Freyd

Krycim was the name of the central settlement on this floor, or so he thought.  Freyd wasn't even sure how he'd managed to reach the town in the first place, given his appalling lack of gear and experience.  He'd need to remedy both of those things, but the more immediate challenge was getting back to its relative safety without running afoul of more monsters, or a pack of PK noob-killers looking to gank someone as foolish as himself, wandering around alone and unprepared.

"I should probably find a guild," he thought to himself, though he'd definitely need to work on his appeal before anyone would consider him a candidate.  

"Learn the basics, get to know people, group..." he groaned at the prospect.  "Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves.  Most games don't require anything more than solo play to beat their intro zones." It was a pleasing, if fleeting, delusion.

Trudging back to town proved more difficult than he'd anticipated.  Freyd had somehow managed to remain oblivious to the fact that his double was leading him through the bowels of an overgrown jungle.  The sheer size of the trees made him feel like he'd been zapped by some mad scientist's shrink ray and ported into yet another remake of 'Honey, I shrunk the kids!'.  The beauty of Aincrad was being laid bare to his gaze for the first time.  It had always been there, but Freyd had always been too panicked and inwardly focused to allow himself to see it.  This whole experience had been strangely cathartic.  It enabled him to finally shake a pall and stupor that had fallen over him when the news struck that he was trapped here, along with everyone else.

That last part really hit home.  He wasn't alone.  Even worse - he'd trapped himself within Akihiko Kayaba's trap.  An involuntary grimace spread across his face.  How stupid he had been.

"No more of that," he scolded him aloud.  Wallowing had already stolen too much of his time.  It was time to focus - something at which he had always excelled.

Did it realize that it was destroying itself?  Freyd couldn't say that he particularly cared, given that its sword was embedded in his chest.  The fiery burst flared out a second time, scorching his opponent again and causing it to instantly shatter into tiny fragments of brilliant light.  Freyd had basically stumbled into his first kill in the game, and it was himself.  This was probably going to leave psychological scars.

There was no evidence that the creature had ever existed - no imprint on the ground, no smell of burnt flesh or dropped weapon.  It wasn't an unfamiliar concept.  Frey had been playing MMOs for years before SAO came along.  But watching yourself combust because you just tried to kill you, in first person, was rather more daunting and disturbing.  He looked down to see if his hands were shaking, but they were steady.  His mind was projecting the idea of his pulse rushing through his head, but it stopped the moment he realized it.  This body didn't produce those kinds of inputs.  He needed to remember that. 

Scrambling back against a nearby tree, Freyd held his sword out clumsily like a spear.  His opponent paced back and forth, like a starved wolf waiting to exhaust its cornered prey.  It seemed content to wait for him, despite the blowback of its initial strike.  It didn't speak, or couldn't.  Freyd had long wondered how much independence of speech and action the system actually permitted. 

Freyd watched and waited also, his rational mind seeking a pattern of movement that would provide an opportunity he could exploit.  He found it!  Or rather, he thought he did.  It turns out that he didn't, or that his reflexes weren't very well synchronized with his brain.  His thrust went wide and he'd lost the protection of his tree.  Stumbling to recover his balance, he found his foe upon him bearing a twisted expression of rage that he could never have imagined on his own face.

He nearly didn't see it.  The stranger, whoever or whatever it was, whirled suddenly and stabbed at him without warning.  Its sword was identical to his own, complete with the same plastic-like sheen.  Its clothes and cloak were identical to his own.  Most disturbing of all was its face, like a mirror staring back at him with murderous intent.  A hundred cheesy movie references flashed before his eyes where characters faced themselves as a duplicate.  It seemed like far less cheese in person.

"Cardinal has found me!" he thought, clinging to paranoid delusions of Terminator movies come true.

Freyd flailed wildly with his sword, to no effect.  His timing was completely off.  Were it not for his backup plan, implemented only on a rumour he'd heard back in town, he'd be in even worse condition.  The creature's slash had cut him, but so doing triggered a massive fiery flare that burnt it far worse than the injury it had dealt him.  It might just be enough to give him a chance.

Freyd's jaw was firmly set and eyes clearly focused. 

"I understand," he answered.  "Lead the way and I will do as you say, including not getting myself killed."  His colour seemed to blanche a bit at Yuki's description.  To his credit, his nerves held.

"You seem more than capable," he added, looking over her gear.  "What brings you to this level?  I would have thought that you'd be working at higher levels.  Not that I don't appreciate you being here," he added a little too quickly, realizing that his words could be taken the wrong way.  He asked an endless stream of questions as they traveled.  It grew a bit tiresome, but his interest seemed genuine, and his eagerness to understand was practically infectious.  It was like a mass of pent up curiosity had suddenly been unleashed, and came pouring out like an avalanche crashing down a mountainside.  Yuki couldn't help wondering where this guy had been hiding since the game started.  He should have been able to answer most of these questions himself, by now.  She stowed that thought for now.  Her potion wouldn't last forever, and they were nearing their destination.

His mood grew ominous and dark the farther they walked from the town.  This felt wrong - like if he had a Spidey-sense, it should be causing his three chest hairs to puncture full plate.  He only wore a cheap cotton tunic, which made it even more obvious.  Doubting how much longer he might have the opportunity, he downed his potion of immolation while the quest-giver continued to trudge ahead.  His sword slid quietly from its scabbard.  It still had a faint gleam to it, like it belonged on a shelf somewhere as an ornament.  His hand gripped it tightly, as he imagined his pulse pounding loudly in his ears.  Then reason reasserted itself.  This was a game.  His life might be linked to it, but this body was nothing more than a digital projection. 

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself, the words lost in the breeze and shadowy boughs by the trees above.

He blinked.

"Oh... uh... yes?" he managed to stutter.  "Thank you!" he added promptly.  "That's very kind."

"I'm...uh... Freyd."  He held out his right hand, as if they'd just met at a dinner party.  He seemed completely out of place, not just on this floor, but in the game overall.  There was no way he could be this out of it. 

"Okay, so, you need me to follow orders.  I can do that."  Straight to business.  He might be an oddball, but there was something unusually intense in his eyes.  Maybe he had some potential after all?

"Where do you need me and how can I help?  What are we up against?  Are there any special details I should be aware of?"  Freyd's stream of consciousness spewed steadily from his lips, but also revealed that he was capable - or could be.  Yuki could see him trying to break down and catalog the details of whatever encounter towards which they were bound.

Freyd froze.  His eyes were wide as he stared at Yuki approaching.  The contrast between their appearances could not have been more stark.  She bore regalia worthy of a seasoned adventurer, glistening and glittering in the cold winter light.  He had a torn starter cloak and notched straight sword that felt like it was made of plastic.  Internally, his brain had also raised a critical alarm:

<<'GIRL!'>>

His body was instantly paralyzed as a montage of blood-gushing-from-noses in every anime he'd every watched instantly played out in his mind's eye.  She was saying something, no, offering something.  She seemed nice.  There was a smile.  He looked behind him, suddenly assuming that he must have stepped between her and someone important.  The wall of the adjacent building stared back at him, accusingly, judging him for his utter naivete.

He turned back to face her, pulling back his hood and revealing an unruly crop of brown hair and chestnut-coloured eyes.  Raising his right hand, still genuine surprised and stalling while he attempted to regain vocal control, he pointed questioningly at himself.

"Are you talking to... me?!"

"I'm looking to test my skills. If you beat me, I'll teach you a hidden skill. What do you say?"

Freyd was skeptical.  "What's the catch?" he replied.  The figure simply stood there, waiting.  Feyd facepalmed himself when he realized that the individual before him had a big fat yellow cursor over his head; quest giver.  He paused, considering his options.  He'd long since come to realize that he couldn't spend the rest of his days here waiting for someone else to clear the top level and get the rest out.  It was way past time to get a grip on himself.  A year of hiding from himself had accomplished nothing.  He glanced down at the sword in his scabbard.  It had never even been drawn.

"Yeah," he chimed in.  "Why not?  It's gotta beat sitting around here."

He studied the figure as it led him out of the settlement.  It had the same height and build, but stats governed in this game, not appearances.  His own skills were non-existent.  He'd never practiced anything.  That nice potion he'd bought the other day might come in handy.  It's always nice to have an ace in the hole.

Freyd was skulking quietly around on floor four, his recent experiences having compelled him to stay on the move.  It was liberating to let himself explore this amazing world.  He regretted having lingered in the towns for so long.  The learning curve seemed huge, but it exciting at the same time.  He needed to find his bearings and learn to climb it - fast. 

Wandering the frozen woods was likely a very bad idea, but the other quests he'd come across hadn't caught his eye.  'Group needed for this...' or 'Bring your friends along for that...' !  Where were all the solo quests?  Maybe he'd missed them by jumping ahead too many floors.  It had taken him forever to make it to the towns and upper floors without getting drawn into combat.  The mocking glares of amazement from other players as he wandered the area wearing new player gear was nearly amusing.

Freyd's most recent low profile escapade involved mucking stalls at one of the local inns.  Today had proven an especially busy day, with several groups of players gathering for some special meeting.  He kept his head down and his eyes averted, but his ears were sharp and alert.  The stables were quiet, for the moment, and made it easier to detect the light footfalls approaching the gate behind him.  He heard the latch squeak as it released, expecting that someone was coming to fetch their ride.

"You look pretty strong," said a familiar-sounding voice.  He spotted the hooded figure approaching.  Part of his brain was already having an extensive conversation with another part about how your voice never sounds like you think it does when you hear yourself on a voicemail message.  The cognitive majority just realized that this figure was wearing the same starting gear cloak he was and wasn't likely much of a threat.

'Today was the day!'  Freyd had been feeding himself the same line for nearly a year, since first realizing he was trapped in this game, along with every other player.  He was convinced that the Cardinal system had somehow realized that he'd logged on with dual intentions.  Like everyone else, he had been geeking out at the prospect of testing out the new nerve gear and checking out SAO's capabilities.  It was as if years of gaming experience and anticipation were about to be fulfilled.  The fact that he'd accepted a contract to report his findings to one of SAO's major competitors was merely a mutual convenience.  It was also the only way he could have afforded it.  When the sky went red and fantasy became reality, he imagined that his real-world pants suddenly needed changing.

He'd hidden in the Town of Beginnings since then, terrified that some demented computer brain was out to get him.  He'd only recently moved to floor 6 because he'd become desperate for a change of scenery.  Most of his time was spent hiding out in shadows, or taking every grunt job he could to survive.  He'd practically become one of the local NPCs, and half the players that were still around were convinced he really was.  There was even a rumour going around that his icon was some kind of game glitch.  He'd spread it himself, of course, thinking to keep his profile somewhere between abysmal and none-existent, lest his personal Skynet come and get him.

Despite himself, 'today' had grown tired of waiting, and was about to arrive.

Freyd strutted in, trying to look all competent and capable, despite the fact that his paltry noob armor still had that 'new cloak' smell.  He deftly slipped forward a scrap of paper - actually a repurposed shopping list he'd found in a nearby alley - along with a mit-full of coins that clanged noisily on the counter and scattered embarrassingly all over the floor.

' 145834 ' was scribbled messily on the scrap.

Taking the proffered potions, he tried, vainly, to salvage of semblance of dignity by turning with a flourish, his cloak failing to support his efforts.

"Keep the change," he whispered, trying to sound cool but choking on his own saliva and folding himself in half during the fit that followed, stumbling out the door as he did.

Collecting the scattered col, the clerk quickly realized that there was none.