Chapter 4: An Odd Name (Patreon)

On the other side of the road was a scantier body of woods opposing the one behind Zed. Its trees were dry and rough at a glance. They lacked leaves or any particular girth, and he saw through them very easily. It was as though the one he’d just left had stolen and drained whatever nutrients its counterpart was meant to live off.

It was almost pitiful.

• You have [Pocket memory (incomplete)] (who am I?).
• Would you like to unravel [Pocket memory (incomplete)]      (who am I?)?

Zed shrugged. “I guess there’s no harm in—”

• Unraveling [Pocket memory (incomplete)] (who am I?).

“No, no, no, no,” he panicked, waving his hands at the notification, his mind running to what had happened during his advancement a moment too late. “I didn’t—Arrrrghhhh!!!”

He fell down on one knee, gripping his head with his free hand as a flood of memories exploded like a thousand suns. Like the memories he already had, they came in bits and pieces, broken pieces of glass embedding themselves into soft tissue.

In the myriad of flashes, he garnered bits and pieces of information. Little tidbits of knowledge that explained him better than he could ever know.

There was a memory where he was a loving father. He had eyes as blue as the endless ocean and hair like sand of sea shores. He had a child he loved and a wife he’d lost to a sickness he could not remember. The memory was as hollow as it was broken. He could see every aspect of it but it looked like a façade, felt like a theatrical failure. As much as he was the father, he mostly watched a father love a child.

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

The memory shifted without completion. It ripped Zed from a broken world of a father with his child and drowned him in a corpulent body.

Zed found himself standing in a suit in front of a crowd of terrified people. Men in uniform, armed with sufficient enough weapons to wage a small war stood before him, and he wasn’t sure if they guarded him or terrified the crowd he addressed.

“We are not here to terrify you,” he was saying, and seemed to believe his words. “We are here to protect you. However, if terror is the only way to protect you… Then we will wield your terror and cast it about us like a cloak.”

He was vile and reviled. He was an enemy to a multitude. A leader and a tyrant. He was a ruler opposed by rulers of other lands. But he did not bend. He did not break. And as monstrous as the world viewed him—as monstrous as he was—he continued to do what he had to do because he knew one thing, believed it deep within his wretched heart: he was necessary.

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

Again, the memories dragged Zed, ripped him by the seams, struggling for dominance over a single mind, and in his head vertigo waltzed with pain.

Zed became a soldier ducking gunfire and risking his life in the evasion of bombs and knives and motor shells. He ran in a world of chaos and panic where life teetered on the balance of the wind. He lost friends and comrades, slayed enemies and helped in the conquering of small camps. In this life, however, he did nothing of note. When he was pulled from it, it wasn’t so violently.

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

In a new memory Zed was an old man who’d lived out his life in wars and fighting and survived. He came home celebrated in the quietness of pinned badges and handshakes. Sadly, those he had suffered for did not care for him. They did not check on him. They did not stay with him. He was forgotten, a relic of a hard time no one wanted to remember.

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

Then Zed became a calculated monster.

He was a ball of fury in a skin as dark as night and a body as brutal as the one he owned. He lived in a world of war fought under the guise of dark nights and small espionages. Most times he was calm, calculated, a boiling cauldron of rage left buried deep within until it was needed. And it was needed more often than he liked.

In this memory he earned monikers for his actions. He was feared by his enemies and his name was spoken in soft whispers and fearful dreams. He was the threat even his own people feared. In his calculated disposition he was The Concierge of Death. And while organizations feared The Concierge, the ones who sat in the camps and the buildings, those who held the guns and pulled the triggers, those who stood in the dirt and grit and destitution of it all, feared a greater monster than The Concierge.

They feared The Berserker. The monster with an arm of runes and a mind of steel. A moving army of one.

There was a misplaced touch of loyalty in this memory, a touch of comradery as well. But there was also loss and grief, and an ending undeserved. There was magic, too. But what was the beauty of magic against a backdrop of so much pain.

When Zed was drawn from it, he was glad.

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

Then a new memory enclosed Zed, and he was a boy.

He dreamed of magic and a quiet room, studying a gentle book of pseudo runes, pretending to achieve small breakthroughs and advancements. He was a child that dreamed of super heroes with capes and the command of the world at his fingertips, saving the weak and vanquishing the evil as most children liked to dream.

He felt the touch of smiles faked in an attempt to belong and genuine smiles when he belonged. Then there was a smile that belonged to someone else. A beautiful smile. Its presence eased the pain in his head and brought a tilt to his lips. It was gentle as autumn winds and soft as worn silk.

• Memory hotspot detected.
• You have received a memory hotspot.
• Unraveling memory hotspot.

The memory swirled and turned and Zed sought out the smile as he was guided away from it.

Then he was elsewhere but still the same child.

“What’s wrong, little one?” a female voice asked, halting his determined advance on a laughing girl. Its smile was so gentle it touched him through the memory.

“Jenny took my book,” he grumbled in a small voice, petulant.

“The one with all the pictures of men fighting?”

He nodded aggressively. “Mhmm! The men on the side of justice.”

“And where’s the book now?” she turned to ask the girl.

The girl shrugged, nonchalant. “I lost it.”

“See! She doesn’t even care!” Zed complained.

“Oh, Zed,” the woman with the smile said softly, and his petulance weakened. It was in the way she said his name with so much care. “And now you want to hit her and hurt her and make her cry.”

Zed folded his arms angrily, his petulance more feigned than genuine, and nodded.

“How about you forgive her?” the woman asked.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Cause I don’t wanna. She’s a bad guy, and the good guys never let the bad guys win. They fight and kick and fly until they win.”

The woman’s smile waned slightly and Zed felt bad for what he’d said even though he believed it. All the good guys did it, after all. They fought the bad guys until they won.

“Would you like to know a secret?” the woman asked after a while.

Zed nodded.

“You see,” she continued. “The reason they continue to fight is because it is the right thing to do, even if it is difficult; to keep each other safe and stop those who want to harm other people is always right. It would’ve been easy to sit at home and let the bad guys win. In fact, that’s what they wanted to do.”

“Really?” he asked with a touch of disbelief.

“Yes, really. But that was easy. So they chose to stop the bad guys because that was the right thing to do, the tough choice. Sometimes, the right thing to do is the hardest thing to do. And to be like them, you need to pick the tough choices.”

“Like now?”

“Especially now,” she smiled. “And right now it would be so easy to go after your sister and kick her as—chin. Wouldn’t it?”

He nodded, sensing a twist in her words.

“But forgiving her will be right and tough, won’t it?”

His nod was slow this time, reluctant.

“So what are you going to do?”

“Forgive her,” he pouted.

“And why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

She rubbed his head. “Good boy. Now, don’t worry about the comic book. I’ll buy you another one. Which one do you want?”

He jumped up, excited. “I want the new one, with the mage that fights with those tiny colorful drawings that look like words.”

“Ah,” she touched a hand to her lip. “I don’t know that one. But I’m sure we can find it. We just have to…”

• [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] is corrupted.
• Unable to unravel further information.

The memory melted away and the pain in Zed’s head melted with it. The last words he heard were his own, soft and happy.

“Thanks, mom.”

• Memory hotspot is corrupted.
• Information review terminated.
• Unable to view [Pocket memory [Incomplete)] (who am      I?).
• Unable to unravel further information.
• Attempting to recover information [Pocket memory      [Incomplete)] (who am I?).
• Attempt in progress…
• Estimated recovery time [???????].
• You have viewed [Pocket memory (Incomplete)] (who am      I?) 1/6.
• You have [Pocket memory (Incomplete)] (who am I?) 0/5.

………………………

Zed took in slow breaths, regaining himself.

The pain had been harsh but momentary and his head was clearer now. But he’d gotten a lot of things from the reward. He thought of his personal information and it opened seamlessly.

The new information wasn’t much but it was all he could hope for. After all, it carried what was important.

Melchizedek Nyborn

• Specie: Human (Mana blessed).
• Category: 1/3.
• Rank: Beta (category 1).
• Exp to category 2: ??????????/??????????

Skills

Titles

Attributes

• [Equilibrium] (Physical, mana).
• [Regeneration] (Physical, mana).
• [Hypersensitivity] (Physical, mana).
• [Bone density] (Physical)

Affiliations

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• ?????????
• ?????????
• ?????????
• ?????????

??????? ????? ?????????

“Melchizedek Nyborn.” Zed stared at the name for a while, then frowned. “That’s an odd name.”