Alkor

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.

He pondered for a moment over the conversation. The way she saw the world, right down to her admission that murder was such a casual topic of thought. Alkor's sunset gaze remained stoic, locked on the moonrise and undaunted by the prospect of his own mortality. He had faced death before. He had taken life. He had all but slept the corpse's sleep.

The chill that followed Setsuna was a familiar cold. A frightening cold, at least to those who were not used to it. The ashen taste in his mouth and the heat that still smoldered in his lungs offered no comfort. Alkor withstood it in other ways.

"A blade is meant to be heavy," Alkor asserted. "From the first moment you lift it, as the relative discomfort starts to fade; and until you become used to the weight, almost like it's a part of your arm. Some swordsmasters say that the blade is an extension of the self, and perhaps there's truth to that. If there is, then the blade should carry with it your conscience. Your respect for life. Your desire to do what is right. One should never lift their weapon unconscionably, or in a way that is thoughtless. The weight should not be an afterthought. It should be a constant reminder that it takes exertion of the self- a thought, a decision- to wield it. There was a time when I didn't think that. It would have been so easy to lose myself in the intoxicating power that comes with the ability to end life- to assert dominance over others, to terrorize the meek, or to exact my will against those who disagree with me. But that's when you lose your humanity. That's when everything beautiful about the life you have, ceases to be beautiful and becomes bleak. You're a human, Setsuna. A young girl. You were not born to be a blade."

Alkor took another hit from his pipe.

"I'm not saying I'm right, or that you're wrong. Perspective shapes the world, and growth is marked by your ability to see other perspectives and accept them without condemnation. I'm not here to tell you how to live, I'm just telling you that there are other ways. You're not trapped."

Rhythmic tendrils of smoke rolled from his nostrils as he stared up at the moon, pale light causing his orange eyes to glow eerily. 

"...though I would advise against telling most people that you've thought about killing them. I don't think that would make for a cheerful discussion."

What happens when I do?

A million or more questions across a million more lifetimes in a single sentence fell from her lips. The future was something people sought solace about even in reality. They paid psychics to divine it, pouring out fortunes. Even in ancient times, civilization looked to the skies, gazed into flame, and cast bones simply to glimpse the unknowable. Anxiety was this small girl, wondering what all of them had always wondered, and simply because no one had ever given her peace about it.

Anxiety was Alkor, who knew her pain all too well.

"Hesitation and fear are natural, guttural responses. Instinct is what keeps man alive when he does not know his enemy. Casting it aside is to invite danger, or worse." And worse had come for Setsuna already. She had crawled into that darkness of her own volition, and she had gone so far that she was uncertain if she could ever turn back. 

When she said that she bought one day in exchange for the next, he closed his eyes and rested his pipe in his lap. How viscerally true that statement was. Mankind was so quick to profit in the present with no regard for the legacy that they left to their descendants. The life of someone who was different, who was not part of your tribe, your family, your culture- that was a reasonable price in the eyes of many.

Or a price beneath consideration.

Have you ever taken a life?

He nodded slowly, solemnly. It was passing often that he went to the monument and looked at that name simply to remind himself that he had, that the life he had taken had value. For all of the evil that the man had done, he could never have the chance to change. He wasn't even given the opportunity. 

"I have," Alkor said. 

He had hesitated. He had considered his options. He came to the decision that it was necessary, and that his actions were just. But when reflecting on that decision, on his actions, he found that anyone would come to that same conclusion.  Any rational human being would call it justice, if only simply to wash away some of the guilt. 

Did he regret the decision, though?

"There are times in life when you are faced with difficult decisions," he said finally. "Further still, there are times when the decision is not really a decision at all. When you are forced to do something you don't want, because in not doing so you create worse consequences for yourself and others. Death is final. It is something that cannot be called justice in the real sense, because justice means that the collective benefits from the act. Taking the life of another human benefits no one. It does not make the world a better place. In life, your actions should always be directed toward improving the world for those around you, and therefore for yourself as well."

His Grandmother had said that to him.

"If there is absolutely no other choice..." He sighed, shuddered, and lifted his pipe again. After a drag, he exhaled a ragged breath. "But you should always, always start with looking for a choice. A better path. Always."

As @irisconcluded her appraisal, Alkor carefully withdrew his blade and stowed it at his hip. Her smile was bright, small though it was. Positively radiant. And her words matched the brilliance with no small amount of magnanimity. She wasn't like Alkor- beyond being reserved and quiet, perhaps. He respected and appreciated the way she treated him.

Like he was a person.

"It's because of what you and others do that this sword can help protect people. I'd be glad to speak with you more later." Alkor gave a bow as they were quickly swept back up in the tide of the meeting, and he was able to catch up on the proceedings. The information was vastly overwhelming compared to what he remembered. There had never been this much detail in the first few boss floors. Not that he could recall. Everything was simplistic by comparison. Fire bad. Ice bad. Now, there were multiple conceptual elements, and corresponding possibilities. It was labyrinthine.

He leaned forward, one hand stroking his chin in fascination as his amber gaze fixated on the annotated brief. The others spoke back and forth, considering possibilities as quickly as they could populate in his thoughts. "I've played MMOs in the past," he spoke up, "and other games with puzzles and mechanics that shifted based on where a player stood at a given time, or a symbol that populated overhead. Solving for specific combinations, or penalizing people for solving something incorrectly, or being generally out of order. I recall one, it was called Intemperance- you would get either a fire or ice marker, and you had to stand on the opposite color- then you would get the opposite debuff. As that was happening, you'd have to generally dodge several AoEs that were immediately lethal, and there were raidwide damage spells between those. I'm not saying this is anything quite that intricate, but it would be worthwhile to consider that paying close attention to positioning might be important."

Alkor blinked. He had spoken frankly, not introduced himself, not engaged with the group beyond the general stream of consciousness. That was nothing new.

"Ah, right... I'm a damage dealer," he added.

"Reality is often disappointing," he said from a place of vast experience, watching the woman as she approached. He said little else as she espoused her thoughts of self-worthlessness and even hate, all but affirming the demonization of her entire persona. She fumbled with her weapon in the way of a murderer for a moment, but relented. The blade settled on the ground, and she relieved him of his pipe.

Alkor studied Setsuna as she took an unprepared hit from the pipe and her eyes watered from the burn. She said that she wanted it to stop. She said that she didn't know how, but she wanted it. "It's not wrong for you to decide that you don't have to be the one who metes out justice," he told her. "You're a young girl with an entire life ahead of you doing something that even grown men trained for years struggle with. Humans aren't made for killing each other. It's not a natural thing. It's a perversion of the natural order, a sickness that seizes and corrupts and takes and takes until there's nothing left."

As she exhaled, he held out his hand. He didn't simply take back the pipe. Alkor waited for it to be returned.

"Taking from others doesn't give back to you. Material goods and wealth are fleeting things, just like human lives. Losing them, gaining them- only when a gift is freely given does it ever give both parties a sense of fulfillment."

He closed his eyes, smiling. 

"It happens when you want it to."

He watched and listened, because that was his nature. Be seen and not heard, learn, and adapt. The social anxiety had taught him to survive by making himself malleable but not conforming. In the group, yet not truly a part of it. He was working through it, little by little.

It was with several comments from starkly different perspectives that he finally got a sense of where he was, and who was around him. Ariel, who's information it seemed rivaled the direct source, felt that raid meetings should be more exclusive; and Freyd, who he had met briefly, thought that they were scant few for a boss encounter. Alkor had to muse about the state of things, and how anyone could stay married to the concept of exclusivity when their numbers had dwindled so vastly. Freyd had the right of it. They were few in number to be facing down a largely unknown threat.

And then, he was greeted by the one person who he knew would be in this place, as he had been here before. He offered @irisa soft smile and a bow as she called him aside. "I do remember," he said. "I was surprised when this was chosen as the venue for the meeting, but very glad that I would be somewhere that I knew someone."

She was either already famous or steadily coming up in the world if her shop was chosen as the venue for a boss meeting. Alkor was glad to see the woman doing well for herself. When she asked about his weapon, he nodded. "It's been tested and well proven now," he told her. "A powerful weapon with devastating attributes."

He drew the blade gently, offering it out to her with both hands for inspection. The name Witchfang loomed over it now, and the description that followed her changes to the weapon were clear. A Cursed, Demonic blade- perhaps not befitting a Knight? Or perhaps, a blade that only a Knight would be able to master.

"It's good to see you Iris. I thank you for the work you've done for me, once more."

He wasn't sure, as ever, if what he was saying was proper, but he hoped that it was.

He'd almost assumed people stopped trying to progress.

Everything had fallen into a pattern, a monotonous rhythm that felt almost comfortable in harmony with their discomfort. They did quests, they ate, they slept, and on fancy occaisons, the game deigned to throw social events at them. For a prison, it did a good job of keeping the masses sedated.

So when news spread that someone had defeated the Labyrinth Guardian, he was startled to hear it. The Frontlines were moving again. Those same Frontlines he had left behind, shadowed by the guise of death. That was then, though.

Alkor heard the call for strategy and preparation, and he determined that it was time that he stopped waging war against his inadequacy and start channeling his efforts in a more productive way. Namely, it was time to attend a meeting and to see some of the faces old and new who he would be fighting to protect.

Fighting for their freedom, and his own.

Ambling through the Town of Beginnings at dawn was a tedious venture. The shopkeeps who began and ended their day with the sun were just setting up, and the smell of baked goods wafted across his nostrils. Everything that felt so real, and now so familiar after all the time they spent there, just stood as a reminder of why their efforts were so important. How long would it be until they forgot what the real thing was like?

How long before they stopped caring if they ever saw reality again?

The First Sword pulled his hood back from his face as he pushed the door open, taking a quick look around. Did he know anyone? Did anyone know him...?

"I answered a question that you didn't want answered, because the one you asked is subjective.  There is no good answer. 'Enough' is quantified by a person's appetite. Yours is insatiable, because you've created a ceaseless hunger for justice. Enough will never be enough. Not until they're all dead, or you are, or this world ends." It would have been so easy to get caught in the trap of circular logic, the game that the victim creates to justify their abused mind's rationale. Alkor didn't have the ability to empathize with that. He was a machine when it came to logic. The correct answer, parsed quickly and efficiently.

Alkor looked down to the pipe and slowly lifted it in front of his eyes, balancing it across his palm. "For so long as you say to yourself, 'this is my duty,' then it is. None of them want to die. There's no longer order or a system in place to tell them how to distinguish right from wrong, and so, they determine that for themselves. But look back at what you said before too- your friends were your direction. You had no sense of self, no real sense of what you should do. How is that any different? You've taken it on yourself to determine what is right and what is wrong, and presumably no different from them, you've made the decision that what you're doing is wrong, but you're doing it anyway, and you hate yourself for it."

He closed his eyes, spun the pipe, and replaced it between his lips.

"I'm just saying, it's enough when you say 'when.'"

A puff. A drag. Billowing smoke.

"You say you have to become what you hate to destroy it. I say, you just have to make the effort to stop it from happening. That's enough for me."

Alkor sighed. He was the last person on earth who could help someone struggling with their identity, yet here he was, faced with someone who probably needed help more than he did. The way she was talking was indicative of something deeper than "take a timeout" or "go walk it off." But how many licensed therapists had logged into this game and gotten trapped? That would have just been too convenient.  "I can't sleep," she said, "I can't eat."

So the logical recourse was then to kill people?

He watched her with his pipe dragging smoke into his throat. The burn ached in a good way, the longing familiar and yet filled with a hollowness. It didn't give him any real comfort.  When she talked about the value of lives, though, he froze. Quietly, he lowered the pipe into his lap and listened, waiting patiently as she discounted his words and efforts as garbage. 

"You're playing a zero sum game with human life." He kept an even gaze hard on the girl, not screaming, not raising his voice, not getting angry. "This has worth, this does not. This is worth more than that. You know who valued lives that way? Hitler. Stalin. Mussolini. Tze Tung. Dictators. People who colored their enemies as having negative or no inherent value, instilling in the minds of a militarized people that when they took life, it had no meaning, and thus they ought have no emotional attachment to the prospect of ending those lives. You're not talking like a rational human being right now, Setsuna. You're talking like a child soldier."

He cast his eyes toward the floor.

How many times did it matter? How many times had he been late, admonished, but ultimately been able to continue on from it? How many times had it altered the very course of fate? He couldn't know, or he couldn't remember, but to put that kind of weight on something seemed like the effects of anxiety than anything firmly rooted in reality. It smacked of his panic attacks, things that seemed massive in the moment, but that held no real bearing on his life.

At the same time, it was an experience they did not share. Her Survivor's Guilt drove her to take on a mantle that burned her away at both ends. It eroded her sense of humanity to the point that she viewed herself as subhuman. He couldn't empathize with that. 

He'd never felt human to begin with.

"Everything," he intoned, repeating the word, savoring it. Alkor thought about the concept of everything, and what it meant to him. The word at its core was all-encompassing. It could be assigned great value, or small, all based on perspective. For Alkor, everything was a simple concept. It was small in scope, but vast in value. To Alkor, his Grandmother, his parents, and his sister were everything. If he died, their sadness would be a rift that could never be refilled; and if they were to die, some part of him would inevitably die with them. With that perspective, Alkor believed he had some notion of what "everything" meant to Setsuna. "Everything that matters, you mean," he said. It was not a question.

"Because it's not everything if you're still alive," he said, "and at that point, it's not really everything that matters, either. It's everything that you feel like matters." Alkor wasn't good at speaking smoothly or sugar-coating his words, but Setsuna wasn't really the type who liked to hear platitudes, so that was probably alright.

She mentioned the wall, and his thoughts traced back to the singular name that he'd placed there himself. Alkor wasn't fond of that memory, but it was a lesson that he'd learned, albeit with great difficulty. Would he kill again? Not so readily as Setsuna, perhaps. Actions had consequences. No matter how hard the girl wanted to mitigate them by "accepting her lot as a monster," the weight of her burdens only grew with each murder.

"Skeptical of a life you chose not to take, eh?" he looked at her quietly for a moment. "You've told me you're not proud of it, that you hate this thing you've become, but it's necessary.  It's something that you must do, something no one else can do. That its righteous, a duty that must be performed. How many excuses do you intend to make before you admit to yourself that there really is nothing else? That you've forgotten how to live a normal life, and that vengeance, that this crusade for justice is slowly consuming you?"

Alkor spun his pipe again. "Normal girls your age are worried about what they wear, or who they talk to. They're worried about grades, about social status, about boys, things like that. You drew the short stick and got stuck in here, and it is true that it's robbed you of the experiences you might have had outside. But to some degree, we all have a little bit of control, still. You have the choice to kill, or not to kill. Do you think that your friends, the ones you've called your true north, who were your direction- do you think they'd steer you down this path? Would they have you take life after life, not even once feeling fulfilled from it?"

Deftly, he took another drag. 

"You're fishing for purpose in a sea of blood, Setsuna. You're only going to find one thing there."

Alkor blinked. The woman mentioned something about how it wasn't an elaborate scheme to get the two of them alone, but that wasn't logically consistent anyway. Alkor had met the woman perhaps once before, and he certainly didn't know her well enough for anything like that. She was joking, obviously. He gave a 'heh,' trying to be kind despite not finding humor in the joke.

"I didn't figure you meant anything hostile by it," Alkor replied when she stated that she didn't mean to interrupt. "Honestly, there wasn't much business involved. She wanted to check out some kind of rumor, but it seemed like she had a lot on her mind. If it was urgent, it's no big deal, but it makes me wonder why she called me instead of someone else."

He didn't intend to infer that he wasn't reliable, and yet, to say that wasn't the case would be false. He reached up and scratched at his temple insecurely as he addressed the woman again. "I wouldn't ask you to pick up on her end, since there's no telling if it'd be safe or not. I'd be glad to escort you if you just want to be on your way, though."

Alkor glanced up, pushing aside his feelings of inadequacy. He folded his arms. "It's your call, really. Getting practically thrown at a strange man probably wasn't on your short list for the day."

She spoke of hell and of paradise, and Alkor wondered. Where did the barrier between the two begin to fray? Christian depictions of Heaven for thousands of years described it as Paradise, as a perfect place where pious souls spent eternity. Yet by contrast, those souls gave up debauchery and fulfillment in life to find their way there, casting aside precious experience, beauty, all the things that made life living. In pursuit of a dream, they spent their fleeting moments on Earth denying themselves humanity.

What was paradise? What was damnation? Did any of it matter?

Alkor looked again at the pipe, then up at Setsuna. He took the device between his teeth and pointed a finger in the young woman's direction. "We're always too late," he said. "By the time someone realizes what they want, it's already an afterthought to someone else. If you go by contemporary notions of early and late, you'll always be disappointed."

Society had constructed the abstract notion of time around something that it neither fully comprehended nor could it control. Existence flitted away like a small bird, people aged, things decayed. This place was the perfect example. It deteriorated, yet it still stood. Setsuna was a prisoner to that misconception. Alkor was too, in his own way.

"You can't save everyone," he shrugged. Those words stung him, too. There were people he would have saved. Times that he would have reached out his hand, but he hadn't. His eyes were glassy as he continued. "But killing people? That doesn't save anyone," he said. "I know, I know, you've made up your mind, you stared in the darkness too long, and you became the monster you wanted to slay."

Alkor knew who Setsuna was now, despite how hard she fought. She was harder on herself than anyone else. He stood up and walked toward her, placing a hand on top of her head. She deserved someone telling her that it was enough. He wished someone had done it for him.

"This is hell?" he asked, skeptical. "I don't see any monsters here. Just a cute girl who's been working too hard."

He withdrew his hand promptly, not wanting to overstay his welcome in her personal space.

"You should spend more time with other people, doing the things that make you happy. Not things that tear you apart inside."