very, very seriously to survive. Besides, you saved me once before."
Satoru nodded quietly and put one in his own mouth.
"Oh, if Diavel doesn't want it, you can give it to me!"
A rough voice with a slightly different accent spoke up.
At some point, Kibaou had dyed his cactus-like hair brown. As carefree as ever, he lightly tapped the table.
"No one would be surprised if you smoked."
Lind, sitting beside him with his head propped up, looked disgusted.
The two of them had been competing with each other since the lower floors. Calling them rivals no longer felt quite right. They were more like bad friends who bickered and joked around.
"What the hell! I'm trying to lighten the mood here! It's been a long time!"
Kibaou stretched his neck proudly.
He was surprisingly straightforward.
They had fought together as companions many times before, but only now, after the Divine Dragons Alliance had completed its reshuffle, did they have the time and peace of mind to feel this kind of atmosphere.
Diavel had left the Guild, and Lind and Kibaou had followed him out.
Their work in the lower-floor affiliated Guild, the Aincrad Liberation Squad, had not been going smoothly to begin with. The passion they had at the start, when they spoke of gathering companions to conquer the floating castle, had gradually died down.
They had talked about bringing everyone together as one, but it seemed that was all they could really do.
Talk.
The waiter quietly brought over the dark beer and milk.
"You really should have said it back then. You had no choice. Who would blame you?" Kibaou began muttering.
"You think everyone is like you, announcing it out loud even when you go to the bathroom?" Lind snorted coldly.
"Oh, so you think someone like you, who holds in every fart, is better?"
"When the hell have I ever held it in?"
"So you're saying you let them out all the time!"
"Screw you!"
Lind started rolling up his sleeves.
Diavel hurriedly stepped in and held him back.
"Change the subject. Change the subject."
The exhausted former Guild Leader was already used to watching his two deputies argue.
"But... I really didn't expect you to go to the Knights of the Blood so suddenly."
He looked at Satoru.
"Did you have some kind of history with Heathcliff?"
"I just find that guy a little unpleasant."
Satoru took a sip of beer.
After all, maybe people of the same type repelled each other.
He had only fought that man once, but that feeling of rejection had deepened. From the outside, their duel might have looked incredibly intense, with sparks flying every moment, but being caught inside it did not feel especially thrilling. It was as though both of them had a tacit understanding as they exchanged skills.
It was filled with an overwhelming sense of rationality.
It felt far too familiar, because that style had always been the foundation he relied on to survive.
Only at the very end, when each of them used their Unique Skills, did that dry feeling of sitting across from each other and playing with all cards revealed finally fade.
Because he did not understand the Holy Sword, and that man did not understand the Infinite Sword. With no clear way to adjust, all they could do was use their minds to push their own advantages further.
There were people like Didos, who could only wield their talent by staking their lives, and there were also fighters like this, as unremarkable as programmers.
He was being too sensitive.
"You must have had a very serious reason. But... what surprises me more is that you really defeated Heathcliff."
Diavel put emphasis into his voice.
"I organized many Floor battles with him before, so I've seen what he can do. Whether it's forming strategies or charging onto the front line himself, he has no problem with either."
"He's an outstanding player who makes people feel like there's nothing he can't do."
"Everyone says they've never seen him drop into yellow HP. Is that true?" Satoru frowned.
"At least in the battles I was present for, even when he was taking the pressure of a Floor Boss by himself, his HP stayed safely in the green zone."
Diavel shook his head with a wry smile.
"That's exactly why I looked so surprised when I saw you bring Sheeta-san in."
"Although this game has never held anything like a PK tournament so far, among the frontliners, not many people objected to the Knights of the Blood promoting him as the 'strongest player' either."
"You've actually made some major news without meaning to. That exaggerated claim of never dropping into yellow HP finally ended today."
"No..."
Listening to Diavel, Satoru shook his head.
"I didn't get him into yellow HP, even though that was the victory condition we set."
"Then how did...?"
"I nearly wore down the durability of his sword and shield. I had an absolute advantage in weapon count, and when the time limit ended, my HP was slightly higher than his, so it was judged as my victory."
Satoru sighed.
"Thanks to him, all my weapons need some maintenance."
"So that's the so-called indestructibility of the Holy Sword?"
"It probably adds extra durability to his weapons and equipment. Otherwise, there's no way they could have held out that long."
Satoru thought for a moment, then said,
"Forget it. It was honestly a very boring fight. Attacking a turtle shell with all your strength isn't fun. I probably won't have another chance to fight him in the future anyway. There's no need for it."
"I see."
Diavel nodded.
"What do you plan to do after this?"
"What about you?" Satoru asked.
"Well, I was half-forcibly kicked out of the Guild I founded myself."
Diavel smiled brightly.
"But I still have to play this game. Of course, I won't be pulling people together and dragging them into battle like before. I'll establish a small Guild on my side and follow the frontliners' pace a little."
"That's good enough... Honestly, there were so many people that it was impossible to manage them all," Kibaou chimed in.
"Wasn't I the one doing all the work when we were managing the Aincrad Liberation Squad?" Lind said disdainfully.
"But the Aincrad Liberation Squad didn't exactly develop either, did it?" came the swift counterattack.
The two of them started glaring at each other again, making Diavel laugh.
"As you can see, that's the situation. If you don't mind, would you like to join us, former Vice Commander? This small Guild doesn't have any Col for you to take, though."
"...Ha."
He thought for a while.
"Yeah... that might be good too."
He had never once let go of Sheeta's hand.
"Together?" he asked, turning his head.
The girl nodded lightly without the slightest objection.
Mm...
This is fine.
For now, this is fine.
Facing the unease deep in his heart, Satoru silently repeated it to himself.