Chapter 491 - 479: Passing the Trial, I Killed Myself?

Chapter 491: Chapter 479: Passing the Trial, I Killed Myself?

CLANG!

Blades crossed.

Sparks erupted in the pure white space. With every clash, a sharp pain shot through Yak’s arm, as if it were about to break.

’Something’s wrong.’

’Something is very wrong.’

The "mirror image" across from him was doing more than just copying his moves and strength.

When he prepared a feint, exposing his left shoulder to bait his opponent, the other "Yak" struck the exact same pose, exposing its own left shoulder.

Two identical traps, laid before each other at the same time.

This was no longer a battle. It was a bizarre duet.

What he thought, the other would do. What he predicted, was the other’s prediction.

Cold sweat soaked the lining beneath his Knight’s armor.

’This thing... can read my mind.’ The thought echoed in two minds at once.

No, it was more terrifying than that.

Time ticked by, second by second. Their stamina drained in sync, and even the locations of their wounds were remarkably similar.

If this continued, the only outcome would be for both of them to collapse from exhaustion simultaneously.

Mutual destruction?

No!

He couldn’t die here! There were over five million people outside waiting for him to open the gate home!

A wild, vicious thought, like a bolt of lightning tearing through the darkness, exploded in both their minds at once.

’Trade an unblockable opening for a guaranteed hit!’

’A life for a life!’

It was the only way to break the stalemate!

"Hah!"

The two furious roars overlapped. Both Yaks abandoned all defense simultaneously, leaning forward as their fractured broadswords became two crimson afterimages tearing through space, aimed straight for the other’s heart.

The same resolve, the same madness.

They were the embodiment of the honor and belligerence buried in the depths of each other’s hearts. At this moment, that desire was catalyzed to its absolute peak.

The blades tore through the air with a sharp shriek.

The stench of death washed over them.

It was the final, critical moment.

Just a tenth of a second before both swords would have pierced their chests simultaneously.

One of the Yaks—his pupils, burning with the flames of resolve, suddenly contracted.

He forcefully twisted his torso. The blade, which should have thrust straight forward, shifted upward by three centimeters at an angle almost imperceptible to the naked eye.

SQUELCH—!

Blood flew.

His left shoulder was pierced clean through by the other sword, the immense force sending him stumbling backward.

’Agony!’

But he was still alive.

And his sword had precisely pierced the heart of the "self" across from him.

The expression on the other "Yak’s" face froze, shifting from insane resolve to utter shock in an instant.

He looked down at the sword in his chest, then back up at the "self" who had survived at the cost of a grievous wound.

He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, it was only a sigh as his entire body began to disintegrate into billions of scattering points of light.

[DING!]

A magnificent voice echoed throughout Aincrad.

[Server-Wide Announcement: Congratulations to player ’???’ for successfully clearing the 100th floor of Sword Art Online.]

[The logout function will be restored in five minutes.]

[This game will be permanently shut down in three days, real-world time. Weisren Heavy Industry offers its sincerest apologies for the trouble this unforeseen incident has caused all players.]

The announcement echoed three times in every player’s mind.

The Town of Origin, the major leveling zones, the players’ private cabins... every corner of Aincrad’s hundred-floor Floating City fell deathly silent at this moment.

It was as if time had been paused.

The next second.

"Hic... sob..."

A young girl who had hidden herself in the corner of a tavern, having already despaired and given up, covered her face and let out an irrepressible sob.

Her cry was like a pebble dropped into a still lake.

"We... we can leave?"

"We won? We really won?"

"AHHHHHHHHH—!"

A boy broke down in tears on the spot. "I can finally see my fiancée!"

A deafening cheer, like a volcano that had been building pressure for an entire month, erupted from every corner of the Floating City, soaring to the heavens!

Countless players threw down their weapons and madly embraced those around them, whether friend or foe.

They laughed, they danced, they cried, releasing all their fear, despair, and anger in this one moment.

Finally, they could go home.

...

Inside the Red Jade Palace, Yak’s figure was enveloped in a soft pillar of light. He slowly ascended, rising high into the sky.

From this vantage point, he could see the entirety of Aincrad’s hundred-floor Floating City.

At this moment, countless points of light representing logging-out players scattered upward from every floor, like a grand shower of fireflies, scrambling to leave this world and return to reality.

Amidst this magnificent sight, the colossal, heaven-spanning phantom of Allen Wesren slowly materialized before him.

"You are the hero of this world."

Allen’s voice was calm and majestic, carrying a perfectly measured note of praise.

"See? The world shines for you."

Yak watched all this in shock. The thrill of surviving his ordeal mixed with the awe of facing a Wizard, leaving him speechless.

"I have hidden your name."

Allen continued, "Because the temptation of ’eternal life’ is enough to make even the most steadfast hero fall. This is for your protection."

As soon as he finished speaking, a perfect humanoid form shimmering with a dark-gold metallic luster emerged from the void, hovering silently before Yak.

Its appearance was about seventy percent similar to Puppet Zero, Rhine. The streamlined body was filled with a sense of power and artistry. Every joint, every inch of armor, seemed like a supreme masterpiece.

"This is the reward I prepared for you for clearing the game—the Eternal Body."

Allen’s voice seemed to carry a magical quality.

"Rune technology has been used to implement many functions within it, enough to give you combat power comparable to an Official Wizard. This means you will be unrivaled in Aiselan."

"Moreover, it is indestructible. Barring a fatal attack, it can operate smoothly for three thousand years. To a mortal, this... is eternal life."

Yak held his breath. He could feel the terrifying energy contained within the Golem’s body.

Allen continued, "You only need to press your forehead against its."

"Your soul, memories, and consciousness will be completely transferred into this new vessel. You can obtain eternal life and power right now, or you can choose to activate it when your physical body nears the end of its life."

"The choice is yours."

Yak stared intently at the perfect Golem.

Immortality.

Power.

This was the ultimate temptation that no mortal could resist. With just a single thought, he could shed this battered, scarred body of flesh and blood and become an immortal legend.

His hand rose uncontrollably, wanting to touch the cold metal.

But, just as his fingertips were about to make contact, he stopped.

In his mind, his wife’s gentle gaze appeared, along with the faces of the comrades who had sacrificed themselves in the raid battles.

He wanted to feel his family’s embrace, to have a drink with his surviving comrades, to use this real, vulnerable body to feel the sunlight of a life reclaimed from disaster.

"I..." Yak’s voice was a bit hoarse. He withdrew his hand and bowed deeply to Allen’s phantom. "Thank you for your generosity, Lord Wesley. But I think... I’d like to go home first."

"I choose to use it later."

Allen’s phantom fell silent for a moment, as if scrutinizing his choice.

"As you wish."

"I will have this body secretly sent to your residence and sealed away. When you need it, it will be ready for you."

"Now, go home, hero."

Yak gave Allen a solemn Knight’s salute, then pressed [Logout].

His figure dissolved into a point of light and rose into the air, merging with the brilliant river of stars.

Allen retracted his gaze. Millions of streams of light were now orderly evacuating the server, each one calibrated by the [Soul-Body Synchronization Buffer Protocol].

[Commander.]

Jarvis’s voice sounded. [Commander. All data for the "Personal Identity" experiment has been collected. A total of 312 valid control samples were recorded. The probability of the winner being the "primordial consciousness"... is 49.7%. There is no statistical difference from random chance.]

[Many groups of test subjects showed decision-making divergence within the short three-minute duel, indicating that even identical copies will differentiate over time.]

[The consciousness of the loser in each case has been destroyed as per the preset procedure.]

’49.7%.’

’No different from a coin toss.’

In other words—when faced with a perfect consciousness backup, the concept of an "original" simply does not exist on a data level.

The Yak who just walked out alive had a nearly 50% chance of being the "backup" created just thirty minutes ago.

And the one he killed with his own hands might have been the "original" who had led the Blood Alliance Knight Order in bloody battle for the past four years.

But did it matter?

It didn’t.

Because whichever one returned, he would embrace his wife, his eyes would well up with tears, and he would firmly believe that he was "Yak."

Memories intact, personality continuous, obsession unbroken.

That was "him."

Allen closed his eyes.

He had his answer to "personal identity." He also knew what to do to determine who was the original and who was the backup.

It wasn’t a philosophical answer—it was an engineering one.

As long as the chain of obsession remained unbroken and the self-referential structure was complete, the backup and the original were functionally equivalent.

So, for himself, there was only one conclusion—

He didn’t need to struggle with "which one is the real me."

He only needed to ensure that no matter which version of himself woke up, it could seamlessly continue the will of the previous version.