Falling back, Drifter closed his eyes. He didn't want to look around. He didn't want to be the first to speak. He didn't want to see anyone - or worse, not see someone. He didn't want to think. To feel. He just wanted it all to go away.

For a long time, the only sound in the boss room was the labored breathing of a hundred players. Then someone finally spoke up.

The only person who should have kept his fucking mouth shut.

"Why... Why did you come?"

Drifter's eyes snapped open. He felt anger burning in his chest. Jumping up, he made to storm towards the speaker, but someone got there first.

"You selfish, egotistical, entitled asshole!"

Yuna landing a punch square on Kibaou's jaw and sending him sprawling was one of the most beautiful things Drifter had ever seen. He wanted to take a picture and frame it. It was even worth the cursor above her head turning orange.

Yuna would probably have continued to beat Kibaou - which might have killed the other player, considering his low health - if Drifter didn't wrap his arms around her waist from behind and pull her to him.

"I... I didn't-"

"You can shut the fuck up, Kibaou. We will get to you soon. But first..."

Drifter threw the spiky-haired guild leader a death glare, and he wasn't the only one. Kibaou flinched, and seemed to shrink, hugging his knees to his chest.

Meanwhile, the spearmaster turned to the rest of the players with a sigh. Releasing Yuna after whispering something in her ear, he searched for Argo with his eyes.

He found her standing next to Liten, rubbing the tank's back. It would be a comical sight, the tiny girl who didn't even reach Liten's shoulders comforting the much bigger and older woman, if it wasn't actually just depressing.

Recalling his trident, Drifter spun it and stabbed the ground, trying to project an image of strength even if all he wanted to do was find a corner to cry.

"Hit us, Argo. What are the losses?"

Seeing Kibaou flinch away from him and the question gave Drifter a small amount of cruel satisfaction. But his gaze was focused on Argo, as was everyone else's, from the frontliners in the boss room, to the SAO players elsewhere in Aincrad, and the spectators in the outside world.

The info-broker fidgeted, her expression downcast. Drifter's heart sank. He knew it was bad. Really bad. But it seemed like reality was even worse than what he expected.

"Little rat?"

Argo looked up and met his gaze. She seemed so sad that Drifter extended his arms, and she was in front of him before he knew it, burrowing in his chest.

She stepped out of the hug before he could wrap his arms around her, but he didn't mind. Just like Drifter was trying to put up a strong front, so was she.

"Seventy-eight. We lost 78 people."

Drifter almost crumbled. He had to hold onto his trident with all his strength not to collapse. Beside him, Yuna clutched his hand so hard he might have actually taken a few points of damage if they weren't in the same party.

The reactions around the boss room were similar. Most people were already on the ground, too tired to even move, but at Argo's words they had gone deathly still.

Seventy-eight players. Seventy-eight lives, gone in a single battle. There had never been a massacre of this proportion in SAO.

The consequences would be far-reaching. Moral was broken and gone. So was trust. And most importantly, a large parcel of the dead had been, if not frontliner elites, then potential frontliners. This wasn't just dealing the players a heavy blow. It was crippling their future.

"Spe- Haa... Specifics?"

Drifter felt bad for forcing Argo to talk about it. But he was afraid of what would happen if he let the silence stretch.

The info-broker swallowed, and pulled her hood all the way down, obscuring her entire face.

"64 ALS. 12 DKB. 2... 2 Reavers."

Drifter froze. Yuna's grip on his hand tightened. While everyone was still reeling from the first number Argo had said, Drifter was searching for his guildmates.

They had scattered over the course of the battle, and they were still astrew across the boss room. But now they all sat up, ramrod straight, and did the same as he.

The spearmaster looked around. Yuna was with him, obviously. Nautilus, Sinon, Liz, Kirito, Asuna, he saw them immediately. Ran and Yuuki were a little ways away. Kizmel was one of the few standing, hugging a tearful Silica while Pina and Feredir licked her hands, trying to comfort her.

Vallerk was by himself, his face a mask. Griselda was near the doors, leaning against a wall with Wolv. Agil and Shigio were slowly making their way towards them. Keita was crying-

Wait. Keita?

Drifter's gaze zeroed on the other man. Why was he here? The Black Cats weren't part of the frontliner group of Reaver's Requiem. They weren't supposed to be...

They had followed the rest of the guild here. Of course. How could they not, when they witnessed first-hand how desperate the situation was. And everything had happened so fast that Drifter nor Kirito, Asuna, or everyone else had even noticed. Even if they had, the spearmaster knew they wouldn't have had time to discuss it.

Closing his eyes and then opening them again, Drifter forced himself to look for the other Black Cats. For the two that weren't there anymore.

He had already seen Keita. Sachi was on her knees, hiding her head in his back and sobbing. Tetsuo was staring at nothing. And Ducker and Sasamaru...

Were dead.

Fuck. Why had they- No, now wasn't the time to think about that. The spearmaster tore his gaze away from Keita, Sachi, and Tetsuo, and looked at Argo again. She was still hiding her face.

"How- How many frontliners, Argo?"

"All 12 from DKB. 29 from ALS."

Drifter cursed again, and this time it carried throughout the silent boss room. 41 frontliners. That was nearly a fourth of the Assault Team's strength.

Somehow... Somehow it could have been worse. He felt that thought nagging at the back of his head, but didn't speak it.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

But it was the truth. 41 frontliners... It was crippling. It truly was. But at the same time, it was something they could recover from. With time. Which they didn't have.

Fuck.

The ALS had gotten the worst of it, obviously. Three-fourths of their frontliner group was gone. And 35 others. That was well over a third of the guild, dead. Drifter wasn't sure there would be an Aincrad Liberation Squad left after today. And in all honesty, he couldn't see this as an entirely bad thing.

It had been mostly, if not all, Kibaou's fault, yes. He must have made the changes last-minute, otherwise Liten or one of Argo's informants would have let them know.

But there was a not insignificant part of Drifter that thought Liten and the other frontliners should have put their foot down and said 'no' to Kibaou's insane plan. They were frontliners. They should have known better than to bring a bunch of inexperienced rookies into a floor boss raid.

He didn't know why they hadn't. Loyalty? Fear? Maybe just obedience, for Kibaou ran his guild like a military? Whatever the reason was, they had made the largest blunder of their lives, and people had died for it.

Still, most of the blame laid squarely on Kibaou's shoulders. And he was going to answer for it.

His glare found its way back to Kibaou. The ALS guild leader was nearly catatonic, mouth hanging open and eyes staring at Argo but not seeing her. Probably not even he had realized just how much he fucked up. How much death he caused.

Playing the broken-hearted card wasn't going to work. Kissing Yuna on the side of the head, Drifter gently pried her fingers open, and marched right up to Kibaou. Everyone was watching him, but he didn't care.

"Kibaou!"

When roughly pulling him up didn't work to snap the ALS player out of his daze, Drifter shouted his name right in his face. The normally belligerent guild leader refused to meet his gaze.

Drifter's face scrunched up with disgust, and he let go of Kibaou, who immediately fell down again.

He had a lot he wanted to say to Kibaou. He wanted to yell and shout, curse and beat the idiot. But there was something he wanted to know even more.

"Why?"

For a long time, Kibaou didn't show any signs that he even heard the question. Then he got up with shaky legs, still refusing to look at anyone.

"Why?"

Drifter repeated. Kibaou finally looked at him, before looking away again. In that brief moment, Drifter saw shame, anger, loss, pain. A myriad of emotions.

"I-I thought we c-could take the bo-"

"That's not my question, Kibaou. What I want to know is why. Why are 78 players dead?"

Kibaou flinched. Even some of the others winced when they felt the venom Drifter put in his words. They all heard the question as the accusation it was.

It was petty. It was cruel.

It was deserved.

The spiky-haired guild leader clenched his fists. Drifter was still staring at him, awaiting an answer. Kibaou's world-famous temper finally got the better of him and he exploded.

"I made a mistake, okay?! The other floor bosses were easy, and I thought this one would be the same! But it fucking wasn't! I- I just wanted people to stop laughing at us..."

Kibaou surged forward, glaring at Drifter with hate. But he lost momentum as he spoke. He made the mistake of looking around and saw nothing but disbelief and fury, even from his own guildmates.

It wasn't Drifter who answered Kibaou's rant. Liten extricated herself from Shivata's embrace and stalked towards the duo, pointing a finger at Kibaou.

"Laugh at us? Laugh at us? Who the hell was laughing at us, Kibaou?! Nobody, that's who. Nobody!"

Hearing Liten raise her voice probably shocked the spectators more than watching Drifter scold Kibaou. Because Broken Spear Drifter was famous for his temper and tongue-lashing, but Liten the Fortress had barely ever been heard to say anything louder than a whisper.

"Nobody laughed at us, Kibaou. We are the Aincrad Liberation Squad. We've been fighting to escape SAO since the 1st floor. People said things about us. They complained we were too militaristic. That we were too authoritarian. But nobody. Ever. Laughed. At. Us."

She punctuated each word by stabbing his chest with her finger. Tears were running down her cheeks and breaking down into tiny light crystals.

"We are the ALS, Kibaou. Or at least we were."

Hearing that probably hurt Kibaou more than anything. Liten had as good as pronounced that the ALS, the guild Kibaou had poured his everything into, was dissolving.

"N-No... P-Please. T-T-The Assault Team still n-needs us."

Liten cried.

"Needs who, Kibaou? Thirty of our frontliners are dead. Just as many of our other players are gone. And the ones who survived won't ever have the courage to step foot into a boss room again. Part of the blame is on me, for not stopping you. But you are the real reason they are dead. You and your selfish pride."

Liten took a deep breath, and Shivata came forward and hugged her from behind, holding her close to his chest. Liten almost broke down, but she still had a parting shot for Kibaou.

"You are the reason the ALS is no more, Kibaou."

Stabbing Kibaou and twisting the knife would have been kinder. But Drifter couldn't find it in him to pity the other player. Every word Liten said had been the truth.

The spearmaster stepped closer again. They weren't done yet. Berating Kibaou wouldn't bring the dead back. But it was that or murdering him.

"Not a month ago, I defended you to Heathcliff, Kibaou. I told him that no matter how much of an asshole you are, when it came down to it I trusted you to have my back. I wish I knew back then how fucking wrong I was."

Drifter spat. And he meant every word. Kibaou looked like he had been slapped.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"You better fucking be. But it doesn't change anything. Nearly 80 people are dead, and I don't know if we will have the strength to climb the next floor. It only gets harder from here, and you single-handedly weakened the Assault Team back to how we were on the 1st floor. Congratulations."

Kibaou had nothing to say to that. He looked around, searching for... Something. Not support. Just something. Anything that didn't feel like a blade stabbing his heart out. He didn't find it.

"I-"

"Just shut up, Kibaou. Shut up and go away. I don't know what will happen to the ALS and the Assault Team. But I know you won't be a part of it."

For a brief second, Kibaou's eyes lit up with fury at being told that he wasn't going to have a say on his guild and his Assault Team anymore. But it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.

"You are right. I fucked up massively, and I don't deserve to be here. I... I will leave the Assault Team... And the Aincrad Liberation Squad. You can elect a new guild leader."

Kibaou mumbled the words out, raising his voice at the last part and fiddling with his menu. Drifter guessed he was retiring as guild leader and leaving the guild, and the position must have gone to Liten if her sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.

The former ALS guild leader, former frontliner, Kibaou the Challenger, looked at the players in the boss room. At Drifter, glowering at him. At Black Swordsman Kirito and Lightning Flash Asuna, hugging each other and glaring. At the rest of Reaver's Requiem, mourning their losses. At Argo the Rat, whose's face was still hidden by her hood. At Hero Orlando and Klein, who were stone-faced. At Lind and the DKB, his oldest rivals, who stared back as if he was the most disgusting thing in the world.

Lastly, he looked at Liten, who was hiding her face on her boyfriend's chest. Looked at his former guildmates, however few were left, and saw nothing but betrayal. Stared at the players he knew were watching the broadcast from all around Aincrad. And bowed.

"I'm sorry."

He turned to leave, walking towards the stairs that had appeared after the boss died. He was going to get to the 26th floor and wait until somebody activated the teleporter, then disappear. Where to, he had no idea. But a voice caught him before he could leave.

"Oh, no you don't."

"What?"

Kibaou turned around and stared at Broken Spear Drifter uncomprehendingly. He had already said he was sorry. He had already admitted his mistake. What more did he want? For him to die as atonement?

"You don't get to walk away as if you are a fucking martyr, Kibaou. You don't get to play the victim and act like we are kicking you out for a small mistake. Because this was no fucking small mistake, you bastard."

"I-I know that! And I didn't want to-"

Drifter cut him off again with a snarl that had the other player stumbling back. Then he felt Yuna's small hand on his back, and caught himself.

The spearmaster stood straighter, and even if they were of the same height, right now he was towering over Kibaou.

"You are not leaving the Assault Team, Kibaou. We are kicking you out. Fuck off and don't show your face around us ever again."