Throughout the entire process of dividing the teams, Rin's gaze barely left Kajiro.
It wasn't curiosity, it was genuine discomfort, a dull irritation creeping up little by little.
She couldn't understand how he could so casually nod and accept a mission like that, one that placed the entire team on the edge between life and death, without even bothering to turn around and ask for anyone else's opinion.
She knew well enough that she herself didn't have much of a voice in the group. Miya would certainly support Kajiro blindly, while Towa almost never had opinions of his own.
Rin thought about saying something, but it would probably end the same way as always, another argument, and nothing would come of it.
She wanted to take responsibility for the players she was leading. At the very least… Rin should do something, even if this boss raid party had only been assembled temporarily.
But all it took was a brief glance at Kajiro's eyes, eyes that seemed calm on the surface, yet hid familiar personal calculations beneath.
Rin understood. This wasn't about responsibility. It wasn't about teamwork. What he was aiming for was the reward from the finishing blow.
A mission that directly attacked the boss's weak point meant a higher contribution rate.
Higher contribution meant a greater chance to land the finishing strike. And slaying a Floor Boss… meant fame, soft power on the Front Lines, and items that others could only hear about through rumors.
Rin knew very well that for someone with quiet yet razor-sharp ambition like Kajiro, his true objective was likely the "Flag of Valor", the item mentioned during the meeting, and also the deeper reason this conquest campaign had been pushed forward so urgently.
A flag powerful enough to become a symbol. Powerful enough to gather players. Powerful enough to build a new guild under his own name.
Everything fit together in an uncomfortably perfect way.
Rin lightly clenched her fingers, the cold metallic sensation of her gloves seeping into her skin.
If she claimed she wasn't interested in top-tier rewards, wasn't tempted by the prospect of becoming stronger, faster… that would only be lying to herself. In this world, power always went hand in hand with the chance to survive.
So Rin said nothing.
She accepted the mission.
…..
The meeting dragged on to the point where almost no one was lucid enough to realize how much time had passed.
Numbers, diagrams, and tactical hypotheses piled atop one another, slowly eroding everyone's focus, until someone happened to glance out the window and noticed the sky had changed color.
Outside the tavern, faint magical lamps had been lit at some point, their pale blue light swaying within the thin, cold mist that blanketed the stone road.
The night air carried dampness and creeping chill through every crack in the doors, and only then did everyone belatedly realize one thing, they had spent far more time on this meeting than planned.
Busyness spread instantly, like a chain reaction. Players rose from their seats one by one, checking their armor and weapons, quickly counting the remaining recovery items in their inventories.
Simple meals were ordered, just enough to fill the stomach. No one had the presence of mind to savor the taste. This wasn't dinner; it was preparation for a gamble with their lives.
Thirty minutes later, at around 9:20 p.m. on the night of January 4th, the raiding party officially set out, quietly leaving the tavern and heading toward the labyrinth of the fifth floor.
Time was not on their side. Because of that, the entire operation was silently agreed upon, by the two major guilds and the Front Line player community, to be kept under absolute secrecy.
No announcements. No fanfare. Only those chosen would know and take part.
At the same time, the two guilds had also quietly set their own timetable for challenging the boss, a cold but necessary contingency plan.
If things did not go according to plan, they would act at dawn the next day.
Within the thick night mist, the group began to move.
No one spoke another word.
Because everyone understood that from this moment on, every step they took brought them closer to the boundary between victory… and loss.
Fortunately, the expedition managed to shave off a considerable amount of time thanks to Argo leading the way.
The information broker moved at the front with her usual carefree air, yet every turn she chose was chillingly precise.
Relying on data accumulated from countless scouting runs, Argo guided them into a side passage concealed behind fractured rock slabs and broken terrain, a little-known shortcut that allowed the entire group to bypass the first five levels of the labyrinth in a short but steep climb.
When they set foot on the landing that led to the fifth floor of the labyrinth, no one needed to say it aloud, yet everyone could feel their heartbeat quicken.
From here, only five floors remained.
The final five floors separating them from the boss's chamber.
The fifth-floor labyrinth opened before them with ancient stone corridors layered atop one another, the dim glow of wall-mounted crystals reflecting off dozens of sets of armor advancing in silence.
The guardian monsters within, stone-born entities, metal-fused beasts, or warped forms spawned from the void, barely had time to react.
They had only just finished materializing, their HP bars not even fully stabilized, before being swept away by a wave of skills unleashed by nearly fifty players.
Sword light tore through the air, skills collided in rapid succession, the clang of steel against stone flaring up, then dying out within mere seconds.
This was no longer a monster-hunting party.
This was a fully organized conquest machine, operating with terrifying smoothness.
And as the group continued to push deeper into the labyrinth, an unspoken truth took shape in everyone's mind:
what they had just cleared… was only the outer edge.
What awaited them ahead, Fuscus the Vacant Colossus would not fall so easily.
Throughout the march, whether by coincidence or intent, Kirito consistently kept to the very rear of the formation.
He neither hurried nor pressed the pace, merely observing every movement ahead of him in silence, like a shadow clinging to the group.
From that position, Kirito could see everything, both the backs of his comrades and the gaps that could become fatal mistakes.
Perhaps such vigilance was unavoidable. Kirito was not the one with absolute authority over who joined this expedition.
Too many individuals, too many different objectives, compressed into a single formation. And in a death game, all it took was one person with misaligned motives… and the consequences would not fall on him alone.
The people Kirito trusted most were still the familiar faces from the two major guilds.
Shivata was one of them, someone who had fought alongside him since the early days, shedding blood together, retreating and advancing side by side.
Hafner as well. Neither needed to hide their identities or intentions; they stood on the front lines by their own ability, without schemes or half-truths.
When Shivata first introduced Liten, Kirito hadn't been able to hide a trace of hesitation.
A player clad in fully enclosed armor, carrying an aura of coldness and excessive discipline, enough to make anyone wary.
But Liten was personally vouched for by Shivata. And to Kirito, that endorsement still held weight.
In contrast, Kirito's gaze often lingered unconsciously on Okotan.
Not because the man was weak, quite the opposite. Okotan was too smooth. The way he moved, how he positioned himself within the formation, even how he avoided direct interaction… taken individually, none of it would raise suspicion.
But when all of it converged at a single point of unease…
Someone like that was either extremely cautious or hiding something.
Kirito did not rush to a conclusion. Not yet.
Yet as he walked through the cold labyrinth, another thought quietly slipped into his constant vigilance.
Kirito recalled Ren's attitude during his first interactions with Liten and the new faces.
That wariness wasn't loud or obvious, but it was sharp and consistent, like an instinct honed over far too long. At first, Kirito hadn't found anything strange about it.
Ren had always been like that, ever since the day they first met, guarded, distant, and never trusting anyone on words alone.
And yet… there was one detail Kirito couldn't ignore.
Ren had said that his current situation was "similar to Kirito's."
A seemingly simple remark, but the more Kirito thought about it, the heavier it became. Similar… in what way? Being watched? Being targeted? Or standing in the middle of a vortex where a single exposed weakness could make everything collapse?
'Maybe Ren has already caught the attention of those people too…' Kirito thought silently, his steps steady while his breathing slowed. 'But if that's the case… why? And since when? Or is there… something else I haven't seen yet?'
That wandering train of thought made Kirito glance sideways without realizing it.
Ren was walking parallel to him, silent like an elongated shadow. The pitch-black onyx helmet concealed his face completely, swallowing all light, revealing not even the faintest hint of expression.
Kirito couldn't see that face.
But he knew.
From the rhythm of Ren's steps, from that heavy silence, Kirito knew Ren was thinking too. And those thoughts were likely no lighter than his own.
That was indeed the case.
Ren was also being dragged deep into a slow, smoldering flood of emotion, so heavy that even breathing became difficult to control.
He hadn't expected this…
Or perhaps… in some deeply buried corner of his heart… he had already anticipated it. After all, this was one of the reasons Ren had stepped into this death game in the first place.
Not for glory. Not for power. But because there were things that, no matter how far you ran, sooner or later… would find a way to stand directly in your path.
Ren's aquamarine eyes remained fixed straight ahead. Unwavering. Unavoiding.
There, within the steadily moving formation in the labyrinth, was a familiar back, a presence he both longed to confront and wanted to turn away from and flee immediately.