When the light faded, Night-Rain was no longer standing outside the mayor's office.
She was in the Town of Beginnings' central plaza—along with what looked like every single player who had entered the game today.
A sea of confused, anxious faces surrounded her, some players shouting, others checking their HUDs, just as she had.
Then, the sky darkened.
A massive system notification spread across the heavens like a blood-red script, its glowing letters drawing every gaze upward.
Then, a robed figure appeared out of thin air—towering, faceless, and cloaked in a deep crimson mist.
Despite having no face, an overwhelming presence of power radiated from it.
Then, it spoke.
"Welcome, players of Sword Art Online."
The crowd fell silent.
"I am Kayaba Akihiko," the figure continued, his voice echoing across the plaza, calm yet absolute.
Night-Rain's stomach dropped.
Kayaba Akihiko—the creator of SAO.
Her fingers twitched toward her menu again, hoping—praying— that this was just a server-wide error. But there was nothing. The log-out option was still missing.
And then, he confirmed it.
"By now, you will have noticed the absence of the log-out button in your menu. This is not a mistake, nor a glitch. It is a feature."
The words hit like a thunderclap, spreading a wave of panic through the players.
Night-Rain felt her breath catch in her throat.
"I have purposely removed it," Kayaba continued, his tone eerily composed. "From this moment forward, you are all trapped within this world."
Cries of confusion, outrage, and fear erupted from the crowd.
"That's impossible!" someone shouted.
"We can just disconnect our NerveGear!" another protested.
But Kayaba was not finished.
"I must also warn you: any attempt to forcibly remove the NerveGear from your body will result in immediate death."
A stunned silence fell over the plaza.
"The device's internal transmitters will emit a lethal energy surge, frying the user's brain. I have already informed the outside world of this, but…"
He paused.
Then, his next words chilled Night-Rain to the bone.
"Despite my warnings, some family members and authorities have attempted to remove the headsets. As a result, 213 players have already perished."
The horrified gasps around her felt like a punch to the gut.
Dead.
Just like that.
Night-Rain's legs felt unsteady. Her mind raced, searching for a loophole, an escape, a way to fix this—
But Kayaba wasn't finished.
"Furthermore, I have removed the revival system. Death in this game is permanent. If you die in Sword Art Online, your NerveGear will terminate your real body as well."
A ripple of sheer terror passed through the crowd.
The reality of the situation settled in like an unbearable weight.
Night-Rain swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears.
"The only way to escape is to clear the game."
His voice carried over the stunned players like a divine decree.
"You must conquer all 100 floors of Aincrad and defeat their bosses. Only then will the system unlock the log-out function."
For a moment, no one spoke.
It was too much to process.
100 floors. Death was permanent. 213 people were already gone.
They were trapped.
Some players were crying, others stood paralyzed, and a few—just a few—had their eyes filled with determination.
Kayaba was not done yet.
"As a parting gift, I have left something in your inventories. Open it now."
Night-Rain hesitated, but her hand moved on its own, navigating to her inventory screen.
There it was:
🔹 Hand Mirror
Confused, she selected it—
A blinding light erupted from the plaza!
For a brief moment, everything vanished into white.
When it faded, the entire plaza erupted into chaos.
Players were staring at each other in shock—because none of them looked the same.
Night-Rain felt...nothing. Nothing happened to her.
She was… herself.
The slightly stylized avatar she had created at the start of the game, was still there staring back at her in the mirror
'Is it because all I changed was my hair and eye color?'
The whole crowd was in disarray.
The number of female players dropped drastically as many revealed themselves to be men who had chosen female avatars. Others gasped as their carefully designed, idealized characters transformed back into their true selves.
Kayaba, watching the unfolding shockwave of revelation, spoke one last time.
"I have given you this gift so that you may face this world… as you truly are."
His voice held a finality that sent shivers down her spine.
"This concludes the tutorial. Good luck, players."
Then—
He vanished.
Leaving behind thousands of players in stunned, horrified silence.
The sounds of panicked voices, sobs, and frantic shouts blended into a distant, muffled blur.
Her hands were trembling.
Her NerveGear was still on her head in the real world. She was trapped. They all were.
213 people were dead.
And if she died in here, she would die for real.
She exhaled slowly, forcing the panic down.
Think.
One step at a time.
She glanced up at the floating castle high above Aincrad's sky.
100 floors.
The only way out was forward.
With a deep breath, Night-Rain relaxed her body, calming herself.
"Well, I shouldn't stress about it too much. If we get out, we get out."
It wasn't like she could force an exit. The only option now was to survive long enough to see if there was an escape waiting at the top.
Satisfied with that conclusion, she turned on her heel and began to stride away from the growing hysteria, leaving the crowd of freaked-out players behind.
"I need an inn."
She tried to remember where the last inn she came across in town. I think there was one not far from here, actually.
"I think I deserve a nap."
With her hands tucked casually behind her head, she walked toward the nearest inn, the chaos of the crowd fading behind her.
Let everyone else lose their minds—she needed sleep.
*💎*
The inn's exterior was unassuming—a sturdy, two-story stone building wedged between a blacksmith forge and a leatherworker's shop. A wooden sign above the entrance creaked gently in the breeze, its faded lettering spelling out "The Rusty Anvil."
Warm light spilled from the windows, and the faint scent of roasted meat and bread drifted through the air, mixing with the ever-present scent of burning metal from the nearby forges.
Night-Rain pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping inside.
A rush of heat welcomed her, a welcome contrast to the cool evening air outside. The main hall was small but cozy, lit by a crackling fireplace near the back. A few wooden tables and chairs were scattered about, but for the most part, the place was empty.
Only a few players occupied the room—one hunched over a mug of ale, staring blankly at the fire, while another sat near the window, nervously flipping through her inventory menu, muttering to herself.
At the front counter, a gruff-looking innkeeper polished a mug with a rag that looked dirtier than the glass itself. He was an NPC, no doubt—his mechanical idle animations gave it away.
Still, the moment Night-Rain approached, he snapped to attention, his expression shifting into a well-practiced customer-service smile.
"Welcome to the Rusty Anvil," he greeted in a gravelly voice, tucking the rag into his apron. "You need a room?"
Night-Rain nodded, swiping open her inventory to check her col.
"Yeah. How much per night?"
"For a standard room—100 Col per night. You want food included, it'll be 150 Col."
Night-Rain arched a brow. Not bad.
"I'll take the full deal," she decided, tapping the confirmation button.
-150 Col deducted from inventory
The innkeeper gave a satisfied nod, then reached under the counter, producing a small iron key.
"Room's on the second floor, third door on the left." He gestured toward the wooden staircase near the back. "Dinner's being served for another hour if you want it."
Night-Rain took the key, giving him a lazy salute.
"Appreciate it."
The stairs creaked softly beneath her boots as she ascended to the second floor. The hallway was narrow but clean, lined with wooden doors bearing iron-plated numbers.
Finding her room, she slid the key into the lock, and with a satisfying click, the door swung open.
The space inside was simple but comfortable—a small bed with thick wool blankets, a wooden writing desk, and a modest wardrobe against the wall. A single window overlooked the forge-lined street below, its glass slightly fogged from the residual heat rising from the blacksmith shops.
Night-Rain stepped inside, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud.
Then, for the first time since the announcement, she allowed herself to exhale completely.
She dragged herself to the bed, throwing her sword belt onto the nightstand before flopping down onto the mattress.
The weight of everything pressed down on her at once.
They were trapped.
213 people were already dead.
And the only way out was to clear 100 floors of Aincrad.
Night-Rain stared up at the ceiling, her fingers absentmindedly gripping the fabric of her tunic.
It didn't feel real.
But it was.
This wasn't just a game anymore.
It was all about survival.
After several moments, she forced herself to sit up, running a hand through her silver-blue hair.
"No point in freaking out now," she muttered.
There was nothing she could do tonight—not when the entire city was still in chaos.
For now, the best thing she could do was rest.
Shaking off the lingering tension, she kicked off her boots, pulled the blanket over herself, and let out a slow, steady breath.
Her body still felt wired, her mind buzzing, but exhaustion was starting to win.
"Tomorrow," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes.
"Tomorrow, I'll figure out what to do next."
And with that, she let sleep take her.