Her Mission To Save Them All || Sword Art Online Fanfic

Chapter 39

POV: Kayoko 

The guard stares at me, his eyebrows quirked to the side in doubt. I cross my arms and tap my foot against the cobbles, staring into the slither if light under the door in front of me.

"Come on, I swear you're just wasting your time with this." I repeat for the third time.

He looks at me, turning the golden badge of entry over in his hand as if I've only just given it to him; I gave it to him 10 minutes ago and his still hasn't let me past. Look, dude, I know I'm short, but I can't possibly be that short.

"Who's your sponser?" He asks again.

"I've already said twice, I don't have one."

"I can't let you in without a sponser."

I snatch the badge from his hand before he can inspect it for a fourth time. Shoving it in his face so hard he takes a step back, I flounce past him towards the door, anger flooding my veins.

When he starts to utter a protest, I calm my own retort into a smooth drawl, "What's one more dead corpse on the pile? If I die, it's my fault, right?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever Kid." He sighs, waving me through the barrier and approaching the next person in line. "Knock yourself out."

I smile in a line line. Though I want to say that I'm not a kid, I know the best solution is just to swallow The insult down. I have much bigger games that need to be played right now.

Spectators, most of which grasping banners and flags crowd around an open circular stage that has been temporarily step up in the middle of the barn. I even see smaller, child-like figures on the balconies above, each waving their support in chubby hands and screaming names at the top of their lungs.

My lip curls in disgust, at all of it; the money passed between hands in bets, the roar of the crowd desperate for blood but most of all, I despise those a top the stage who all stand with various weapons strapped around them. 

I recognise some of the symbols etched into their chestplates and forged along their blades; famous, whispered names of guilds who aim slit necks in dark alleyways and slip their hands into player's pockets, all of them aiming for the prized spot. 

It almost makes me sick. 

I catologue each player I pass as i step onto the stage, noting those who stand differently, who have violence simmering in the air around them, whose weapons shine in the bright lighting overhead. Though I don't know what we'll be doing, I suspect it will be some type of dueling, so i take extra notes of those weapons; knives, axes, whips and swords, all clutched bone tight.

Everyone's on edge, me perhaps most of all. As I wait, a pressure builds within my chest. I don't want to kill anyone; I won't do it but what if that one life could save thousands? Could stop all of this? Could I do it? 

It's easy to say that you'd rather use your immortality to save someone rather than kill them, but those are just words. Actions are much harder to follow. Closing my eyes, I pull up the monster this game has taught me to become and brush those thoughts aside. 

You live in the moment. If you think about it too much, that moment will pass you by and all you will be left with is regret.

 When I open my eyes again, a black caped figure stands over the main balcony, the red curtains swaying around the opening reminding me of my Uncle's avatar the day he imprisoned us here. And like my Uncle, the figure reaches their hand out to call for silence that obeys. 

To my surprise, the voice that rings out over the crowd is female, but her words don't carry any less force because of it.

"Mercenaries, sponsers. Today, on the behalf of Laughing Coffin, I will be opening the second ever tournament of entry. By the end of the three rounds, we will have crowned our winner. Only one of you can join our ranks, so do not disappoint me."