Alkor

"Our dream died here." 

Alkor read the words out loud, because suddenly it felt like he could. He traced them with his fingers and tilted his head. "That's what it says?" the child asked. His green eyes burned with intense wonder as the sentiment sent shivers down his spine.

"Yeah," Alkor responded quietly. 

It was a strange thing to think about. People always talked about keeping their dream alive, especially in their darkest moments when all their hope was disappearing. Dreams were those impossible things that mankind clung to in order to keep them moving forward, even when life wanted to pull them under.

To say their dream was dead felt so final.

"Dreams don't die, do they?" the boy asked. Alkor blinked suddenly. "That's not something that can die, is it? A dream, I mean."

Alkor considered the question. "I don't think it's something that anyone wants to happen."

"But it can?" There was a strange hope in the boy, like he didn't want to believe it. He seemed to want Alkor to reassure him it was not possible. "Mister?"

When the Elves learned of the resentment, they feared for what might happen to them. Humanity was flourishing in number, and the number of Elves remained constant. For a time it did not dwindle and they lived in a fragile harmony, but as ages went by the difference grew larger.

At that point, the two races diverged. One could not reconcile its fear of the other, both born of a failure to give their doubts voice. Their civilization split in two, and soon all of the intermingled culture was torn apart as fear turned to hate and mankind cast out Elven influence.

Soon after came war.

Alkor had heard many such stories, and not just in Aincrad. The differences between people grew into rifts, and distrust ran rampant. People waged war over belief systems, fighting behind the ideals on which lay the foundation of their very souls. It was a poetic tragedy, but one firmly rooted in reality.

He experienced the same thing with his own doubts. The anxiety told him to internalize everything and to never speak out or ask for help. Eventually, he always told himself, the problems went away...

...but now he began to wonder about that.

Did they?

In secret, some Elves and some Men eschewed the intolerance of their kin. They met and discussed industry, plant life, the future, the past, and sought to retain something of a unified knowledge between them. Some of them fell in love, and chose to depart their homelands to seek a world where they could be together.

Alas, here you see the end they found.

Before the castle took to the skies, we walked upon solid ground. Before the people were segregated by layers of rock and dungeon, they intermingled. Before they were taught to hate, people knew love.

Alkor shivered as the implications washed over him. The birth of Aincrad was a tale that the developers never told, though they spoke of intentions to hide the Lore inside of Sword Art Online for people to search for, if they felt so inclined.

Man and Elf alike worked tirelessly to build a world where anyone could come, work, live, and be happy. But like all in all things, there was strife. Elves were different. Because they were different, men fostered fears and doubts.

Though they began as small, these dark thoughts grew.

He reached the end of the hallway and looked around. It was lit up like a lantern, encircled on all sides by the strange runic text. "Man and Elf," he whispered.  "I get the feeling that this runs deeper than just these ruins."

"Oh, that's right," the boy blinked. "You're not an Elf, Mister. We don't have a whole lot of non-Elves around. Travelers come through often, but..."

"It really makes you wonder, right?" Alkor asked. "What does this place have to do with all that? Is it just a written history? Does the treasure you're looking for have something to do with it?"

"And why was it guarded by that big mean bull guy?" the boy tilted his head.

They rounded a corner and the mist seemed to abate. It was dark still, but there was enough dim lighting that they did not need any skills or items to see. The boy seemed a bit unsettled by their surroundings, which Alkor took as a cue to stay on guard. "Ever been this far in?" he asked.

"No," the boy shook his head. "Never got anywhere the mist didn't go. Seems really weird that it would just stop." Alkor looked from the boy toward the dark hallway ahead.

My thoughts exactly.

They continued along the pathway until the light seemed to flicker, just a bit. The light ahead of them was blue, rather than the normal orange and yellow behind them. All around them, the walls were alive with etched runes, all words Alkor could not comprehend in a language he did not know.

He concentrated on the path. In his mind, words began to form. It was as though he had thoughts, but they were not his own. At first they made no sense, but gradually as they walked, Alkor began to understand.

The boy did exactly as he was told, and Alkor regretted telling him immediately. Like a small child terrified in a haunted house, he gripped the leg of Alkor's pants and walked in time with his movements. "How did you get so strong, mister?"

The question came suddenly, and Alkor glanced down in surprise. It seemed like the child was making an attempt to take his thoughts off the situation. Non-player Characters in Aincrad had wills and thoughts all their own, and personalities to match. It made things so odd when dealing with them. This situation in particular reminded Alkor of how he had so readily tried to play the hero, with Lessa, with Mari... with so many people, and ultimately, failed to clear his greatest hurdle. The boy looked back up at him now, curious.

The difference between those situations and this one, was that the boy was a character in a game. Alkor had the option to treat things that way. 

No.

Not this time. "Practice," he replied. "Lots of practice. You don't get strong without working for it." Alkor placed a hand on the boy's head and ruffled his hair. The child gave a grin. "Do you know anymore about this ruin?"

"I've never gone far in, and this is the first time I've ever found... anything like that." he spoke of the Minotaur, but he didn't call it by name. "And I'm not... totally sure that it was the only danger in the maze."

"Makes sense," Alkor took a deep breath. The Labyrinth wasn't inherently dangerous, and the Minotaur hadn't been either. He felt like it would be safe to proceed. "Alright, we'll push through and get your treasure," Alkor gave him a thumbs up.

The boy returned the gesture with a bright smile.

Too late, now.

The boy cowered behind him, and the beast was within view. If he'd had a moment to cut and run, it was past him now. Alkor put the myriad thoughts behind him. There was the Swordsman and his enemy, and nothing else.

Between them, a cold marble floor echoed their footsteps. It was a welcome staccato, a background music that played an upbeat, morose dirge for the creature and the man, one destined to die.

The Minotaur had an axe, large as Alkor was, and swung it with might easily equal to its massive size. The Player moved with swiftness to match, and their movements created a whirlwind of sparks as they parried one blow after another.

While the Minotaur was intimidating, Alkor had skill. 

It wasn't the one sided battle it might have been, under any other circumstances.  Alkor dropped his body low and ducked under a powerful swipe of the axe, readying his Sword Art, and his body moved in a flurry of wild slashes that punctured and inflamed the Minotaur's form as his overpowering strokes prepared it for the final blow.

Alkor spun through, and as he emerged on the opposite side of the creature, it exploded into streams of data. He looked back to the boy, huddled close to the wall, and called out. "It's safe, now."

"W...what?" The boy turned to see Alkor standing alone, showered in a hail of blue dust. "Did you just kill it?"

"Nevermind that, we need to-" Alkor stopped, the the child rushed forward. 

"We can't go back yet," he protested. "I haven't found the treasure. We need to find the treasure," he pleaded.

Alkor blinked. It had to be part of the quest. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly. "Alright, we can look for it. But stay close to me."

Alkor: 590/590 HP 47/58 E

Hoya Minotaur: DEAD

These are the names of people I've met in Aincrad, as well as a brief description of how I know them.

Lessa: I first met her when she was brand new to the game. We were close friends, and then, things got weird. A guy named Daeron got in my face and said Lessa wanted nothing to do with me, and not to go near her. So... after that, we lost touch.

Lessa's a weird topic for me. She's a good friend. We've been working on reconciling the things that happened in the past; but some people think there's more to it than that. There's not. 

Mari: Mari and I met under a wild series of miscommunications. There was a point when I threatened her life, even. Mari is... someone who deserves better than the mistakes I made, and the things she's had to deal with as a result. I don't think it's fair to call myself her friend at this time, but she's not an enemy.

Bahr: I've only had to deal with this guy a few times, but I can tell he's a hothead. He has his way of seeing things and doesn't really care about what anyone else thinks. That's my impression of him.

He cares a lot about Lessa, which is a good thing. He's also volatile, so I kind of worry she'll get burned.

NIGHT: Some stuff happened. Apparently she knew about me before I met her, and wasn't my biggest fan. I get the impression she's still not. 

She did tell me I act like Batman though.

-not an exhaustive list, more to come 

Alkor drew his sword slowly, his concentration set on calling no attention to himself. If there were creatures in here, with the environment as it was he was at a disadvantage. The floor mobs were weaker, it was true, but if there were many of them or he was not cautious, it didn't matter. He could get trapped in the Labyrinth for weeks, months, starve out, lose his mind...

His body tensed as the chittering sounds rattled around the corner, and he reflexively began to lift his weapon. Alkor sprang off the balls of his feet, fully committed to the motion. Only one sound, a single clack accompanied his onslaught, but it was enough. The shadow snapped to look in his direction.

"Huh...? Augh!" The small boy, tapping at the wall with a rock twisted with a start as Alkor darted toward him. The Swordsman had to shift his own body a full ninety degrees to prevent the blade from skewering right through the child, and because of that, they both collided with the wall and fell to the floor in a heap. "S-sorry mister!" the boy bleated nervously as he clambered across the stone floor to his feet. Alkor rose slowly, only more visibly composed.

"You're running from something?" he questioned. It was the only thing that made sense. The boy's demeanor reeked of anxiety. "What happened?"

He had not forgotten the girl outside, or her request. This boy had to be the brother, but somehow, Alkor doubted that he found treasure. "I went in looking for... it don't matter now, that ain't what's in there..."

"What did you find?" Alkor asked.

A guttural sound, like snorting and braying permeated the maze. The boy flinched and scrambled to hide himself behind Alkor. He felt the heat in his chest rising. What was it? What was coming for them?

Was he strong enough, alone? 

Should he run?

The mist around them roiled, as though it were suddenly ablaze and rising with the heat. Where before it looked like a gloomy, sunken temple it now seemed like a hellish cavern.

Alkor matched eyes with the beast as it turned the corner, fixing him with a wicked and toothy grin.

<<Hoya Minotaur>> burned brightly over its head, significant of a Quest Boss.

Alkor: 590/590 HP | 58/58 E DMG: 10

Hoya Minotaur: 45/45 HP DMG 30

The walls didn't move, yet the fog writhed in a way that made them sinister. Every few steps he glanced back to see that the path was obscured, and he had no way to know he would make it out safely. Though he felt safe on the third floor, that was only relative. A misstep could spell death in Sword Art Online. That was true no matter where you were. The only exceptions were the safe zones. 

This was, absolutely, not a safe zone. 

His mind began to wander as his footsteps and breathing became the only sounds all around him. Marble floors and walls reverberated with him, pulsing like one massive heartbeat. It was enough to fray a man's sanity.

He'd promised the girl: but the girl wasn't real. Her brother wasn't real. Alkor was. The only one of them with anything to truly lose was him. He placed a hand to the cold, hard wall and closed his eyes. 

Steady, he told himself. It can only overwhelm you if you let it.

His heartbeat had elevated and his breathing turned ragged. When he listened to himself, he realized how simple it was to lose to the augmented reality. Because of the NerveGear, everything he experienced felt like it happened to his own body.

It wouldn't be as easy as telling himself to calm down.

Another sound broke the meager silence he'd found. Clattering, like the hooves of a horse, perhaps? It seemed faint, but heavy. It was slow, but drawing closer. His eyes moved toward the hallway ahead of him, still consumed by mist.

Whatever came from it, he resolved to fight. It wasn't just about promises anymore. It was about facing himself, and overcoming the mechanism that told him to retreat. To move forward, Alkor had to stop looking back.

And he knew it.

The third floor was safe enough for someone like Alkor, who had made his way up to the ninth floor and braved the boss encounters there. The difficulty scaled much lower, and the prospect of losing all his HP was negligible. That also meant the rewards would be meager by comparison, but sometimes, it was nice to shift gears.

And, his head still wasn't quite right. There were things he needed to sort out for himself. The person he pretended to be once, and the person who he actually was were incredibly different. Alkor still could not believe how unprepared he was to face reality.

Had his family known this? Had they tried to help him, and had he resisted change- to his own detriment- at every turn? That realization was perhaps more harrowing than the all the subsequent problems combined.

He was his own worst enemy.

In Aincrad, you had the power to fight creatures and obstacles that were unthinkable, unimaginable in the world outside. All of that potential, all of that strength, but what good was any of it if he couldn't tap into that power and strike down the real face of all his problems?

The Forest of Wavering Mists lost visibility with each step, but the glowing quest marker faintly lit the way as he approached the destination he'd been looking for. Alkor knelt down on one knee before the young girl, who looked pleadingly up at him. 

"Oh, thank goodness," she sobbed. "You have to help me, you just have to!" 

"I'm here," he consoled her. "How can I help?"

The NPC didn't care about his problems. It had its own. That was the beautiful thing about Quests: they had a beginning, a middle, and an end. Simplicity in resolution. It wasn't like life. 

The appeal seemed more clear now, when he thought about it that way.

"Deep in the labyrinth," she said breathlessly. "My brother, he went in to look for the treasure that's rumored to be inside, but he hasn't come out. It's almost been a day, and I keep hearing things..."

"It's alright," Alkor held his hand out to bid her stay where she was. "I'll find him. You wait for me. I promise, everything will be fine."

Would it? Was it so easy?

Alkor didn't have a choice.

"That's the hope," he agreed. There were so many unknowns in Aincrad that the people who were trapped there wanted to believe in something constant. The lower floors, that safe and comfortable sensation that nothing new or dangerous might creep up from behind them, all of those thoughts culminated to lull the Players into a state where their sense of security was questionable...

...yet they clung to it for dear life.

Alkor learned, early on in his adventure, that death was a very real consequence. He'd brushed with it, and even learned that coming close alone was cause for concern. It still burned him, the way that the Twinfire Phoenix had, and that the Hydra did. The heat smoldered inside of him and his tenacity burned bright.

That was at odds with the placid expression he offered to An, though. Humans were a strange mix of every type of emotion. Calm like still water, but raging like wildfire inside. It was a beautiful, chaotic reality. Just as real as the world outside. At their core, they were all still human.

"Yeah, I've got it!" he called as she rolled the snowball and he lifted it carefully into place. He watched as she fumbled through her inventory, and the darkly dressed swordsman smiled just a bit as she said she didn't have the finishing touches on hand.

"Yeah, there might just be something," he agreed. Even if she couldn't find something in the market, they could probably make due. Either way, he was content- he'd never come this far with a snowman before, after all. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. Did you want me to help you look?"

@Andromeda

There was much left unsaid, yet Alkor could find little to say. The energy and thought that went into a single sentence were more taxing than he could have known. He let Lessa lead most conversation for the moment because it was easier to form responses than initiate.

It wasn't that he didn't want to bridge that distance between them, it was that he didn't know how. It was plainly visible now though, to both of them. Where before the persona of Alkor appeared as a bridge- until it didn't, anymore- the lack of it granted clarity.

"Yeah," he responded when she mentioned the quest. "There's a bunch of things that I either missed, or that popped up later. Either way, I'm thankful for it."

He genuinely was. Every bit of experience he could scrounge without risking his life on a higher floor was a legitimate chance to be stronger. And things like this, small, almost non-threatening quests were a chance to learn how things had changed in Aincrad since he was away- or at least, brush up on things he was rusty at.

...and things got prickly sooner than expected.

Alkor heard the exchange and saw Lessa activate her howl. She was now the tanky swordsman he remembered talking to her about, somewhere along the way. And he- 

The sleek, curved edge of Blightsteel gleamed as it caught the light of late morning. The sinister black blade seemed to swallow light, rather than reflecting it- most likely a trick of the eye.

Alkor was one thing, if not a talker. He was a skilled gamer, and during the course of Sword Art Online, he'd started to come into his own as a Swordsman. He spun the wicked blade deftly in hand as he picked up his pace and rushed to join the fray.

With its attention on Lessa, it should prove an easy target.

He sprang forward, spinning in a vicious, tight circle and raked his blade through the beast multiple times. It wasn't the strongest Sword Art in his arsenal, but the damage would prove significant enough- at least, in a way that would let the nubile player get her own hits in.

He landed low to the outside, crouched and slowly circling the beast all the while knowing its attention remained on Lessa. If possible, he would accrue enough that he was next on the list, just in case.

 ID# 148030 results: 6 Death Creep hits! (10×6=60-45 MIT = 15 DMG)

<<Amphis Serphens>> || HP: 159/175 || STN

Snow: || HP: 180/180 || EN 14/18 || 1 HATE ||
Lessa: || HP: 1045/1045 || EN 93/100 || 2 HATE ||
Alkor: || HP: 590/590 || EN 52/58 || 1 HATE ||

While Aincrad was a dangerous world, it was their world now. Whether or not they wanted it, they had become denizens of this reality as much if not more than their original. It was sensible to want to seek the beauty and knowledge that it had to offer them. There was more to life than staying safe. 

That wasn't what he told another Player, though. It was only through meeting other people and learning about their experiences and feelings that Alkor had realized his point of view was narrow and fixated. He wouldn't bring himself to apologize for prioritizing people's safety, but he was content to be far less vocal about it.

So, in response to An's desire to do quests and interest in Aincrad, Alkor had to consider for a moment. What did he think?

"Of course," he replied as he labored over the snowball, careful to keep it almost like a precious treasure. "There are still many floors left to open and uncertainty surrounding all of them. And who's to say we know everything there is to know about the ones we already have seen?" he said with a grin.

There was something about the wanderlust and adventurousness of a wide-eyed, energetic youth that made him not want to be the monster of pure logic he always was. But then... he wasn't really connecting, he was just listening.

It was easy to say something nice. What did it mean to be himself, and offer his own thoughts? The worst that could happen was her disagreeing with him, and even then... he could probably live with that, right? Or did he have a fragile ego?

Time to find out.

"No, you're probably right," Alkor said. "Even on the Frontlines, people are always finding new dangers to learn about and adapt to, and brushing with death." He looked up at her with his amber gaze and a kind smile as she came closer. "That's a very prudent way of thinking. No one should ever assume he knows everything."

He listened as she gave further instructions, and moved to lift the snowball as she sat herself down. She must have been exhausted from all the work she was doing, and the cold couldn't be helping with that. Some things about this game were just too realistic.

Especially the dying part.

So, once his snowball was on top of hers, Alkor looked to Andromeda for approval. Then she commented about Father Wuotan, and asked what he had received. "Oh," Alkor patted the weapon at his hip. "I got a great new sword," he explained. "It's going to come in handy for a while, I think. Stronger than what I was using before at least."

He didn't want to presume to draw a weapon in front of her, lest it be construed as violent. That kind of miscommunication had happened before. 

@Andromeda

He found some comfort in those words, strangely. It was nice to hear that someone was doing well, even when everything seemed to be falling apart all around them. Alkor had never been the type to find positivity in the experiences of others, but then, how often had he had the chance?

Every day, you learn something new about yourself. He recalled hearing that, once. Life was a series of lessons, and if you weren't learning, you weren't living. That last thought stung, though.

What had he been doing before that? Going through motions? I'd always thought there was more to life than putting milk on shelves, he mused silently. His gilded gaze flicked toward Lessa after she finished speaking. 

"That's... I'm glad to hear that," he said, honestly. He recalled what that other Player had said, about opening up too much and being an open book, and how it put people off. In light of that, he elected not to explain his thinking radically and in extreme detail. Instead, he chose his words. "I've just been spending a lot of time trying to figure things out."

That's better than saying I have severely impairing character flaws that pre-date being trapped inside this game, and I'm trying to establish who I am as a person, at least.

Alkor almost laughed out loud. It was the first time he had admitted that, in entirety, to himself and heard it. How ridiculous it sounded. But... it also felt freeing. He felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off of him, and that had to count for something.

"One day at a time," he said at last. "And they're not all going to be good, but the alternative damn sure wouldn't be any better."

He grinned.

"But that's a bunch of deep thoughts and twisted emotions, and we both know those are dreadfully boring. We came here for Dragons."

If the question were a firearm, it would have been loaded.

In the months since he woke up, everything had changed. The grim realization that this world and the other were mirror versions of one another, and he could not simply play the part of a character in a story still hung heavy over his head. The desire to cut and run was gone, replaced by the bitter sentiment that he had to soldier forward without someone at his side guiding him. Now after the events of the Obsidian Invasion and a talk with the Player NIGHT, who made him realize just how foolish his desire to help people while remaining apart from them truly was, Alkor found himself at a total loss.

Further set back than square one, he was at ground zero. When Lessa asked how he was, Alkor had no idea how to answer. They'd broken through a layer of difficulty in their interactions the last time, but Lessa was a changed person. She wasn't the same, almost fragile, dependent girl he had promised to protect all those years ago.

And he wasn't pretending to be the dauntless hero, either. So, stripped of the façade that he had worn for so long, he strung together the best answer he had. "I'm still alive," he said with a slight smile and a chuckle that seemed half nervous and half amused. How ironic it was that he wasn't dead in a world where communication was key. "So it can't be all bad, right?"

Right?

His expression slowly returned to the anxious, non emotive mask he generally wore, but the cracks were all too visible now. It wasn't fair to dump any of that on Lessa, nor was he going to. Instead, he decided. Alkor was going to find the path for himself.

That also meant he had to learn what it meant to connect with people. And to be friends. "How about you?" he asked.

In a sense, he had died.

Perhaps he was still dead. To many people he knew, or had known, Alkor was a spectre. He only became real now to Life because the man had seen him. "I was eaten by a Hydra," Alkor answered with a Devil-may-care lilt to his voice. 

There was no point in rehashing the conversation again, and Life seemed to accept his existence without much of a fuss. Seeing is believing, he supposed. For the man long presumed dead, it was a great comfort that the other player did not ask many questions. He simply wanted to get into the fight and get his hands dirty.

Alkor turned slowly to face Life as the next question came. "Decided to back the Treants, eh?" he mused quietly. While he had not made any decision of his own in that regard, Alkor had nothing to lose one way or the other. And most people seemed to favor the Elves.

Perhaps it would prove enlightening to walk the path less traveled. 

The past few weeks since he awoke had been tumultuous and bitter, and the dark swordsman needed time and space to clear his head. Slaughtering a few elves could be a day's therapy- Or it could cause years of need for therapy down the line, but he'd already brushed with death once, so he made the decision to face the future when the future came, and not before that.

This happened an hour or so before I dived.

I'm writing this so I don't forget. Time passes outside while we're in this world, and the people we left behind go on without us. That said, we go on without them, too. Only living that reality could have taught me what that really meant to me. This is where my story starts. This is who I was. Who I am.

Before the line blurs too much to tell the difference.

-Thom

The alarm screamed, same as always. Three hours of sleep separated one day from the next, and my bloodshot eyes shot around a pitch black room seeking purchase on reality. The way I lived often felt more fluid than partitioned. Hours, minutes, and seconds were arbitrary when the only thing I had to look forward to was another day of work. Morning hours before sunrise were almost always the worst. I tried to get what sleep I could while Grandmom screamed. She hated being alone, but she'd long since lost the ability to relay that in words. 

Sometimes, the only way she got to sleep was the Ativan. If I'm being honest, I can't look at her like this. I go through the motions to take care of her out of a sense of responsibility. She did the same thing for me for years. I don't know what the next day for me holds, or where to go from here. Grandmom was my guiding light in a world that was as dark as the room I woke up in, and now that light has dimmed.

See, my mom and my sister live in another house a few blocks away. They come over to check in, but they're both busy with their own lives. Mom and Grandmom never got along when she was lucid. I think she secretly holds that against her now.

My sister and Grandmom were never close. It felt like they were from two very different generations, and those ideologies we're constantly at war with one another. Whenever one tried to hold up an olive branch, somewhere, something got miscommunicated and it fell apart. So, now, my sister sees no reason to make peace with a woman who's too far gone to appreciate the effort. That's what I think, anyway. I don't talk to my sister enough to find out what's going on in her head.

I always wake up at the same time, even when it's my day off. Sometimes I get lucky, and I go back to sleep for a few hours- but not today. No, today, it came in the mail.

I'd been waiting for this for months. The NerveGear, Sword Art Online- my chance to escape, if only for a little while. Before that, I have to check on Grandmom: make sure she's clean and doesn't need a change of clothes, talk to her a bit even though she doesn't quite get what I'm saying, get her breakfast...

That's the routine. On work days, that takes about a half hour before I jump in the shower and rush to hit the clock. Then I do an eight hour, hurry home, and fall asleep. It's mindless, if not easy.

In short, I'm boring. It was boring. I was ready for something different.

Grandmom was always telling me I should go out and make new friends. I... don't know how to do that. Talking to people terrifies me. What I do for a living now leaves my skin crawling. I hole up in my room as much as possible to try to unwind from having to interact with customers while I stock. Sometimes it helps.

But, inside a game, it's different. I can be anyone I want. I don't have to be close, to share who I am, to make real and lasting relationships with people. I don't have to emotionally connect, and so, it's all just fun and carefree. That's what I thought. That's what I wanted.

A game. Nothing real. Somewhere I didn't have to be Thom. That's why I made the personality of Alkor. He was a hero, born of the fantasy games and novels I'd grown up on. He was everything I dreamed of being, but could never actually be.

Alkor is a fearless, swashbuckling rogue. He wants to help people, and to stop bad guys... Yeah, looking back, it was a pretty shallow archetype. But no one expected anything from him. At least, I didn't think anyone did. But I'm not there yet. This is how I created him. 

I expected to be playing a game. I think we all did. 

The last thing I said to grandmom, was "I love you. I'll be back soon."

Life had other plans.

Embroiled in conflict, the Elves and Treants smashed against each other constantly. Alkor watched passively as NPCs burst into streams of data, emptying out the battlefield before the inevitable respawn. The quest givers hung toward the back, glowering in the direction of one another, but ultimately remained away from the violence.

Alkor took the opportunity to tread through the lot of them, reaping indiscriminately in the interest of experience. Corpses hewn aside dissipated quickly, and the dark swordsman was left in solitary introspection. He had yet to decide which side to throw his backing behind.

Both types of enemies seemed to yield similar experience. The drops were garbage. The quest items would probably be the determining factor. 

He ripped Blightsteel through the back of the Elf that ran at him last, exhaling loudly from his ennui.

Hopefully, something interesting would happen soon. He dropped down to the third floor to sweep up any quests he had passed over. The experience points were decent enough to matter, to propel him toward the next level and the ability to fight stronger enemies and ascend to higher floors.

His obsession had evolved into zeal.

The name Zelrius haunted Alkor, not because he hated the young man but because of the things he had heard. After Alkor, many people were lost during boss fights. Once believed the strongest in all of Aincrad, the Blood Bucaneer became one of those nameless, drifting memories.

They had worked together on occasion, and he even considered the boy to be one of the few friends he made. Now, he was gone. Lessa held his sword. Funny how things came together that way.

Alkor studied the weapon quietly and then looked up toward its owner. The last time they'd seen each other hadn't been during a dragon fight. They parted ways to find new information, and ultimately met up during an event where they worked together with Macradon and that infuriating Bahr guy.

Now that it was over, they were back to business as usual. Maybe it wasn't bothering her the way it did him. He looked away from her and his hand fell to the weapon on his hip. A gift from Father Wuotan. Blightsteel.

"I'm ready to take it on," he said after his moment of introspection. "So, floor three sounds good to me."

Alkor glanced at the voucher she had received when she came to show it to him with a soft smile. It was nice to hear someone excited about something in Aincrad. Whenever it happened, however rare or not it might be it was a euphoric feeling. Infectious, even.

"That's really great, An," he said, calling her by the shortened version of her name the way she'd asked him to. "That'll be really useful for when you're doing quests or fighting tough mobs." He was reminded of the blade at his hip, similarly given him by Father Wuotan- but he didn't want to seem like he was trying to one up the girl. This was her moment. It was for her to enjoy.

He sat down in the next few moments, ignoring the cold sensation that crept across his body. She started back to work on her part of the snowman, and he continued as she instructed. When she praised him, he glanced her way and offered a short thumbs up. 

"So now what, we roll them until they get bigger?" he asked, recalling what he knew about the process. The golden eyed player recalled the fourth floor, and the way that he and his friends used to spend so much time there. Time had torn them apart. Now, he was a solo player again, and despite reuniting with Lessa... they hadn't really done much, beyond a few quests and things were still awkward.

Maybe, he'd find a friend in Andromeda? That would be nice. They might even be able to do quests together.

@Andromeda

She was... talkative.

Alkor had met his fair share of new people inside Aincrad, and some of them were long winded or enjoyed the sound of their own voice. At least, he got that impression from the way they felt the need to talk at him, at length. This girl wasn't quite like that. 

No, the dark swordsman got the impression this girl just liked to talk. He couldn't relate. That said, she was attempting conversation. At least, it felt that way from the questions and comments she posed to him. Now, the hard part.

He had to actually engage her in conversation, even if it was heavily one sided. Part of him wanted to leave it be, nod and wear a vacant smile. Another part of him insisted he at least make an effort. He promised he'd be better. 

"A little," he muttered. He didn't sound like he agreed with her or disagreed, but more like he was acknowledging her words. He gave her a quick glance after that, managing not to scowl. "It's a pretty safe area, if you wanted to keep swimming. I won't get in your way."

That part sounded almost sincere, like he was being considerate. The shut in was getting more skilled at telling people to go away! Ahhh, social skills.

@Raina

Okay, Alkor blinked slowly when he heard it. The splash drew his attention from solidarity and into the present with a jolt. His liquid golden eyes stared hard at the culprit, who rose from the water with droplets of water slinking across her flesh. Everything was pronounced, almost like Aincrad intended to tempt the thoughts of young men and boys to sin. At least, that's the interpretation Alkor got out of what he saw. I went from action anime to hentai in .05. 

The swordsman heaved a sigh when the woman addressed him. What was with that halfway modest greeting? It didn't mesh with her attire at all. Alkor glanced away with calculated disinterest as she summoned her towel and set about making herself decent.

Not that there was any expedience to her movement.

"No, you're fine," the dark swordsman waved a hand dismissively. "This area is public and it's not like I can just reserve it on a whim. Please, don't mind me."

It wouldn't change anything now if she left, after all. His concentration was shattered. As Alkor stared pointedly toward the raging falls, he recalled her hair color.

Pink.

Pink haired women were always trouble, weren't they?

"I don't swim much anymore, he replied to her question. He hadn't since he was a boy. There was hardly a reason to do so inside of Sword Art Online, either.

"I'm Alkor," he said after a pregnant pause. He finally looked at her once she had greeted him, and she was covered. Covered enough, anyway. "You, too," he added.

@Raina

The Waterfall marked a place for Players to go to test their limits. It hosted one of the more intense solo quests in the earlier portion of Aincrad, and something Alkor had yet to conquer for himself. Yet, it was not that which brought him to this place and he was not intent on challenging his own demons this day.

No, for now, the soothing sounds of crashing water and the warmth of steam that billowed out from it offered him clarity. Many things transpired since Alkor returned from his lengthy sleep. People, both new and old to him interacted and caused him to learn things about himself and about dealing with others.

Outside of the game, he may never have learned those lessons. As he sat cross-legged near the bottom of the falls, Alkor took a deep breath and closed his eyes. How would he choose to go forward from here? There was contempt between him and the man, Bahr.

Bahr, who appeared to be connected to Lessa. One of his oldest friends in Aincrad, the woman now stood taller and stronger than he did. In terms of levels, she was so far ahead he was unsure that he could catch her.

Then, there was Mari. His actions were not intended to be cruel, yet she would have taken them in that way. It was hard to not. He couldn't convince her otherwise, nor would he try.

Every part of the swordsman wanted to deny himself this new life. He hated the idea that he could have a second lease when the first had expired with no advancement. He never grew as a person hidden behind the facade of Alkor. He never grew beyond the character he pretended to be.

Now, he had.

He recognized his weakness, faced it, and moved forward in spite of his fears. In the few moments it took the Hydra boss to nearly end his life and send him reeling into a coma, something snapped and left him laid bare.

In his dreams, he saw himself alone. He lost everything, and his hand opened to release the only hand he had ever been truly happy to hold. Would she still be there, when finally they were free?

Hold on, Grandma. I'll see you before it's all over. I promise.

@Raina

He listened intently, carefully to what she told him. She seemed to really place a lot of importance on the method and Alkor didn't want to screw things up. He nodded, golden eyes flickering over the snow as he shaped it in both hands. Was that right?

Firm, but gentle? Had he ever done anything quite like that? He found himself doubting his ability to follow those instructions solely based on the wording, even if the snowball did seem to be taking shape.

She looked like she was getting colder, though. Reddened face, increased movement, rapid speech... he wondered if she had been out too long? Not that it was incredibly dangerous in this area, to his knowledge. There were zones where the weather had the potential to be hazardous.

Still, he felt a bit concerned. Against his hesitant nature, the urge to help others always seemed to win out. He tilted his head. "Are you cold?" he asked. "I've got an extra cloak in my inventory, if you need another layer."

Then, he heard a familiar voice. Father Wuotan approached, and he greeted Alkor before moving toward the other Player... Players? Was there anyone else there? "I'm well, Father," Alkor returned the greeting warmly. "I hope you are, too."

He then set about packing and rolling the snowball, the way An had instructed. She was getting her Christmas present! It was important not to interrupt, after all.

@Andromeda 

The hardest thing to accept when faced with the Cardinal system was knowing that it knew your mind. It could scan memories and thoughts, and in a single instant conjure your greatest fears or inadequacies. Alkor knew that this was just that- a phenomenon brought on by the Cardinal system, in response to his accepting the quest for a familiar.

But, was this the normal familiar quest? Wasn't he just supposed to find a creature, throw it some food, and make nice? It seemed like a low-grade form of psychological torture, from what he could feel, see, and hear.

Are you going to cry?

Alkor stopped, cold. It was like the bullies that plagued him during his years of school, or the people who never understood why he kept his distance from others. They always asked questions or taunted him. There was never peace. 

He felt tugging at his hair, like someone was pulling him off the ground. 

You are. You're crying again. How pathetic is that?