Within three days, 17 lives had already been claimed by the 25th floor. 8 clearers and 9 other players.

Of the latter, 4 had died out of sheer stupidity. Drifter would never understand how, after over a year of this death game, there were still idiots who would ignore all the warnings from the frontliners to not adventure on the 25th floor with anything less than a full party and extreme caution.

Callous as it may be, the spearmaster thought all the idiots like that had died already, but apparently not.

Well, he wasn't crying for them. The loss of life was saddening, yes, but unfortunately so common that it only burdened him for a moment. He didn't have the time to grieve for strangers.

The thought gave him pause. When had he become that cold? Maybe SAO was taking more from him than he realized.

"You are frowning, dummy. What are you thinking about?"

A hand cupped his cheek, and Drifter put his palm over it, turning to his wife. Yuna was sitting on his feet, brushing her hair.

They had been getting ready for bed, and his expression must have worried her. He scolded himself in his mind, but smiled softly.

"Nothing much, songbird. And nothing specific."

The songstress frowned.

"Liar. You are worrying again. About what? Who?"

Drifter sighed. She knew him too well. A fond smile took his lips, and he pulled her over to his lap, nuzzling his face against her neck. Yuna giggled and wrapped her arms around his head.

"Well?"

"I was thinking about the party that got wiped this morning."

He couldn't see her face, but he felt her sigh run through their bodies. Drifter hugged Yuna a little tighter.

"We can't control what other people do, dummy. The entire Assault Team warned everyone about how dangerous this floor is, and they ignored it. It's not our fault."

"Hm. I know. I never thought it was. But I still can't help but think about it. Just about how much of a waste it is. Surviving an entire year only to fall because they got impatient."

That was the crux of the matter. People died, and that was that. Drifter understood it well. What he couldn't comprehend was dying in such a meaningless way.

Of course, he knew it wasn't like the players chose to die. Any number of reasons probably played a part in their decision to go into the 25th floor blind and without preparations. Drifter could only guess, even though he really shouldn't.

"Hhm. Argo said they didn't even buy the maps or take the guides. That was a huge mistake."

Yuna seemed to be going down a similar line of thinking, because she mumbled next to his ear, more talking to herself than to him.

"Maybe they didn't have cor..."

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. The truth was, the party had been reckless, and they paid for it. They weren't the first, and unfortunately wouldn't be the last.

"No way your little rat would have let them walk away without it and some sort of deal. She is too kind for what she does."

Drifter had to grin at that, shifting so he now had his forehead pressed on Yuna's cheek. She was right, like always. Under Argo's tough exterior was one of the kindest souls in Aincrad. She would have made sure the party left with everything they needed, probably under the guise of paying her back with information.

If only they had gone to her...

"Hey. Dummy. Don't dwell on it, okay? I love you."

Yuna cupped his cheeks and lifted his head so they were now looking at each other. With a smile, Drifter pressed his lips to hers.

"I love you too."

The spearmaster fell on his back, dragging the songstress down with him. He prepared to turn off the lights and go to sleep when something outside their window caught his eye.

Delicately putting Yuna down on the bed next to him, Drifter got up again and walked to the window while his wife watched curiously. Almost immediately, he groaned.

'What now?'

The movement that caught his attention had been the wild gestures of one Kibaou the Challenger, who seemed to be having a heated argument with - here Drifter's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hairline - Heathcliff of the KoB.

Their room was on the second floor of the inn, with a view to the street. Once the window was closed, the room was completely soundproof, which explained why they hadn't heard the one-sided argument earlier.

One-sided because, while Kibaou was red-faced and very clearly upset, Heathcliff's expression was the same as always, and completely unreadable. The ALS guild leader was the one doing most of the talking, with Heathcliff only interjecting every now and then - each time making Kibaou turn a shade darker.

For a moment Drifter considered just closing the blinds and going back to bed. But then he groaned again and bumped his forehead on the glass. He would better interfere before Kibaou did something that caused lasting consequences.

"You are going down?"

At some moment, Yuna had gotten up and walked over to the window. Now she hugged her husband from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder. Drifter nodded.

"I think I have to. Kibaou has been... More and more erratic lately. He might do something drastic. Especially since it's Heathcliff he's got a problem with. Their personalities don't mesh well together."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Hm. I see it. Like fire and ice. I thought you didn't like Heathcliff."

"Eh. He just unnerves me somewhat. But that doesn't mean he deserves to be on the business end of Kibaou's vitriol. Or worse, his sword. Can you imagine the PR problem for the Assault Team if that happens?"

Loath as he was to admit, Drifter recognized Kibaou was one of the most skilled players in the Assault Team. While Heathcliff might be a very promising rookie, it was very unlikely he would be on the level of a titled player if they fought.

"Go then. And don't take too long. I'll be waiting."

The songstress giggled, a musical sound next to his ear. Drifter extricated himself from her arms, kissed her cheek, and made his way to the door.

"Be right back."

The spearmaster quickly trodded his way down the stairs, equipping his armor along the way for appearances sake. He had grabbed his trident when leaving their room, and now he also strapped it to his back. He was going there to defuse the situation, not escalate it. No sense in showing with weapons in hand and causing an even bigger commotion.

Crossing the inn's common room, Drifter nodded to Griselda and Kizmel, who were having a late dinner. An odd friendship, but who was he to judge?

They made to rise, and Drifter shook his head. Let them have their food in peace.

"-ling my guild members!"

The moment he stepped outside, Drifter's ears were assaulted by Kibaou's roar. The spearmaster winced.

Kibaou was shouting right on Heathcliff's face, spittle flying everywhere. The grey-haired man, on the other hand, said nothing, but held his ground. His back was turned to Drifter, but he could imagine he wore the same unchanging blank mask he always did.

"Good night, gentlemen. What seems to be the problem here?"

Coughing, Drifter made his presence known, interrupting Kibaou mid tirade. Both men turned to face him, the spiky-haired guild leader with an absolutely furious expression, and Heathcliff with a glint of interest in his eyes.

"Sod off, Broken Spear! You have nothing to do here."

Feeling the incoming headache, Drifter willed the fake smile he had plastered on his face to stay there. He stepped up to Kibaou at the same time that Heathcliff silently retreated, intent on watching from the sidelines.

"Wrong, Challenger. I was having a very heartfelt conversation with my wife, getting prepared to sleep, when I had to get up and come here to stop you - both of you - before you did something you regretted."

A pointed look from the spearmaster let Heathcliff know he wasn't off the hook yet.

Kibaou, meanwhile, bristled at Drifter's words. He seemed ready to yell again, just with a changed target, when the smile fell off Drifter's face completely, and his gaze sharpened.

Recognizing the look, Kibaou visibly stopped himself and swallowed his words - figuratively and almost literally. He snorted.

"Why do you care, Broken Spear? Go back to your bed if you miss it so much."

Drifter's eyes narrowed, and he put a hand on Kibaou's shoulder, dragging him closer so only the two of them, and Heathcliff who was still nearby, could hear him.

"Look around. People are watching. Not many, true, but you know how gossip goes around Aincrad fast."

The ALS guild leader did as Drifter told, for the first time noticing his audience. Not long ago, he wouldn't have cared at all and continued to berate Heathcliff and Drifter for getting involved. But a year of being a guild leader had taught him the importance of public image. Drifter's hand was still on his shoulder.

"It's not that I care, Kibaou. It's politics. You are one of the faces of the Assault Team. Kibaou the Challenger. Guild leader of the Aincrad Liberation Squad. How do you think it looks for you to be yelling at someone in the middle of the street, whatever the reason is? A frontliner bullying an aspiring clearer. Maybe because you are afraid of being surpassed? Replaced?"

Kibaou turned red again, and opened his mouth to argue - probably because Drifter hit a little too close to home. But the spearmaster cut him off before he could.

"It doesn't matter if it's true or not, Kibaou. That's what people will think. You know as well as I do that the ALS doesn't have the most stellar reputation with high and mid-level players. Largely because of your proclivity to talk first - usually loudly - and think later. Just like now."

Later, to Yuna, Drifter would admit that it felt good to say what he had been thinking for so long to Kibaou's face. But in the moment, he kept a completely serious expression. He didn't want Kibaou to think he was mocking him - because he wasn't.

"What does it matter what people think."

The spiky-haired guild leader made one last feeble attempt to justify his actions, but he had clearly already given up on the argument. He squeezed Kibaou's shoulder again, this time reassuringly.

"It doesn't, Kibaou. Not to most people in your guild and mine. But for you and for me, and for Kirito and Lind, we have to care. Because we are the ones people look up to. Titled players. The leaders of the frontliners. Whether we like it or not, we are their role models. And do you want the players of Aincrad to work towards beating the game, or to be arrogant bullies preventing our freedom?"

The last word alone drove the point home. Freedom was what every player in Sword Art Online desired. Anything and anyone that stopped them from getting it was the enemy.

For a tense few seconds, Kibaou glared at Drifter, and the spearmaster held his gaze unflinching. Then, with a curt nod and a final scowl towards Heathcliff, the ALS guild leader turned around and left.

Drifter watched Kibaou leave with a sigh. Once he was out of sight, he turned around to find Heathcliff studying him. He frowned.

"Heathcliff. I don't know what Kibaou's problem with you was, and I don't wanna know. I already massively overstepped by interfering when I did."

"I understand, Broken Spear Drifter. I was partially at fault. Thank you for your help."

His unchanged expression and zero lack of showing he heard a single word of what Drifter said pissed the spearmaster off. He hounded up the grey-haired guild leader with a glare.

"What I said to Kibaou holds true for you too, Heathcliff. You made no mystery of your intentions to join the Assault Team sooner rather than later. But do you think that just because you are good with a sword and have enough people your KoB has a guaranteed ticket in?"

Something else flashed inside those steely eyes. Anger. Heathcliff felt as if Drifter was looking down on him. Good.

"Is that not the case? Broken Spear Drifter."

The spearmaster shook his head.

"Do you know what the most important thing is for frontliners, Heathcliff?"

"What?"

"Trust. I may not like Kibaou. I think he is arrogant and runs his guild like a dictatorship. And he may also hate me. He thinks I'm a traitor for following Kirito, a beater. And he is probably cursing me right now. But the second we step into the boss room, I know I can put my life in his hands. That I can leave my back to him, and he will have it."

Drifter met Heathcliff's stare head-on and refused to back down. It was nothing compared to staring down a boss.

"I trust every frontliner to do the same. I know they will. The moment I can't trust someone on the Assault Team, I won't be able to fight properly anymore."

The implied 'I can't trust you' was obvious. And it was unfair for Drifter to dump all that on Heathcliff. He didn't even know what their argument was about. For all he knew, Heathcliff could be in the right. But he stared at the grey-haired player until he looked away.

"Each frontliner carries 7.000 lives on their shoulders, Heathcliff. We can't afford to watch our backs. Neither can you, if you really intend to take up that burden. So think on how you want to proceed. And remember SAO isn't a game you can beat alone."

His piece said, Drifter turned around and went back to the inn. He had already spoken a lot more than he planned, and he had a bed and a wife to get back to.

Just before the inn doors closed behind him, Drifter chanced a glance over his shoulder. Heathcliff was still standing on the same spot, a pensive expression on his face.