The morning sun poured pale light across the Town of Beginnings, but the plaza felt different now. The memory of Illfang's roar still lingered in the minds of the players, a haunting reminder that Aincrad was not a game, and that death was not a possibility to ignore.
Kirito moved through the streets with practiced ease, the weight of his sword at his side heavier now — not just physically, but in responsibility. Every step was calculated. Every motion is measured. Every glance flickered at the possibilities of the world around him. Future Sight had become more than a skill. It was a burden.
Players whispered as he passed.
> "That's him."
"The Black Swordsman."
"He's too fast… impossible…"
Kirito ignored them. Reputation was irrelevant; survival wasn't about fame, it was about knowing what would happen before it happened, and acting faster than death itself.
His eyes scanned the plaza, noting the smallest anomalies — a merchant adjusting his wares too slowly, a childlike player hesitating in the shadows, a stray dagger glinting on the ground. All of them could die if I don't act…
A flash of light struck him, and a vision bloomed in his mind.
> A player falls.
Blood sprays.
A spear embeds itself where he stood.
His allies panic, unable to react.
Kirito inhaled sharply, stepping toward the player just in time. He pushed the man out of the way, his sword flashing, deflecting the spear into the cobblestone with a ringing clang.
The player's eyes widened. "Th-thank you! I… I don't know how you knew!"
Kirito said nothing, letting the man scurry away.
Word of his intervention spread faster than any player could shout. Soon, the plaza hummed with rumors:
> "He fights like he can see the future."
"The Black Swordsman saved me last night — I swear he dodged attacks I couldn't even see coming."
"Be careful — he's not like the rest of us."
Kirito didn't need to hear it. He knew the truth: his skill was unique, dangerous, and isolating. Every action, every saved life, every attack he predicted set him apart. And the higher he climbed, the lonelier he would become.
Asuna sat atop the steps of the central fountain, observing the commotion. The rumors were true — she had witnessed him during the Floor 1 Boss raid, moving with precision beyond any ordinary player. But there was something else… something intangible.
She narrowed her eyes.
> He can see the future.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Not fear, exactly, but curiosity — and a spark of concern. If someone could truly predict the flow of combat, they were a weapon in themselves.
She rose, brushing her crimson cloak over her shoulder, and followed the trail of whispers and awe. Kirito was moving down a side street, away from the plaza.
Kirito didn't notice her approach at first. His vision flickered, showing several possibilities of what would happen in the next few seconds:
> A merchant trips — coins scatter.
A child runs after a stray puppy.
A thief notices the distraction and attempts a pickpocket.
He acted without thinking, redirecting the child and deflecting the thief, all in the span of moments.
When he finally slowed, he noticed her standing a few meters away, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"You're the Black Swordsman," she said plainly.
Kirito's hand went to his sword instinctively, though he didn't draw it. "Depends on who's asking."
She tilted her head. "Asuna. And I want to know how you do it. How you see."
Kirito considered her, then shook his head slightly. "Some things aren't for sharing."
Her eyes narrowed. "You saved lives during the raid. You predicted the boss's moves before anyone else could react. Don't lie — you have an ability."
He stared at her, weighing the truth against necessity. If I tell her, it changes everything. If I don't… she'll keep watching.
"I can see what's about to happen," he admitted finally. "A few seconds ahead, sometimes longer. But it's… dangerous. It's not something to flaunt."
She studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded slightly.
> "I see. That makes sense. You move like a shadow ahead of fate. But don't think I won't keep an eye on you."
Kirito smirked faintly, though the tension in his shoulders remained. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
Word of his ability spread quickly after that encounter. Players began to treat him with caution, awe, and sometimes fear. When he fought in dungeons, others gave him space, watching in amazement as he predicted ambushes, dodged lethal traps, and turned impossible situations in favor of his team.
Yet, with every battle, the visions took a heavier toll. His mind raced with possibilities, probabilities, and outcomes. He began to sleep less, not from lack of physical fatigue, but from the mental burden of foreseeing death again and again.
Alone at night, Kirito stood on the highest tower of the town, looking toward the dark horizon. The castle floors stretched upward like jagged teeth. Somewhere beyond the clouds, death waited. Bosses, players, and the cruel whims of the system.
He clenched his sword tightly.
> "If I can see the future… I'll protect the people I can. And I'll survive. I'll make it to the top."
And as the wind whispered through the streets, carrying distant laughter, cries, and the faint echo of combat, Kirito's eyes glinted with the cold certainty of someone who could see the end before it came — the Black Swordsman, the lone shadow who walked ahead of fate itself.