Chapter 82: Entrusting the Seed of the Virtual World

Watching Shengzai’s figure draw ever closer, Kayaba Akihiko tried to use words to shake Shengzai’s resolve.

Not everyone possesses the magnanimity to sacrifice themselves for others, nor the resolve to face death without fear.

Even a flicker of hesitation from Shengzai at this moment would be his chance.

Yet unfortunately, the Shengzai holding the “Dawnbringer” now had eyes of unwavering determination, utterly unmoved by Kayaba Akihiko’s words.

The brief moment of stillness ended; seeing Shengzai now within arm’s reach, Kayaba Akihiko knew his fate could no longer be changed, so he swung his scythe toward Shengzai as well.

“Wenren Sword Art Form Four — Morning Star!”

Shengzai, dashing forward at high speed, accelerated further until he and his blade became a brilliant streak of starlight, piercing straight through Kayaba Akihiko’s skull.

Simultaneously, Kayaba Akihiko’s final swing of the scythe drove straight through Shengzai’s chest.

Both their HP dropped below the critical threshold the instant the attacks landed.

But according to PVP rules, Shengzai was the victor: though both health bars were emptied, Kayaba Akihiko died first.

Shengzai’s “Dawnbringer” pierced Kayaba Akihiko’s skull first; only then did the falling scythe pierce Shengzai’s chest.

Though the time gap between the two strikes was nearly imperceptible, the final damage calculation stood clear.

Immediately after Shengzai and Kayaba Akihiko exchanged fatal blows, blinding white light engulfed both their figures, spreading outward from that point and swiftly covering all of Aincrad.

In the blindingly white space, Shengzai saw Kayaba Akihiko again—but this time, the man was neither in Hisui’s form nor as the Death God boss, but in human guise, clad in a white lab coat.

“I never expected I’d resort to cheating—and still lose.”

As per our prior agreement, I’ve already returned all other SAO players to their original world.”

I kept you behind solely to speak with you a little longer, and to entrust you with something.”

Seeing Kayaba Akihiko before him, Shengzai was not surprised—he remembered Kirigaya’s victory over Kayaba Akihiko had included a similar scene.

But Shengzai was not Kirito; he had no interest or time to chat dreams with a mad scientist.

If he remembered correctly, others’ consciousnesses had indeed returned to their real bodies after Kayaba Akihiko’s defeat.

Yet a man named Xu Xiangshen had imprisoned the consciousnesses of three hundred players—including Asuna—in another virtual game, ALO, conducting illegal and inhumane brain experiments.

“If you want to talk about dreams, I suggest you find Kirigaya Kazuto. I suspect you two might resonate on some level.”

But unfortunately, your actions in my eyes—no matter how you dress them up—can never be whitewashed.

Dreams? For humanity’s advancement? Just a hollow excuse. What right did the players trapped and killed in SAO have to pay for your so-called dream?”

Now another man even more insane than you has done the same—trapping players’ consciousnesses and preparing to use them for brain experiments. I have no time to waste talking to you!”

Had he not been trapped in this game space, Shengzai would have already slapped Kayaba Akihiko across the face and walked away.

But unfortunately, as long as he hadn’t returned to the real world, this place still belonged to Kayaba Akihiko.

Hearing Shengzai’s words, Kayaba Akihiko froze for a moment; then, after using his permissions to search online, he confirmed Shengzai’s claims were true.

Though most SAO players trapped for a year had awakened in hospitals, a small number still showed signs of life yet remained unconscious.

Kayaba Akihiko was certain he had released everyone’s consciousness—no one should have been retained—so where had those still-comatose players’ consciousnesses gone?

And even more startling to Kayaba Akihiko: Shengzai hadn’t returned to the real world yet—how did he know any of this?

He himself, as an artificial intelligence, could access outside information anytime via the network—but Shengzai’s consciousness was still inside the game. How had he learned of events beyond?

“Who exactly are you? How could you, cut off from the outside world, know some players’ consciousnesses are still trapped?”

Looking at Shengzai before him, Kayaba Akihiko was genuinely startled. He no longer spoke of dreams—suddenly, Shengzai seemed profoundly mysterious, utterly inscrutable and incomprehensible.

“You seem quite astonished? What if I told you I possess the ability to foresee the future—would you believe me?”

“Foresee the future? That’s something I naturally don’t…”

“Don’t rush to deny it, Mr. Kayaba Akihiko. Haven’t you heard that the end of science is mysticism?”

This world holds many things science cannot explain. You may not understand them, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

You’ve always wanted the virtual world to replace the real one, so that Lightborn life might one day live among humans as equals.”

Don’t you think, if such a theory had been presented decades ago, people would have called it mysticism?”

Before Kayaba Akihiko could finish speaking, Shengzai interrupted him—and Kayaba Akihiko understood Shengzai’s point: human perception is bounded by one’s horizon.

His inability to comprehend Shengzai’s words was merely because his own horizon was too narrow?

Shengzai’s origins were mysterious; perhaps his claims were fabricated. But regardless of Shengzai’s true nature, the world he described stirred deep longing in Kayaba Akihiko.

To merge the virtual world with the real, to let Lightborn and humans live as one—wasn’t that precisely his dream?

After being thoroughly PUA’d by Shengzai, Kayaba Akihiko suddenly felt he had no right to posture before him. He quickly pulled out a glowing orb and offered it to Shengzai.

“I don’t know who you are, but now I feel entrusting this to you may be the best choice.”

The Virtual World Seed—this is nearly the crystallization of all my research. If it falls into the hands of those driven by greed and power, it will only be exploited for profit and control.”

Originally, I intended to entrust it to a player who truly loved virtual games—like Kirigaya Kazuto.”

But after seeing you, I changed my mind. Your very existence seems better suited to accelerate the evolution of the virtual world.”

(End of Chapter)