Episode 12

that emit faint electromagnetic waves, sending false sensations directly to the brain cells. It’s a piece of ultra-sophisticated, cutting-edge tech, but it also works on the same fundamental principles as a home appliance that has been around for decades: the kitchen microwave.

With enough power, the NerveGear could potentially vibrate the moisture in the brain cells, causing frictional heat strong enough to steam the brain from the inside out. But…

“…In principle, it’s not impossible…but he has to be bluffing. I mean, if you just pull the plug on the NerveGear, how can it produce enough juice to do that? Unless it’s packing some massive…batteries…”

Klein understood exactly why I trailed off. He moaned, a desperate expression plastered across his face. “But…it is. I heard that a third of the unit’s weight is battery cells. But still, this is ridiculous! What if there’s a blackout?”

As though he heard Klein’s roar, Kayaba continued his proclamation.

“To be more specific, the brain-frying sequence will commence upon any of the following circumstances: ten minutes of no external power; two hours of network disconnection; removal, dismantling, or destruction of the NerveGear. The authorities and media in the outside world have already announced the details of these conditions to the general public. At present, the friends and family of several players have already ignored these warnings and attempted to forcefully remove their NerveGears, the result being…”

The echoing, metallic voice paused for a breath.

“…that sadly, two hundred and thirteen players have already been permanently retired from both Aincrad and the real world.”

A single shrill scream rang out from somewhere in the crowd. But the majority of players were stock-still, either unable or refusing to believe, their faces displaying absentminded smiles. Like them, my mind resisted Kayaba’s words, but my body was more honest, my legs beginning to quaver. I hobbled backward several steps on buckling knees, trying not to fall. Klein simply fell straight onto his rear, his face still empty.

Two hundred and thirteen players.

The words reverberated over and over in my ears.

Was Kayaba telling the truth? Were more than two hundred people who had been playing this game just minutes ago already dead?

Some of them must have been beta testers like me. Possibly even people whose faces or names I recognized from my time playing. And now Kayaba said their NerveGears had fried their brains and killed them?

“I won’t believe it…I refuse to believe it,” Klein muttered from the paving stones, his voice hoarse. “It’s just a threat. He can’t do this. Quit dicking us around and let us out already. I’ve got better things to do than sit around while your little stunt plays out. That’s all this is, right? A stunt. A bit of excitement to juice up the game’s grand opening, yeah?”

The same thoughts had been racing through my mind at the exact same time. But Kayaba’s dry, practical announcement continued, disregarding the wishes of his captive audience.

“There is no need to worry about your physical bodies back in the real world. The current state of the game and today’s fatalities have been covered far and wide on television, radio, and the Internet. The danger that someone will forcefully remove your NerveGear is already much diminished. The two-hour offline leeway period should provide enough time for your physical bodies to be transported to hospitals and other long-term care facilities with proper security, eliminating concerns over your physical well-being. You may rest assured…and focus on conquering the game.”

“Wha—?” A scream finally ripped out from my throat. “What do you mean? Conquer the game? You expect us to just sit back and enjoy the game when we can’t even log out?”