Pinball

There were not man left now. Pinball had cleared an entire army of the bears, he felt like, and then some. He was glad that destroying the dungeon had confirmed his suspicions. He wasn't sure how a dungeon had spawned so close to his home. He figured it had something to do with the fact that his player home was not located in a safe zone. Dungeons could spawn anywhere, he supposed, however annoying that may be. He could only hope that later, while he was resting, that it did not respawn. Or that another one spawned at a later date and he'd have to deal with it all over again. That would probab

How many groups were there remaining? Five, six, seven of four? Or even less? It was hard to tell when they were all clumped up together; all fat, fur, and muscles, they blended together like one giant brown, fuzzy lump. A fuzzy lump that Pinball was rather desperate at this point to take away from his home. Pinball's blades flashed with color, one Sword Art seamlessly blending in with the other. He wasn't slowing down, and he wasn't showing any signs of stopping. Pinball cut through the bears one after the other. There were only so many ways to slice a bear, he realized. Cut them, gut them, s

Pinball was hesitant, but he took her at her word. "Alright. But tell me." They slowed to a stop. Pinball snorted. Another laugh? "No, it's not the water. It's a housing buff. Makes you heal and recover energy faster out of combat." He looked at her. A little quieter, he added, "I could get you one, if you'd like. I've got the rooms to spare." He shrugged, wanting suddenly to drive home the impression that it would be no big deal at all. He had the money, he had the rooms; what he didn't want was for her to feel pressured by it. "Your choice, of course. Let me know." Pi

He shredded through the group of bears without a shred of mercy remaining. Pinball wasn't there for mercy, anyways. They were all going to die; Pinball was the judge, the jury, and the executioner, and they were all guilty of the capital offense of being annoying. His blades cut through the bears like hot knives through butter. Each slash was the death of another grizzly. Pinball couldn't help but notice that since he'd sprang back into the thick of it, the group of bears was looking thinner and thinner by the moment, and it wasn't just because he was killing all of them that quickly. Were the

The realization that there were not many of the bears remaining invigorated him in a way not much else could. Pinball cut through the horde of bears with a completely renewed vigor, his blades flashing different colors as he chained sword arts to properly dispatch the grizzly bears at his door step. Pinball had had enough of the huffing, the puffing, and the stomping, to say nothing of the grass being ruined and the plants being trampled. The scenery around Green Garden was really the only thing that he had to look forward to when he came back from whatever it was that he was doing all day. Gr

With his energy recovered, Pinball was free to get back to work slaughtering the rest of the grizzly bears. He flicked the blades of grass aside and pushed himself to his feet. He retrieved a pair of knives and walked -- didn't ran -- over to the group of passive bears. He stood there for a moment. He was curious if he just spent a few moments in their proximity, if they would show more signs of aggression. That didn't seem to be the case. The giant mobs went about their day peacefully, sniffing the earth and grunting, pawing at herbs, foraging for berries. Pinball sighed. It made it easier fo

From what little that he understood, AI could just be weird like that. Maybe if it ran out of things to do it would start mashing together random events, spitting out something completely nonsensical? It would make sense, given how long they'd been in the game. Or how long, at least, it felt as though they'd been stuck in the game. Pinball absentmindedly plucked out a few strands of grass and rolled them between his fingers. If Cardinal was really just shitting the bed, would that make sense? He thought about it. Maybe, he decided, but he had the feeling that wherever Kayaba was, he was keepin

While he sat, he once again finding himself wonder about the origin of the bears. Prank, glitch, or something else? He was vaguely aware of some video game mechanics from other RPGs that included "monster swarms," but he had never experienced anything of the sort in SAO. It was the very first time he'd ever even had to consider it. But then if it was a monster swarm, why bears? Why not winged abominations swooping down from a blood red sky? And why were they so passive? Pinball could hardly come up with a reason as to why there'd be a monster swarm of perfectly passive grizzly bears. And espec

He picked out another group of them. Stragglers, they had strayed too far from the pack and Pinball had to put them down before they wandered off deeper into the forest. Or worse, into Green Garden. He had a dagger for each of them. One, two, three, four, one after the other they exploded into digital light. The crowd was looking a lot cleaner now, a lot smaller than it had been. It didn't look nearly as suffocating. Pinball tried to count but there were still too many for him to get an accurate picture. Twenty? Thirty? Forty? More? He wasn't entirely sure, but he was sure that at least more t

He began mowing through the last group. Now that he had a better look of things, though, Pinball realized that there really weren't that many bears left. At least not compared to the sheer amount there had been. Maybe he'd put more of a dent in their numbers than he'd thought, or maybe the dungeon really had played a roll in cutting down on the ocean of fur outside his house. Whatever the reason truly was, Pinball was grateful for it. He cut through a group of four of the bears, slicing through the mobs with his daggers like hot knives through butter. They still, even with their numbers so dim

Pinball flickered in and out of sight. Corporeal one moment, gone the next. He let the others fight for a moment. Took the second or two to catch his breath. Pinball had a penchant for hiding in plain sight, in and out of combat; riskier, probably, but it was something that he had grown used to over the years(?) he had spent trapped in the game. There was a comfort in its familiarity. In walking in that weird space between states of being. In walking in a world where he didn't exist. When Pinball reappeared, he'd buried a dagger in the backs of each of the zombies. He clicked his tongue.

He couldn't tell if she was being truthful. Pinball hesitated. They could just head back to Green Garden, or call it early; he wasn't used to seeing her so exhausted. Could she last a dungeon? Did she really want to try? He led her out of Inferno Cavern, sure to keep a watchful eye on her. Mishiro offered the canister back and Pinball accepted it, flicking his wrist and discarding it back to whatever corner of his inventory it had been lying in before. She told him she could still go for the dungeon. "Are you sure?" He was afraid to come across as though he were doubting her. "We could a

Pinball stayed quiet for a while as they walk. It was an uncomfortable silence. Thankfully Acanthus filled it. First she complained about Colossus; the supposedly massive mob was still nowhere to be seen. Were they even on the correct floor? And secondly she told him to let her know if he planned on punching through any big orders to her shop. He watched her as she spoke. He returned his eyes to the task at hand. He took a moment to respond. "Alright," he said, "if you're sure. Figured you'd be busy, still." There was more to it than that, sure. There was a reason he never talked t

The horns sounded, tools were dropped, and villagers ran for cover. It looks like they'd run out of time -- the attack was starting sooner than they'd thought. Pinball watched as on the horizon, a veritable army of frostbitten soldiers marched on Snowfrost, each led by a mounted captain. Despite himself, Pinball whistled. That was a lot of mobs. He flicked a pair of blades into his palms and vanished. He wasn't sure what the best way to handle these waves was going to be. Should they split up? He wasn't sure. He wanted to protect Snowfrost. He knew that if you were able to, you'd get ext

Pinball bit back a sharp retort and listened quietly. He didn't reply, either. He didn't have to justify what he'd told her. He didn't want to. Who was she to demand something like that from him? He didn't want to talk about it. He wouldn't talk about it. But he'd listen to what she had to say, regardless. That's the only reason he was still standing there. Even as she talked about it he couldn't understand how somebody could talk so freely about something so horrible. What she was essentially admitting to was the assisted suicide of an old man who had done something terrible. Pinball wa

"There's nothing to be sorry about." That reply, at least, came instantly. There was something about seeing her in the dying light that made her look delicate. Frail? Incorporeal? Like a ghost? A spirit? Something that could vanish with a touch. He had to stop thinking about her like that. Pinball felt his heart begin to race and he broke eye contact. "I'm perfectly fine," he assured her. "Are you alright?" His fingers slid across his menu's interface. His other hand rested gently on her shoulder. He found it. The water canister materialized in his hand. He took a sip f

She cracked the crystal, but she didn't focus on the heads. She went straight for the hounds. He clicked his tongue. But he thought better of it. What was he supposed to do? Tell her no? He couldn't try to coddle her forever. It was clingy and weird. He tightened his jaw and got his head on straight. That was when the daggers flew. A shiny knife found itself planted in each Hellhound's skull. It was enough to finish them off. The fourth and final landed in the second to last remaining head of Cerberus. It, too, was destroyed. The only head remaining was the third. It made the great, terr

"Right," he agreed. A giant, walking mountain. Pinball scanned the horizon. Was that it, in the distance? He couldn't tell. He certainly couldn't hear it yet; which was another thing to expect of something of its sheer size. It was kind of funny, and mostly annoying, that the most giant foe they'd have to face so far was also hidden, just like the others. "A walking mountain." He kept his thoughts to himself. There was a part of him that, surprisingly, felt like he needed to tell her about the things he'd done in the past. He wasn't sure why he felt this desire (there it was again, that

Try as he might to forget them, her words from the last time they'd spoken rang in his ear when he saw her. I don't think that makes you a terrible person. He approached her quietly, as was his wont, and nodded in response. He began to walk, leading the way to the Colossus. Something was bugging him. He wasn't sure what. Pinball pulled the hood of his cloak up. They hadn't been walking for very long before Pinball broke the silence. "When we first began this questline," he ventured, "I was the most worried about this fight. I don't think there's any reason to now, though." He

Pinball followed in hiding, never very far behind. He was unfamiliar with the quest; he didn't know the steps to it, and was completely unaware of what dangers they'd need to face to complete it. But Morningstar, on the other hand, did seem to know what he was doing. He let him and Wulfrin lead the way and tried to ignore the sudden urge to stab one of them in the back. The Red Cloaked Revenants were... zombies? He wasn't sure. They almost reminded him of himself. They seemed very interested in the constructs placed conspicuously in the room, Pinball noted. Morningstar led the charge, ru

He couldn't believe this lady. His story? He didn't have a story. "I got mad and I killed somebody. What does it matter? What do you get out of this?" She was all smiles. Like they were playing some game. They were talking about people's lives. More specifically, about ending them. Why was she smiling? "I don't get what's so funny." Pinball watched her carefully. He was more guarded now, more on edge than he had been when he'd thought he was approaching some random newbie in a field. He wouldn't be surprised like that again. Not by her or by anyone. He'd learned his lesson the hard

Pinball followed along, invisible. He watched and he listened. The guards didn't offer them horses, but offered them some weird bug-like mechanical invention to ride to the keep instead. Pinball frowned. Wasn't that swell? The only time he had ever driven something, it had been a ship, and he'd ended up destroying that one by crashing into an island. He wished that he could just walk, instead. But if Wulfrin and Morningstar were both taking them, Pinball would too, or he wouldn't be able to keep up. He waited until the others were mounted and leaving before activating his. Technica

"No." His reply was practically instant. He wouldn't switch with her. He knew she had mitigation to take a few hits, but what about the Burn? She didn't have an antidote -- he did. If they were able to see the numbers behind the bars, maybe, if they could sit and crunch the numbers, but otherwise... He could handle it. The heads tore into him, one after another. He could feel the heat, but not the pain. One of the few perks of Cardinal, he'd once thought, but these days he felt like he'd prefer the feeling of sharp molten fangs digging into his flesh. Anything other than that numbne

Acanthus jumped in, seemingly saving the villagers from themselves. Pinball didn't move much, or even react when Acanthus hopped into the conversation and started giving them an earful. He just stood there. When the shame seemed to finally set in, and they all started making their way over to the village's outskirts to help the efforts in its defense, Pinball watched them go. Only then did he finally take his eyes off of them. He glanced at Acanthus and shrugged. What are you gonna do? Pinball went back to work. The villagers seemed easier to convince going forward. Whatever able-bodied

He spins the knives in his hands, deftly, without thinking. He waited for the right opportunity to strike. He leapt backwards, trying to keep his distance, trying to keep it away from focusing on Mishiro. Pinball was succeeding at that. Cerberus followed. It bore down on him with each head in rapid succession. The first chomped nothing but open air, but Pinball had been there just a moment ago. The second did the same, and Pinball saw his opportunity. As the second head was outstretched and vulnerable, he left forward, burying the dagger hilt-deep into the hellhound's rocky snout. It yelped, a