Alkor

"You can ask Lessa how well talking about emotions goes with me," he said, not laughing nearly as much as the woman probably might have if she heard those words. "I won't be much help of you when it comes to sifting through your feelings, unless you just need a brick wall to bounce them off of. In which case, I'm about that useful, and you'll get about as good of a response." Whether or not he meant it as an invitation for Jomei to continue, the man did. Worth note, Alkor seemed at least somewhat appreciative when he shifted topics, because he gave no outward sign of frustration.

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"But you're right.. we come from different worlds, and I shouldn't try to pretend you're part of mine just to feel better about forcing you into a conversation with someone you've never met." A hand sheepishly found its way from his belt to the nape of his neck, massaging the muscle gently, "But I have enjoyed the conversation.. whether or not you were just humoring me." Lips hooked into a smirk to show he was merely poking fun at the man. 

With a grunt, the darker dressed man began to walk. He had said he would, after all. Rather than motioning to dismiss the other man, he continued the conversation. Jomei could follow if he wanted, or leave it at that. Somehow, the man's persistence gave Alkor the impression that he would press on.

"We're trapped in a world where whatever satisfaction we can manage to scrounge is a precious commodity," he shrugged as they crossed one of the many bridges on Baldur's island and came upon a new scene, no less beautiful from the last. False though it was, the imitation was reminiscent of a reality that was just out of reach. "Don't worry about me. I'm certainly not worrying about anyone else," he said as koi swam beneath them, their scales reflecting the light in a way that caught Alkor's eye. He glanced toward the fish, traces of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. "And more people trapped in here with us are like me than they are you. You should be conscious of that. You'll get taken advantage of, just like Lessa."

His expression changed a bit as those words left him. 

"You just have to find what you're looking for on your own, I guess, is what I mean."

"Hmpf." Alkor let out a tiny chuckle when the man asked him directly about forgiveness, and whether or not he believed he deserved it. That was never a question for him. More to the point, his gaze toward the other man was uninhibited now. "It's not pertinent to me, it just sounded applicable to your situation," he replied. "You can take it or leave it, no harm no foul."

He slowly blinked and glanced back toward the dull roar of voices, cheering, booing, excited. "We're all in this place together, but we come from different worlds," Alkor said. "And some of us live in this world, set apart from others. We don't operate on the same systems. I don't tell them they're wrong for enjoying each other's company."

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, but he was not angry. "You came here to have fun, right?" Alkor gestured down the hallway. "For you, this is a chance to meet new people, forge bonds, become stronger together," he had heard it all, and he could comprehend the rhetoric. For Alkor, though, the world was just not that simple. "For me, it's all I can do to compare and contrast myself against the best efforts of the collective. I don't fit into the framework. I don't want to fit. I want to get strong, in my own way."

Alkor's gaze softened a bit as Jomei spoke, focused on the water garden as light dance across the surface. "Some of us will go our entire lives and never deserve people like Lessa," he muttered. "Not as a friend or anything else. The weird thing about people like her is that they don't care. I figure it's called grace, or at least, that's how someone important to me described it- the whole idea of being forgiven, even when you have no right to be. Some folks are just built different. No matter how many times people spit on them, they keep taking it."

It was different for him. He couldnt comprehend being forgiven, for anything, by anyone. The very idea made him sick, like the kindness was wasted on him. But he knew the rhetoric. He could recite it from memory. "Maybe you'll get more out of her words than I did," he reached up and pressed his hand to the wall, pushing off it to stand. "You're right. Lessa deserves good people around her. She deserves love, friendly love, not just the romantic kind. So do right by her, be supportive just like you're already doing, and don't worry about whether or not you deserve it."

He knew how absurd that sounded coming from him. He knew how urterly banal, how hypocritical it was. Alkor could not look the other man in the eyes at that point. He was exhausted, socially, mentally, and physically. 

"I do enough of that for the both of us," he added as he turned to fully look out at the leaves, his arms crossed. "The only thing I know how to do is push myself. To strive toward perfection, hoping one day I'll be adequate." The words sounded so simple, yet their depth threatened to drown him. 

He felt more comfortable at arm's length than he did taking a hand that reached out for him. He always had. Jomei wanted to help people, to help Lessa- and Alkor could genuinely see that. Maybe, just maybe, someone would get it right. 

"...one day," he repeated, the images of his family slowly playing back through his thoughts. He clutched at his sleeves absently and let the cool breeze take responsibility for the chill that ripped through his body. He glanced back at the man with a more neutral expression, now.

"I'm going to take a walk," he said. "I think I caught a chill."

"Ah," Alkor replied evenly when the man indicated he would rather not discuss his loss. They had that in common. Asking about it was a matter of congeniality more than interest. Still, the man continued, and he revealed that he had lost. Equally something Alkor would prefer not to talk about, but for different reasons. If he had time to lose a fight, he had time to get back to improving so he would not lose again. Lessa had once pointed out that his mind operated on a single track, in fact.

She promptly became the topic of conversation again, and Alkor closed his eyes. Had they not moved on from her? The turmoil that came with conversations like that prompted him toward anxiety and he disliked the inadequacy that it bred. He was trying, desperately trying to make the friendship with Lessa work in the only way he knew how- but rather than giving her space and trying not to be a burden, she wanted him to "stay in touch." 

Heck, he never even did that in the real world.

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 "I hope its not another traumatizing experience I'm about to ask about.. but what do you mean you were turned into a punching bag? What did it have to do with Lessa?" 

Alkor recalled that moment with a spark of actual hatred in his eye. "Not at all, I don't feel a bit traumatized by the grandstanding of apes," he spat, his words filled with venom. "That Bahr guy, though I didn't know him all that well. The psychopath decided to punch me in the face and said I'd made Lessa cry, or something. Establishing some kind of perceived dominance, I guess." His gaze softened a bit. "I'd cry too if I watched someone I knew die, even if I wasn't incredibly close with them." That was the closest he had come to comprehending how Lessa felt, despite the fact that they had talked about it at length. 

He was, by his own admission, not good with feelings.

"I know firsthand Lessa wants something... no, maybe she needs something- or someone- to care about. And like I said, I cant begin to understand that. We're different people. But what I do know is that theres an ugly side to mankind that will exploit people like her, who have boundless kindness and love to give freely," "he said with a shrug, "I don't like people like that, who take advantage of people's kindness. I think the kind people are the ones who deserve to be protected more than anyone. But, I also don't think you're like that fuckstick, so I'm not particularly worried about it."

Clueless as Alkor normally was, he was not a blind man. Jomei's mannerisms, his borderline fixation- those were something he knew at least a little about. This guy didn't want to own Lessa, or savagely ward off other men. He wanted to know her friends, and talk about her with them. Finally, someone was talking to him in a way he could remotely understand.

Alkor let out a long, audible sigh.

This man was like Lessa in some ways. Whether it was affection toward the woman or genuine concern that prompted him to gush about their conversations or if Jomei generally had the gift of the gab, Alkor could not tell. What he did absently wonder was how these talkative people somehow always seemed to sus him out and decide he would make for an excellent conversation partner. The blonde managed to stifle his groan and continue smiling as he proclaimed that their mutual friend's concerns were valid. Whatever those were, Alkor could only respond with a throaty, "mhm."

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"I'm just trying to help her out of that rut, you know? She always came across as such a happy-go-lucky girl.. so when she came to me to let me vent about my shite, and I ended up opening the floor to her problems instead, I was pretty shocked to hear what she told me." Olive eyes shifted to look over at Alkor once more. ".. I'm talking about her a bit much aren't I? Don't know why.. awkward. Sorry."

A veritable flood of words caused Alkor's jaw to go slack as he struggled to keep up with the conversation. It was clear that there were important segments of relevant information missing on his end, and he couldn't fault the man for being excited about having to share something he had in common with... but when he said that last bit, Alkor couldn't help himself but to wholly agree. 

"Yeah, Lessa's great," he summed up his entire response in those three words and left it at that. "Look, I'll level with you, I think it's great she has plenty of friends and people who care about her, but as long as you don't decide to try and turn my face into a punching bag like a Neanderthal I really haven't got much to add."

He shrugged as he dismissed the pipe into his inventory. "I was one of the first people she met in this world so I guess she worries about me more than I'm used to people worrying about me, but honestly as long as she's got good people in her corner I'm content. I'm not a great support network, and I'm a shit friend, regardless of any kind words she might have about me. She's a godsend to the people trapped in this place. You have nothing to apologize to me for, but I have to admit, I don't keep up with her as much as she'd probably like and so I don't have a ton to contribute."

Alkor wondered if that admission would offend or dishearten the man, but the topic quickly shifted to the tournament, and was washed away before any of the aforementioned awkwardness could ensue.

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"Saw a bit of your fight against Koga. He's a good kid.. worthy opponent. Any idea who you'll be fighting in the next round?" 

He took another look toward the autumnal leaves as a gentle breeze washed across the pond. A ripple careened across the surface, ruining his reflection for the span of several breaths. "I wish it had lasted longer. There were things left unsaid between us, and I barely saw the depths of his potential," Alkor sighed wistfully. "As for who is next, no, I don't know them. I'm not concerned. I will bring my all to bear, and they will answer in kind or be forced to stand aside." 

Those words were sterner than he probably intended, but he made no effort to soften them. Instead, he shrugged. "Should I lose, it will be proof that I need to throw myself into my training again." In a moment of clarity and consideration, he added, "how did your first round play out?"

"Mmmm..." Alkor reached into his shirt and produced a pipe, which he promptly struck and lifted to his lips. "It's fine, I've had to tell the story enough times that I'm almost numb to it now." There were few people Alkor had seen since his near death experience who knew about it, but those who did demanded answers more intensely than Jomei had. Each retelling desensitized him a little more, but the image of magma burned into his mind still remained.

He watched the smoke swirl out from his lips.  

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 "I guess I wasn't really thinking straight. Then again, my mind has been a jumbled mess for awhile now." 

"...yeah, that makes two of us." Alkor saw the man dissemble into an anxious mess and decided not to give him such a hard time. He took another drag and closed his eyes again. "This place doesn't really do anyone any favors." He held the smoke in for longer than usual to let his thoughts blend together and bleed away from the forefront.

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"Probably should have just asked Lessa about it-" 

The words had barely left Jomei's lips as Alkor began to cough and hack violently, eyes bugged as he waved a hand. "What are you, crazy? That woman has enough on her mind, if she's venting about it you absolutely should not rehash the details with her." Alkor had lost his buzz, and with that defeat he stowed his pipe and sat upright. "My experience with Lessa is that she worries a lot and gets hung up on things. Things that don't make sense to me." He shrugged again. "Anyway, no, you did the right thing. I don't understand the first thing about women, but one of the few things I've learned is that if you don't understand what they're talking about, you just pretend you do and figure it out later."

Alkor closed his eyes when the man mentioned him sleeping. "I hadn't intended to fall asleep, but I suppose I used more energy than I thought during my last fight." Koga might have called those last words the understatement of the year, but Alkor maintained that in order to improve he had to push himself. To that end, a small rest afterward was acceptable. The dream that came with it was less welcome. He was finally able to force a tight smile when the topic shifted to Lessa.

Was the man one of her many friends, or perhaps something else? Alkor absently wondered if he was about to be punched in the face with no pretense, but the man called Jomei seemed more interested in actual conversation than barbarism. He grunted non-committally about whether he and Lessa were good friends- certainly, they were friends, but he was still terrible at communicating and their interactions were still rocky at best. Time would mend the rift between them, but it did seem that the woman cared more than he thought.

It tracked, though. Her last flame felt the need to lash out at him, and this man mentioned that Alkor was a topic of her venting. "Ah. That." Alkor glanced back toward the water when the mention of his famed demise in the ninth floor arose. "I was ready to die, more or less, at the time. Nothing to lose, at least, not the way I was thinking. It was easy for anyone to think I was being reckless, and when the boss closed its mouth around me I thought that was it, too."

Everything that happened thereafter did so on two divergent paths. The frontliners continued to clear floors, and some few Players mourned Alkor. He faded into obscurity, a memory for people who had encountered him. For Alkor, time stopped.

"The reality of death is a bit more forceful than the abstract notion. You can prepare for it your whole life and still not be truly ready when it comes for you. I'd convinced myself that when the moment came, there was nothing left. I'd fought the good fight, and I could go... wherever came next. But that's not what I felt when I was looking down it's throat."

He shrugged. 

"So, in a mad scramble, I made a bid to live. Teleportation crystal. Disappeared in a brilliant flash of light while I was still in the thing's mouth. Not my finest moment, but I'd forgotten about a number of things I wasn't ready to let go of just yet."

Alkor opened one eye and glanced at Jomei thoughtfully. "You make a habit out of asking people about traumatic experiences the first time you meet them?" he asked.

Their blows reached an impasse as the man hurried away, clutching the amputee in his arms. He didn't see if the potion were administered, nor did he avert his gaze from Setsuna at all. A moment with his guard down would be an invitation for disaster, especially at odds with an opponent like this one. "I don't," he admitted without giving ground. "But it shouldn't matter. One should always strive to find a solution better than the escalation of violence."

He knew that Setsuna did not agree, and he knew why she did not. "Every life is irreplacable, and we should not want to add corpses to the pile that this world has already created." They had spoken similar words before, and she had reaffirmed her devotion to the cause. Alkor had hoped he would never live to see her in the act, but fate seemed determined to spit in his face this time.

Alkor made no attempt to smile or change his expression. He was never a good liar, nor did he have any reason to try to appeal to the girl out of emotion. In this, they were two broken creatures shambling on opposite ends of virtue. Her rage met his determination and they gave no ground. "You look different, Setsuna," he said suddenly. 

But that was true of them both, wasn't it?

"I wish I could say I was glad to see you again, but given the circumstances, you'll have to forgive me the indiscretion."

The taste of sherry cake was a welcome reprieve from the Cardinal system's falsification of true flavor. The scent reminded him of home, and the sight of his family gave him a moment of excitement. They were there at the table, sharing Christmas dinner, talking... and his chair was empty. He could see his grandmother smiling at his sister, and his father and mother found their one day of civility a year. They found peace, unity, and happiness in his absence. The one eyesore in the family, their greatest failure, the man who had retreated from their world into the virtual. In that moment, Alkor recognized that the family had finally bridged their differences once the weight that held them down had been jettisoned. 

"That game brought our family back together," his sister said. He heard her clearly. His eyes moved to his mother, then his father. Neither of them denied it. "We'll never have to cater to that shut in again-"

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After a brief moment, Jomei would let out a small sigh. "You definitely found a nice place to slip away, huh?" he would ask rhetorically to the sleeping man. 

Alkor's eyes did not open when the man spoke, but his expression did shift from one of anguish to something more neutral. It occurred to him that he may have been followed, but he never considered what someone might say if they did. The voice was foreign, and so the intentions were as well. "It's not so bad," he replied, still fighting the remnants of his terrible dream. The shiver that had spread to the tips of his fingers now lingered there, hidden on the opposite side of his body from the newcomer. He dug his nails into the floorboards to ground himself as his slow breaths labored to bring down his heartbeat. "Though if you followed someone you knew wanted to slip away, I'd have to assume you had a reason," he slowly opened his eyes to regard the man with a cool, sideways amber gaze.

"I don't believe we've met." He would have remembered the face if they had, though he knew that he had seen this Player in passing at some point. "What can I do for you, sir...?" he asked of the man, as neither had given their name. It might give him a better idea about what the other man wanted, if not who he was altogether. Alkor brought his arm up to rest in his lap once the trembling had stopped, one hand draped over the opposite hip.

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 "You." 

Alkor felt the impact rattle through his entire body. If he had been a lower level Player, that kind of raw power would have torn through his defenses and felled him where he stood. Though his focus was on their environment as the true enemy, the man's experiences had taught him not to trivialize the strength of others. Murderers within Sword Art Online exploited the weaknesses of Players who dropped their guard. In instances where the world had offered them a reprieve, the nefarious Player Killers sank their fangs deep and drove poison into the hearts of others. More names for the monument. Less faces to return to the world they had come from. In a way, he understood the rage that drove the woman to do what she did; because at one time, the same all-consuming anger had driven his own blade.

The mist swallowed her form whole again, and Alkor knew that she would not leave it at that. His eyes found the youth who had lost an arm, and he summoned a potion from his inventory which he promptly dropped onto the chest of the wounded youth's terrified compatriot. "He's dying," the Dark man scowled. He didn't need to do more than note the rapidly dropping health of his witless ward to understand the nature of the wound. "Use that potion to stabilize him, but you need to get him back to a safe zone as soon as you can."

He heard the other man weakly attempt to refute his words, but Alkor knew better than to argue with him. If Setsuna wanted him dead, he was a Player Killer, or somehow associated with them. His cursor was enough proof of that. "I don't care that you can't get into a safe zone," he whispered hoarsely, watching for any sign, any sound that might give the girl away. The crunch of snow, or a print- where her stealth might be much higher than his ability to sense, the winter was an unexpected but welcome equalizer. "Find someone who can. The longer you argue with me, the less time he has."

It was grotesque, but the only opportunity he had to buy them time was to draw Setsuna out into a battle of attrition. They had to be bait, and he had only precious seconds to prevent her from capitalizing on that opening. It was a gambit he had to make, if they were going to live. "Now," he murmured, and then his voice raised, "go!" 

With any hope, the play would take the woman by surprise- but not nearly enough to keep her from taking the opening he'd given her. He started to toggle auto-targeting, utilizing the Cardinal system's assistance; and the moment that she appeared... he would hit the Charge command.

It was the promise of an introduction to the Commander in Braso that swayed him to venture westward first. What little the brokers had pieced together immediately after the floor became available indicated that this was where warriors went to hone their skills. It had yielded no fruit. Despite his best efforts, Alkor was barred entry and murmurs of "no outsiders" became the litany chanted from the top brass to the lowliest barkeep. "How it always happens, that is," an older woman nodded to indicate the soldiers occupying the city as the swordsman ambled past, shrugging off several layers of thick robe to wipe away the sweat that accumulated beneath. "They're as cold and unforgiving as the land itself to outsiders. You'll need to come highly recommended if you want the old man to even look your way."

Alkor shrugged off her words. If they meant anything, it wouldn't be something he picked up on. "Shame, that. A few green looking travelers passed through her not three bells past, just looking for a place to say. The innkeeps rushed them out and sent them on their way. Looked like they were headed into the mountains..." her voice trailed off a bit as her eyes glassed over, wistful. "...poor children," she tutted several times and turned back to Alkor, who sipped gingerly at his canteen. "These elements are harsh on the young bloods, especially if they're not used to the weather. I hope they can find shelter."

It didn't seem that the people of Braso were quick to kick people out of the city, but they were less inclined to offer them a place to stay. Curious, because that meant the area was largely inhospitable for the moment- until they met some kind of condition, perhaps? Alkor regarded the woman with a sidelong glance. "Nights must be harsh out there," he continued the conversation kindly as possible, though she would most likely not have cared if he deigned to be rude. The NPCs rarely did.

"Yes, of course," she laughed. "If they managed to live that long. See, it's the local wildlife and the brigands that haunt the wilderness what concern me." 

His gaze found the woman a bit more intently. "Some nasty creatures out in that tundra," she added. "Local legends and the like talk about vicious beasts that move with the wind, unseen. And the cutpurses have learned to use those folktales to line their pockets. It's the perfect crime, and what's more, the city guard haven't got the extra hands to spare-"

"That'll be enough of that, Lorraine," a man cut her short and curtly glanced at Alkor, wedging himself between the Player and his sole source of information. "I advise you to forget what you've heard here today, stranger," the man told him. "Braso don't need no outsiders in its business, leastways not outsiders that ain't proven their worth," he ushered the woman away, then turned his back to the Knight.

"Say a body wanted to find itself near where the last couple of outsiders ended up," Alkor called after him. "Which way would he head?"

The guardsman grunted and gestured roughly northeast. "You want to die, that's your business, lad, just make yourself scarce and don't rear your head round these parts again."

"I'll keep it in mind," Alkor shrugged.

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If his hunch was right, the "poor children" that the woman referred to were Players like him, quick to rush toward a place they thought that they could get stronger. They trudged into the deeper snows of the Western part of the floor without a basis of knowledge about what lurked there. The Brokers found out all they could, but Alkor had only received intelligence about Braso being the military power of the floor. This new tidbit about the environmental hazards, and the bandits- that didn't sit well with him. Where there were bandits, there were worse things. It could be that he was paranoid, but Alkor had to assume they were in above their paygrade.

It was strange. The wails of wind seemed to carry far, almost like the mountains were screaming. He stopped and took a cursory glance around, cautious to watch his flank often enough to avoid attacks from the sides or behind, but saw nothing. White out conditions robbed him of vision beyond a few feet ahead. No one should have been traveling like this, especially not with temperatures rapidly diminishing.  

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-RSELF TOGETHER!"

Alkor stopped. The sound of screaming had substantiated, and he could understand the words. Someone was being attacked. He unsheathed his weapon and trudged headlong into the blizzard, his own safety an afterthought.

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 "Show yourself, damn it, Fucking coward!"

With the situation worse than anticipated, Alkor felt his expression sour. He could see the crystal that manifested over the Player's head, a telltale amber signature that he had broken some law set forth by the game or another. It was a common result of Player Killers luring unsuspecting victims into the wilderness. Alkor had a thousand questions, but no time to ask them. Those had to come later. He could see nothing, and so, with nothing to target, he sprinted headlong into the fray and threw his body over those of the two Players screaming out for their lives. "You both stay down." His command was icier than the world around them as he stared into them with wild eyes. Exhilaration burned in his veins more than the fear of death. If there was an enemy here that might push him to his limits, he would meet that danger head on. "If you expose yourself to the threat again before I give the word, I won't stop it from killing you."

His eyes rose slowly, his body still crouched over the two Players with his cloak obscuring the better part of their bodies from view. His own form was a stain of black against the wicked white world, a target perhaps, but seemingly not a human one. The attacker would see nothing more than a sharp, lambent gold gaze peering out of that darkness, scouring the world for a target. He had seen enough- the footprints, though rapidly dissipating- collaborated a murder scene of significant scale. Regardless of who had started the killing, or who had been killed, Alkor was keen to end it.

"No one else is dying here today," he spoke softly, but the winter winds carried his voice far enough. He held his weapon to the throat of the Orange Player beneath him, discouraging any potential violent outbursts. The man seemed docile enough at that.

"Unless someone feels keen to test me about that," he added.

He found himself deeper within the labyrinthine compound, wandering far enough from the group that he could return quickly if called for the next round. Alkor was careful to go just far enough away to evade any unnecessary conversational entanglements. These large events only served to fuel his anxiety.

The reward he found was a beautiful panoramic view of autumnal leaves cresting over one of the myriad ponds that flecked the island's surface. Lazily, he leaned against one of the walls and slid down to a seated position before he finally lost himself in the colors.

With the light filtering in from outside, he took refuge in the shadows of the room. In a dark, cloistered off space where no one else could find him, just like the room he lived behind in the real world.

His eyes lost focus as he nodded off, and he swore he could smell cake freshly pulled from an oven. The familiar sound of birds chirping and a gentle breeze coaxed him free from consciousness, almost like he'd never been trapped in the death game at all.

In the comfort of that place, the young man was reminded of another time, in another world.

Alkor's hand lifted, outstretched, as he grabbed at something intangible. He groaned in his sleep, perturbed, distraught, but tried to grasp it once again. When his hand fell, the pain had twisted his sleeping face.

Alkor has achieved Paragon Level 28 (169,974 EXP) Alkor's Journal Link

Therefore, I would like to claim the following: 

Alkor blinked suddenly, as if he and Koga were talking about separate things. 

And perhaps they were. That seemed to be the case when he'd talked with Lessa on multiple occasions, where she had a very serious concern and he could only focus on very specific, not always relevant parts of what she was saying. Even when he was listening, it seemed, he was not always hearing. Or at least, he wasn't hearing what the other person wanted him to. He winced as Koga continued, reeling away from that initial conflict of ideas and attempting to refocus his attention. Clearly, while Koga had referenced Social Contract theory, it was not the point of his speech. Alkor wondered why he bothered mention it at all, but more than that, he picked up on the actual crux of Koga's words this time. He thought.

"You're saying that you're uncertain about motive, or impetus," Alkor reiterated, structuring his thoughts accordingly. "Alright, we can operate under the assumption that the means are irrelevant. The common nature of man is that of the follower, the man who refuses to break from societal structures and norms." In Psychology, they referred to the phenomenon as the Bystander effect. People were less inclined to take action unless they saw someone else do so beforehand. Heroism was not the norm in society. People taking a stand were an exception to the rule.

That was when Koga said it.

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 I'm willing to bet that, had someone not specifically started asking, pushing for them to act, they never would have. Isn't that what you were concerned about?

"Somewhat," he immediately snapped his fingers and zeroed in on that thought. Finally, they were close to understanding. "I'm less concerned about whether or not they take action, and more concerned that they are empowered to do so, should they feel the desire or need. This system, Cardinal- it doesn't advocate for anyone. The only society, only civilization that exists inside of this game is one that we create, and so I look with skepticism in the vein of Rosseau that people will seek to impose that same disparity on others in this place, where it otherwise would not exist. Already we see it in the form of 'Frontliners' and "everyone else." Do we let those terms create a broad subtext and class system? Or is it more subtle than that?"

He withdrew his hands and placed them palm flat on the table. "My concern is less with action than preparation. I don't want to see a revolution, because revolutions are bloody and people die. I just don't want to see the formation of a system that necessitates a revolution, either. And while I can't stop others from forming groups for the sake of survival..." his voice trailed off, defeated. It was this point that he always circled back to, the point that other people saw value in communal living and functioning as a group. Where he could no longer see anything but grim inevitability, they saw hope. That was the difference between Alkor and everyone else.

"...I suppose I can't help but put the cart before the horse myself," he muttered glumly.

Alkor glanced down when the young woman entreated with him to wake her up on arrival, and he offered a soft smile in response. They had already come this far, and if she was alive, that was a statement to her ability to survive. She had earned whatever small rest that she could get in these hectic times. "You'll know when we get there," he murmured quietly. There were people who hadn't caught on to the finer implications of their plan yet, but Alkor wasn't going to bother explaining. At this point, they had already committed to the ride and whatever came with it. His gaze swept over the screen of airships on the horizon, steadily growing larger. He settled into his position at the bow as the NPC continued to work with the rigging to get them airborne. 

"You said that the flight was going to be a one way journey," the man commented. "You seem a little too composed for someone about to die."

Alkor chuckled. "The world you're leaving is one you'll never come back to," he glanced back and offered the man a wink. "Regardless of what happens when we get to those airships, there's a new world on the horizon. Whether it's this Princeling or some other King candidate, someone is going to crawl out of the woodwork to sit the throne. It will never be the same Galtea, not the same Ladonia, it will be a culmination of your efforts, your sacrifices, and your ideals. This is your moment. You get to write what you want the future of this land to look like."

The man stopped for a moment and watched him carefully.

"Just what do you all intend to get out of all of this?" he asked at last. 

"Closure." He answered with no hesitation, and without a doubt in his mind. They couldn't get anything else, and he knew that he didn't want anything else. It was time to see this floor into a new age so that he could leave it behind and go onward to the next challenge. "You don't light a fire and leave it to burn. I want to see this through to the end."

He stepped out of the arena and summoned a towel from his inventory. With a ragged breath, he dabbed some of the perspiration from his face and neck before slinging the white fabric over one shoulder and hurrying away from the crowd that had gathered to watch. He wasn't the type to mingle or get heavily invested in social gatherings, and he didn't particularly like the idea of scouting the competition. He preferred to adapt and learn based on his own experience. He planned to continue on toward the beautiful lake view, but was stopped short when he noticed Baldur. He gave a stiff bow, careful not to make eye contact.

"Sorry about the training sword," he murmured dutifully. Since the man was already engaged in other conversation, he did not want to intrude. (It was also likely that Alkor just didn't want to become part of the conversation.)

He did not miss a step after the bow was complete, and turned to make a bee line toward one of the many bridges of the compound, where he would await the second round.

"Locke's interpretation of the Social Contract," Alkor gestured toward the other man, "and Rousseau's are two different things. Admittedly, you're following the logic of the version famously cited as the foundation of American law and political theory, so it makes sense that you're confused." He gestured for a refill of his drink. "Locke talked about the Law of Nature, that is, to respect all things according to life, liberty, and property- the basis for human morality. He posited that so long as those things were respected, it was in the common interest of man to be unified. Once a man's rights were violated, however, there came a need for change- which we saw manifest in the American revolution."

Alkor took his drink from the woman with a soft smile and took a sip. Still not the harsh flavor he craved, nor the release that came with it. Bittersweet. "Locke fundamentally considers property to be the point at which a man should not be violated. Not so for Rosseau. His treatise on the Contract posits that Society rose out of necessity. During its earliest days, it lacked the consequences that eventually arose out of it. Classes. Divisions between men based on their wealth or station. No longer was man equal under natural law, he was stratified based on the circumstances of his birth, his possessions, things which placed him above his fellows. Property was an inevitable cleave from nature." 

He placed the cup down, now watching Koga again. "They are two different wars, the American and the French Revolutions, born out of two different theories. Yet they both claimed to fight against injustice, against the violation of their rights. Locke's proponents lambast Rosseau's over the matter of ownership, but only a handful of years separate the two events. And between them, a single man fought in both, and saw both countries freed from their own brands of tyranny. Rosseau's proponents didn't look at the King of England and balk at Taxation without Representation, they saw men who felt that their positions had fundamentally changed, and that the society they had been a part of no longer served their best interests. Lafayette fought and bled for Americans because he believed in their right to determine their own destiny, to create their own society apart from the British. 'Man was born free, and he is everywhere in chains.'

Did people suffer...?

Certainly, the people suffered. By Jefferson's own words, 'the Tree of Liberty must needs be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Tyrants.' The same Jefferson who spent the majority of the War for American Independence in France." He traced the rim of his cup idly with a finger. "Neither country went into their respective periods of fluctuation or unrest expecting a peaceful transition. No one went in with delusions about there being no sacrifice. To be free, man must shed blood. Safety is no longer a consideration."

Alkor slid his thumb into the cup, pinched it and lifted it to his lips, then downed the last of the water with a contented sigh. His eyes found the empty vessel, and he turned it over. With one hand on the bottom of the cup, he rested his chin on the other. "Our societies wouldn't exist without revolution, just as much as they would not without law and order."

Floorboards rattled as though struck by lightning, and the subsequent thunderclap reverberated through the room. Alkor felt the shockwave shoot up his arm and rack his body with an intense shudder. The weapon had cracked already, put under the pressure of keeping up with the man. Another powerful swing and it would be compromised. These training tools weren't made for the intensity that Koga and Alkor had brought to the room.

When his next attack struck true to Koga's side, the bokken splintered. Shards of wood burst across the floor around them and left Alkor with the jagged corpse of a wooden sword.

He frowned.

"Tch..."

Alkor held the useless tool up in the space between them and regarded the other man. "Hard to practice swordsmanship with no sword," he commented offhand. The implication would not be lost on Koga. He took a step forward and thrust the sundered hilt to Koga's chest, leaving it in the other man's possession. In a much lower voice, not meant for anyone else in the room, he addressed his friend. "We'll have to go again sometime. This setting doesn't give us much room to cut loose."

With a step backward, Alkor snapped off a respectful bow to Koga, then turned and left the arena.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Alkor scores 

Koga - 1

Alkor - 3

It wasn't at all like the last time he'd fought someone in this world.

Brutality met anticipation in earnest. The wild burning in Koga's eyes mirrored the insanity in the blonde Knight's expression. As his opponent found his footing, Alkor surged forward. The pace wouldn't be allowed to slow at all, the cadence too hot and heavy now with their cumulative sacrifice. If either man stopped dancing for a moment, they would be swept up in the firestorm that existed only for them, in that time, in that place. With wicked wings fanned wide, the Phoenix stretched out its talons to rake the Wolf. Alkor charged across the distance Koga had made, assisted by the Cardinal system. He sustained as a blur of darkness for a heartbeat, and in the next, he was on his enemy once more.

He brought his weapon down on the other man approximately at the same time that Koga's guard would have risen once more. Either the weight he forced onto the man would put him on the back foot, or Koga would have managed to resist; regardless, it would have been a mockery to do anything less. Push each other to the point of breaking, test the foundations for cracks, seek growth. That was what both of these men sought. Neither man could compromise on that, or the friendship that they had cultivated would mean nothing. 

The language they used was different, but this was just another conversation between the two men.

Anyone watching might see the intensity between them, and the terrifying expression on both their faces. Like two demons, gleeful, wicked, and wild.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tie

Koga: 1/3

Alkor: 1/3

When the kick hit him, Alkor was heaved backward by the force of the blow. Unexpected, but then, Alkor had focused all of his training into the blade. There were many disciplines in Sword Art Online, and each of them gave a Player distinct and different abilities. Knockbacks and crowd control effects were commonplace in online games, and added a layer of difficulty to encounters. It meant a gulf between them for a brief instant.  It also meant that Alkor understood the nature of his opponent better, now. 

He slid out of his opponent's range this time, following the momentum of the blow, and brought his blade up parallel to the ground, level with his eyes. He dropped his level as Koga encroached, closing the distance in the span of a breath. There was no reprieve. There was never going to be. Alkor kept his muscles coiled, ready, and as Koga pounced on him, the swordsman twisted his body underneath his attacker. Instead of letting the man in close and giving him the advantage of being inside his guard, Alkor opted to overextend him. In this way, he retained his reach and gained a different vector to attack from.

If, that is, Koga didn't recognize it for what it was in time. Ducking beneath the blow afforded him a quick dodge that quickly transitioned into an offensive maneuver, with Alkor stepping out of the spin still in motion, bringing his blade around in a whip-like arc, downward and seeking his friend's exposed back. In this world, there was no pain. It wouldn't send Koga sprawling the way it would in the real world, but it was a very real response to Koga's opening remarks. Hopefully, it would not disappoint.

Attack: Tie

Koga: 1/3
Alkor: 0/3

Alkor had to shrug at that point. "I can't help how other people feel, or what they think is best for them. I don't intend to dictate that to them. God knows, I'm not anyone's dad." He watched Koga now, almost appearing relaxed despite the intensity of their words. "Protecting someone doesnt mean that you make those decisions. It means you do everything in your power to ensure they have the agency to make those calls for themselves."

He had learned the hard way that trust and teamwork came from exposure. In order to cooperate with someone, in order to defend them, they had to know your intentions. Even when they did, there would always be someone who saw the world differently. Sifting a hand through his hair, Alkor sighed. 

"The rift between being complicit and refusing to tolerate that tyranny is almost indistinguishable when talked about. I don't know about you, but I have my fair share of examples to go off of when it comes to taking a stand. I plan to try to live up to those."

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes again. 

"We can only give others the tools to survive on their own," he recalled a lesson from his youth, "what a man does with the gift of life is his choice to make."

He stepped into the ring with a training blade at his hip, immediately thankful that the first round was someone he could let loose with. Koga was like Alkor in many ways. He had a fresh outlook on their circumstances, and he strived to get stronger. There was no better opponent to gauge himself against. The man was clad in the garb of a martial artists and his chosen weapons appeared to be his fists. Alkor could hear the crackle and pop of Koga's knuckles and the excitement that sparked like electricity between them. With a wry smile, the Black Phoenix replied to the man's greeting with only the most gleeful bloodlust. There were no hard feelings in this place. There would not be any.

"Oh, excited is hardly the word."

Cue music

His blade erupted from the scabbard as Koga closed on him. Alkor had no intention of holding back or going easy on the man. They had both survived in Aincrad for this long. Neither man had any cause to fear death. Neither man had the right to withhold anything. The conversation was for their skills to dictate, and the blood that splashed across the dirt to record for the future. In a flash of skin and blunted steel, their bodies became a blur as the Cardinal System overlapped their movements, tracking input woven together with honed skill. 

Koga's attack came dangerously close, closer than previously anticipated. It took him a half-step backward to correct his positioning, and that was enough to offset his original intention to counterattack. No, Koga wasn't a simple cardinal generated enemy with predictable patterns. Alkor gnawed on his lip and bristled at the way he'd handled things, but there was no time to fully reflect on that now. Instead of beating himself up, he channeled that frustration and anger into combat, maintaining a more defensive stance now as he refused to back off of Koga and reset. Real combat didn't work like that, and neither of them was going to start over after making a mistake.

War was a commitment to facing danger. Conflict was gambling with death as a real possibility. If either man gave up a point, it would be no different from losing points from their health to them.

Alkor brought his weapon round and tested Koga's defense this time, much in the same way that his opponent had tested his to begin.

This time, they would have a more decisive answer.

While large group functions tended to fall outside of Alkor's itinerary, tournaments were the singular exception.

He considered his options immediately; because of his disappearing act on the ninth floor, there were still those who were unaware that he was alive. He'd avoided making himself too well known since waking up, but the chance to see where he stood against the frontliners who had come all the way to the twenty seventh was too good of an opportunity to pass on. That is, if there were any of them among those who gathered for what had been advertised as a "Valentine's Day" competition. There were lingering doubts in his mind attached to those specific words, but he knew the name Baldur well enough. He had heard Mari say it at some point, and Lessa too. The so-called 'Gaijin Samurai" was an established veteran. 

Leaving alone the pretext that came with his chosen moniker, Alkor had to assume that the man had some pull with his reputation. He approached the ferryboat where a man named Takumi introduced himself, and Alkor gave him the once over. With a hand outstretched, he offered col to the retainer rather than words. "Baldur-shisho welcomes all today, you need not pay me for my service," he intoned. And indeed, the Japanese culture considered tipping an affront, a subtle statement about the quality of the work and employer. Alkor steadily withdrew his offer of coin and simply gave a quarter bow, a sign of respect and dignity for the man's gracious services.

Given his choice of clothing and the golden hue of his hair, Alkor looked more like a deviant than the respectful, ordinary countryman he may once have resembled. Still, this was Aincrad, not Japan. Stranger things happened everywhere, every day.

"Just a few moments, I will bear you to the island."

The man neither waited for a response, nor did Alkor give one. Within seconds they were bound for Baldur's estate grounds, where the other entrants and the organizer himself no doubt waited. When he stepped off the chokkibune, the swordsman laced the thumb of one hand idly through his belt and surveyed the area. There was NIGHT, and Koga... and more people who he did not know. Perhaps he had met them, or perhaps not; if he had, it had likely been several years since he saw them or heard from them. The sight of Baldur came with immediate recognition, however. He was everything his reputation foretold: a foreigner clad in the trappings of a Samurai. Aincrad truly was a world where the future and past collided.

He gave a respectful bow to the man as he passed, as was the custom whenever one crossed paths with the patron of an event.

And then, he disappeared into the crowd to await his match.

The wolf invaded his space and subsequently rested its head on his lap, and Alkor glanced down. What an odd happenstance. He never really interacted with familiars, not other than the one he'd attained through that damned quest, and even then he didn't summon it. Something about being alone felt ingrained at this point. Still, he didn't make any move to dislodge Okami. He wasn't hurting anyone, after all. His gilded gaze moved back to Koga when he started talking again, and Alkor folded his hands on the table. 

"It's the people who are forcing others to do things that I'm skeptical of," Alkor pointed out. "I don't plan on doing anything else but taking responsibility for my actions.

There was a moment of silence as the woman came around again and refilled their drinks. In that time, he didn't speak or look away from Koga. The gravity of those words was enough in itself to drive home that they had reached an understanding. With more water in hand, the swordsman took a sip to clear his thoughts and erase the palpable tension. "I'm guessing by now you've noticed it, too. People in this world with invisible hands. The ones trying to move other people like pieces on a game board, treating the problems and emotional states of others like tools or toys." He cut right to the point, because now they'd wasted enough time on semantics. "Or maybe you haven't seen that, but you've noticed the ripple effect. People grouping up for the common good, unified by some visionary's ideals. People taking up the cause of righteousness, talking about killing other players for the sake of justice. In this mad virtual world, there are people who make their own laws, and in the worst cases, people who impose their worldview on others. I'm reflective about myself because I don't want to become like those people, but also because I want to protect others from them."

He took one more sip of his drink, then placed the remainder on the table. He would not pick it up again. With his arms folded, Alkor closed his eyes. "I saw the Rebellion in Ladonia. The people divided, the disparaged at odds with the powerful, and I was reminded of how all of these events were influenced by human history. Aincrad isn't just simulating things that aren't realistic, Koga. Humanity is a beast who exploits. Over time, we've developed civilization and domesticated much of those survival instincts out, but they're dormant, not gone. Kill or killed became rule or be ruled. 

You asked me what I'm doing here on Floor 20. I'm an outsider. The large groups of people, the whole society and civilization thing- it's never really been my scene. Everything I've ever been told points toward me being the strange one and condemns that innate drive toward isolation, but... everything I've seen compels me to distrust all those things I was told."