[SP-F4] The Essence of Steel

[Azide 0]

It was poetic, he thought, that he should find himself here today. It would be blatantly dishonest to deny that he had lost some of the fire which had burned upon his return to form; now, here he was- on the coldest of floors. Though he had never attempted the experiment, he wouldn't be surprised if this frigid tundra were capable of freezing even the most passionate of flames. He swept the barren snow-covered fields with a discerning gaze, narrowing his eyes as a point of interest was spotted in the distance. What it might be, he couldn't say for sure. But something was lying out there in the snow, half-covered, and he was getting tired of trudging around without so much as even the most minor of leads.

[Azide 0]

Fire had driven him to the forefront of the front-lines nearly half a year ago- he had risen to prominence over the span of a few months, driven by nothing more than a desire to become the best in all of Aincrad. Fire had driven him to chip away at the secrets of alchemy, and to hone his craft until he had become arguably the most skilled alchemist in the field, rivaled only by the orange player Mari. It was fire which had hurtled Square One into the spotlight, and which had once made it so promising as a fledgling guild. So what had coursed through his veins as he'd reintegrated himself after a five-month hiatus? The answer was all too obvious.

Edited October 13, 2015 by Azide

[Azide 0]

Thirty skill points and seven level levels later, he now sat at a respectable level thirty-one- all over the span of a couple of weeks. It had been a short-lived renaissance of fire which had lifted him to relevance in the first place; for a while, no matter how brief, he had felt as if nothing could stand in his way. The looming deadline of a confrontation against a certain titanic Crusader had pushed his back against a wall, and made him hungry for every ounce of strength he could scrape together. Hell, he had even enjoyed a stint as a freelance contractor, doing odd jobs more for the experience than for the money. All in the name of cultivating his own ego. And for what, ultimately?

[Azide 0]

For one, the hot streak had earned him a mastery of the dagger; in that short span of time, he had clawed his way from the lowest rung to the highest peak. The final step to grandmastering had managed to elude him for a while, limiting his damage potential to what turned out to be a mere half. But even that rift had been crossed, and he had only furthered said capabilities by channeling his continued efforts into the charge skill. The Iron Guardian had fallen victim to his razor-edged blade, and the Sea Wyvern had only served to add another body to the grisly count. And yet, why could he not say that this had not all been for himself? That his actions had not been motivated by a selfish pride?

[Azide 0]

In hindsight, the answer to that was rather simple: he could not bring himself to deny such a blatant truth. All that he did, and all that he had done- at least in the context of this past month- it had all been done in the name of his own stupid pride and ego. Down to the last skill point, he knew that none of it had been for the purposes furthering the clearing efforts as a whole. With every day that passed, the idea of actually clearing all one hundred floors of this damned place seemed more and more like a pipe dream than an outcome to actually expect and prepare for. No longer was he the leader of Square One- a noble organization which had so desperately worked towards bettering their ranks. Everything that he had once worked for had all been for nought in the end.

[Azide 0]

So where was a man like him to go from here? He had neither the taste, nor the appetite to join either the Crimson Blades, nor the Velvet Room. Though the leaders of both had been made known to him, he knew himself too well to entertain the idea of swearing himself to their judgements. They were a pair of perfectly upstanding guys, Mack and Lowenthal. But at the same time, he had no interest in hopping aboard trains which were inevitably destined to either crash or peter out. Perhaps if Lessa had still been around, he might've resigned himself to a quieter life, serving a quieter life as a well-intentioned Guardian. After all, he had already gotten his day in the sun. But Lessa was not around, and so he ended the thought there and then.