Worldview

Only certified blacksmiths are allowed to craft equipment using overworlder techniques. The Adventurer's Association oversees these qualifications, administering strict exams to ensure safety.

The Adventurers' Association is an organization run by citizens of Aincrad that primarily manages overworlder adventurers. On the surface, their main duties are to broker requests and provide rewards to any who demonstrate exceptional performance; in reality, they ensure that the more powerful overworlders perform their duties without harming the people of Aincrad.

Inns affiliated with the Adventurer's Association all have a similar layout, ensuring traveling adventurers feel at home wherever they stay.

Guide Book Special Issue: Don't Let a Fight for Your Life Stop You From Eating Well K and A—top frontline fighters—give this culinary tip their seal of approval! One spoonful of sour cream transforms bland old black bread into a gourmand's delight. Read on to find even more easy recipes using simple ingredients! Don't worry, it's one of Argo's strategy guides. — Item dropped by an adventurer

A Safe Area is an indispensable place to rest when traversing monster-infested territory outside of the city. Nevertheless, there is never a guarantee that one will be nearby, and many hardy souls prefer to camp out in the wilds with only branches and cloth to shield them from the elements. They know that desperately searching for a Safe Area will only put them in danger.

Hold not the secret key. Open not the Six Doors. Touch not the magic stones within the Sanctuary. Give in not to Desire, the original sin of the twin souls.

All things have two faces: light and shadow, the sacred and the profane, life and death. The elves, who held trees in highest reverence, found the truth of this duality written in the grain of tree bark. The grooves were the face that receives—drawing in water, nurturing life, inviting harmony. The ridges were the face that repels—pushing away, sowing division, gnarling into conflict. In this Sanctuary, look to the grooves. Follow them where they run along the pillars, and they will lead you where you need to go. — Message from an adventurer

The Sanctuary: a forbidden place the elves kept hidden from the world. And yet, scattered throughout it are structures that appear to have been built by humans. That detail is hard to ignore. It raises the possibility that the legend of the Swordsman of Salvation may have come into being after human history was already well underway. And if that's true, then what is this world, really— The message carved into the ground ends here, the final words lost in a dark, spreading stain.

In cities cut off by danger, people plant flowers brought from all over Aincrad—small reminders of home amid the confinement.

To live safely in cities surrounded by danger, guards are indispensable. Their blades turn not only on monsters, but also on those who threaten the peace from within.

The ruins of temples found throughout the second floor hint at a region that must once have been a vast, thriving city of worship. Yet these weathered vestiges carry a quieter implication: that even gods powerful enough to build such a civilization could not reach the hearts of the people who ascended to the sky.

In ages past, the humans of this harsh land, oppressed by heat and thirst, turned to the dwarves to learn the art of cave excavation. That knowledge gave humans shelter to live in, and in return they sent the dwarves the rare ores they unearthed along the way. The strong bond between these two peoples was severed the day Aincrad rose from the earth. This mine shaft has endured through the long years since—quiet and unchanged, as though it cannot quite bring itself to forget a better age.

The ruins of what used to be a village. It was only recently destroyed. Monsters in Aincrad encroach on human lands more and more every year, and an increasing number of people are being driven from their homes. Adventurers are needed to control their spread, and this is how many overworlders make their livings.

In the age when this land was still part of the world below, the god carved into this wall was a strict and all-seeing judge—one who showed no mercy to lawbreakers and spared none from punishment. But somewhere along the way, the people chose to close those eyes of justice with their own hands. Every soul dwelling on this floating world carries a share of that guilt.

Until a few centuries ago, overworlders were summoned via rituals carried out in towers such as these. However, human-built summoning towers had a low success-rate, and seemed ill-suited to the task; nowadays it is far more common to use elven ruins for this purpose. The people of Aincrad value overworlders for their ability to help out—yet who summoned them in the first place, and why, remains shrouded in mystery.

Everyone believes this world is some sort of paradise, but how can that be so, when monsters took my wife...? Why am I cursed to remain in this world? To me, this place is nothing more than a gilded cage. —From an altar inscription.

I miss real food. I don't care how cheap it is, eating nothing but stale, flavorless bread would wear anyone down. I knew the NerveGear could replicate taste, but I never thought I'd feel it hit my stomach like this. Obviously real food would be better, but this all feels and tastes a little too real for me. I can't believe packets of data posturing as food and flavor is actually making me this depressed. As soon as I've got what I came for, I'm heading straight back to town for a proper meal. — Message from an adventurer

Even with a city which appears so glittering and grand does the old adage hold true: the stronger the light, the darker the shadow. Adventurers should be wary of requests proffered from the gloom of back alleys, as they are often illegal and rarely endorsed by the Adventurer's Association.

The sealed door bears a quiet warning: "Virtue ends here."

In Aincrad, where the ancient magic of the elves still flows through the land, special stones capable of responding to this magic are sometimes formed naturally through years of built-up exposure to the supernatural elements. Human researchers have managed to use these black stones to create magical barriers by placing them at the four corners of a Safe Area, and have also been able to create magical bridges. Rock fields where these magical stones can be found are very distinct, forming mounds that look as if someone had piled them up. These are known as Magic Stone Mounds, and people treat them with care and ensure they are not hoarded.

Tolbana's iconic amphitheater predates the city itself. Some say it was once a temple to a long-forgotten god, and that a legendary troupe performed there, drawing crowds that eventually formed the city.

Ruins found across Aincrad that serve as a tie between those in the present and the Swordsman of Salvation—a warrior who once saved the world from the God of Death. Even among elven ruins, it is rare to find ones that have retained their original form to this extent. Judging from their condition and the almost organic way their structure changes each time they are entered, they may be connected to the core of the very magic that sustains Aincrad.

Beware, honest researchers. Some historians have been advocating a theory that the high elves may have been the culprits behind everything around us, and its supporters are gaining momentum. Researchers, realists, and politicians who believe in this theory have been growing increasingly active. Focus, and listen carefully. They are already on the move. —From an inscription left by a researcher.

Void of any humidity, the air here shifts between blistering heat in the day and freezing cold at night—but that isn't at all felt in the forest that surrounds the Sanctuary. There the air is moist and filled with elements that give the forest life. It would be normal to attribute this to the Sanctuary and the demi-humans entrusted with its protection, but could it be that the Sanctuary is itself akin to a living organism that requires such an environment to function? —From an inscription left by a researcher.