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A strand of plant fiber so fine, it seems almost invisible. It is, however, easier to see at night, due to its uncanny ability to glow in the dark. Often used in delicate needlework for its strength.

Deals damage based on DEF to the attacking enemy upon a successful guard.

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."