Alkor

He swayed as the others raced into action around him, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle any further vomiting. To say that his equilibrium had suddenly been thrown off would have been an understatement- Alkor felt like he had been afflicted with a sudden and terrible case of vertigo, seemingly induced by the boss' malefic aura coupled with some kind of stunning attack.

Two could play at that game. Still channeling his rage and determination, the virulent, hazy red aura surged around him as Alkor drew on his violent and wild tendencies to further enhance his next strike. The darkness of the blade rose up again, as though his very soul called out and willed it forth. Oathkeeper was a weapon of both light and dark, a tool meant to bring balance. That Alkor could only find midnight in its presence was telling for him.

"Guess I should really be thanking you," he muttered, less to the Dragon than for his own amusement, "thanks to you, I was able to learn something about myself. As a token of my appreciation, you'll be the first to taste retribution."

Not the last, though.

Alkor raised his blade, drinking in the darkness, and sent the weapon slamming into the boss' hide. Dark flames surged outward, exploding on impact.

218254 BD: 6 (Hit! Fallen activates!) 12+16= 28×16= 448-15= 433 damage

(8) Alkor | HP: 989/989 | EN: 85/118 | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 

Wushen, Elemental Warlord | HP: ????/???? | DMG: 200 | MITI: 15 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 0 (433 damage accumulated)

Wushen centered its gaze on him as his defiance mounted. Alkor could feel the blood pumping in his veins, the adrenaline flowing like fire. Indignation coalesced with fury, together with determination to keep him on his feet. He faced down the primordial entity like a man who had come toe to toe with his own maker. It was too late to run, even if he wanted to.

But the glare intensified, and the creature balked at his existence. The very fear-turned-strength that brought him to this point twisted inside his gut, wrenching it. Alkor reached down suddenly and grabbed at his stomach, a wave of nausea rising suddenly like the tides.

He fought the urge to fall to a knee, stayed on both feet, but could not spur himself forward. Gritting his teeth, the bulwark of team NIGHT locked eyes with the boss.

And summarily voided the contents of his stomach, flipping the beast the bird, sword still in hand.

The most important thing now was that the boss kept its attention focused where it would do the least harm. With Alkor steadily healing off and taking considerably less damage on hit than his compatriots would, there were no doubts. Giant evil dragon beast had gone untargetable, and many heads were swooping in and harassing each group, all of them with different aspects. What those entailed mattered considerably less than staying alive.

Hell, they'd figure out what they did as they attacked.

Alkor glanced at the Cooldown timer as it refreshed on his taunt, and his body began to glow a dark, hazy red as he drew the emnity into himself, willing the boss to once more focus its energies in his direction.

This time, it was accompanied not by a scream, but by a chilling miasma born from the willpower he manifested from his own contempt and vengeance for the fallen.

Focused Howl activated +6 Hate 

(12) Alkor | HP: 949/989 | EN: 73/118 | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3

When she mentioned that it would be a misbegotten situation that saw her put into the line of fire, Alkor showed no small amount of appreciation for her acceptance of the role she had chosen. It was difficult to relegate oneself to something less glorious than adventure, he thought. In a world where the sky was the limit, binding oneself to the dirt and creating magical treasures and tools for others to use but never to truly enjoy for oneself seemed like a special kind of hell. He could imagine that fear might drive some Players to never want to travel or endanger themselves, but how long could a person really go without indulging their innate wanderlust?

Or maybe that was just the wanderer in him, romanticizing the adventure he had always dreamed of. The part of him still grounded in reality reminded him of danger, but danger existed in all walks of life. That was what separated him from people with a healthy sense of self-preservation. The acceptance that not all danger could be avoided. It was also what made him a candidate for the frontlines.

It made the armor more manageable.

now, i don't mean to beat around the bush, alkor, but – what do you think of your equipment thus far?

He paused. To say the work wasn't quality would be a blatant lie. It was finely crafted and would serve the purpose he needed for it to- tanking a floor boss wouldn't be possible with the light armor he once wore, without the proper stats or buffs, without the sturdy defense of something heavier. That said, it wasn't quite Alkor. 

It was impossible to give him a heavy armor that would allow him full free range of motion. Such an awesome and stunning blatant disregard for the laws of physics surely did not exist in Aincrad or any place else. It was possible to shave off some of the weight, some of the bulkier portions, and use plating and gaps to allow for greater maneuverability and quicker swordplay. He wasn't going to be using a shield- that was one thing that set him apart from many of the others. His inherent skills as a swordsman had to bridge the gap.

... has it been able to serve you well?

Truth be told, Alkor didn't have a good answer for her. He did however, have his reservations. And since Iris was a purveyor of goods in the vein of arms, armor, and other such things, she might be just the person to voice those reservations to. "It would be unfair of me to give you an answer, since I have yet to truly experience combat in this garb," he told her honestly, "but I can honestly say that it feels awkward to me, and unwieldy. My steps are heavier, more difficult to recover from if I move with any speed. I'm able to put more strength behind attacks, but the follow through leaves an opening that I'm not completely used to yet. I'd very much prefer something that offers the defensiveness of a heavier armor while also allotting me some freedom of movement."

He had placed one hand to his chin and cupped the elbow of that arm with the opposite. As he spoke, he noted her demeanor, the way she carried herself, how she looked around and examined the world around her. Despite being disallowed the freedom to journey beyond the walls of a safe zone, she never seemed to waste a moment where she could be learning something. Maybe that was a skill she gained that he couldn't lay a claim to, something in the same line as appraisal.

"But I don't want to talk your ear off about armor specifications," he added, "you know more about it than I do, after all."

He had to keep the creature attacking him, even if it's attention were never directly given to any one member of the raid. It seemed to react to the highest accumulated hate, but that number also seemed to fluctuate wildly. As a result, NIGHT, Alkor, and now even Hidden had shared blows from the boss.

There were only so many hits that the glassier members of this party could take before they splintered into fragments of data. 

Alkor grunted with some effort as he hefted his weapon once more, imbuing it with the power of a sword art to whittle away some of this strange new element of the boss' defenses. This way, they could compile a healthier amount of damage more quickly.

He raced forward, unleashing a torrent of rage into his blow, and the blade erupted with unholy miasma. He'd heard of this kind of weapon Enhancement, but never saw it before himself.

Fallen.

Strangely approriate, given all of the circumstances. It fell to him, all of the responsibility. If he fell, they all fall. And how far he had come from his journey toward the apex to this, ground zero of the Frontlines.

The Fallen Hero.

Poetic Justice was done.

ID: 217125 BD: 6 (Hit! FALLEN activates) 12+16=28×16= 448-55=393 damage (SHATTER applied)

(9) Alkor | HP: 838/989 (+54, -80) | EN: 73/118 | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 | STK 2 [80/0] | DSCH [0/2]

Caustic | HP: 1607/2000 | DMG: 250 | MITI: 75  55 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 0 | Envenom 2 [64/4] | TXC VNM 6 [64/3] | Neurotoxin 5 [5/3] (Shatter 1/3)

Alkor doesn't know Raidou or Eruda that well, so I won't sign up, but I will say congratulations and I hope you all have a blast!

She was a kind woman, at least from the words she used. Instead of berating him harshly for not staying and fighting, she suggested that he should be respected for his efforts. Alkor lacked the perspective of a Player who never went on to join the fight, but many he'd met had not shared Iris' enthusiasm for what the top echelon of Players took upon themselves. At best, "better you than me" had been the resounding sentiment. He smiled faintly out of regard for that kindness, reminded of the way his grandmother suggested that people ought to be.

Do good, and be kind; because there are very few good and kind people in this world, and we could all use some kindness. 

Alkor's eyes glassed over a bit as the bittersweet memory of those words returned to him.

There were literal years of his life now that had gone unaccounted for. He had been inside of Aincrad, but not aware. He knew some of what went on secondhand, but there was a thick haze shrouding the time period Iris referenced. How did someone explain that to someone else, though, when they could scarce explain it for themselves?

In the end, it was a mystery that need not be solved. Instead of asking, Iris insisted that it was good to take breaks, and that even if he could not go on, there would be someone else who could. If only more people saw the world through her eyes, perhaps then the derision and animosity that created a rift between Players with stronger, more polarizing opinions might not be so immense. 

And then, she mentioned how difficult it must have been, in so many words, to pick back up again and put on the armor.

Alkor shook his head. "If not me, then someone else," he said, agreeing with her previous words. "But I know what I'm to be faced with, and someone else might not. They might not respect the danger the way that I do. Might not be prepared. They might lose their composure, or worse."

A veteran of the Frontlines was a precious resource in Aincrad. More so than many wanted to attribute credit. "I always welcome new blood, more hands on deck, so to speak- but not without respect for the learning curve."

The Knight wanted no unnecessary death.

Who is it that's so important to you, she asked. Alkor blinked. There were so many people who answered this question easily and without hesitation. At one time, he might have droned on for hours about his grandmother, and how freedom from this game was his only chance at seeing her again. The reality had struck him long ago, now. The longer that this hell dragged, the less likely it was that there would be a grandmother to go home to.

And not just that. To reduce the experiences he'd had in this world to that? He'd learned the hard way that the other people in here were just like him. They were real human beings with real lives, all of them interrupted by the madness of Akihiko Kayaba and his death game. The people he'd met weren't just NPCs in his life. Lessa had a profound effect on him. Her unwillingness to give up on him, while at times difficult to deal with, taught him a great deal about what real friendship was. The two did not agree on everything, and they were a lot like fire and ice at the best of times- but she was someone who he did not want to see die.

And then, there was Setsuna. A little girl who'd grown into a woman, but who had not been allowed to live a normal life. She had blood on her hands, but no one to guide her out of a hell she had no idea how to deal with. She was like Alkor in many ways, stumbling blind through something stranger than fiction. This world had to end so that people like her, people who were done wrong by no fault of their own, could have a chance at a halfway normal life.

Alkor looked to Iris with a much kinder, softer smile, now. 

"You know, that question would have seemed simpler for me at the beginning of all this." He didn't hesitate, instead reaching up to mess up his blonde hair anxiously. Blonde hair that used to be black. "Back then, everything seemed so cut and dry. The game was laid out before me. I didn't know anyone. There was no one but my family, who I wanted to get back to because it was normal. It was what I knew, and I wanted that comfort. But that was selfish and infantile, and there's so many other people who would love to see their families, too. I met them- all of you, I mean. Slowly, and with no small amount of resistance on my part, I started to learn that each of your lives is different, and special in its own way. I don't know you all that well, miss Iris, but I wouldn't want you to die as much as I wouldn't want anyone else to. And I'd throw myself in harm's way to prevent it from happening, at any time."

The world that had been sullen was now anything but. Lunacy reigned in Wushen's domain, new and unfamiliar voices piercing through and staggering the Players as they stood in the face of a storm that they hadn't seen coming. Wushen was the eye, and they had been in the calm of it. Everything they'd known coming into this was a lie.

He bore the brunt of it. Steel lightning streaked down around them, over them, through them. Wounds that none of them had anticipated taking appeared across all of their bodies in an instant, but the explosive blast of electricity smashed into Alkor's body as though he were a lightning rod.

The voltage jumped from one to the next and back, and Alkor who had dropped to a knee was now panting in the wake of the system soaking up all of that pain. He drove the tip of his blade into the floor to hold him upright as he reeled, struggling to assess the situation. They had to recover. They had to regroup.

His health bar had lost a sizable chunk. Alkor glanced sidelong at it, like it was little more than an afterthought, but he knew better. His health was a precious resource, and if he ran out of it...

You die, then they all fall like dominoes.

Alkor pushed the intrusive thought back as far as he could, but the anxiety had already taken root. He could feel his breath catching in his throat. 

Did you really think you could take the responsibility for all these lives in your hands? 

"Shut up," Alkor rasped. He had thought that. He had made that decision. No one could take that from him now, for better or for worse. Slowly rising to his feet once again, the Knight tore his sword from the ground. He reached up and wiped the sweat away from his forehead. 

Wushen's gaze was on him, finally. He locked eyes with the monstrosity. He tightened his grip on the sword.

But what about your own life?

Alkor blinked the question shocked him, almost like he hadn't considered it. Lessa had implored him not to take unnecessary risks. Others had chastised him for his recklessness. He'd lost everything he'd built up to this point in order to fill a much needed role, but there was a memory that remained.

His brush with death. The fear that he wouldn't get to make a real impact. The fear that he'd never see his loved ones again. The fear... of dying.

Do you get it now?

He did. He had to hold on to that fear, to embrace it, and to feed off of it. He had to use that adrenaline rush to push through and keep the boss' attention on him. "Rrrrrrrrrrghhh..." 

The First Sword of Aincrad pressed through the sluggishness that had fallen on him, brute forcing through the numbness applied by static shock. He hefted Oathkeeper, and he kept his promise to NIGHT.

To all of them.

Hey blonde!

The woman, Hidden, was someone who he didn't know. She was a Player Killer, denoted by the color of her cursor, but when it came to clearing floors, she was putting forth the effort. She was here, and there were those with green cursors who were not. As much as anyone else, she deserved to live.

"Right."

His watch was not yet ended.

<<Switching>> with @Hidden 

Hate 4 >> 7

ID 216259 BD 3 (+4 = 7) Hit! 12x16= 192-20= 172 damage +3 hate [DELAY applied]

(10) Alkor | HP: 638/989 [-80][+54]| EN: 84/118 | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 | STK 2 [80/1] | DSCH [1/2]

Her observation wasn't wrong.

In fact, since they'd cleared the ninth floor, the only real reason to come here was for quests. There were still Players who did need the progression that the area offered, certainly, but it was far from a tourist destination. Alkor smiled faintly as he offered a congenial wave. "Granted, there was a time when this was the Apex of the Frontline initiative, and all of the Highest level players spent the lion's share of their time here," he responded at last. "I was there for that boss battle, too. It was the last major fight I was involved in."

That led directly into the reason he'd picked this place, but Iris could probably infer that without him needing to confirm. When she offered that they walk together, the Knight nodded. "I'd like that. There's not much to look at around here, but being confined to one space is stifling."

She wasted no time in asking him why he chose this place, of all places. 

"You probably surmised immediately that it was retrospection, but probably not the way you'd expect. When I was in that fight, there was a moment where I almost died. I watched the HP dwindling out of my health bar, unable to wrest myself free of the Hydra's jaws, and if not for a teleportation crystal, I would have been a name on the Monument. I wanted to take time to respect that. To internalize the danger of facing a boss. To never make the mistake of regarding threats callously again, because there are people relying on me."

As they walked through the Obsidian city, he gestured vaguely toward the buildings, describing how the boss' defeat had changed the floor for her, explaining that the very nature of Aincrad was subjective to Player experience. It grew as they did. And about how his own journey had been one of growth.

"The worst thing any of us can fail to do is learn from our mistakes. I've made many of them, so I'm still learning how to learn."

Floor 9 Settlement //

Yogan Village >> 14:00

Alkor rarely bothered to come to the Ninth floor, usually. It was a place filled with particularly nasty memories, and in the minds of many, it was where he became a ghost. Some people still looked at him that way. Why are you alive, when so many other Players aren't?

The skies of the ninth floor were never day or night, just perpetual ash and flame. It was a ruined world rife with geothermal anomalies. The heat was sweltering in the most comfortable places, dry to the point where one's lips might crack from just standing around. He didn't seem to mind it. The buildings that littered the settlement offered respite for those who sought it out, but on this particular day Alkor simply leaned near the edge of town,  staring down into the magma far below.

That was where he received the message.

Quote

hello! it hasn't been too long since the raid meeting, and i figured to check in about the offer to catch up if you're available. do you have time today? and if so, is there any place in aincrad convenient for you?

(ps. i took the initiative in preparing something for you. i hope you don't mind; i'd appreciate it if you would be willing to try it on.)

Iris. He recalled her name, and remembered her as the woman who handled the work on Witchfang. They had also met again recently, as she mentioned in her message, at the boss meeting. The same reason he had come to this den of terrible memories, ironically. Floor 9 was the Battlefield who Alkor first stood on the Frontlines, and where he brushed with death on not one, but two occasions. The fires of this hellscape were constant reminders of his struggles, and his failures. If human nature could be reconstructed based on Elemental classifications in the way ancient Far Eastern philosophy often did, Fire was the element most easily attributed to the Knight. Hot headed, fiery temper, volatile- things that he kept in check whenever it was possible.

It wasn't always possible. Thom grew up in a family that largely rejected those parts of him and stressed that he temper and replace them with stoicism. To mask his emotions, and in some cases, appear to not feel anything at all.

That just wasn't who he was.

So, when a woman he hardly expected to reach out to him did so, the surprise almost took him over the rails that separated him from certain death. He took hold of one of the chains that fastened the settlement securely over the caldera and flicked open the reply field.

"She had said that she wanted to talk to me about my adventures," he recalled after a moment, composing himself. "Maybe that will help me get my mind off of being anxious."

He quickly drafted a response, read over it twice, and sent it.

Quote

Iris! I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon, but it's a welcome surprise. I have been busy doing prep for the boss fight, but I just happened to have a free moment and I've been using it to clear my head. If you want, feel free to meet me in Yogan Village, the Settlement on Floor 9.

It's quite hot on this floor, so if you do decide to come, you should dress to stay cool.

With that message sent, he wondered what she intended for him to try on. She hadn't owed him any gifts, so far as he knew.

The dismissive flick from the Dragon drilled him. It was like a God's wrath, but the god wasn't even using a fraction of its power. Still, he blow slammed into him, and the First Sword was tossed backward, into the wall. The armor did wonders for preventing damage, he noted. Much of the blow was ablated by the plates, however, the impact was still jarring.

His HP, however, told a different tale. The blip of damage that the Dragon had incurred was far less drastic than the resultant animation. His recovery, in fact, made it appear as though it had never occurred at all. 

I can do this, he realized.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," the Knight seethe through gritting teeth. Though he was still not the strongest Player in Aincrad, nor had he vanquished his inner demons and become a contributing member of society, he had put himself in a position to do something. The burden was on him to follow through.

With a surge of effort flooding his veins, Alkor threw himself back into the fray and lunged full force into Wushen, plunging his blade deep into the dark entity's scaly hide. As he did so, his body became surrounded by a faint glow, symbolic of the fact that he had successfully entered the retaliatory stance.

ID: 215749 BD 5 (+4 = 9) Hit! COUNTER activates (12×16= 192 - 20 = 172 damage)

Battle Healing restores 54 HP, 982+54 = 989 (full recovery)

(7) Alkor | HP: 989/989 | EN: 95/118 | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 [Focused Howl 1/4] (COUNTER)

Wushen, Elemental Warlord | HP: ????/???? | DMG: 200 | MITI: 20 75 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 0 | [Shatter 3 {1/3}] | TXC. [32/1] 

Alkor looked at his pipe for a long moment, realizing it was empty. He could have reached for another bit of the herb, but he ultimately decided against it. It wasn't like he was getting a buzz off of it, and he'd been drawing long enough to scratch the itch. Instead, he quietly pocketed it and rested his hands in his lap.

"No point in dishonesty. It never sticks. People always figure out the truth behind the lies eventually, and it always ends making them more upset than anything else." His Grandmother had taught him all about liars and thieves. They sometimes got what they wanted, but it rarely ever stuck. And they were never happy people. His grandmother always emphasized that. The goal in life was to be happy.

Neither Setsuna nor Alkor seemed to have had their eyes on that goal, though.

"I can probably offer some insight. Its what we're taught from when we're very young. Killing people is wrong. Taking something that isn't yours is bad. The morality instilled in us by our families from childhood dictates how we act in the rest of our lives. But in this world, its not the same. We have to act without the guidance of family, and with very different rules. Kill or be killed isn't as big of an issue in civilized society. War notwithstanding, on the outside years go by and normal, rational person never considers taking life as a legitimate course of action."

He leaned forward now, stroking his chin. He was no expert, and at this point, he was reasoning through things in a very direct, no nonsense way. Far more cut and dry than things ever truly were. That was his cross to bear, though. For Alkor, the world was a literal place. Hell was built on subtlety.

"The most likely response of the psyche is to rationalize. You immediately start to think that if what you were doing was horrible, then that would make you horrible. That you didn't have a choice, that it was something that had to be done, and you just drew the short straw. And deep down, you'd start to hate yourself, all the while fabricating a false reality that would allow you to keep going, telling yourself that it's necessary, a means to an end. It's self-preservation, of a mental sort. That's what I think anyway."

He shook his head. 

"And its wrong, not that you have been doing it so much as that no one has reached out a hand to stop you from doing it to yourself. You've been alone. The adults trapped in this world with are to be held accountable for that. It's our job to give direction when young people are lost. We failed you, Setsuna. But you have a choice now, and you understand that. You can make things right with that knowledge."

And then, he blinked. She said she was a woman. Was that... it was literal- he understood literal. Was she genuinely concerned that he misgendered her, or was using a masculine term? Or was it an attempt at humor? Alkor froze, staring blankly at the girl as she poked at her rice and continued to eat. 

"...I confess, I lack the tools to gather data and give you an accurate response, but I don't believe that morality is contingent on gender. I hope that's not inconvenient."

NIGHT was taking too many risks. It was valiant for her to willingly stand at the Van, but without the proper equipment and allocated p"oints, there were far too many opportunities for things to go wrong. Too many more hits from the very obviously indifferent dragon and the DPS player would meet with an untimely end. 

And it was Alkor's job to prevent that from happening. All to eager to get into the boss' face, Alkor had lost sight of the real objective for a moment. Too much time spent doing the wrong thing was time spent throwing the rest of the team under the bus. He had to take action. 

"Yeah," the Knight muttered, clearly uncomposed and irritated with how far the situation had been allowed to deteriorate. He was a tactician in the DPS role... that should have translated very quickly and smoothly. It was on him to make that transition. "I get it," he spat, shaking his head, trying to cast off the voice in his head as it grew louder and louder and continually told him that he was worthless, that he had regressed, that he was only becoming less useful to those around him.

The voice told him that he'd never amount to anything. Just like his father.

It told him that it was ashamed to be a part of him, just like his sister had told him that she was embarrassed to call him her family.

It said that he was a burden, just like his mother always did.

Why don't you just give up? Die already.

"Fuck you," Alkor muttered. His body was trembling. His hands were shaking. The adrenaline was pumping, and now, the rage that fueled his will to resist had fanned from a spark into an inferno. His golden eyes blazed the way that they often had when he was determined, and yet, rather than calm, cold, and calculating-

"FUCK YOU."

The emotion boiled over, and the dam burst. Alkor activated a skill he had never used before, tying it together with the newfound wellspring of anger that he had tapped into. Screaming, roaring, howling at Wushen- Alkor didn't care that the Monstrosity didn't care.

He was going to force it to look his way.

"I'm not stuck in here with you, lizard" he jeered. 

"You're trapped in here with me."

<<Focused Howl>> activated (+6 Hate)

(7) Alkor | HP: 989/989 | EN: 102/118  | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 [Focused Howl 0/4]

This manner of fighting was an entirely different beast. 

Instead of the tip of the spear, he was supposed to be the shield. What made that even more complex was that all the moves he practiced, all the speed and acrobatic movements no longer served him. His attempts to move with grace and fluidity took him over his own two feet when he practiced in his free time, and having never gone into battle after changing up his skillset, he knew that he had been a fool to take on such a monumental responsibility.

And yet, though NIGHT volunteered, she was hardly equipped for the role. There was literally no one else. If they expected the lightweight DPS players to hold out through the worst of the boss' damage, the frontlines would only incur great loss. No, regardless of his misgivings, Alkor was the only one who could do it.

But they had seen barely a glimpse of the Dragon's power. What else stood between them and victory? What lurked in the darkness that festered beneath the underbelly of the beast, waiting?

NIGHT was already reeling from the first attack because he'd ultimately failed to make himself the most prominent target. Others would follow, and the way that the monstrosity simply seemed to dismiss them also grated on his anxiety. Would it even truly care about hate generation? Was there something else at play?

He knew he was spending too much time thinking, and yet, he needed to reconsider his approach. The beast had erected a barrier of wind that only the faster players seemed to be able to easily navigate and strike through, and his heavy armor made his movements too sluggish and cumbersome to pierce the veil. Alkor had to wait for a more opportune vantage, and while he did, the others would be thrown into Harm's Way.

The First Sword frowned. 

"Think you can steal its attention away from them, if need be?" NIGHT asked.

He nodded slightly. There was no reality where any other answer was acceptable, and he knew that. Everyone was looking at him, even if their eyes were elsewhere. The expectation was a burden he'd knowingly taken on.

"I know what I have to do," Alkor said in a quiet voice, concentrating on the task. He had to cast off his doubts. He had to take charge of the situation. And he needed to focus. "I won't let it take any of you."

BD 1 (+4)= 5 failure

Wushen, Elemental Warlord | DMG ACCUMULATED: 1371 | DMG: 200 | MITI: 75(-60)= 15 | ACC: 3 (-1) | EVA: 0 | SHATTER 3 (1/3)

[1] Alkor | HP: 989/989 | EN: 102/118 (-2) | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 

Everyone had their own way of mentally preparing for stressful things. For some people, it was relaxation and reflection, meditation, some means of setting themselves at ease. Others were more fond of getting themselves excited, hyped up, ready for the challenge at hand. For Alkor, the anxiety had long since taken root. He'd grappled with several stages of despair already, the critical self-doubt that came with having nearly failed and died in this same situation before. He came to grips with that possibility and took the fear, and he swallowed it whole. It remained sour and bitter, stale, burning like acid in the pit of his stomach.

Like a caged animal, wreaking havoc on him from the inside.

The expression he wore told the tale of conflict, but no longer about what might happen. Now only the inevitable lay before them, that they would face danger, and that injuries were a certainty. Alkor had spent all of his time in Aincrad before seeking a shadow of himself, of something he never believed that he could surpass. The expectations set on him to carve through adversity were like shackles, born of someone else's vanity and obsession with perfection. Shackles that had become his own.

But a shackled man was like a flightless bird. He couldn't escape from himself, or protect anyone else. Swinging his sword against a phantasm of himself served no purpose but to bind him forever to who he was. Who he would always be. He had to take those shackles and break them down, throw them into fire, and reforge them.

Alkor had finally decided to wear his weaknesses as armor, so that they would never again be used against him.

The man called Vigilon had worked on the actual suit armor he wore now, though admittedly it still felt foreign. Despite all of the skill points invested, the feeling was unfamiliar. Weight that protected him also refused to allow him to move freely the way he once had. It promised that he would face pain head on, and weather it like a storm. 

It was that same man who he happened to see just ahead of him on the way out of Ranbaru. It was plain enough to see that everyone around was nervous. Afraid even, perhaps. What did they say under those circumstances? Would they talk as though nothing were wrong, or that the future, though uncertain, would come regardless of what they did?

No, best not to ingrain the prospect of futility in them just before a fight.

"Nice day out," he remarked offhand. He may as well have said "it's a great day to die," for all the enthusiasm in his voice, but rather than state something morbid, he just hoped to lighten the mood. If they were all headed the same place, it was pointless to do so in a foul mood.

"That is, ultimately, your decision Setsuna," Alkor replied as he watched her take a few mouthfuls of rice. She seemed to be struggling with the concept, reasoning through it like a logic engine. He could commiserate with that just a bit. Sometimes things that seemed completely normal or reasonable to most people felt alien to him. What he did understand, or what he had only recently started to understand, was that in life it was a person's agency that made the experience valid. Being able to make choices was the basic and most fundamental building block for freedom.

Until now, he hadn't quite felt free. He was starting to piece together why that was. And now, Setsuna was walking that same path, some thousand paces behind him- at the starting line.

"You focus so intently on the black and white of the situation you forget that the world around you exists in color. Try to consider what just happened. You made the decision- not simply to change, but to try something new. To look from a different perspective. You're no longer bound to a linear journey. Paths diverge in front of you, and you'll be able to glimpse glory or tragedy and guide yourself along the course."

His smile remained, but it was much smaller than before. "I haven't lied to you yet, and I won't start now. Life isn't guaranteed to be beautiful at all times. There are dark spots and fetid patches of mire in every journey. It may be a decision you make brings you despair, and because you made the decision, you will feel the pain."

Life was filled with pain. It was the darkness that made the light so beautiful, and so appealing. It was the calm of night that brought rest after the heat of the day. Pain and sadness made joy and comfort valid and worthwhile. But these were lessons that Setsuna need learn on her own, in her own way.

Just like Alkor was just far from a true master at the game of Life.

"Be that as it may, I want you to reflect on the words you just said. That the decision will have been made for you. I implore you not to see it that way. Consider every life that you take a burden, something heavy that you will have to carry. Even still, if you must carry it, at least let the lessons that exist at the end of that life, in the weight it adds, in the memories- let that life shape you, let the gravity of that death remind you that life is precious. Let that sobering thought keep you from getting drunk on the blood and losing yourself. Let the fact that you, and you alone have the power to decide empower you, and perhaps, even stay your hand.

Because you are a woman, Setsuna. A human being. Not a monster. Monsters justify their actions with words. Men justify their words with action."

The darkness at the end of eternity stretched out before them. 

Moments after the raid group entered the blinding light, they could see the way that the monolithic being soaked it all in, a black morass that gorged itself on light refracted from all sides. Wushen was an enigma, a force of nature that acted against life itself.

And yet, paradoxically, it was alive. Creatures eternally tormented by their own existence are the most wretched of all. They were kindred spirits in that regard. How long had Alkor felt like existence was a chore? The sight of an immortal spirit that looked not toward the beauty in all things, but the futility gave him a sudden and deep pang of empathy.

He stowed it away, somewhere that it could fester without anyone else ever knowing he'd felt it.

NIGHT purposely broke his somber trance. She nudged him and called several words that he didn't quite catch at first. His thoughts hadn't caught up processing. When it finally dawned on him what she had said, his vacant expression deteriorated, leaving behind a grim nod and determined visage. "Together," he intoned.

The energy that coalesced around his blade as he drew it seemed to bleed out into infinity, seeping toward Wushen as its empty heart. "As one. Strike down its defenses and make an opening for the attackers!"

Whether or not the others heard him, or paid any mind, was not his business. Their lives were in his hands, and so, he took on the heavy responsibility readily. No one need die today. No one would die.

He would see to it.

"Stand ready," he called to the others. Some of them may not have noticed that they had been isolated. Or perhaps they had, and simply were unsurprised. Aincrad had done more sinister things. Still, they were not alone.

And they would never walk alone.

214996 BD 4 (+4)= 8 success! (12×16= 192- 35= 157)

Wushen, Elemental Warlord | DMG ACCUMULATED: 637 | DMG: 200 | MITI: 55 (-20)(-20) | ACC: 3 (-1) | EVA: 0 | [DELAY] | [SHATTER 1/3]

[2] NIGHT | HP: 1299/1299 | EN: 129/146 | DMG: 30 | EVA: 4 | ACC: 4 | BH: 71 | BLD: 48 | BLGT: 32(-20) | FRB: 40(-1) | STK: 40 | HB: 57 | VD: 142 | HELL: 80 | LD: 3 | DOTE: 3/3

[2] Alkor | HP: 989/989 | EN: 103/118 (-15) | DMG: 12 | MITI: 193 | ACC: 4 | BH: 54 | TAUNT | HLY: 16 | FLN: 16 | LD: 3 

Alkor had known going into the raid that the community suffered from a severe lack of people willing to take on the risks involved with frontline tanking. The people who stood in front of the people standing at the front were the most hearty of adventurers, but also, the ones who kept the rest of them alive. He didn't think he was quite ready to be the guy, but he was definitely coming to terms with the fact that he needed to be a guy. 

...did that even make sense? It did in his head, so he went with it. He watched quietly as the others began to filter into the room, exchanging greetings, trying to calm each other down, desperately seeking to melt the tension. But Alkor had said recently to Setsuna that fear and instinct were natural parts of the human psyche. They were responses to danger that kept people alive, and even under certain circumstances, pressed them to transcend their limits. For years now, Alkor had pushed himself toward those limits and even sought to go beyond them, casting aside that healthy fear for life in favor of barbarism and all the subtlety of an exposed nerve. Light armor had felt like that. Freeing, and yet, leaving a great deal to chance. Risk and reward.

But where was the reward?

Near death in the face of the Hydra on Floor 9, and then a coma that he almost hadn't awakened from. Death for many other Players that he knew he couldn't have prevented, yet couldn't possibly know if his presence might have been just enough to alter fate. Without being present, without being cautious, without an informed and bolstered strategy, without the numerous players who had the potential to come together and do something great... was any of it possible to do alone? No man is a mountain.

But... one man could be a Bastion.

He didn't know them all. Many of them didn't know him. The ones who did had varying feelings about him. NIGHT and Alkor had a checkered past, born out of a misunderstanding that had only slightly been rectified. Yet here she was, walking up to him and giving her blessing about taking arguably the single most important role in a group. The woman held out a weapon and he glanced over it absently for a moment. Witchfang had powerful potential for tripping up the opponent, but in terms of damage, it was a bit slower and less potent than some of the other weapons available. "Are you sure?" he asked, taking the blade in hand and testing its weight. It was much different than the cursed sword. It didn't have the same vile aura, instead, something more somber and subdued. Like a promise yet unkept. "Alright, I'll leave it to you, then," he said when she mentioned that she would take over if need be. "Lets work hard to keep everyone alive."

After that, he swiped his menu open and made the switch. The blade's scabbard appeared in place of the obsidian sheath at his hip, and he took a deep breath. Now he had an actual promise to keep.
 

Alkor receives Oathkeeper from NIGHT

Witchfang >> Oathkeeper

The armor he'd donned for the event was bulkier than he imagined. 

It was every bit as protective in feeling as it was purported to be in statistic, but it felt foreign to him. Heavier. Sluggish. He was used to nearly dancing across a Battlefield, rather than sitting in harm's way and taking the brunt of enemy aggression. It was to be a new sensation for him, after nearly dying to the ire of a boss many Moons before, to face one down in earnest.

But he had not come unprepared. Alkor took one look at the spread that had been prepared for the raid and went through to make sure all the boxes were ticked. A Peking Duck Tray and a Peking Duck Skin Platter, for bolstered defenses. He made sure to say his thanks before optimizing, then promptly turned his attention to the mystery that seemed to be baffling Jomei and NIGHT.

"Arrows," he mused, looking in the same direction Jomei had before him. "Could be the element cycle, transmutation and all that," he observed. "We got any way of making this thing turn from stone into some other element? Or maybe even a way to expose it to other elements?"

He knew the suggestion didn't really seem helpful, since there was no earthly way for them to move the massive monument, but maybe someone else would have a better idea.

Buffs taken from NIGHT:

1 Peking Duck Tray used

1 Peking Duck Skin Platter used

Alkor hurried back into the shop where he'd bought potions before, displaying nothing short of tried and true blue American learned brand loyalty. He perused the wares for a few minutes, all categorized by their function and potency, until he arrived at the ones that he needed. Mitigation potions, suited for helping to offset the immense damage that the system thew at them during boss encounters. This way, he could stand between the others and imminent danger and not feel too terrible about it. Or at least, it was a step toward staying alive.

Col/Mats sent.

Alkor walked into the shop and glanced around briefly. He hadn't truly discussed his plans with anyone, so his understanding of how heavier armor worked or the Enhancements that it could benefit from functioned was severely limited. He had to hope for the good nature of the store's proprietor, and while he wasn't really sure who the man was, when he put the word out that he was looking for armor, the Blacksmith had reached out in response.

So, Alkor raised a hand in greeting and exchanged words with the man to complete the agreed upon dealings.

Skill(s) Being Dropped:  One Handed Straight Sword (r5), Battle Healing (r5), Light Armor (r5), Survival
Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Precision, Stamina, Energist, Vengeful Riposte, Combat Mastery: Damage, ST Shift, Emergency Recovery, Meticulous, Resolve
SP Incurred Towards Limit: ~
SP Refunded: 158 (total SP after refund = 195)
Cost: Free Skill Respec Ticket (Paragon Reward)

He didn't take her for the type to indulge in gossip or rumors, but then, Alkor was nothing if not a terrible judge of character. He lacked the social skills to make passing judgments of any real worth, and couldn't pick up on any other cues besides. "Huh," he remarked aloud, giving his small amount of surprise more voice than a dismissive grunt. "Suits me," he added after a moment. "If I'm being honest, I'd hate to have come all the way here for nothing."

So he was a bit blunt, perhaps even rough around the edges. Honesty had always been Alkor's preferred poison, and he not only drank it, he practically force fed it to others, too. He paused when she mentioned the various rumors that existed on the board, as though she'd gone there and read over them enough times to pass a test if there had been one. He shook his head when she asked about the diseased hunters, but affected a "mhm" when she got around to the strange lights.

"That's the one," he replied. "No one's sure about what's causing it, or if there'sany inherent danger, but those lights are begging to be looked into. Admittedly, Lessa's into those ghost stories and supernatural things, so I'm assuming she was hoping that this might lead to something along those lines."

He paused. Shrugged.

"Just make sure to stick close. This floor's a bit above your paygrade- no offense- and I don't want to have to deliver your tags to Lessa later."

For Evaluations!

"In the end, the burden falls on the individual to determine the path they will walk."

Alkor replied evenly, still making no attempt to pressure her to agree with him or change. "There is no such thing as a sword that can give life," he said. "Those who believe in the benevolence of steel are either idealists or delusional, or perhaps both. A weapon is a tool for taking life, there are no exceptions. Who a blade is turned on, or what, is ultimately a question that the swordsman alone can answer."

The sudden and paradoxical statement came as bluntly as it was sharp. 

"To take life, to spare life, both of these are decisions that you alone can make. But inform your decisions before you make them, and at the end of the day, you will sleep better knowing that you made good decisions."

It was a hard pill to swallow, seeing Setsuna wear the face of Mari. One of Alkor's greatest regrets was how that situation had played out, and only in failing miserably had he managed to succeed in setting things right. Her sociopathic insanity, born of the loss of a daughter, of an inability to cope with the world around her, and the abandonment by someone she had fallen in love with were all things he failed to empathize with. And he failed again when she came seeking his shoulder to lean on, and he refused to give it. Perhaps she found it elsewhere, or perhaps she descended deeper into darkness.

The cross was, ultimately, never Alkor's to bear. He was only one symptom of a greater illness in her life. 

Alkor did not know the other faces, or had only ever seen them in passing. Their voices were unfamiliar, but their words were scathing. They echoed the bitterness and confusion of a young girl robbed of formative experience. The way he had been, and yet, far more alone. Setsuna had suffered for it, too.

"Simply remember: it is not the blade that thinks, but the hand that wields it. Yours is the right to choose. To watch, to learn, to know- and to act. Or not to act."

When she asserted that she was "simply being honest," Alkor chuckled.

"Not everyone is as built for honesty as we are, Setsuna. You'll inevitably learn that. People will cry, hearts will break, and you'll be forced to make harder choices than the ones made with a sword."

He knew that she would not comprehend his meaning, but that was fine.

All things in their time.