Diavel paused for a moment in front of the massive door. He didn't rush, didn't give any immediate signals.
He just stood there in silence, facing the cold stone barrier, adorned with spiraling patterns and faint cracks veiled beneath the eerie blue glow of the crystals embedded in the wall.
His gaze lingered on the door for a long while, as if searching for something. Then, very slowly, Diavel turned around.
His eyes swept across the entire group behind him, one face at a time, each expression, each glance. As if trying to etch into his memory the image of every person who had dared come to this place, who had staked their lives to change the world.
The earlier commotion vanished as if it had never existed. No one needed to be told, everyone fell silent.
A heavy silence, not born of fear, but of respect. Because they all understood, the words about to be spoken weren't for guidance, but for remembrance.
Diavel inhaled deeply, held the breath in his chest for a long beat, and then spoke, clearly, steadily, and sincerely.
"We've arrived where we need to be," he said, his voice not loud but echoing through the hallway like a solemn oath.
He paused again, his eyes resting briefly on those gripping their weapons tightly, on the faces, many still young, and others already weathered by experience, bearing the trust and knowledge born from the earliest days of survival.
"Before we begin... I only have one thing to say."
A brief silence. Then Diavel exhaled slowly, and the final words slipped from his lips like a promise, a command, and a plea all at once.
"Survive."
Not grandiose. Not hollow. But it was the only word that made everyone grip their weapons tighter, stand a little firmer.
Without waiting another second, Diavel turned around. His hand reached out, touching the cold surface of the stone door.
A low rumble sounded from within. The etched runes on the door suddenly lit up with a faint glow, trembling as if awakened from a long slumber.
The door began to move, heavy, slow, groaning as if it were opening the gates of hell.
A crimson light spilled out, inch by inch.
...heralding the start of battle.
The dark chamber revealed itself like the maw of a colossal beast, just roused from centuries of sleep.
The air inside was thick, as if it had been sealed for ages, silent and suffocating.
Without a word, without a moment's hesitation, Diavel charged forward like an arrow drawn taut on the bowstring, released with no chance of turning back.
His figure vanished into the room's darkness within a few heartbeats.
Following him was the group, their footsteps heavy but resolute, weapons clutched tight, their eyes steady and unwavering.
They were no longer scattered players, but a unified formation, ready to face death to claim the first advance in this labyrinth of doom.
Ren stepped forward too, his measured footsteps echoing through the dim space, his palms damp with sweat before he even realized.
He didn't shout, didn't speak, didn't say anything at all, but his eyes remained fixed on Diavel's back, as if searching for an invisible anchor.
Kirito followed close behind, sword already drawn. Asuna too, her figure nearly swallowed by her cloak, but the gleam of steel at her blade's tip was sharp and cold, like lightning waiting to strike.
The door behind them slowly closed, as if severing the final tether between them and the outside world. Now, there was only one thought in everyone's mind:
Fight... or die.
The darkness in that chamber was not merely the absence of light, it was alive, breathing, watching.
It felt as though the shadows crept through every crack in their skin, chilling and eerie, making every heartbeat heavier.
Their footsteps echoed through the void, the sound swallowed by an invisible abyss.
Each step brought a distant echo that quickly faded, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
Then... light flared.
Not dazzling, not blinding, just a soft glow spreading from the enchanted stones lining the walls, slowly pushing back the dark over a few measured breaths.
And the room gradually revealed itself, like a festering wound laid bare beneath freshly peeled skin.
Before them stretched a vast hall, its domed ceiling reaching into the shadowed heights above, carved with strange, swirling patterns like cold streams flowing across silver-gray stone.
At the center of the room, isolated and desolate, was a black stone pedestal, cloaked in the dust of time, where a massive creature sat motionless. Its enormous form resembled a cursed statue, frozen in the flow of time.
Beside it stood a towering stone throne, meticulously crafted, yet empty.
And that creature... wasn't seated on the throne. It chose the spot beside it, one step lower, like a loyal guardian... or an executioner awaiting the final summons.
Illfang the Kobold Lord.
A colossal body with arms like bronze pillars. One hand pressed against the ground, gripping the hilt of a massive axe embedded deep in the stone floor; the other arm held a round shield made of some unknown hide, huge, rough, and terrifying.
Across its shoulders and head, a mane of pure white fur swayed gently with the eerie wind blowing from nowhere.
Even with its eyes tightly shut and body seemingly motionless, none of them dared to consider it peaceful.
Because this thing… does not sleep. It's merely waiting for the right moment to open its eyes.
...Time seemed to freeze.
No sound. No movement.
Only the crushing weight of the air pressing down on the thirty players standing inside that cold room.
Heartbeats, if one listened closely, were the only thing left in a world that had just plunged into absolute silence.
Everyone knew that a single misstep, the slightest clang of metal... could be the signal that awakened the nightmare lying dormant in the middle of the room.
Ren stood at the back, quietly observing. He said nothing. He didn't move. But inside, something was tightening around his heart.
A simple, chilling truth. This was no longer a tutorial. No longer a test. There was no room for mistakes.
Illfang the Kobold Lord.
The monster's name glowed above its head in blood-red characters, a name that wasn't just a symbol of challenge, but a boundary between game and reality, between simulation and death.
The first critical milestone for all of Aincrad.
Ren wasn't thinking about rewards.
Not rare equipment. Not fame.
There was only one thought in his mind: survive. And if possible… help the others make it out alive too.
The light from the magic stones embedded in the walls finally stabilized. The darkness was pushed back. Shadows spilled from the high dome ceiling down onto the stone floor, like ghostly shapes watching in silence.
The formation slowly spread out, just as they had rehearsed for days. Tanks lined the front, broad shoulders forming a wall of flesh.
DPS shifted left and right, weaving through openings to strike from the sides. Support stayed back.
No one spoke, but each glance exchanged, each subtle movement, carried a weight heavier than any command.
Diavel stepped forward slowly, raising a hand with palm down, signaling a halt. Everyone froze in place, rooted to the ground.
He turned, sweeping his gaze across the faces watching him. In that moment, his eyes carried the full weight of the trust placed on the shoulders of a leader.
"Hold your positions," he murmured, just loud enough for the nearby party leaders to hear. "Tank keeps the boss centered. DPS, spread your angles evenly. Support, don't lose focus."
Ren heard each word echo in his mind like a prayer. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the tendons on his fingers taut under the light.
His eyes never left the monster, still unmoving, like a grotesque statue, sitting there as if waiting for some ancient signal to awaken.
Beside him, Asuna stood still, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She said nothing, but her breathing was slow and steady, not the calm of fearlessness, but of resolve.
Kirito crouched lower, center of gravity dropped, like a spring coiled and ready to snap. No one knew what he was thinking, but his eyes...sharp as an unsheathed blade, said enough.
One second... then two... then three...
Then the monster raised its head.
Two blazing red eyes lit up, so bright it felt like they could scorch the very air around them. No warning. No system sound. Just a roar, one that tore through the mountain's heart like thunder.
GRUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRHHHH!!
That roar didn't just strike the ears.It slammed into their hearts, their bones, their very nerves.
The air distorted. Pillars of stone dust exploded from beneath Illfang's feet, as if the entire room had just suffered an invisible detonation.
And then... it stood.
A massive bulk of muscle, over three meters tall, rising like a living statue.
Each step it took shook the stone floor. Every breath from it rumbled like a storm's fury.
The axe in its hand was so massive three people couldn't wrap their arms around it. The blade was chipped from too much blood and flesh.
The other hand gripped a shield, something resembling beast hide, sewn together with human bone.
A true boss, in every sense.
"Now!!" Diavel roared, his voice slicing through the last strands of silence in the chamber.
And then everything erupted.
Tanks charged first, blocking the monster's path. A few shouted out skills, their bodies flashing with light, life signals in the chaos.
DPS flanked both sides, blades glinting under the magic glow, aiming for the blind spots.
Ren rushed forward, side by side with Kirito and Asuna.
No words. No need for eye contact.
They simply moved, as if they had trained together for hours. Three secondary attackers circling left, ready to engage when the boss was pinned by the tanks.
Their initial role was to deal damage to the boss, and the moment the Sentinels appeared, they would fall back to defend.
Illfang roared again... and swung his axe.
The massive blade tore through the air, crashing down like a collapsing building.
The tank in front raised his shield in time, but the impact created a thunderous CLANG!
He was hurled backward instantly. A quarter of his health bar vanished.
The battle had begun.
And no one knew... how many would walk out of that room.