Demian

@Edict “Godless? Maxwell, all of Aincrad is godless.” what an interesting way to continue the conversation. demian chose not to pay too much attention to the fact that edict had guessed some amongst them were more computationally binary than others. the spiel was based on the idea that there was a lack of divinity amongst them: demian, having chosen the words he did, felt vaguely conflicted about edict’s rambling. and yet, for every opinion, every observation the player seemed to be making, demian had been wondering fervently, in the sea of his subconsciousness, if he should be

@Edict “Please sit! I came here to feel a little less lonely, but it turns out the masks are having the opposite effect.” "strange," demian replied, as he fiddled with his mask carelessly. "to me, it feels like a piece of armor, even having driven a curated persona on the daily." he leaned in, gesturing for a handshake towards the other. "i'm maxwell. it's a pleasure to meet you." he poured over his memories for anything regarding the dye quest on the twenty-first, but came up with nothing, even by his eclectic memory. "so it is," he presumed, lending the other the benefit of t

Lv30. B he wasn't quite sure what got him agitated recently. no, he understood why. he just decided he didn't like the way the system was eating him up from both ends. if he was looking to be consumed, demian decided he'd rather have the choice of it, a sacrifice at an altar rather than prey separated, hunted, lost in the wild. his gaze flicked over to the players seated. few were engaged intimately, captured in hushed conversations. there were many more that seemed singled out, alone, as though waiting for others to approach them. he thumbed his mask as he walked, a horned devi

he doesn’t need to turn and see what has happened to it. there are predictable outcomes to every decision made in this world: the lion will roll forward upon landing, headfirst, before coming to a halt as it slinks back into the brush, camouflaged in its habitat resplendent. demian will take one step forward in response, wrangling away from the system’s fight to his hold. with its eyes trained on him, it will circle the proximity of at least five meters, maximum ten, and within an interval of three to five seconds of buffer for a hypothetical player to reorient themselves within, it will signa

it charges, pounces; the leap made with its hind legs powerful kick dirt off the ground and presses down golden stalks horizontal. demian watches it, feels time slow at the tips of his fingers. cardinal outlines the shine reflected in his eyes as the sun, radiant, hidden behind the shadow of the predator peeks through to greet him: the white light curves in his limbal. he drops his shoulder, blade arm set to the side as the nemean threat exposes its underbelly, its weakness. he knows, on instinct, how to best strike had the system not imposed rules upon itself. as grids take over his peri

their scene returns to a regular speed. the lions’ pride crashes to the ground. it roars at the provocation, found pinned to the ground, and picks itself up as the woman jumps back from her close proximity to him, the grip of her sword held up high, its tip facing downwards. her silhouette from his angle is undefinable, blocked out by most of the inorganic material her sword is firstly forged from. she shifts through the brush, sinking back into its obscurity, and rounds their challenger with careful footsteps. their mark trains in on her. here is their diversion, then: the man move

Demian | L32 | HP: 740/740 | EN: 92/92 | DMG: 19 | MIT: 204 | ACC: 7 | AA | F-SPIRIT | EVA: 5 | BH:37 suddenly, he strikes. through the exposed eye of the man, the world steeps in monochrome. hatched lines trace every nook, every cranny, over hills and valleys of the underbrush. on his fingertips, they trace the ground beneath them just as well. the sun burns white in his vision, and he sees the world in slow motion: there is a lion before them, of the nemean variety. beyond their pouncing predator, he sees traces of the others of its pack: lionesses, adolesce

DAY OF FLOOR TWENTY NINE FLOOR BOSS FIGHT, TWENTY SIX MINUTES BEFORE FLOOR BOSS COMBAT WAS INITIATED. demian scanned his messages beyond solving day’s ciphers. bistro had left him a message prior as well, and he simply hadn’t responded. he chose to continue that trend as he drifted around, familiarizing himself with his newfound location. cardinal had chosen to place him atop the lighthouse. the same one he had shuddered over thinking about the man in the cage, and the same one he left with night only several weeks ago. but the dates were now different, and so must’ve been his object

demian eyed his uptime. “that’s not funny,” he scowled, tracking the spawn points of the great flood. there was no reason to target bistro upon her entrance to the twenty-ninth, so he figured, and that was what annoyed him the most from the ordeal. for he had deduced the radius of which their enemies had spawned from, and hence drawn the conclusion of an area of effect. this wasn’t a warning. this was the game trying to kill her by overwhelm, and this was demian’s way of fighting against the change in the rulebook. because the last time something this severe had gone wrong, the world

Demian | L30. | HP: 600/600 | EN: 93/93 | DMG: 19 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 3 | MIT: 36 | BH: 30 | LD: 1 | AA DAY OF FLOOR TWENTY NINE FLOOR BOSS FIGHT, THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE FLOOR BOSS COMBAT WAS INITIATED. demian woke up with a terrible start. it must’ve been late. the sky was of a dark pitch, and he hadn’t packed up his food cart for the day yet. something registered in him. demian had never once passed out. it took him a moment to realize that where he had been positioned, he’d been slumped against the glass walls of a

unfortunately, he wasn’t. "enough," demian replied, still. he was liken to play the scenario by ear, and had thought of his compadre the same. there was time to regurgitate the details on the way there, he decided, if need be. "though my lot is about two players in particular. if there were more — well. i'm not entirely responsible to be accountable for them." his eyes flicked over to ikeno. "we should still be helping them, however." demian hadn’t missed a beat. he kept close to the player, two faune unremarkable that joined the tide of others easing into the gardens

thread closing. NIGHT + 6764 xp | (470 * 16 * 0.7) + 1500 + 2514 col | (xp * 0.15) + 1500 DEMIAN + 2487 xp | (470 * 3 * 0.7) + 1500 + 1900 col | 1500 + 400

“why does it rhyme?” night queried aloud. demian but rolled the answer in place, jiggling at the padlock and hoping it would give. it wouldn’t. given the lack of their final number, all he had to do was run through the digits from 1 to 9 until it would give way. the entire time, night had murmured the riddle under her breath. twice, and he had made it to ‘4’. no luck. on ‘5’ — “i’ve got it.” demian moved aside, handing her the lock as she drew in close. he hadn’t seen her answer, but he must’ve been close, he figured, if night had taken only seconds to get the hatch open. the wo