Chapter 9: The Death Game Has Begun!

This bastard Shengzai—what the hell did he even eat to grow up like this!

Sure, his swordsmanship talent is insane, but his learning ability is even more outrageous?

Originally in the melee, Kirigaya held a clear advantage, since the rate of HP depletion suggested he’d be the victor.

But that was two minutes ago; when only one minute remained, Kirigaya noticed that Shengzai, who had been clumsy before, was now moving with surprising agility.

He’d just now used the “Dash” skill to close in on me, despite not knowing how to use any skills beyond sword techniques.

And he even copied my initial combo—slashing diagonally right after the dash—and slashed me clean off my feet!

This bastard isn’t just talented—he’s got an almost supernatural learning ability.

Kirigaya finally realized that if Shengzai kept adapting and mastered the rhythm, even his own reflexes wouldn’t be enough—he’d lose.

Realizing this, Kirigaya knew he had to end it quickly; delaying would only further reduce his chances.

After being knocked back by Shengzai’s Dash and diagonal slash, Kirigaya slid across the ground, but quickly stabilized himself, snatched up a stone, and used the “Throw Sword” skill.

It wasn’t cheating—this wasn’t a formal sword tournament; in game PvP, every skill counts as part of combat power.

“Throw Sword” is a character skill, so it’s perfectly legal.

It may look like a throwing skill, but it’s still a sword technique—it’s literally called “Throw Sword,” and now he’s just using a stone instead of a blade.

“Ding——————!”

Shengzai instinctively raised his sword and split the incoming stone in half.

The instant Shengzai cleaved the stone, Kirigaya’s “Dash” skill cooldown finished.

He gripped his rusty longsword tightly and launched himself forward like a cannonball.

Since Shengzai had just used his sword to block Kirigaya’s thrown stone, his body was still in a hardening state.

If Kirigaya’s sword landed true—even if it didn’t strike a vital point—it would drain a massive chunk of Shengzai’s HP.

But just as Kirigaya’s blade was about to touch Shengzai’s body, an invisible wall suddenly appeared before Shengzai, with the text “Cannot Attack” flashing.

The reason was simple: the three-minute PvP timer had expired; any further attack from Kirigaya would count as malicious PvP.

The final result, though astonishingly unbelievable, left both Shengzai and Kirigaya silent as the word “Draw” popped up before them.

“I should be considered the winner here—because if you’d held out one more second, I would’ve landed the hit.”

Seeing the draw result, Kirigaya was furious.

He’d invited Shengzai into SAO partly to vent his daily frustrations by crushing those damn social players.

But he never imagined this bastard was even more insane than he’d thought—he’d held every advantage, yet still couldn’t defeat Shengzai.

“Not necessarily. How do you know I didn’t have a hidden trick ready for that final moment?”

If you really can’t accept this result, we can fight again—it’s not impossible.”

After all, it’s only three minutes. What do you say, Kirigaya?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Kirigaya ultimately declined Shengzai’s offer.

The reason was simple: even when Shengzai hadn’t fully mastered SAO, he’d still matched Kirigaya blow for blow.

Just now, at the end of the fight, Shengzai’s movements were clearly far more fluid than before.

If they fought again, Kirigaya was certain he’d lose.

Though the draw left him disappointed, it was still better than getting utterly crushed by this guy.

“Guys, could you please consider how I, an ordinary player, feel?”

After watching your PvP, I feel like we’re not even playing the same game!”

Kirigaya’s the exception—he’s a beta tester—but you, Shengzai…”

Before Klein could finish, he suddenly felt something strange—his lower body was visibly vanishing before his eyes.

And he wasn’t alone; Shengzai and Kirigaya beside him were experiencing the same thing.

“Is this forced teleportation? But there shouldn’t be any such mechanism or trap around here… what the…”

Before Kirigaya could finish his sentence, his body vanished along with Shengzai’s and Klein’s.

When they regained awareness, they stood on a vast square.

As the town’s bell chimed repeatedly, many other players—just like them—were being teleported onto this massive square.

Seeing others as bewildered as they were, Klein, still unaware of the gravity, excitedly blurted: “I get it! This is it, right?”

“Isn’t there always some kind of special opening ceremony in games, just to set the mood?”

But while Klein remained optimistic, Kirigaya felt a creeping dread at the impossible scene before him.

Because during beta testing, there was no such event or storyline.

And if there really were an opening ceremony, there should’ve been a system announcement, right?

While Klein remained cheerful and Kirigaya looked grim, Shengzai simply opened his game menu and stared at the vanished Logout button.

He spoke with a look of “I knew it”: “Didn’t any of you notice? The Logout button’s gone.”

Shengzai didn’t lower his voice, and the square was packed.

So when he said it, not only Kirigaya and Klein heard him—every nearby player did too.

Players who’d thought this was just a game event now opened their menus, confirmed Shengzai’s claim, and panicked.

After all, this was a full-dive VR game—if they couldn’t log out, how would they wake up?

“Are we trapped in the game?”

Humans follow the crowd; the moment the first voice of dread erupted, fear spread through the crowd with terrifying speed.

(End of Chapter)