The Town of Beginnings was slowly beginning to stratify.
On the outskirts, the high-risk, high-reward cycle of survival had begun, and Zanshin found himself trapped in its lowest ring, operating under the brutal efficiency of Hayabusa's small, determined party.
Hayabusa, Ryo (the third party member, a cheerful but slightly clumsy axe-wielder), and Zanshin spent the entire day cycling through the spawn points of the Frenzy Boars.
Zanshin performed his role flawlessly, though in the most self-contemptuous way possible.
He was the lure.
His white hair and pale appearance in the field served as a perfect, high-visibility target.
"Alright, Zanshin, same plan!" Hayabusa would call out, his voice full of the easy, trusting camaraderie that felt like a knife twisting in Zanshin's gut.
"You pull, run wide, and bring it right into our kill zone!"
Zanshin would sprint, his movements clumsy and driven only by terror.
The moment the Frenzy Boar locked onto him and started its charge, he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline—not the invigorating charge of combat, but the cold dread of becoming a target.
He failed to execute any of the smooth, purposeful movements expected of a polearm user, instead relying on frantic, unpredictable zig-zags to ensure he was never hit.
Hayabusa and Ryo, armed with simple swords and axes, would wait in ambush.
They were quick learners, already mastering the basic skill cues like Horizontal Arc and Slant, utilizing the system's auto-aim to land clean, powerful blows.
Zanshin would watch from a safe distance as the Boar's HP bar disintegrated under their focused attack.
Every successful kill filled the party's Col bag and split the experience, yet Zanshin felt no pride, only relief that the deadly engagement had concluded without him being forced to swing his Glaive.
Despite his effectiveness as bait, his party members couldn't help but notice his utter failure to contribute offensively.
"Dude, Zanshin," Ryo called out during a water break, wiping sweat from his brow. "I know you're the bait, but seriously, you're level one damage! Give it a poke when the Boar is stunned. We need every bit of EXP we can get."
Zanshin shook his head quickly. "The Glaive is too slow. I'll miss the window. You're faster without me interrupting the chain."
The lie felt disgusting. The truth was that the tremor in his hands made any skill cue impossible.
He knew that the system would interpret the violent, suppressed shaking of his muscles as a failed input, leading to a long, fatal cool-down.
The Glaive wasn't too slow; he was too dangerous.
Hayabusa cut Ryo off with a sharp look, then turned to Zanshin.
He leaned against his sword, the cheerful veneer cracking slightly, revealing a layer of concern and something heavier.
"Look, Ryo's right, Zanshin, we need more damage," Hayabusa said, his voice soft, almost pained.
He looked at Zanshin's pale face and shaking hands.
"And honestly, man, seeing you like this… it sucks. It reminds me that I was right there. I felt responsible too, you know? For how badly you took the accident. I know you retreated from everything after that. You even said we weren't friends anymore, Tsurugi, but I know that was a lie. You wouldn't be this broken if it didn't hit you so hard."
He paused, then gestured to the massive Glaive strapped to Zanshin's back.
"I remember how you were, man. Why are you using this heavy thing? Why not a one-handed sword? It's lighter, it's faster. You were always better with a sword, always preferred that close, controlled style. With the sword, you could be aggressive, maybe you wouldn't have to run so much."
Zanshin recoiled slightly, the question about the sword hitting him harder than Ryo's insults.
The sword represented the ultimate closeness, the ultimate commitment to combat—the exact thing his body and mind refused to allow.
He knew that if he picked up a sword, the proximity to death would intensify his tremors, ensuring he would either miss completely and die, or worse, accidentally trigger a move that could harm a teammate.
The look in Hayabusa's eyes wasn't just concern; it held a deep, painful knowledge. He had seen through the facade. It proved Zanshin's earlier, panicked denial to Klein—and to Hayabusa himself—was a desperate, flimsy lie.
Hayabusa was here, risking his life, and feeling responsible for Zanshin's breakdown. It made the burden unbearable, forcing Zanshin to carry not just his own guilt, but Hayabusa's understanding of it as well.
"No," Zanshin said, the word clipped and final.
"I need the reach. I need the distance. It keeps me safer."
He did not elaborate.
The lie was simple, professional, and impenetrable.
He needed the distance not to stay safe, but to keep Hayabusa and Ryo safe from him.
The guilt was a physical ache. Zanshin was forcing the one person he cared about most to expend extra energy and take unnecessary risks, all because Zanshin was too weak to overcome his own trauma or too cowardly to leave.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, signaling the time to retreat to the safety of the city walls, the party gathered their last drops and Col.
They were exhausted, battered, but level two.
A full day of gruesome, necessary work.
"Okay, guys, great day," Hayabusa said, his eyes shining with a competitive spark that Zanshin remembered fondly—a spark that now terrified him.
"We've got enough for a few days' worth of food and maybe a cheap dagger for Ryo.
But look, grinding Frenzy Boars is going to take months to clear the first floor. We need a shortcut."
Hayabusa lowered his voice, leaning in conspiratorially.
Ryo looked excited.
"I heard a rumor today," Hayabusa whispered.
"There's a secret, unmapped dungeon under the Town of Beginnings. It's an old Beta server leak—a hidden labyrinth that the GMs forgot to patch over. It's supposed to be packed with high-level mobs, maybe equivalent to Floor 5 or 6 monsters, but if we clear it, the rewards would be insane. Unique items, massive EXP boost, maybe enough money to buy weapons for everyone."
Ryo's eyes widened. "Seriously? A hidden dungeon? But… high-level mobs? That's instant death!"
"That's why no one's found it yet, and no one's tried to clear it," Hayabusa countered, a confident smile stretching his face.
"But think about it: if we're the first to map it and clear it, we skip the entire leveling grind and get straight to the mid-game.
We get a massive head start on Kirito and everyone else."
He looked at Zanshin, expecting agreement. "It's a huge risk, but a massive reward. We go in slow, Zanshin pulls point, and we take out the first few levels of mobs.
What do you say? You up for being the first to find the First Labyrinth?"
The question felt like an electric shock to Zanshin's system.
No.
Absolutely not.
This is a direct path to the consequence I fear. Pitting Zanshin's suppressed movements against mobs five levels higher than their own was suicide.
If Hayabusa died, it would be Zanshin's fault for participating in the decision.
"No," Zanshin stated immediately, his voice flat.
"Whoa, what's up with that, Zanshin?" Ryo asked, surprised.
"It's too dangerous.
The risk is not worth the reward. We should stick to safe grinding." Zanshin knew that the safe grinding meant starvation in a few weeks, but it was better than the immediate, fatal mistake this dungeon promised.
Hayabusa was already dismissive
. "Come on, Tsurugi. Where's the competitive spirit? We can handle it. We just need to be smart."
Zanshin opened his mouth to argue, to scream the truth: that he was a broken liability and that Hayabusa was literally betting his life on Zanshin's ability to move without hurting anyone.
But then his eyes fell on Ryo, who was staring eagerly at Hayabusa, and then back at the city gates, where two figures with large shields were marching in—veterans of the early frontline, looking weary but accomplished.
Zanshin knew the chilling truth: if he left Hayabusa now, he would be instantly rejected by any other party, forcing him back to slow starvation. If he stayed, he became a fatal risk.
But if he argued and refused the dungeon, Hayabusa would assume Zanshin was too fearful and drop him from the party, leaving Zanshin to die alone anyway.
He was trapped by his own uselessness.
He swallowed the bitter refusal, the guilt crushing him into submission.
"...Fine," Zanshin finally whispered, his gold eyes dull with dread.
"If we go, we go slow. And I still only pull aggro."
Hayabusa cheered, oblivious to the suicidal resignation in Zanshin's tone.
"That's the spirit! We rest up tonight, grab what we can, and hit the dungeon tomorrow. First Labyrinth, here we come!"