Alesh is a Sword-wielding vanguard who deals Cryo DMG.
BASIC ATTACK: An attack with up to 5 sequences that deals Physical DMG. As the controlled operator, Final Strike also deals 17 Stagger. DIVE ATTACK: Basic attack performed in mid-air becomes a dive attack that deals Physical DMG to nearby enemies. FINISHER: Basic attack performed near a Staggered enemy becomes a finisher attack that deals massive Physical DMG and recovers some SP.
Hooks a block of ice and slams it to deal Physical DMG to the enemy target. When hitting a target with Cryo Infliction, Alesh consumes all of the target's Cryo Infliction stacks, forcibly applies Solidification to the target, and recovers some SP based on the number of stacks consumed. This SP recovery effect can only trigger 1 time, even if the skill hits multiple enemies.
COMBO TRIGGER: When the Arts Reaction or Originium Crystals of a nearby target is consumed. Opens an angling hole beneath the enemy that deals Physical DMG and recovers some SP. The skill has a chance to hook a Rare Fin that greatly increases the DMG dealt and recovers some more SP.
Alesh hooks a fin of unbelievable size and slams it to deal Cryo DMG and apply Cryo Infliction to enemies in a large area of effect in front of him. He recovers some SP on hit, with additional SP gained for each target defeated.
Assign to Control Nexus to grant all operators' Mood Regen +8%
Reach E1 to unlock
Assign to Control Nexus to grant all operators' Mood Regen +12%
Reach E3 to activate
Assign to Reception Room to grant operators a small Clue 1 Rate-UP: UWST (activates upon assignment; effects of the same type cannot stack)
Reach E2 to unlock
Assign to Reception Room to grant operators Clue 1 Rate-UP: UWST (activates upon assignment; effects of the same type cannot stack)
Reach E4 to activate
Battle skill Unconventional Lure improved: SP Recovery grants an additional 10 SP.
Strength +15, Intellect +15.
Combo skill Auger Angling improved: After catching a Rare Fin, the entire team gains ATK +15% for 10s. This effect cannot stack.
Ultimate One Monster Catch! improved: Ultimate Energy cost -15%.
Ultimate One Monster Catch! improved: Hitting a target below 50% HP increases the DMG Multiplier to 1.5 times the original.
CODENAME: Alesh GENDER: Male AUTHENTICATION: United Workers' Syndicates of Talos II DOB: September 1 RACE: Anaty [ORIPATHY INFECTION STATUS] Oripathy positive (infected), based on medical examination reports. [INTEGRATED PHYSICAL EXAMINATION] PHYSIOLOGICAL STRENGTH: Standard COMBAT SKILL: Standard TACTICAL ACUMEN: Excellent ORIGINIUM ARTS ASSIMILATION: Excellent There are plenty of things we can learn by studying Operator Alesh's Originium Arts. He probably used the Arts to create a fin-like construct from memory or a figment of his imagination. The fin is unlikely to be an entity "summoned" from another dangerous or unknown dimension... I guess.
Operator Alesh is currently an angler and fin vendor. He is now working at Endfield Industries following the recommendations of our UWST liaison "Seagull". After evaluations, we believe that the operator is capable of serving as a liaison or covert ops agent in the frontiers. When Operator Alesh arrived at Endfield, he placed a fresh fin of unknown species on my desk. It smelled of the sea and exhibited a bright sheen. When Alesh realized that I do not require any dietary proteins, he immediately offered to perform taxidermy on the catch and mount it on the wall to commemorate our meeting. After a moment of silence, I transferred the fin to the Chief Logistics Office, completed his onboarding process, and signed a regional liaison agreement as well as a covert operations agreement. He summarized his understanding of his duties with this line: "Angling, but not for the roast." Preliminary observations: Alesh exhibits adequate adaptability to our work environment, seems incredibly at ease with himself, and displays no other obvious anomalous quirks. Professional stability and performance will require further observations. — Martin Marvin Malen, Assistant, HR Division, Endfield Industries
Ahem. Hello people. I'm the new candidate consultant for angling strategies and instructor for hobby angling... Never heard of it? Ah. Yeah, I think some boss man prolly misread my resume and decided to hire me. Maybe he sneezed and got me approved. I'm just an angler and fin seller, you know. It's also possible that your Endfield system got too many loopholes, since a freezer can get treated as frontline combat hardware. Anyway, I got in. Okay. Since no one is shooing me away, I'll try to share my true knowledge. It's not going to be engineering or tactics. I'm talking about Angling. Don't underestimate Angling. It's outdoor meditation for true anglers. Those who don't know anything call it old boy's excuse to be lazy. I'll tell you about angling with the Endfield lingo. It is a miniaturization of a tactical operation. You got a bait, a hook, deception, and patience. So, who ends up slipping? Who gets hooked? Who becomes bait? And who enjoys deep fried fins on the shore? It's all about luck and vision. Now let's take a look at two basic terms — float angling and bottom angling. What is float angling? It's just scattering the bait in the water and looking at your float. You may think you caught something when the float moves a little. But when you lift your rod with excitement, you realize the fin never bit, and is in fact "laughing" and blowing bubbles at you. Some fins just take two bites and swim away. And some don't even like the bait. They just snag the line a bit and take you for a fool. It's like a turf battle. The bandit gives a funny look and you think he's about to make a move... But turns out he only remembered that he forgot about the spices for the fin stew. Angling is not about mysterious techniques. It's all about not snapping your rod after twelve missed pulls. So what is bottom angling? You dig a hole for yourself and then sink a bait. And then ... nothing else happens. The fins just ignore what you did. Maybe they'll roll their eyes before moving on. I used to know a gang advisor who is an expert in bottom angling. He always says: "Stop moving, son. They fear you more if you stay still." So, Senhor Advisor would spend all day on his second-hand rocking chair while they break our legs out there. And then he would squint his eyes and go: "Look. The enemy has taken the bait." — Take the friggin' bait. I hope the old bastard shits rocks and dies. I was the friggin' bait. Got a little carried away. Anyway, angling is a great sport. Just start angling if you wanna know how fun it is! In my humble opinion, it is far healthier than sitting here looking into the cold, dark space... So your question is, why am I even here? Decent canteen food and no one's clocking my naps. Pretty nice place, actually. — Alesh's contribution to the Hobby-Sharing Get Together
DOCUMENT: Alesh's Daily Routine 06:00: Wakes up. Prepares angling gear and bait. Sharpens the hooks while mumbling to himself: "Gotta really hook these fins today." 06:30: Sets off. Throws some fin bones to the cloudbeast strays in the streets. 06:45-09:15: Morning angling time. Finds a place where water flow is slower. Waits patiently for the fins. 09:15-10:00: Wraps up the angling gear. Checks his catch. Inspects the conditions of the caught fins. "Special" catches are set aside for other uses. 10:00-12:00: Fin stall morning shift. Fins are arranged neatly in a specific number of rows and directions. These details matter a lot. 12:00-13:00: Lunch time. Roasted fin over fire. Eats while glancing at his handyterm. 13:00-15:00: Takes a nap or walk. Sometimes goes off to the wharf to review his angling skills, or sits on the bench to talk to strangers on proper angling spots. Jabbers on and on while making the fins restless in the water. 15:00-17:30: Fin stall afternoon shift. Continues selling fins while observing the passers by for any "familiar faces" that shouldn't be showing up. 17:45-19:45: Night angling at deeper waters. Final push during sunset. Specifically targets "great fins" that tend to be cautious and alert. These specimens are most active during sunset. This is also the time when enemies are most likely to make their mistakes. 20:00-21:00: Dinner time. Organizes his catch for the day. Records the angling results and daily "fintel" he gathered from all that talking. 21:00-22:00: Rest time. Relaxes on the balcony and gazes at the stars with his only eye. Occasionally gets reminded of those eventful nights... The turf wars are distant memories, yet they also felt like undercurrents that could suddenly snag him while he angles. 22:00: Prepares the bait. Checks his angling gear. "Who'll be the fin for tomorrow?" Anecdotes about Alesh The new liaison arrived at the secret locale at the corner of the wharf for the first time. The owner of the fin stall laid motionless on a bench with a book on his face. The fins being sold had been laid out in a specific arrangement — grayfins faced north; red cupras were paired, and tucked away at the corner was a strangely patterned whitefin. The liaison blinked as he worked his mind to recall the fincode he memorized. Struggle as he could, he failed to read the intel. Just as he was about to call the headquarters, the stall owner tossed him a fin with bits of crushed ice. "No great fins today," he said, "Settle your nutritional needs with this one." The liaison was stunned for two seconds before he accepted the fin and nodded in gratitude. He walked for around thirty yards before turning around and looked at the stall again — The owner laid on his bench as though the transaction had never taken place. Report of the day: Situation normal. Intel is accurate and ... pretty reliable.
The Popper Tactic was first proposed by Operator Alesh. Its theoretical basis was based on poppers, a type of lures often used by hobby anglers. According to Alesh's extremely detailed yet unverifiable explanations, the popper is a fake, buoyant fin. Poppers are meant to dance, glimmer, wag their tails, annoy, and finally piss off the foul tempered big fins to the point that they burst out of the deep. Simply put, poppers do this: "Dun wanna move? Whatever. Watch me pollute your turf, play dead, and nab your stuff till you come out and beat me — And then you'll realize that I got a co-star on stage with me." What? I need to explain what happened recently? Oh, that was just a basic covert ops job. Convoy needed to get through Route 17 but that LBs love the place. The bandits seized cargo, kidnapped people, and even took over radio stations. Late Night Traffic Radio literally became a stinking cesspit of crude breakkae. I was about to go fix my rod, you know, when I got the mission notification. And when I read the words "basic covert operations", I suddenly got overwhelmed by work procrastination. Anyway, before I left for the job, I took a look at the map and mumbled: "Ugh. Let's try the popper." Of course, nobody knew what I was talking about. Convoy probably thought it was some new weapon and they agreed without thinking. The naivety is astonishing. I mumble something to myself, and people went along. Anyway, it was something really simple: We dumped two trucks by the road and dressed them up like they broke down, along with a few crates of "firearms". Eh, don't get too excited. The crates were filled with bricks. We even sprayed "Class I Hazard" on the crates to make it look real, you know. And then we played an "SOS recording" with a trembling voice. Shit is for real, man. More real than that empty rod in my previous angling run. And the first breaker mob came as expected. They paced around the setup like a beast lured in by fresh fins, and got all hungry and excited. Everyone of them wanted a piece of the "free takeaway". It wasn't even over. I tweaked the SOS radio louder and the second mob arrived. The first group of boys got really pissed. They went from "I wanna bite" to "You're not getting a bite". These blightheads didn't even bother to greet and went straight to all out war at each other. Just like wild, rabid cloudbeasts scrapping for a fin. So the crew hid behind the slopes and enjoyed the breaker show. We even commented on their fighting styles while snacking on dried fin roasts — Man, it was buggly as hell. I remembered hustling as a harbor punk when I was a kid, and I still fight better than these dudes. When the battle winded down, we swooped in like professional crime scene photo-takers. Take some pictures and clean up the entire place. The dead, the disabled, and the maybe dead or disabled. Anyway, the breaker war didn't leave many who could talk. So the entire convoy got through. Some trucker even told me: "Bro, that was some masterful covert ops." I said: "Thank you. My OG plan was to look at the skies all day. Didn't expect an entire school of fins to show up." The biggest take away from this was me verifying a principle — Everything is like angling. Make things up along the way and finprovise. Way better than making detailed plans, IMO.
Lemme introduce an old friend of mine. Wait... Yeah. I think we're old friends. Anyway, the story begins with my least favorite angling style — Drop-n-Yank. Drop-n-Yank is just like what it says. No lures, no baits, and no waiting for the fins to bite. Drop the hook, yank with all your might, and hope it stabs into something that you can plop in the bucket. They call it angling, but it feels more like violent muggery to me — Absolutely zero patience or technique. One hundred percent deadly. I saw the technique for the first time at an abandoned wharf. An old angler with scars all over his face dropped, yanked, and man, it was aquatic murder. Blood everywhere and the poor fin was still flapping. A bunch of kids and I learned how to drop-n-yank by hiding behind the barrels while chewing on tortillas. That was how I "met" my old friend. It was my first time doing the drop-n-yank and I pulled the thing up from the water. But it fought back and tore itself free. I couldn't forget that bloody wound and the disfigured eye. Ugh. I can still feel that eye staring at me. Of course, I didn't bother with human-fin relations back then. People have to angle when they get hungry, and we can't help it when things get ugly. When I was a punk kid, we lived like fins stuffed in a can. First thing we do in the morning was a headcount to see who survived and who got "devoured" by the streets. Stealing, mugging, and lying? Those were the survival techniques. We negotiated with fists. When you have to drop-n-yank for fins, you know how rough it was back in those days. Then some guy showed up. One that didn't treat us like feral wildlings. He taught us how to negotiate properly, how to step back a little, and how to protect those around us. He even handed me La Estrada. Told me that someone has to do something different for the city. I believed him, you know. Maybe I can clean up the biz and make a name for myself. Nights got real quiet in those days. I would sometimes angle for fins at the wharf. That was when I saw it again. It became a great fin. The monstrous thing always fought back, always broke free, and always swam its victory circle. It was laughing at me with that ring of ripples. So I fought with people in the day and the fin at night. And it lasted till ... my two most trusted friends gave me "Game of Gangs the Reality Show" plus a ton of backstabbing. They were like two insane raptorfins trying to off each other, and I paid an eye to get them to stop. On the day when the gang broke up, I sat at the wharf to see the waves breaking against the wall. We painted graffiti together as kids. Now there was nothing but froth. Our friendship became a dead fin. Scaled and scraped clean. That was also the day when I realized it had become an old geezerfin — Old dude also lost a lot of weight and its scales were falling off. The injured eye had already turned entirely white. It leaped out of the water and stared at me coldly. It was laughing at me and telling me how I deserved everything. I thought it was our last meeting. But just two days ago, I ran into the geezerfin during night angling after I closed shop — It was full moon and I knew old geezerfin bit the hook. Man, I know that deadly strength anywhere. The battle felt like it lasted a hundred years. You should have seen the splashes. Feels like Maymay testing out her explosives underwater. But I was the victor of the struggle. The line did not snap and I hoisted geezerfin out of the water. It looked way bigger than it did during its prime. I was about to lower it in the fin crate when I saw that — there was nothing on the hook. Even the bait was still intact. Did I actually hook the thing? Did it just come and leave? Or was it just my unresolved angst and dilemmas that used the cover of night to show themselves? I finally understood when the last ripples disappeared. "It" was no longer a simple fin. It had become my lingering disappointments and obsession, an embodiment of "what ifs" left behind whenever I see someone leaving or dying early. I even toyed with the idea using the Originium Arts to "hook" it out in its entirety — I knew its form, its wounds, its actions, and even the way it stares at people. It's living with me, and it's way more alive than it had been in water.
Huh? Is it my turn already?
Since you're around, we're definitely catching something today.
Ah... I sprained my ankle yesterday... My hips hurt, and my neck, too...
You got plenty of heavy hitters already. Sure you need me for the job?
Hmm. Looks sturdier than a bamboo stick. At least this one isn't going to break into pieces.
Now this will keep the bruises off me.
I actually survived a whole week of special training. Can't believe I managed to work that hard.
This beats what we had on TV back home, plus it's fresh stuff every time!
Hold on — this ceremony's for me? Oh wow ... what do I even say? I-I guess ... thank you?
No need to keep encouraging me like this, Endmin. It's weird, but praise actually makes me wilt like an overwatered flower.
Must be tiring taking all this responsibility on your own, Endmin. Ahh. I guess I got no choice but to help you for now.
Why are you looking happier than me? I thought this is *my* promotion. Okay, then. Let's celebrate at the churrascaria. I only want the best BBQ cuts, and you're picking up the check.
Excuse me, is this where we sign up for the job? Nice meeting you. Name's Alesh. I like to read, and I can do angling with my eyes closed. Happy to be on board.
What a beautiful day. Perfect for my nap.
Empty wallet, story of my life...
Ahh... The moment you say "work," all my energy just evaporates. I vote nap before task, Endmin.
Yo! I bump into you all the time. How's work today?
Boss, don't you feel tired? I can teach you how to sneak in a nap, you know.
Nothing's left on the schedule? Great. Time to catch that angling show rerun.
That place. Yeah. That one all covered in snow. It's the north, right? I would not be seeing this if I never joined Endfield. When I first got on Dijiang, the view from the bridge was almost too much to take in. Now that I'm used to it, looking down at Talos-II from up here feels pretty magical.
My combat skills? I just swing the sword around and hope it hurts something real bad, boss. But you can also learn my special skill after fighting giant Tuskbeasts, man-eating vines, full metal Aggeloi, and dudes who owe you serious money.
You see, folks my age get bored of a lot of things. Angling's the only escape I've got left from all this grim reality. Wha? I'm still young? Cut the buggerloid crap, I'm way older... Wait, Endmin. How old are you again?
I've been flipping through this book about common folks. Y'know, stuff like survival and humanity's struggle doesn't usually interest me... But I feel the author is like ... like someone who actually lived the life. Ai, what's wrong? Why so serious all of a sudden? Relax, Boss. I'm just saying I admire the author, that's all.
Being hard to kill is probably my only advantage. I got hit real bad a couple of times, but there were too many people I might miss — like my buddies, the old landlord ... and you guys as well. The thought alone always makes me crawl back up for round two.
Here, Boss. Got something nice for you. The shop got this fifty percent discount if you buy another. A great steal, right?
For me? Holy... I usually get love letters from butt-hurt punks asking me to pay up or guys who want to kill me. Never expected to get a real gift.
Feeling low? Man, young people should be hopeful. I know things are terrible, but it's going to get worse from now. See? You're feeling a lot better already, right?
Why did I join Endfield? My old wooster landlord. That's why. He's always angry, you know. My fin shop isn't doing too good and I owed him months of rent. So he got me a job without asking me. Don't know what he wrote for my resume, but you accepted it... So here I am.
What's that in your hand? "Second Gangster Leading La Estrada"...? The cara in the photo looks like me? Eh, who's to say. C'mon, we should live in the moment. No point digging up what's meant to stay buried. It'd be a shame if we let some old dusty story come between us, don't you think? Uh, why are you asking Perlica for the Security Bureau's number?
I used to roll with Estrada Ursaña. Most called it La Estrada. The city's a huge place that breeds small-timers like me. I grew up in the city's armpit, found my crew, joined a bigger gang, and somehow ended up leading it. Then, well ... everything blew up in my face. Man... If I knew I'd end up like this, I should've joined the fin cannery twenty years ago. Now, here I am, selling fins for a living.
What's with the stare? Curious about this scar? Hah, a man with stories doesn't hand 'em out easily. What's behind us stays behind. Gotta let it go and just walk on... Ai! Endmin! Don't really walk away! Okay, okay, I'll tell you — it's nothing fancy. Had two ride-or-dies. One took a swipe at me when I was covering for the other. Lost an eye and a chunk of my old life right there. There you have it. Simple and boring, right?
Life isn't like angling. You can always retrieve a cast lure when angling. But in real life, there's no easy way out once you're in hot water. *THIS* is exactly why livin' the happy life is important. True legit wisdom from an old boy, Endmin.
My little fin shop isn't doing too well. I couldn't even afford rent without that Endfield paycheck. Honestly, I wasn't expecting to make serious bucks selling fins. That's why I let people haggle all they want — and even run tabs if they need to. Even when I got lucky with angling I simply gave the extra fins away. Life isn't easy for everyone, you know. There was this time when a thief visited my place. The sneak found nothing valuable and left me a note. "Sorriest place I've ever seen." Man...
Here's my philosophy of life: Tolerate the little things and dodge the bigger things. *Only* do something when dodging is impossible. Then you give them hell and make sure they stay down.
Is the eye giving me trouble? Yeah ... it can be annoying sometimes. For example, you were standing in my blind spot when you greeted me just then. Haha. It's okay. I'm already used to this. Perfect vision isn't that exciting. Maybe it's actually better to keep certain things in the dark and make them ... mysterious.
The tarot show yesterday predicted I'd be super lucky today. And guess what? I fell into the stinky sewers right after leaving my place. I was like, "Man...! Most inaccurate tarot show ever." But then I spotted something shiny in the muck — a diamond ring. So hey, maybe I was lucky after all. Felt bad for whoever lost it though, so I used my super luck to find this poor guy and returned the ring. What I'm saying is, Boss — if we use our luck to do the right thing, maybe even more luck will come our way. You agree?
I lived in the messy frontiers, you know. It's where kids either grew up with a stinking family or without one. Not sure which one's more screwed up. Me? I had no family, no education, and no roof over my head. So yeah, I ran with the streets. Spent my days brawling with other kids just to survive. We hated each other's guts, but all the threats force us to make funny choices. Somehow we got together and created our own family. Funny enough, we even carved our own rules on that lawless turf.
The old landlord wrote me again. He wasn't asking for rent, but he's curious about my recent situation. Even called me a lazy good-for-nothing who can't take care of myself. Man, hard to believe he was some big deal during his younger days... Waaaiit. Why does he care so much about me? Is he trying to make me his son? Dude, I'm already funding his retirement by paying rent— wheelchair chauffeur duties aren't in the lease. He kept whining about his knees... Maybe I should give him an auto-massager. Seriously, this old man needs to look after himself instead of pestering me with this nonsense. Plus, if he's so worried, he could just drop in instead of guilt-tripping me through letters.
Talos City has a special meaning for Talos-II. After the Humiliation War, the Big Three signed the Band Accord and jointly built Talos City. It was the first neutral city for the Terrans. That's what the history books say. A grand city, still incomplete after a century of construction work. Maybe I can describe it better: "A wizened, graying man who raised his lance and pointed at the sun beyond the hills." A lot more cultured, right? Well — I didn't waste no time reading Ursine novels.
So you're curious about that strange fin I caught? Now that's a long story. I grew up fighting, not reading. Couldn't even say "Originium Arts" properly when I was a young punk. When I just lost my eye and was feeling all dazed and confused, I sensed something swimming around in my blind spot. It got really annoying when I was angling, so I cast my bait real hard and — "BOOM!" You know what happened next. Old man told me I got a talent for the Arts. I don't know if it's a curse.
Probably should take a look. Maybe it's worth something.
Looks valuable. Guess we're gonna be rich.
Careful. There's something weird nearby.
Watch it! That one can rough you up real bad.
Can we actually sell this?
Shiny stuff. Let's get some more.
Lucky. Turned out the tarot show is legit.
Looks like ... magical stuff. Can I take another look?
There. Nice and clean.
I had a great nap. Time for some serious action.
Your meds! Catch.
Phew. I thought I was done for.
Hey! Get out the way!
Not enough to take me down.
I'll do ... whatever it takes...
Feeling great today, eh?
A good gang makes it easy.
Just doing my job.
The gang made it happen.
Time to keep my eye peeled.
Do it your way. I'll keep you covered.
Things got a little intense, but we nailed it.
I don't even feel tired.
Not bad. Everyone did their part.
That was close! Still gotta say — a win's a win.
Don't sweat the loss. Let's just be more careful next time. We've got this, yeah?
Take this!
Stay down!
Come GET some!
Simmer DOWN!
Time to CHILL!
Time to retaliate, eh?
Ready to wreck these punks.
See what BITES!
Outta my LINE!
Don't trigger my FIN!
I just chummed here!
Gotcha!
Have fun being the bait!
Go enjoy your snack!
