Sword Art Online: The Administrator's Descent

Chapter 23: Fighting Helps Sometimes

WARNING: This story contains mature elements such as manipulation, Non-Con, humiliation.

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Underworld, Central Cathedral, Floor 96—5th October, Year 380 in the Time of the Realm of Humanity

The cathedral felt incredibly empty, and the long corridors didn't help whatsoever. So few were the nuns that showed up every now and then that it made him wonder if it was deserted. Perhaps it was, but the thought was pushed from his mind once he reminded himself that people do live here.

It's just... really hard to find where they are.

His boots pressed into the carpet, and by the time he had stopped in front of the door, nothing but absolute dread was pumping through his veins.

Let it be known that Kirito had done a lot of things in his life, but this was one that he absolutely was not looking forward to. And one he absolutely wanted to get over with. Hell, he'd prefer not coming here at all!

Alas, he was technically the boss of this place, so he had to treat everyone equally... even if one in particular didn't technically like him too.

"Chudelkin, are you in there? I need to speak to you," the words came out through gritted teeth, his face set in stone as he kept both hands on the hilts of his sword. "It's important, I swear."

No response. As expected.

He seriously doesn't know why he tried. After all, the clown-like weirdo would take orders from only one person, and Quinella was currently out with Cardinal, for whatever reason there is. He doubted Chudelkin would listen to anyone else. Him? Hah. Even less likely. The clown hated him with a burning passion.

Feeling's mutual then. But damn it, he kind fof needed his help right now...

He sucked in a deep breath and, with more force, spoke up again. "Chudelkin, I'm serious here. I need to talk to you. Just for a moment, and you won't have to see my face or hear my voice again."

Again, no response.

A tic mark formed itself as he lets out a sigh. "Alright, then. You made me do this."

With one firm grip on the door handle, he pushed it inside, greeted by the same childish room that belonged to the strange abomination of a man. The bright colours that frankly didn't mix well, and with the creepy aura of some possessed kid's room. Toys scattered about, a few notebooks that were filled to the brim with Quinella's name, and a... picture of him? On the wall.

With a dagger—no, scratch that. Those are many knives there, cutting through the picture in many places, like his throat and face.

'...Better not tell anyone. Not like I can blame him,' ignoring that honest-to-goodness creepy sight, he looked around the room. "Weird. Where the hell is he..?"

He's not here. Okay! That's his cue to leave.

The sigh of relief is practically genuine as the room is far behind him now, his next destination in mind being the fiftieth floor.

Honestly, he just left behind some documents that Quinella requested he check on, and thought that Chudelkin might have picked them up—if only because it originally belonged to Quinella, of course. And yet, try as he might, he hasn't been able to find that white motherfu—

"Where is he?" He lets out a second sigh yet again. "Haven't seen him for a week already..."

Probably busy scheming his 'accidental death'. Wouldn't be surprising if that was the case, to be honest.