Sword Art Online: Moonlight Swordman.

Ren looked up at the plaza, where the Teleport Gate glowed softly amidst the bustle of the crowd, people coming and going without pause. He stepped closer, without hesitation.

[Teleport Gate Activated]

[Please select your destination.]

[Floor 02]

[Floor 03]

Ren quietly selected Floor 03.

Immediately, a gentle light enveloped his body, like an early breeze gliding across a lake, soft and inviting.

…But the moment didn't last.

A sudden jolt of pain slammed into his temple like an invisible fist. A sharp, piercing dizziness shot from the top of his head down to the nape of his neck.

Ren let out a low groan, knees bending slightly, his hand instinctively clawing at the air.

Nausea surged up his throat, his stomach twisting as if being wrung out by unseen hands.

"Damn… this feels awful…"

He clenched his teeth, enduring it, eyes squinting against the swirling, glittering light. Unlike his first teleportation to Floor 2, this sensation was clearly different.

It was as if… Floor 3 was rejecting him.

Finally, the light faded.

Ren was ejected from the teleport stream like a dropped toy, his heavy body landing softly on the cool stone floor.

He collapsed to his knees, hands bracing against the ground, his breath ragged like someone breaking through the surface of deep water.

The nausea still lingered, his stomach churning, cold sweat seeping through his shirt.

Ren gritted his teeth, trying not to vomit right there in the middle of the plaza.

Around him, a few players passed by, glancing at him momentarily… then walking on.

No one stopped.

No one asked.

Because they understood.

Floor-sickness a mocking term for this phenomenon, was common among those setting foot on a new floor for the first time using a teleport gate.

Just like countless others before him, Ren was merely another face in the endless stream of players flowing through Aincrad.

He took a deep breath.

Staggering to his feet once the dizziness had subsided, each breath gradually steadied.

Only now was Ren clear-headed enough to observe his surroundings for the first time, he had stepped onto Floor 3.

And the first thing that struck him… were the trees. The massive trees.

But not the pine or oak trees of Floor 1, these were colossal baobab trees, their crowns reaching so high they nearly disappeared into the mist floating above.

The trunks were as thick as towers, their bark rough and mottled with silvery-gray patches, like the hide of some ancient creature.

Their roots didn't burrow underground instead, they rose completely above the surface, snaking around moss-covered boulders, anchoring deep into the earth as if holding the entire floor in place to prevent it from slipping away from reality.

Ren blinked.

A gentle breeze passed, carrying the scent of decaying wood and wild herbs, earthy, slightly musty, but not unpleasant.

The air here was entirely different from Floor 1. It was thick, heavy, and had a taste like smoke… not acrid, but faint, like mist laced with the scent of long-rotted earth.

He reached out and touched the nearest trunk. The surface was cool and coarse, but deep within, he could feel a faint, pulsing vibration, as though the tree was alive, breathing alongside him.

Then he looked up.

High above, the canopy branches interwove like a vast, suspended maze, with soft streams of light filtering through the leaves, shimmering curtains descending from the heavens.

Some of the leaves were nearly the size of a person, hanging in midair, swaying gently as if listening to the footsteps of a stranger who had just arrived.

And this was Zumfut.

Zumfut. The main settlement of this floor.

It sat nestled on the northeastern edge of the Forest of Wavering Mists, a forest shrouded in a thin, ever-shifting layer of fog, where light never passes through in a straight line, and the shadows of trees constantly waver, as if space itself were breathing.

There were no stone walls or towering watchtowers like on Floor 1.

Instead, a large iron gate stood, moss-covered and lightly rusted with age, standing out against the deep greens of the forest.

The gate appeared old, but at its joints and support beams, fresh welds glinted, proof it had been recently repaired.

Something in its design made Ren feel safe, a strange comfort in the midst of this untamed wilderness and unpredictable climate.

As though Zumfut was quietly shielding travelers from the ambiguous chill and the creatures lurking in the mist that surrounded the forest.

Ren stepped through, passing the open gate.

Inside, Zumfut's central plaza unfolded beneath the shadow of a massive baobab tree leaning slightly to the east.

Stone-paved paths curved gently with the land's natural contours, intricately carved from interwoven white and gray stone.

Some of the carvings had faded over time, but that very fading evoked the quiet, enduring passage of time.

The atmosphere exuded the serenity of a town that had weathered many seasons of wind, yet had not been forgotten.

The faint scent of burnt wood hung in the air, mingling with the clashing sounds of metal from a nearby forge, and the murmuring conversations of players gathered around makeshift stalls built from ebony wood and rope.

Ren didn't rush to move on.

After steadying his breath, he opened the latest edition of the guidebook, which was always distributed for free at busy marketplaces. Ago seemed to be slightly overworked lately, especially with the pace of exploration accelerating more and more.

Ren let out a faint smile as he held the small booklet in his hand, carefully flipping through each page.

Lines of neat and detailed text appeared, outlining a broad view of the place he was standing in:

Zumfut... the main settlement of Floor Three.

It was built around three colossal baobab trees, each with a trunk diameter of up to 70 meters and towering over 110 meters into the misty canopy of the forest.

Like massive pillars holding up a corner of the sky, the three trees formed an equilateral triangle, enclosing the central plaza nestled between them.

The northern tree had been hollowed out layer by layer, skillfully transformed into the Mayor's Office, where all administrative affairs in the region were handled.

The southeastern tree served as an inn for players, with dozens of rooms stacked in a spiral pattern along the trunk. Soft yellow oil-lamp light glowed through its tiny frosted windows.

The remaining tree, to the west, was covered in large wooden planks tightly joined together, forming a spacious and sturdy platform, the busiest of the three.

This was the trade hub, where players' and NPCs' stalls, some temporary, some permanent, were set up.

At the very center of these three trees was the Teleport Gate Plaza, paved with swirled white-and-gray stone, forming a subtle spiral that led toward the teleport gate from which Ren had just emerged.

The plaza was semi-circular in design, creating a space wide enough for players to rest, trade, and exchange information.

The ambiance wasn't noisy, just lively enough, just warm enough.

The quest board, made of dark brown wood engraved with ancient runes, was set up outside the inn's tree trunk. Sheets of timeworn parchment were still firmly pinned to it with brass nails.

And surrounding the entire settlement was a wall built from joined tree trunks, thick and tall, curving in a circular shape like a giant wooden teacup.

At the main entrance was the large iron gate Ren had just passed through, black and recently repaired, giving off a sense of both rustic charm and reliability.

Something about this place made Ren feel like he was standing inside the chest of a massive living creature, slowly breathing, still listening to every footstep that passed by.

Zumfut did not resemble a glorious city.

It was a frontier town, surviving amidst nature, carefully carved out, designed, and protected, as if every line of its structure was the result of tireless, never-resting hands.

A place where humans were still trying to hold onto their breath in the face of vast wilderness and dangers yet unnamed.

Ren closed the booklet, his gaze lingering on the towering trees above.

"…Not bad," he whispered.

As if following an instinct etched into his bones, Ren began walking around Zumfut, his steps guided naturally, without thought.

He climbed a wooden staircase securely fastened to one of the massive tree trunks. Each creak beneath his boots echoed like the heartbeat of a city alive and breathing.

Step by step, Ren ascended, weaving through plank-lined walkways, passing shops built into the sides of the tree, selling weapons, armor, dried food, healing potions, and even decorative items no one would expect to be useful in a death game.

The air here was thick with the scent of sap, mingled with cooking smoke and the tang of freshly forged metal.

Players crowded the narrow paths, bargaining, trading, laughing, and more than a few frowning, all weaving together a vivid tapestry of noise and life, chaotic but brimming with energy.

Ren stopped at a high point near the edge of the wooden platform, where a railing made of dried vines and bent wooden bars curved outward. From here, he looked down on the Forest of Wavering Mists below.

A sea of trees stretched to the horizon, veiled in thin mist like silver ribbons flowing slowly over the canopy.

Occasionally, a large leaf would stir slightly, revealing the silhouette of a monster moving beneath, slow, aimless, but always lurking.

Ren rested his hand lightly on the railing. The wind ran through his hair like a hand brushing past just barely, touching, but never grasping, carrying with it distant whispers from the deep forest. It was unclear whether they were the sounds of beasts, the wind, or the call of a new journey waiting to begin.

Then he remembered his true purpose for coming here.

Not to sightsee. Not to lose himself in the forest's breeze and mist.

Ren needed to find Agil. And Agil's shop.

Thankfully, he had once mentioned it, in a brief conversation back on Floor One. The shop was on Floor Three, somewhere near the trade hub, close to the western baobab tree.

Ren glanced one last time at the view below, letting his eyes absorb the soft green hues shimmering with mist, the weathered canvas rooftops, and the shadowy figures nestled in thick foliage… before turning away from the railing and returning to the narrow, noisy wooden paths of the marketplace.