Chapter Five:

"Honorable Sacrifices"

Reality split open, edges burning with colors that shifted between existence and void as the ChronoLance X5 burst through at full acceleration. The tear sealed behind them with a thunderous crack that echoed across a sky painted with a deep crimson sunset. John had exactly half a second to register the complete absence of road ahead before the steering wheel nearly jerked out of his hands.

"AHHHHHHH!" The car fishtailed wildly, tires scraping against ancient stone as John fought for control. The cliff's edge rushed toward them, a sheer drop into a valley that stretched beyond sight. They skidded sideways, the ChronoLance's quantum-glass surface catching fragments of sky and stone until they finally shuddered to a stop – the car's front wheels suspended over empty space.

"Welcome to Eldoria and The Thousand Isles, John!" Realmweaver announced with bright enthusiasm that ignored their near-plummet into the abyss. "I do hope you'll find the weather agreeable. The blood red sunset never fails to impress."

John's hands remained locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white as his heart hammered against his ribs, eyes wide. Through the windshield, cherry blossom petals moved through the air, each petal following an unknown dance.

John eased open the door and stepped out onto weathered stone. Below, the valley floor stretched into the crimson haze, filled with thousands of kneeling Players arranged in perfect rows. Behind each one stood a Shadow Samurai, black mist rising from their forms against the sunset. Their armor gleamed with an inner darkness that consumed light rather than reflected it.

The wind carried cherry blossoms across the scene, petals drifting between the rows of silent figures. Not a single Player moved. Not a single Shadow Samurai shifted their stance. Only the black mist coiling from their forms showed any sign of movement in the massive gathering.

"Quite the turnout," Realmweaver commented through the ChronoLance's open door. "Though I should mention we weren't exactly invited to this particular ceremony."

"What's happening down there?" John asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You're witnessing Tokyo's insertion into Eldoria," Realmweaver replied, her tone softer than before. "Japan approached their Dive differently than the rest of the world. When given the choice, 89% of Tokyo's players chose to enter Eldoria through traditional means - through seppuku."

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"Seppuku?"

"An ancient ritual of honorable death," Realmweaver explained. "The one who commits seppuku plunges a short blade into their abdomen, drawing it from left to right. A chosen second, called a kaishaku, stands ready to remove their head, ending their suffering quickly. It was - and clearly still is - considered the most honorable way for a warrior to die."

John watched as each Shadow Samurai moved into position behind their chosen Player. The black mist swirled thicker now, casting strange shadows in the crimson light.

"They see this as their final act of service," Realmweaver continued. "In their minds, choosing an honorable death to ensure humanity's survival carries more weight than fighting through the insertion process. The Shadow Samurai serve as their kaishaku, ensuring their transition into Eldoria maintains the proper ceremonial significance."

She directed his attention to the horizon. "The remaining 11% who chose to stand and fight were granted a peaceful insertion. See those pillars of smoke rising in the distance? That's their camp. Not far from here, actually. Though I suspect our unexpected arrival might make for an interesting introduction."

Below, thousands of white-robed Players knelt in perfect rows upon the ancient stone. Each held a short blade that caught the crimson light. The Shadow Samurai stood motionless behind them, black mist rising from their forms into the cherry blossom-filled air.

Tanaka Yuki, aged 19, thought of her grandmother's stories about honor and duty as she gripped her blade. Beside her, Sato Kenji, a salary man who'd spent thirty years behind a desk, finally felt the weight of a warrior's purpose.

"The ceremony removes their pain," Realmweaver explained softly, "but leaves the sensation. Gameweaver understood the importance of feeling the moment without the agony clouding its significance."

As one, thousands of blades pressed against cloth. In the third row, Yamamoto Hideo smiled, remembering his father's words about sacrifice. In the twentieth row, Nakamura Mai thought of cherry trees blooming in her family's garden.

The blades moved. No screams pierced the air - only the soft whisper of steel through cloth, the quiet acceptance of thousands choosing their path to Eldoria. The Shadow Samurai moved with fluid grace, their dark blades catching the light once before completing their duty.

Cherry blossoms continued their dance through the air as the ceremony concluded, petals mixing with the rising black mist until the ground lay empty save for the scattered white flowers against dark stone.

John stood motionless at the cliff's edge, watching the last of the black mist dissipate into the crimson sky. The empty valley floor stretched before him, scattered with white cherry blossoms against the dark stone. Each petal marked where a Player had made their final choice.

"Should we head to the insertion camp?" Realmweaver's voice broke through his thoughts, gentler than he'd heard her before.

The words didn't come immediately. Images flashed through his mind - Harbor Pointe Food Station crumbling beneath endless rain, streets filled with starving people, the slow death of hope in a world running out of real food. Understanding washed over him. These Players hadn't just chosen an honorable death - they'd chosen to give meaning to lives spent watching their world decay.

A tear traced down his cheek. John wiped it away with the back of his hand, turning from the valley to slide back into the ChronoLance. His fingers found the steering wheel, steadier now than when they'd first arrived.

"Do you know where this Akira is?" he asked.

"No, not exactly," Realmweaver replied. "But I'm sure we'll find him at the insertion camp." She paused. "That is... if he wasn't down there."

The engine hummed to life, its sound carrying a note of uncertainty that matched the question hanging in the crimson air. John eased the car back from the cliff's edge, cherry blossoms swirling in their wake as they turned toward the distant pillars of smoke rising against the setting red sun.