Edmond's Journal

[Edmond 0]

NAME Eto, Hibiki AGE 44 GENDER Male RACE Japanese HEIGHT 6'2" WEIGHT 170 lbs BIRTHDAY April 2nd "Wait and hope." DOCUMENTS sp tracking chronology

A BURN SLOWER THAN CANDLELIGHT Eto Hibiki is a man that has given up on life. Cursed with mediocrity and battered by responsibility, there are precious few places in the world that he feels he truly belongs. The world was not made for people like him, who toil in futility and dig through the dirt for the scraps of the world's blessed. To his perception, even rays of briefest hope are soon extinguished - fleeting teases and sweet nothings to keep his reward system barely sated; convincing the primal drive of his alligator brain that his big break is soon. His hair greys and thins, and often isn't even worth styling beyond the lightly gelled and hand-brushed bare minimum to appear presentable to the powers that be. There's no pride in the stress-induced crow's feet and dark circles that, year after year, grow in definition as he fights tooth and nail to live a life he can die proud of. When Yakuza slashed up his face as the result of unpaid debts, fear kept him in line. With a wife and child to mind the safety of, keeping quiet and doing his best to soldier on and shrug with a musing of, "It'll get better," was all he would do. Immersing himself in literature and games was his only true saving grace - the escapism of fiction could solve any problems. Edmond, however, is nothing like that. Every wrinkle is in place, every scar intact, greying hair clumsily swept; yet there was no shame borne of mediocrity. The long coats, dress shirts and suit pants he wore betrayed a desire for elegance otherwise not present in the other self. The difference between Hibiki and Edmond is slight, but vital - the latter no longer has anything to lose. He can no longer be killed in a way that matters, and very little drives him. To become a workhorse for anybody but oneself is foolish, and should be discarded as a consideration without hesitation. A man like Edmond is best left out of the spotlight, where he can be underestimated and left to his own devices, working for his own interests independent of a world that had long ceased to value him. In the digital hellscape he and all in sight have been confined to, he does find a light amidst the dour - the thrill of battle, of putting one's life on the line, of gambling lives for glory or for survival - that truly creases his paling features into joy. He lives to share stories of triumphs in times most dire, and to hear of the victories of others who understand his passion. Each player that dies in battle is but another piece lost on the board, another statistic caused by the sick machinations of Akihiko Kayaba; yet simultaneously, each life lost giving it their all is worthy of commendation and respect. It may seem sick in its own way, but Edmond is never happier than in moments of chaos and struggle, seeing the aspiring heroes of Aincrad fight on with all they have, and emerge victorious or be crushed into dust. Heroism and villainy in spectacular amounts alike are required for a good story to reach its peak, and he sees it as his obligation to tread the line between both. There's certainly an inherent bias as to which side of morality he prefers, though it's likely that even he no longer knows which that is. He moves forward through the game after idling within it for so long, sighing his determination into a mug of beer at the bar, setting out to level up with those words in mind. "Every story has to end some day." HISTORY Spoiler   If asked directly, Eto Hibiki would call his life a tragicomedy. Sadly, even he wouldn't be able to deny that such a description would be deflection and nothing more. His life story wasn't the most unique in the modern day, not with how many could share his template. He slid through his schooling with dead average grades, met and lost friends, fell in and out of love, and found an office job that provided him with inoffensive income and stressful overtime hours. For quite some time throughout his life, the man had fallen into a spiral of belief that he would remain this way and endure the remainder of his life as a lonely statistic. There was no world in which he knew different, so despite the growing urge day by day for something else, he'd just kept on keeping on with the grey dullness of the suffering mundanity he'd always known. That was, at least, until he met Aya.  She'd saved his life. It wasn't love at first sight, and like any relationship, it had concessions on both sides. No argument divided them forever, though, and that trust of oneness built over years. Her blunt and straightforward nature cut through his anxious cynicism, and filled even his worst moments with color. She'd share her love of American action movies with swearing, violence and cigarettes, and he'd share his passion of literature and RPGs. They would even play MMOs together, which became a short term experiment in which Hibiki would improve in his raid knowledge while Aya grew to realize, after one too many wipes resulting in colorful language thrown her way by their parties, that a place like that wasn't for her. In Hibiki's case though, he took great interest in the empowering feeling of improving his raid performance week after week.  Eventually, after years of living with growing savings, Aya suggested two things in rapid succession that would turn her man's life upside down twice - that they should start a bakery, and that they should get married. Both of these floored him, but perhaps as a result of contagious optimism, Hibiki agreed to both. The wedding was brief and quiet, and the bakery was a dream come true. Life was progressing in such a bizarrely positive way that, shortly after establishing their business, a child was conceived. Reckless and impulsive were the best words to describe their chain of decisions, yet in those days, they felt unstoppable. Even as the increasing cost of another mouth to feed in the form of their daughter, Saya, and the lower sales month to month as regulars declined in frequency, reality had not truly set in until bills were shoved into their face. It wasn't long before Hibiki had to start not only begging for loans, but for extensions on those loans, from unsavory types. Demands for repayment started off as merely firm words, but the escalation to violence against him didn't take long. When their daughter would inevitably ask about his wounds, he would put on an unconvincing smile and call them his 'battle scars'. It was around this time that Sword Art Online was recommended to him by an old drinking buddy, and like everything else, impulsiveness took over. Regardless of expenses, Hibiki ensured that he and his wife would be ready to play on launch day, and the promise of a VRMMO inevitably pulled Aya in despite her prior experiences with MMOs as a whole. In the downward spiral that life was becoming, a short break of escapism was just what the couple needed. The launch, naturally, progressed as it did. In the earlier days, as reports came in of floors cleared at great sacrifice as deaths climbed, it was Aya who first brought up the idea of grinding levels and gear to help the frontlines clear and return to their daughter. In a fashion as if the universe itself decided they had to be punished for thinking such things, this would prove to be the worst of their impulsive decisions. It was while in the middle of combat against the very first monster they would ever come across - no challenge on its own - that the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps from behind caused their hearts to sink. As Hibiki looked back, it was the day he would forever remember what the color orange meant in regards to this world they were in. For the first time in his life, his instinct of flight over fight had proven beneficial to himself, and only to himself. The briefest flinch at the last moment meant that the paralytic arrow meant for him instead stabbed his wife in the back. She fell, and it was all he could do to turn back in time just to see the beast they were fighting reduce her health to zero. It was insultingly anticlimactic, the speed at which she crumbled into data as she looked back in horror. Fear was her last expression, and it was a face that Edmond would never forget. Filled with resolve and quaking anger beyond anything that could've ever boiled to the front in reality, he turned to see the archer already nocking another arrow with a smirk, training it upon Edmond as two other heavily armored players drew their weapons with excitement that revealed madness. Rushing forward with his sword and screaming something he can no longer remember, Edmond struck the archer - the trio very clearly allowing it to happen to prove a point - and indeed proved a point of crushing despair when all of the wrath of a husband seeking vengeance resulted in single digit damage. Sword met ground as the man realized that he would meet his end here, the archer bringing the arrow to aim towards the bridge of Edmond's nose. It was over. At least, until the sounds of growls from behind bushes rang out. An entire group of monsters rushed forward through shrubbery and began their assault, at just the right time that even now, Edmond reflects back on it as divine intervention of some kind; perhaps the will of his wife to live on. At the time, though, it was pure chaos. He sprinted away with all the strength he could muster, the trio of murderers prioritizing the greater threat over more of their fun. By the sounds of things, they had likely survived that fight without much issue, but Edmond would never know. After that day, he refused to leave the comfort of a city. For some time, he descended into drunken ramblings, sitting in empty rooms and failing to avoid the spiral that was his degrading mental state. He'd idle in bars every day, doing his best to keep up the spirits of the aspiring heroes starting on their paths - only to, more often than not, never see or hear from them again. Edmond could almost remember the first time it didn't hurt - some kid who boasted of grinding enough to move on to higher floors so that he'd be strong enough to lead his own guild and become a raid leader on the front lines in the future. Contrary to his usual response, the man gave no nod of encouragement or words of half-hearted cheer as the boy left the bar; he wore a face of stone and returned to his drink, and sure enough, the boy's friends returned some days later with words of tragedy. Yet, was it tragedy? No tears fell, even though the drunk knew he had some left to give. Instead, unlike any response a sane person would give, he chuckled. "Moths to a flame," was all he would muse into his beer before requesting another.  Eto Hibiki had been dying for some time, but that truly was the day that the last of him departed. From that point on, life as Edmond was easy - hear the stories and ambitions of the naive, see them grow, and watch them struggle. Would they overcome their weakness, or crumble? The man remained as low a level as one could be, but saw himself fit to judge others regardless. He was content this way for some time, growing gradually more numb to the losses of people he would once plead to stay cautious and safe. The life of the town drunk wasn't the worst, when it meant he wouldn't be hurt again. It was fine that way. Until one day, when he began to hear word of orange players going on newbie crushing hunts for the simple joy of it. Of the deadly archery of their leader, and the brutal rushdown tactics of those he recruited. All at once, Edmond relived his wife's death, her face, and the wide grin of her killer. It made him think of his daughter outside the game, living her life never knowing the truth. Maybe she was even being threatened by those same debt collectors that had hurt her father. People like that archer existed in the real world just as commonly as they did in the game. What was once a hobby of escapism had become a worse hell than anything reality could have dealt Hibiki. With thoughts of his family in mind, Edmond rose from his seat in the bar with vigor that had perhaps never been in him until now. He thought of the frontlines, and of how if Aincrad truly had one hundred floors, the game had not even reached its halfway point. Many had already accepted this as their new home for life, wondering if they even had bodies to return to. To Edmond, it didn't matter either way. With fire igniting in his eyes for the first time in his life, he gathered himself and departed. He would do his part to bring Aincrad's story to a close.   VIRTUES & FLAWS Spoiler   Virtues Composed: As a result of the time he's had to reflect and process the state of SAO and his place in it, the current Edmond is a very composed and collected individual. He works well under pressure, and unless brought under the control of an affliction, is not as prone to panic or wavering morale as many can be. He lives in a constant state of acceptance that any encounter could be his last, and has already made peace with the thought. Perceptive: Despite what might be thought of him, Edmond is perceptive to the world around him. He's the sort of detail-oriented devotee that many strive to embody, and pays close attention as he crosses fields and traverses dungeons. This also doubles as social perception, having experience both with customers at his bakery in real life and as a frequenter of bars in Aincrad. Getting a read on others and clueing in on their feelings and intent is, at times, second nature to him. Decisive: When Edmond is set on a goal, he will move forward to achieve it. He believes there's no room for hesitation in Aincrad, and that if the game is to be cleared, it'll require drastic action both on his part and that of others. There is no room for doubt or half-measures in the world he lives in now; to leave matters unfinished is an insult to those who have already given their lives for victory. Flaws Cold: The other half of Edmond's composed nature is the coldness of it all. For as much as he can calmly push forward in dungeons and labyrinths, he holds little regard for his allies. To him, they're expendable pieces that he'll shed no tears for, and will encourage others to treat such losses the same way. In his view, deaths will always happen in an MMO in great numbers, and the only way to mitigate such things is to use their efforts as stepping stones to progress. Sadism: If there's an emotion other than spite that Edmond still displays, it's most often joy. He takes great joy in seeing aspiring heroes grapple with their beliefs, struggle against overwhelming power, and suffer with the inevitability of failure and setbacks. He's grown numb to the deaths of the innocent boastful, and respects those whose deeds surpass their words. Those that fall short and give false hope to the naive are deserving of a chuckle as they pass on, in his view of things. Blunt: To top off everything about Edmond's views towards others and the entertainment he derives from the struggles of others, he makes no efforts to hide any of it. At all times, he makes it perfectly clear what he wishes to accomplish and with what methods. This doesn't mean he says everything he's thinking, but rather that when in a place to give his input on a situation, there is no filter. Put simply, while he acknowledges how awful he sounds to others and even himself, he no longer cares to see anything more than the heart of an issue. His obsession with clearing the game has left him in a place where he isn't afraid to let everybody around him know where they stand in his eyes and why, if prodded.   SKILLS Spoiler N/A INVENTORY Spoiler   Set D | Support Package: 3 Starter Healing Potions (Heals 50 HP) 2,000 Col 25 Materials

Edited December 27, 2024 by Edmond

[Morningstar 0]

Approved!