3

The Underworld boasted an enormous variety of “callings,” lifelong professions for its citizens, but almost none of them related in any way to being a traveler.

The closest thing, perhaps, was a trader who would cross the walls into other empires, but it was difficult to define this as “traveling” in a true sense. For one thing, in the circular central city, just carrying goods from North Centoria to East Centoria and back was a trip of five kilometers, at best.

The rural villagers were almost entirely self-sufficient, with the few outside valuables like herbs and fine metalwork coming from the nearest large town (in Rulid’s case, Zakkaria) via periodic carriages. There were no traveling artists, poets, or troubadours, and travel for pleasure was impossible due to the “one day of rest per week” system.

The only exception to this rule was the Integrity Knight, who rode on a flying dragon from Centoria all the way to the End Mountains 750 kilometers away—but that was too specialized to be considered a “calling.”

Therefore, long-distance travel was anathema to the Underworld, but that didn’t mean it was actually forbidden in any way, merely impractical. You just needed a calling that allowed for it—say, a furniture maker in Centoria who traveled to sell wares far up to the north in Zakkaria. I myself had managed to cross the entire empire by following its rules.

In other words, traveling simply came down to the disposition of the individual. And in the case of the Underworld, less than 1 percent of the residents had the disposition to attempt it.

That didn’t mean that nobody in the world had a heart full of curiosity and adventure. One of those very people was a craftsman in District Seven of North Centoria named Sadore.

“Just lookit this!”

A number of rectangular stone plates clattered before our eyes. The fine black objects were grindstones from the eastern empire, but they’d all been ground down to a thickness of less than two cens, rendering them useless.

“These black-brick grindstones are supposed to last three years each, and I’m out half a dozen in just a single year!”

“Ah…s-sorry about that,” I said, feeling truly apologetic to the red-faced store owner.

Sadore’s metalworking business was crammed full of stuff, from raw metal materials, to ornaments, to actual weapons and armor. Most striking was the line of swords on the back wall. Why would a craftsman sell actual swords, we wondered, so we had asked the imposing fellow himself. His answer was simple: He had actually wanted to be a blacksmith.

As a matter of fact, the only difference between blacksmiths and craftsmen in the Underworld was the tools they used. Blacksmiths used furnaces, anvils, and hammers to fashion metal materials into goods. Craftsmen used chisels, drills, and files. In other words, one pounded the metal, the other scraped at it.

In the real world, my mountain bike had different options for the same part that were either forged aluminum or cut aluminum. Figuring this was about the same level of difference, I had suggested that a craftsman could still make a sword. Sadore glared at me furiously and groaned that even the same metal parts would end up performing differently.

According to him, the same metal materials, if used to create a sword through whittling or smithing on an anvil, would be of a higher priority (the class-N object number) in the latter case. Therefore, when he had started trying to make swords, a fellow blacksmith in District Seven had called them “shameless knockoffs that are all look, no quality.”

Young, adventurous Sadore had gotten fired up over this. He had created and stocked up an entire year’s worth of product, left the management of the business to his wife and apprentice, then gone on a long journey—in search of materials that would make a good sword when cut, not forged.

Craftsmen couldn’t get permission to cross borders, so his only choice of destination was north, out of Centoria. For months he walked from town to village, finding promising materials here and there, but none of them satisfied his exacting standards. Eventually he wound up in a forest near the very north, where he met an enormous tree that split the heavens.

No fire could even singe its bark, and a single swing from a metal ax would chip the blade. It simply withstood, tall, hard, and black—the Gigas Cedar.

He had met the “carver” at the time, Old Man Garitta (who was more like Young Man Garitta then), and, energized by his discovery, tried to break off a narrow branch of the Gigas Cedar for use in crafting a sword. Through Garitta’s help, he had climbed the trunk to a branch of appropriate size, but despite working with his file for three days and nights, he couldn’t create even the tiniest groove in the wood.

Sadore had sadly descended the tree and told Garitta that if it should one day be felled, to let him know, and that he would return to the forest to get that branch.

In the end, Garitta did fulfill Sadore’s request, but not in the way he imagined.

Last March, after a very long journey, Eugeo and I had finally arrived in Centoria, and as Old Man Garitta had asked, we had visited Sadore’s shop in District Seven. I had handed over the branch from the very tip of the Gigas Cedar. Sadore couldn’t speak for three whole minutes, and it took him another five to fully examine the wood.

Give me a year, he had said. With a year, I can turn this branch into one hell of a sword. A sword to surpass even an Integrity Knight’s Divine Weapon.

Exactly one year later, on March 7th, 380 HE, Eugeo and I were back at the red-faced craftsman’s shop to pick up the promised item.

“S-so…did you finish the sword?” I asked, cutting through Sadore’s grumbling so that it didn’t continue forever. He clamped his mouth shut and glared at me, tugging on his gray beard, then snorted and crouched down. He reached with both hands under the counter and pulled out a long, narrow cloth. It took all his burly strength to lift it up.

Gwonk! It clattered heavily on the counter, but he did not let go of it. One hand rested atop the cloth wrapper, while the other returned to his beard.

“Young man. We haven’t discussed the price yet.”

“Urg.”

The empire ran the Swordcraft Academy, so it had no tuition cost, but for the last year, I’d spent my days off going into the city to shop. Most of the shia I’d earned at the Zakkaria garrison were gone now. I couldn’t begin to guess how much it would cost for the craftsman’s fee (plus a year’s worth of labor and six grindstones).

“It’s all right, Kirito. I brought all my money, too,” Eugeo muttered into my ear. That was both a relief and ominous at the same time. What if our combined assets were still far short? Was that against the Taboo Index? Would the police—er, Integrity Knights—swoop in and imprison us…?

“…But I’m willing to waive the cost,” Sadore finally finished after a heart-stoppingly long pause. We were just about to exhale when he dramatically continued, “However! I will only do so if you can swing this monster, young man. The base material itself was already tremendously heavy, and you carried it all the way from the north to Centoria, so I have faith in you…but consider this a warning. The moment the sword was completed, it got even heavier. Blacksmiths and metal-crafters are able to carry around their finest swords thanks to Terraria’s blessing…but even I can’t move this thing farther than a mel.”

“…Hence the ‘monster,’ eh?” I murmured, looking down at the cloth.

Even through the heavy woven fabric, there was a powerful sense of presence that practically warped the space around it. It seemed to be inviting me closer…or drawing on some magnetized part of my body to pull me in.

Eugeo and I had headed south on a stormy spring day two years ago.

At Eugeo’s waist was the Blue Rose Sword, now safely stashed in the drawer beneath his bed in the primary trainees’ dorm. On my back was the freshly snapped black branch of the Gigas Cedar. Old Man Garitta had told us to ask Sadore the craftsman to fashion it into a sword, but there was a part of me that sensed foreboding and urged me to bury it deep in the woods instead.

I still didn’t know what it was that had come over me. Obviously it would be more natural and comfortable for two swordsmen to have two swords. Gaining a new weapon as powerful as the Blue Rose Sword should be welcomed, not feared.

Reason overrode my premonition, and I had ultimately carried the branch all the way to Centoria, where I left it with Sadore.

And here we were, one year later. The branch was now a sword, waiting beneath the cloth layer for our first contact.

I took a deep breath, exhaled, and reached out. First I picked up the whole bundle and stood it on the counter. It was indeed quite dense and heavy, but no more so than the Blue Rose Sword.

The cloth was rolled lightly around the sword, not tied, so it fell loose when I stood it up, exposing the hilt.

The pommel was a simple weighted design, and finely trimmed leather was wrapped around the handle. The knuckle guard was on the small side, apparently because it was carved straight out of the wood, rather than being a separately attached part. The exposed parts of the handle were the same semitranslucent black color that I remembered from the branch. The leather was gleaming black, too.

The sheath that swallowed up the blade was also finished with black leather. I reached out, tightening my fingers on the grip one by one, and tensed.

I’d used plenty of swords before, and they were all VRMMO objects, with the sole exception of the dusty old bamboo shinai at home. But in spite of that—or perhaps because of it—I felt something when I squeezed the handle. A sensation that went from my palm through my arm and shoulder, then shivered down my back.

The sensation of holding the Anneal Blade when I got it for my first quest on the first floor of Aincrad.

The sensation of holding the Queen’s Nightblade the dark elf queen bequeathed me on the ninth floor.

The sensation of holding the black Elucidator longsword that dropped from the fiftieth-floor boss.

The sensation of holding the pale Dark Repulser longsword that Lisbeth forged for me.

Even the sensation of the legendary Excalibur that I earned at great cost in the fairy realm of Alfheim…

A thrill ran through me equal to—perhaps even greater than—the moments I first encountered my various companions throughout my adventures. I was rooted to the spot. When the trembling left, I tensed and yanked the sword out of the black leather sheath.

Jriiiing! The ringing sound was a bit deeper than the Blue Rose Sword’s. It was heavy, but without the stiffness of a metallic blade. Yet it was also completely different from a wooden sword. It sounded unbelievably tough and yet fierce. I flipped my wrist up straight, and the end of the sword hummed.

“Hrmm,” Sadore grunted.

“Whoaaa,” Eugeo marveled.

I held my breath and gazed at the blade.

It looked to be about exactly as long as my old Elucidator. That only made sense, as I was the one who had snapped off the branch at that length and instructed Sadore how long it should be.

The blade was the same deep black as the handle that it was connected to, a single piece of wood. It still had that slight translucence, taking in the light that shone through the window, and occasionally glowing with hints of gold, depending on the angle. It was shaped like an orthodox one-handed longsword, but the flat was a bit wider than the Blue Rose Sword’s.

The edge of the bevel slope along the flat had a sharp angle to it and seemed likely to break the skin if you brushed it. The blade itself did not reflect light from any angle; it was as though it cut the light itself.

“…Can you swing it?” Sadore finally rumbled.

By way of answer, I glanced around the shop, making sure there were no other customers present. The young apprentice was in the back workshop, out of sight.

I turned to face parallel to the long counter. There was an empty space at least five mels long ahead of me, plenty enough for a test swing. With my left hand on the sheath, I spread my legs forward and back and crouched. I didn’t need to try a sword skill; just a one-handed vertical slice would do.

There was a buckler carved from a steel sheet hanging on the wall. I slowly raised the sword up high, setting my sights on the shield.

After training with nothing but wooden swords for the past year, the black sword was mercilessly heavy in my hand, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It was a comforting weight—a challenge to me, a demand that I wield it with skill.

As the tip reached a vertical tilt, I slid my right leg forward, imagining the vector of my weight shifting and the moment of torsion. All the energy stored in that sword tip descending unleashed with a powerful step forward.

“Shaaa!”

Black light ran in a straight line, followed by the sound of air being cloven in two. The tip of the sword stopped just short of the floorboard, but the expanding force of the swing caused the board to creak.

I stood up again. Eugeo beamed and applauded, while Sadore snorted ferociously.

“Hmph! So the skinny little academy trainee can swing that thing, eh?”

“It’s a good sword,” I said, judging that no more needed to be said. The craftsman finally broke into a snarling grin and tugged his beard again.

“Bet your ass it is. Six black-brick grindstones! But…a promise is a promise. No charge for my services—just tell ’em it was the master craftsman Sadore’s work, once you get famous! The sword’s yours now.”

“…Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said, bowing deeply. Eugeo joined in. Then I straightened up and sheathed the sword again.

Sadore gazed at the black blade for two seconds, then grinned again. “You’ve got to think of a name now. And remember, my place is associated with it, so don’t go givin’ it some weird title.”

“Uhh…”

I had no quick answer. Until this point, all the virtual worlds I’d been through were the kind where objects had preset names when you got them. Coming up with names wasn’t my strong suit.

“I…I’ll think about it,” I suggested. “Anyway, if its life starts to drop, I’ll be back to get it sharpened again…”

“Sure thing. And it won’t be free, I’ll tell you that!”

“I—I wouldn’t dream of it.”

We gave him one last round of bows and took a few steps toward the door.

Suddenly, a loud clanging erupted behind us, and we jumped. Over my shoulder, Sadore was staring at the west wall in shock.

I followed his line of sight to the buckler on the wall, now split into two, with one half clattering on the floor.

It would be a violation of the Taboo Index to intentionally destroy shop merchandise.

It would be a violation of the Taboo Index to accidentally destroy merchandise and fail to pay for it.

In the case of , one may escape punishment only if the shopkeeper forgives the violator.

I rushed back to the academy, poring over these newly learned bits of information. My teacher of all things taboo-related, Eugeo, muttered and complained into my ear as we rushed along.

“…If you were just going to test it out, you didn’t need to use one of your top-secret techniques! You should have realized that it was going to ruin some of the wares in there!”

“Er, well…I didn’t think I was using a sword sk—er, a technique…”

“I saw what you did, Kirito. The moment you swung it down, the blade glowed just a bit. I have to assume that it was some supersecret Aincrad technique you haven’t taught me yet!”

“Er, well…I’m pretty sure there’s no such technique in the Aincrad style…”

As we walked and bickered, a sweet scent hit my nostrils and went straight to my brain.

North Centoria was split into ten districts. The farthest south (and closest to Central Cathedral) was District One, home of the imperial palace; then District Two and the imperial government; while Districts Three and Four contained noble houses. The mansions in District Three would make Asuna jealous, but even more surprising was that the nobles from first- to third-rank also owned large private estates outside the city.

Some estates contained their own little villages, the residents of which were essentially servile to the noble family. It was only inevitable that noble children raised in those circumstances eventually went on to produce a few bad eggs like Raios and Humbert.

District Five was a cluster of imperial facilities and buildings: the knighthood headquarters, the coliseum, and, of course, the Imperial Swordcraft Academy.

Districts Six and Seven were commercial areas. Districts Eight, Nine, and Ten at the north end of the city were civilian residential areas. From what I had learned in geography lessons, this layout was absolutely identical in the east, west, and south portions of Centoria, too. That couldn’t be by coincidence, and I doubted that all four emperors had gotten their heads together to plan it out, either. It had to be a unified design choice by someone powerful within the Axiom Church. Being a student meant I was too busy to think about them much, but it was a reminder of the absolute power of the church.

At any rate—in order to get from Sadore’s metalworking shop in District Seven to the academy in District Five, we had to pass through District Six, which was packed with tempting food markets and restaurants. Essentially all the money that had fled my wallet over the past year had gone into District Six.

The most dangerous time was around two o’clock on a day of rest. This was right around the time that the Jumping Deer restaurant on East Third Street baked up its famous honey pies and sent the smell wafting out into the street. Every time I caught that smell, I needed to make a high-difficulty saving throw against temptation—and most times, I lost.

“…Hey, Eugeo. It’s a good thing we didn’t have to pay for the broken shield or the sword itself, isn’t it?” I noted, slowing down.

My partner nodded, but with suspicion. “True…After we joined the academy, I found out that Sadore’s got certification as a first-class crafts-master. If he’d forced us to pay, our entire savings wouldn’t have covered it.”

“Ohh…Hey, maybe this is a pointless question, but what would’ve happened if we didn’t have enough? Would they arrest us on the spot?”

“No, that wouldn’t happen. It would get put on a tab that we’d have to pay down in monthly amounts.”

“Oh, I see…”

Unlike Aincrad, where the Cardinal control system regimented the in-game economy to fix the value of col, the shia of the Underworld had a more free-flowing value dictated by the residents’ activities. Therefore, it was important for even starving students to do their part and stimulate the economy.

Empowered by this noble motive, I suggested, “Well, since we’ve saved ourselves some extra cash, why don’t we swing by and get three each?”

My partner sighed, having seen all of this coming a mile away, and said, “Make it two.”

I grinned and nodded, then shifted directions to lead us over toward the left, where a young lady was setting some fresh-baked honey pies at the sales window of the restaurant.

At some point, the weight of the sword package slung over my back had vanished into familiarity, and I didn’t even notice it was there. As if it had been there for years.