Asuna: "You're always ready to sacrifice yourself, but have you ever thought—I might stay?"
Chapter 1: The Fracture in the Code
The air in Aincrad usually smelled of whatever biome the floor dictated—pine needles, wet stone, or the ozone tang of a thunderstorm. But here, in the secluded northern canyons of Floor 51, the air smelled of nothing. It was a vacuum, a void of sensory data that made the hairs on the back of Kazuto Kirigaya’s neck stand on end.
Kirito stopped, his boots grinding against the gravel. He held up a hand, signaling the player beside him to halt.
"Something's wrong," he murmured, his eyes scanning the seemingly innocuous rock face ahead.
Asuna Yuuki, clad in the red and white uniform of the Knights of the Blood—though currently acting in her capacity as his partner—stepped up beside him. She lowered her rapier, Lambent Light, but kept her grip tight. "The mapping data says this should be a dead end. Just a resource node for Ore."
"It should be," Kirito agreed. He reached out, his gloved fingers hovering inches from the stone wall. "But look at the texture resolution."
Asuna squinted. Upon closer inspection, the moss clinging to the rock wasn't swaying with the wind loop. It was static. And then, a moment later, a horizontal line flickered across the surface—a tear in the reality of the game.
Before either could speak, the rock face didn't crumble; it dissolved. The polygons stripped away like peeling paint, revealing a dark, swirling corridor that pulsed with a low-frequency hum. It wasn't a dungeon entrance designed by Argus. It looked like a wound in the world.
"A hidden floor?" Asuna whispered, awe warring with caution in her hazel eyes. "This wasn't mentioned at all in the intelligence report. Nothing in the information broker networks."
"It might not be a floor," Kirito said, his voice dropping an octave. "It looks like corrupted data. An unfinished area."
Curiosity, the fatal flaw of every gamer, pulled at them. They exchanged a look—a silent communication honed through countless hours of switching and synchronized combat. With a nod, they stepped through the glitching threshold.
The transition was instantaneous. There was no loading screen. One moment they were in the canyon, and the next, they stood on a platform of obsidian glass, suspended in a twilight void. Above them, a fractured moon hung in the sky, duplicated three times, each overlapping the other in translucent layers.
Kirito immediately swiped his right hand down to summon the main menu. He needed to check their coordinates.
His breath hitched.
WARNING: CONNECTION UNSTABLE. LOCATION: UNKNOWN.
His finger flew to the inventory tab. He tapped a Teleport Crystal. It remained dull and grey, the item name crossed out in red. He tried to send a message to Klein. ERROR: COMMS OFFLINE.
And then, the one check he always made, despite knowing the answer for the last two years. He looked for the logout button. The space was blank.
"Teleportation is blocked," Kirito said, his voice flat, masking the sudden spike of adrenaline flooding his veins. "Crystals aren't working. The system doesn't recognize where we are."
Asuna was checking her own interface. "I can't see the map data either. It's just... fog." She looked at him, her expression hardening. "This is an anomaly. The Cardinal System might try to purge this area if it detects the error. We need to find the exit trigger, fast."
Kirito looked down the single, winding path ahead. It led toward a fortress floating in the distance, its architecture a bizarre mishmash of elven ruins and metallic floors from the lower levels. The danger emanating from the path was palpable. It wasn't just the threat of monsters; it was the threat of the unknown. In a game where knowledge was the only buffer against death, they were flying blind.
Kirito’s hand tightened on the hilt of the Elucidator. The image of the moonlit room, of Sachi shattering into polygons, flashed through his mind. The weight of the Black Swordsman coat felt heavier than usual.
He turned to Asuna, shifting his body to block the path.
"Asuna," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Wait here."
Chapter 2: The Weight of Survival
Asuna blinked, taken aback. "What?"
"The crystals don't work. We don't know the mob levels. If this is a glitch, the physics might not even apply correctly," Kirito listed the variables rapidly, his eyes avoiding hers. "I'm going to scout ahead. I have a higher hiding skill. I can check for traps and map the route to the exit."
"And what am I supposed to do?" Asuna asked, her voice rising. "Sit on this rock and wait for you?"
"It's safer," Kirito insisted. "If the path collapses, or if there's a unique boss... if I'm alone, I can retreat faster. I don't have to worry about..."
He trailed off, but the words hung in the air: I don't have to worry about protecting you.
Asuna stepped forward, the heels of her boots clicking sharply on the glass floor. The "Lightning Flash"—the sub-leader of the strongest guild in Aincrad—was not someone to be ordered to the sidelines. But she saw past the logic. She saw the terror in his eyes. It wasn't arrogance; it was trauma.
"Kirito," she said softly, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his black coat.
He tried to pull away gently. "I'm serious, Asuna. I can't risk you here. If something happens to me, you need to be here to tell the others—"
"Stop it," she commanded.
She tightened her grip on his sleeve, pulling him back until he was forced to look at her. The twilight sky reflected in her amber eyes, burning with a fierce, terrified resolve.
"You're doing it again," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You're trying to shoulder the entire world because you're afraid to let anyone else carry it."
"I'm not—"
"You are!" She cut him off. "We are married, Kirito. In this world, that means we share an inventory. We share a home. And we share our lives. You don't get to decide when to cash in your life to save mine."
Kirito gritted his teeth. "I promised I'd protect you. I promised I would return you to the real world. I can't keep that promise if we both die in a glitch halfway between floors!"
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the digital hum of the void.
Asuna took a step closer, invading his personal space, forcing him to acknowledge her presence not as a liability, but as his equal. She placed a hand on his chest, right over his virtual heart.
"This time, you can't go ahead alone," she stated, her voice dropping to a whisper that carried more weight than a shout.
Kirito looked down. "Asuna..."
"You're always ready to sacrifice yourself," she said, her eyes searching his face, pleading with him to understand. "You throw yourself at bosses. You take the front line. You act like your life is the currency you have to pay to get everyone else home. But have you ever thought—" Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath. "Have you ever thought—I might stay?"
Kirito froze. The words hit him like a physical blow. I might stay.
"If you die," Asuna whispered, "do you think I would just go back to the real world and live happily? Do you think I could leave this place behind if I left you behind?"
She gripped his coat tighter, her knuckles white. "If you die here, Kirito, I die here. Even if my HP bar doesn't hit zero, I won't survive it. So don't you dare try to 'save' me by leaving me alone with that possibility."
Kirito stared at her. For so long, he had operated under the logic of the Beater—loneliness was safety. Attachments were weaknesses that the system could exploit. But looking at Asuna now, seeing the raw fear of loss that mirrored his own, he realized his calculation was wrong.
He wasn't protecting her by pushing her away. He was preparing to hurt her in the worst way possible.
Slowly, the tension drained from his shoulders. He covered her hand on his chest with his own. The leather of his glove met the warmth of her skin.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I... I'm just scared."
"I know," Asuna replied, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm scared too. That's why we go together. Switch?"
Kirito closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. When he opened them, the solo player was gone. The partner remained.
"Switch," he confirmed.
Chapter 3: The Uncanny Valley
They moved as a unit. Kirito took point, his detection skills maxed out, while Asuna guarded the rear and flanks, her speed allowing her to react to ambushes instantly.
The path to the floating fortress was disturbing. The mobs here weren't normal. They encountered a group of wolf-like creatures, but their textures were wrong—wireframes exposed in patches, their howls sounding like corrupted audio files screeching through a broken speaker. They didn't have cursors.
"Two on the left, one on the right!" Kirito shouted, parrying a snap of jaws that felt too heavy against his blade.
There was no post-motion delay assist. The system wasn't correcting their stances. This was manual combat in its rawest form.
"I've got the right!" Asuna blurred past him. Her rapier was a streak of white light. Without the system assist, her speed was purely her own athletic reflex, honed to a razor's edge. She pierced the glitch-wolf, three strikes in a second. It didn't shatter into shards; it evaporated into binary code.
"They don't drop Exp," Kirito noted, breathing hard as he dispatched the last one. "We're burning durability for nothing."
"We're burning it for survival," Asuna corrected. "The gate has to be in that fortress."
They pressed on. As they reached the fortress entrance, the massive doors groaned open without being touched. Inside, the architecture defied Euclidean geometry. Stairs went sideways. Corridors looped back on themselves.
At the center of the great hall stood a figure. It was a Knight, easily ten feet tall, clad in armor that shifted colors rapidly—gold, then black, then invisible. It held a greatsword that seemed to be made of pure static.
BOSS DETECTED: THE FORGOTTEN WARDEN.
Four HP bars. But the name flickered, sometimes reading as "Friendly NPC" and other times as "Fatal Error."
"It's unstable," Kirito warned, drawing the Dark Repulser to join the Elucidator. "Asuna, watch its attack patterns. I don't think it follows a standard algorithm."
The Warden roared—a sound of digital distortion—and charged.
The battle was chaos. The Warden didn't just attack; it teleported short distances, lagging through the air. A horizontal slash would suddenly become a vertical smash.
Kirito barely dodged a strike that shattered the floor where he had stood a microsecond before. He rolled, coming up with a Double Circular, the twin blades biting into the Warden's armor. The feedback shock ran up his arms. It was like hitting a brick wall.
"Switch!" Kirito yelled, his balance compromised.
Asuna didn't hesitate. She dove under the Warden's guard, trusting Kirito to recover. She unleashed Star Splash, a high-level thrusting combo. But mid-combo, the Warden glitched, its torso twisting 180 degrees instantly to backhand her.
"Asuna!"
She saw it coming. The system wouldn't let her cancel the motion of the Sword Skill—usually. But this floor was broken. The rules were loose.
With a scream of effort, Asuna wrenched her body against the system's guidance, tearing herself out of the skill animation. It caused a sharp pain in her avatar, a phantom sensation of torn muscles, but she ducked the blow. The Warden's fist passed inches above her head.
She rolled back, panting. "The system... the skill lock is weak here!"
Kirito realized what she meant. "We can override the motion assist? That means we can feint!"
It was risky. Sword Skills were powerful because the system guaranteed the speed and force. Without them, they were just swinging heavy metal. But against an enemy that read system inputs, manual control was the only trump card.
"I'll draw his fire," Kirito said, his eyes locking onto hers. "You deliver the kill shot. No skills until the impact point."
"Got it."
Kirito charged. He initiated The Eclipse, his ultimate dual-wielding skill. The Warden's AI recognized the stance immediately and prepared a counter-block, its shield shifting to absorb the specific 27-hit combo.
But just as the first strike was about to connect, Kirito did the impossible. He stopped.
He forcibly canceled the ultimate skill, dropping his weight and sliding beneath the Warden's raised shield. The boss AI froze for a fraction of a second, calculating the error.
That split second was all Asuna needed.
"Haaah!"
She launched herself off Kirito's back, using him as a step. She was in the air, directly in front of the Warden's helmet. She didn't use a named skill. She simply drove Lambent Light forward with every ounce of love, fear, and fury she possessed.
The rapier pierced the visor. Critical Hit.
Only then did she trigger the skill—Flashing Penetrator. The system command engaged after the hit, turning the blade into a drill of white energy that exploded through the Warden's skull.
The massive knight convulsed. The static noise screamed, rising in pitch until it was unbearable, and then—silence.
The boss shattered, not into polygons, but into a shower of white light that illuminated the dark room. A notification pinged.
DEBUG COMPLETE. RESTORING SESSION.
Chapter 4: The Promise
The world swirled. The obsidian floor, the fractured moon, and the fortress dissolved into mist. When the light faded, the smell of pine and wet stone returned.
They were back in the canyon on Floor 51. The sun was setting, casting long, orange shadows across the rock face. The tear in the wall was gone, replaced by solid, unremarkable stone.
Kirito fell to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground. His breath came in ragged gasps. He checked his menu immediately. Teleport crystals: Active. Logout button: Visible.
He slumped forward, the tension leaving his body so fast it left him dizzy. But before he could hit the ground, arms wrapped around him.
Asuna held him tight, burying her face in the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a long time, grounded by the texture of each other's avatars, proving they were still there.
"We made it," Asuna whispered.
Kirito pulled back slightly to look at her. She looked exhausted, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but her eyes were clear. He realized, with a sudden pang of clarity, that she had saved him. Not just in the fight, but before it.
If he had gone in alone, he would have tried to use The Eclipse. The Warden would have countered it. He would have died in that cold, silent void.
"You were right," Kirito said, his voice hoarse. "I couldn't have done that alone."
Asuna smiled, a small, tired thing. "I know. That's why I'm here."
Kirito took her hand, interlacing their fingers. "I promise, Asuna. No more trying to be a martyr. I won't leave you behind. If we face the end... we face it together."
"Together," she echoed.
She leaned in, pressing her lips to his. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but of relief—a seal on the promise they had just made. In a world of virtual constructs and artificial intelligence, the bond between them was the most real thing they possessed.
Kirito stood up, pulling Asuna to her feet. He sheathed his swords on his back, the familiar weight comforting once more. He looked at the cliff face one last time, then turned away.
"Let's go home," he said.
"Yeah," Asuna replied, walking beside him, their hands still joined. "Let's go home."
They walked back toward the main settlement, leaving the phantom interval behind them, two players against the world, but no longer alone.