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The little girl shook her head and repeated herself. "You're not done. I need you." Both pairs of eyes brimmed with tears. "I need you to find <<The Root>>." The demand sparked a sudden wave of anger. I'm not going. Find it yourself. But the little girl again shook her head. "I can't. I'm not allowed to. It has to be a person… like you." I don't care! If Acanthus could have spoke, she would have been screamed. The intrusion disrupted her peaceful kingdom. The room itself rebelled against the girl: every step she took made the fantasy waver. Acanthus' peaceful surroundings

Despite what her mind regarded as absolute truth, her heart ached with emotion. She would take whatever solace the hallucination offered her. Exhaling, she closed her eyes, ready to remain as long she was allowed. <<You have a visitor.>> The pleasant, neutral voice piped directly into her brain, and Haru's eyes snapped open. She accepted the disembodied voice without question or curiosity, and simply trained her eyes on the door, waiting for her guest. A young girl entered the room. She looked remarkably like a young Haru, although Acanthus remained certain that she

Continued from <<A Bottle a Day>> Everything was normal. And that wasn't normal at all. Haru's heart monitor beeped steadily. The birds outside chirped, crowed, and sang just like songbirds should: there was no cackling, no rumbling, nor chittering from any fantastic, oversized creatures. Taeko Onuki gently accompanied the birds, smooth pop playing through the radio by Haru's bedside. And a clean, antiseptic scent clung to the sheets. The same smell that clung to Haru every day she returned home from work. Every part of the room was familiar, and everything she saw felt

Approved

Piece by piece, the scattered perspectives of each wayward stone began to merge into one. Embarking on a treacherous mission rescue to liberate their Leg, Arm and Shoulder trudged ever-forward across Reliq's undulating skin. What seemed like rolling across a firm tarpit must have felt a full body message to the rambunctious polypus that wriggled beneath. Their combined effort, however heroic, was quickly overshadowed by a the threat of an unexpected adversary. Not so far away, the frenzied skirmish carried on. Amidst the commotion, Head was no longer sure who they were fighting, if they were w

"Messed up pseudo bird people? Maybe Kayaba left someone alone in the modeling shop for too long, and they went a little cuckoo?" Every ounce of normally abundant willpower was called into action, staying the urge to waggle his sword in her direction, or nip a blossoming bud from the local fauna. Poor Sam might get the wrong impression. "Mercutio certainly loved pressing buttons, and found countless buttons to love, no matter whose house they belonged too. Or so I vaguely recall. It's been a long time since high school English, and that play bored the absolute... Roxi?" Not what he'd exp

A few days later... The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft amber glow over the lake. Ciela stood on the deck of Fondante's Inferno, wiping down the last of the outdoor tables. A light breeze tousled her red hair, and Perlita napped beside a flower pot. The tranquility shattered with the sudden metallic clank of boots. Three figures in dark armor approached the bakery from the woods. At their head was Varris, his orange cursor casting an ominous glow in the encroaching dusk. Behind him, two other Crimson Fang members flanked him with arrogant smirks.

A week later... The lakeside settlement of Coral on Floor 22 buzzed with life that morning. Banners flapped in the breeze, colorful boats lined the docks, and a long stretch of wooden tables stood filled with fishing rods, baskets, and barrels ready for the day's catch. It was the annual Coral Fishing Festival, and Ciela had come prepared. She arrived early, Wulfrin at her side, hauling a large box packed with her signature pink tins. Inside each tin was an assortment of lakeside-themed treats: smoked trout quiches, lemon poppy seed muffins shaped like fish, hand-decorated cookies th

Even later the same day... The bakery began to settle as the sun dipped low. A golden haze lit up the lake through the back windows, catching the floating pollen in the air like fireflies. Ciela leaned against the counter, tired but satisfied. Her hands were still dusted in flour, her apron creased with the effort of the day. She stepped outside onto the covered deck with a mug of steaming tea. Perlita sat curled in a ball on one of the chairs, belly full and snoring softly. Across the water, nestled near the trees, a rhythmic clang rang out. Ciela smiled. From the deck of

Hearing Freyd comment on the pictures surrounding the walls causes Sam's eyes to shift around. "They look like an untold story from the old," beginning to reach for a notebook in her coat pocket realizing that she left that behind her. Finger tips began to trace the carving. "I really did think Rose was it until you all said something, maybe Roxi. Need a screen name for when I become famous." There was a smile on her face while saying this follow by a small giggle to there bickering. Commenting on something that both Nisa and Freyd had said, "Yes I am an archer but that does not define wh

Later that day... By midday, the rain had cleared, leaving behind the crisp scent of wet earth and sweet flowers. A group of children wandered in, clearly lost, judging by their mismatched armor and confused demeanor. Ciela welcomed them with little sample trays and patient explanations of each pastry. When one tried to hand her some random items for a cupcake, she smiled. "Don't worry about it sweetie. The first one is free." They lit up. One girl offered to sweep in exchange. Another promised to return with herbs from her gathering quests. The bakery pulsed with new life. It w

A few days later... The morning started with a soft drizzle, casting little beads of rain across the windows of Fondante's Inferno. Inside, the warmth of the ovens fought back the chill, wrapping the bakery in a cozy glow. Ciela hummed softly as she kneaded dough for her newest creation: raspberry honey sticky buns. Perlita watched her from atop a flour sack, chirping every so often as if critiquing her technique. The bell above the door jingled. A young player in a green cloak stepped in, shaking off the rain and looking around with wide eyes. "Is this...the place with the famous ti

The next day... This morning was unusually quiet, save for the gentle clatter of mixing bowls and the occasional squeak of Perlita darting between flour sacks like a sugar-charged comet. Ciela was mid-way through a new tart recipe when Wulfrin strolled in, sleeves rolled up and hair slightly mussed from the breeze. "I figured I’d lend a hand," he said casually, already reaching for an apron. Ciela raised a brow. "Since when do you bake?" "Since now," Wulfrin grinned, grabbing a mixing bowl. "How hard can it be?" Ciela handed him the cookie recipe she’d written out, smi

A few days later... Late morning light spilled through the front windows of Fondante's Inferno, casting golden pools across the floor. The scent of freshly baked raspberry pinwheels filled the air, and the hum of soft music crackled faintly from the corner phonograph. Ciela was at the counter boxing up a special order when the front bell jingled, signaling another customer. A tall player with jagged red armor and an annoyed scowl strode in. His username read "Grit." He didn’t so much as look at the display before slapping a hand down on the counter. "Twenty col for two croissant

It was a quiet morning, the air still heavy with the scent of damp wood and smoke despite their efforts. The repairs had started, and Wulfrin had reinforced the deck with stronger beams while Ciela re-varnished the herb boxes and replanted the singed rosemary. She’d baked a fresh batch of cinnamon scones with clove and honey glaze, partly for comfort, mostly to reclaim the scent of her space. She had just set out the scones on a cooling rack when the front door creaked open. A small figure stood there. “Eliot?” Ciela asked, a little surprised. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached

The morning after the attack, Ciela was up before the sun. The bakery smelled faintly of smoke despite her best efforts to scrub every trace of it away. Still, she refused to let the events of the day before linger in her mood. If anything, it fueled her determination to reclaim the normalcy she had built here. She opened the windows wide, letting in the fresh lakeside breeze. Perlita, ever her tiny sentinel, darted between sunbeams on the floor while occasionally glancing toward the deck, as if daring trouble to return. Ciela got to work. The oven roared to life, and she slippe

The next day... The joy of the festival lingered well into the next morning. Ciela stretched lazily as golden light filtered through the windows of Wulfrin’s home. She was curled up in a blanket on the couch, half-asleep and still smiling from the night before. The memory of fireworks and Wulfrin’s kiss played in her thoughts like a cherished dream. From the kitchen, Wulfrin poured water into a kettle, and Ciela wandered over, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Through the wide kitchen window, the lake shimmered in the morning sun, and just beyond that, her bakery stood quiet and inviting,

Scanning along the statue quite feverishly, she'd all but come up empty. "Your most certainly welcome." spoken with a grin where it was obvious she knew he was being sarcastic, that chide smile of hers that would easily reveal the woman beneath the younger plaster. "A quetzalcoatl I think. Not much on make believe gods sporting feathers. Ironic given my tenure, don't you think?" Stepping away from the form of the beast, she'd begin to hover the pyres looking for a mechanism upon its surface as well. "All these toys and buttons, humans really like their buttons. I was partial to something more

A month later... Ciela was halfway through icing a fresh batch of berry tarts when she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a firework cracking in the distance. She looked up, startled, and then rushed to the back windows. From the bakery’s lake-facing view, she could see it clearly now: colorful banners flapping in the breeze, small boats with lanterns drifting out onto the lake, and townspeople, NPCs and players alike, gathering for something. "Oh my stars," she murmured. "Is that today?" Perlita let out a squeaky chirp and bounded toward the door as if confirming her suspicion

R9 Blacksmith (14 crafts/day - 10 from rank +1 from extended workshop +3 from Trading Hall III) Ambition Tool (+1 EXP per attempt) Ambition Food (+1 EXP/craft) | 174824 Extended Workshop (+2 EXP per attempt, +1 attempt/day) Hephaestus' Hammer (+1 CD) Trading Hall (+2 EXP/craft, Salvage on LD 6+, +3 attempt/day) Crafter's Respite | n/a ID 243889 | CD 1+1=2 | LD 14 | Salvage (+7 EXP) - mat lost ID 243890 | CD 3+1=4 | LD 19 | Salvage (+7 EXP) - mat kept ID 243891 | CD 11+1=12 | LD 11 | T4 Perfect Armor (+13 EXP) ID 243892 | CD 4+1=5 | LD 20 | T4 Uncommon Armor (+8 EXP) ID

Item #1: Name: Black Regalia (v.IV) Crafting ID: 243891 Item Type: Armor (Heavy) Tier: 4 Quality: Perfect Enhancements: MIT III Description: Heavy armor comprised of black iron and dyed leather plates interwoven for maximum protection. Royal purple cloth provides trim and accent in a priestly style, combined with a matching mantle and battle skirt. The final result is both practical in combat and ceremonial in appearance. Bears the mark of Ren. Post Link: https://www.sao-rpg.com/topic/39174-f21-r8-blacksmith-the-knight-shift-open/?do=findComment&comment=696144 Upgrade

Grind thread combat template Some notes on this grinding thread: I am simplifying the math for my own sanity. I will list BD values for the rolls although results it won't matter. Because I'll be spawning in monsters with no evasion, ACC 5 and AA will always hit. In the dice roller, I will be noting rolls as AoE1/Looting [Monster Name] [Number]-[Number]. I don't think it matters which roll lines up with which mob because they all have the same loot values, and all will die to one hit. In case it matters, low Roll ID matches low numbers to low numbers. For example, if Roll IDs 100000—10000

A week later... Ciela hummed softly as she rolled out a sheet of dough, the scent of vanilla and sugar already clinging to the air. It was a quiet afternoon, the sort that wrapped around her shoulders like a soft blanket. The sun filtered through the windows in golden beams, and Perlita napped lazily near the oven, her little paws twitching in a dream. Then came the knock. It was soft, timid even. Not the usual confident rap of a player, nor the clumsy pounding of a delivery runner. Curious, Ciela dusted the flour from her hands and opened the door to find a small NPC child stan

The next day... The morning dew clung lazily to the grass outside as Ciela opened the front door of Fondante’s Inferno. A cool breeze whispered through the trees, rustling the ivy that curled along the bakery's wooden siding. She stepped onto the deck, a cup of coffee in one hand and a delicate plate of powdered jelly donuts in the other. The day ahead was mercifully clear, no special orders, no irate adventurers, no dungeon runs to plan around. Just peace. At least, it should have been peaceful. Perlita, her ever-mischievous otter companion, had other plans. The little furball

Two weeks later... The morning mist was still clinging to the lake when Ciela tucked a few extra loaves of honey-butter bread into a tin. Floor 16 was colder than Floor 22, and she wanted to make sure her customer had something warm to enjoy with their view. This would be her first personal delivery to Atalina, and despite the effort it took to navigate its winding walkways and gravity-defying bridges, she found herself looking forward to the trip. The floating village still felt like a dream. Perched on its branch-like stone outcroppings above a pale blue lake, Atalina shimmered in