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Chapter 105: Lock Slaveborn
🕑 Added 2024-08-03 01:02:37 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
***
I don’t know how long I cried for.
“Warrior,” Khan said gently, his voice like the last seconds of a rockslide. “Our time grows short.”
That broke me out of the stance I’d been in.
And for the first time since I’d been captured by the [Player’s Guild] and subjected to torture I didn’t even know the name of, hell, didn’t even know they existed, I stood on my own feet. I walked over to the other log of my own will and sat down –not out of fear– but to talk face to face with another being. It didn’t matter to me that he wasn’t a mortal being, that he was a literal god of a videogame world made incarnate, nor that he could be a figure of my imagination –induced by trauma.
No. What mattered was that in my short time with him, he’d dealt with me in good faith. Warrior to warrior.
I made a choice of my own. Because I wanted to. Not because I was forced to or threatened into it.
“Speak.”
Khan nodded. “Oung has asked me to heal you. But I cannot, you know that, do you not?”
Memories came to the forefront of my mind, unbidden and unwelcome. There was that prey-instinct again, telling me that there had to be a way out. For me to crawl on all fours and look for the nearest darkest hole I could hide myself in. I realized that my breath was quickening and the fire in front of me seemed to be shaking.
“I…” I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. Was I rocking myself back and forth? Without even realizing it?
Was I this broken?
I steeled myself, pushing the memories away. I closed my eyes for good measure. “What does she want me to do?”
"Good." There was a pleased manner in his speech, one that I couldn't quite put a finger on. "You do not look for excuses on why you cannot, but simply face what you must do. As for what she wants you to do..."
“Nothing, beyond what she has already asked of you. She has asked me to heal you, but I could not. Since I could not heal you, how can you owe her?”
Frowning, I opened my eyes to see Khan staring into the flames. But was that a smile I saw on the corner of his lips?
“But you-”
He held up a hand before I could finish. “I did nothing. All I did, was stand here while you cried, warrior. You are not healed. You are still damaged and broken.”
What he was true, in a sense of the word.
But he had bought me precious time and more importantly, a peace of mind. A space where I could function again, albeit not be back to who I was, but know that it was possible. He let me be, he let me rest and he let me eat by myself. He showed me a possibility that one day I could be healed. The gods of MSS didn’t work like this. It was the law of equivalent exchange, one favor for another.
Why would an orcish god help me and claim not to have helped me?
“I don’t understand.” I said finally.
“Oh? Do you not?” He picked up a stick and stirred the flames, causing embers to drift up lazily into the sky. “I have neither touched your mind nor your body. When you return to whence you came from, you will find that your bodies still bear scars, both old and new. I have not blotted out the memories you have of your torture.”
“Yet, here you are, on the road to healing. Not because of what I did, but because of a choice you made.” He sent up more embers drifting into the sky. “We, the gods, have done nothing, Lock Slaveborn. You took the step, albeit a small one. But you took it nonetheless. You were neither pushed nor coerced.”
I closed my eyes. “What step?” I spat bitterly and I was surprised by the hate that filled my voice. “I still remember the touch of the blade on my skin. I still remember the wicked sharp points of the needles. I still remember how it felt as he flayed my skin, inch by inch and strip by strip.”
“It will take time, child.” Khan said soothingly.
“Then how can I be healed?” I laughed, callous and cold. “I begged for him to kill me. He took everything from me, what made me human. Even now, when I think about… about the things he did to me, I shudder and my fucking brain wants nothing more than to hide in a dark hole in the ground and hope to die peacefully in my sleep.”
Khan said nothing.
“You have to heal me.” I said finally, desperation creeping in. “Block out the memories. Anything.”
“No.” He replied.
“Why not?!” I didn’t scream. Not quite.
“Because you are already tied by the strings of Fate. And as impressive is the amount of Fate you wield, a direct touch on your life, you would pay too heavy a price. You would be beholden to me, to Oung.” His eyes, two miniature burning suns, turned to me. “That is not healing warrior. That is avoidance.”
“That’s a price I’ll pay.”
“Oh?” He questioned. “Then I will have to erase everything that reminds you of the torture.”
I stopped.
“Think, warrior.” Khan continued, his voice low and dangerous, the ground quaking before an earthquake. “How did you get captured? Who were you trying to meet? Who were you with before? All the events leading up to the day of your captivity, all the comrades who occupied your thoughts for even a sliver of a moment during your suffering, those are all interconnected webs, webs I would have to sever and cut.”
“You’d have to erase my memories of everyone.” I whispered, feeling like someone had just pulled the floor out from beneath me.
“Yes.” He said simply.
What he said made sense.
I didn’t like it.
But it made sense.
“Do you still wish for me to block out the pain, young warrior? For me to ease your suffering?”
God. I wanted to say yes.
Coum’s face came to me. Those flat, emotionless reptilian eyes, watching my face and asking the same questions over and over again as the blade sank into my skin.
But there were good things too.
Thinking of Aurora’s courage as the shielder of our party made me persevere for an hour. In response to her memory, I had gritted my teeth and endured the pain without a word. Remember Skaris, the war-hungry lizard beastman made me scream out in frustration at Coum, vowing to rip off his limbs one by one. Kyrian made me keep silent, lest the pain made me give something away. Stole returned me to a time when I was still on earth, and I insulted Coum with every witty comeback I could think of.
But more than that. I remembered that stupid time when Skaris almost set fire to our hut. When Kyrian cooked a bowl of stew, it was the foulest thing I’d ever tasted. The orcs, dancing and singing at night, impossibly lonely and beautiful. The vast sky full of stars and dreams –the same sky which was present when I left the Samak Desert and was present here in the Free States of Jayu.
The feeling of excitement as I entered a dungeon –knowing that possible death lurked around the corner.
Yes, my memories were tainted by things I’d rather not remember.
But was it all that bad? When there were so many other good things I had experienced?
“You realize,” Khan finally said. “Only a fool would burn down a forest, because of one bad tree.”
He was right.
Coum had me for a day. Only a day.
Was I going to let my life be decided by a single day? Or was I going to base it on everything else?
We got through a lot of bad things in our lives. A lot of unimaginable bad things. Parents going through a divorce. A fight with a friend. Death of a sibling. Death of a friend. Death of a parent. And sometimes, those bad things affect us physically. Falling off a bicycle. Getting hit by a car, breaking an arm or a leg.
And each time something happens to us, it takes a little bit of us away. We lose a little bit of the innocence that makes us young. Because we become familiar with pain, we embrace it as a part of life an inevitable result of trying new things. Then we avoid it. Because like I said, our brains are not hardwired to welcome pain. It wants to avoid it.
That’s why we stop trying new things and stop challenging ourselves. Even if the pain is nothing more than unkind words from a stranger or a judgemental look from someone, our minds just want to avoid it. We became hermits, living in our own little bubble. For some, this bubble was the same group of friends year after year. For some, it means the same routine, night after night. Same dinner, same breakfast. And for some, it means never straying from the path set for us by those who walked the painless path before us.
School. Job. Marriage. Family. Death.
I’m not saying those are bad things, not at all. Those are good things and have meaning. I don’t think there’s anything more meaningful than spending time with your loved ones.
But for me, if I gave into this pain and started to avoid it, it would mean the same thing as if I had gone through with erasing my memories.
I wouldn’t be able to travel with Skaris and Kyrian. I wouldn’t be able to teach Stole how to become an adventurer. I’d never enter a dungeon again and I sure as hell would never be able to pick up this sword again. I’d live a drab life, not aiming to explore all the secrets that MSS has to offer, which was the least of my worries.
I’d just… exist. In this world. Knowing that I could’ve had home and just kicked it away. Because I based my life upon one day, a single day, and decided to avoid anything that might remind me of it.
I’d just stay in a house. In a room. And just…
Just be by myself.
I did that once before, you know.
And I can say with sincerity, that I’d never been so alone in my entire life.
The answer was clear.
“...Thank you.” I whispered.
“Again, I have done nothing.” Khan said jovially, then his voice turned low again, warning me. “You are on the right path, warrior. But you are still hurt. Broken. It will take time. Time for your to test yourself against the memories, again and again. There is a great chance that once you go back, even the sight of the room will be too much for you.”
I thought of my comrades. “I’ll do what must be done, to get back to where I need to go.”
He smiled. “A true warrior.”
The sky rumbled and then snapped, distant rumblings of thunder filled the sky.
The orc deity looked to the sky. “Oung cannot keep you here longer.”
“Wait, I have questions. A lot of questions.” I became desperate. Khan was much more willing to talk than Oung. Perhaps questions that no one could answer except the gods, perhaps he could answer them.
“I cannot answer your questions about why you have ended up in our world, nor why your kind, the Travelers, work against us.” Khan answered. “That is outside the rules. But there is a wiseman among my people, the seawolves.”
“The Seawolves?”
“They have the answers you seek. About us, the gods. You, the travelers.” He stood up, walking over to me.
And suddenly I grew afraid.
I don’t know why but his demeanor changed. From a gentle grandfather just talking to his grandson to that of an orcish commander, a general who had seen a thousand deaths and his eyes screamed bloody violence. His shadow grew longer and I swore the deity grew larger before my eyes. Ten feet. Fifteen feet. Twenty feet. Each step he took, he was someone different.
A general soaked in the blood of his enemies.
A horrible god-king, revered by his subjects.
A proud orc, screaming in fury, mid-battle.
But when he stopped in front of me, he was only seven feet tall again.
“But suffice it to say, Lock Slaveborn, once named Han, that you are the only one among your kind to have entered our world with as much Fate as you did.” Then before I could reply, he reached out and grabbed my hand.
“Now, I will repay you for saving my people. And a repayment, which ends my obligation to you and incurs no debt from you to me.” He clarified.
“One question.” The deity continued and the sun in his eyes shone with such intensity that I shied away from the horrifying visage. “And I will answer it.”
I swallowed.
I knew what to ask.
“How do I get out of here?” I hissed.
He smiled. “You truly are a warrior, aren’t you?”
Then he crushed my hand into mulch.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHHH”
“The opposite of pain, isn’t pleasure, young warrior.” He replied. “Like the opposite to anger isn’t love.”
“The opposite of pain, Lock Slaveborn, is indifference.”
I screamed.
***
I woke up screaming.
I gasped for breath and tried to look at my hand but just kind of wobbled, hung to the ceiling by [Ryker’s Manacles]. Slowly I realized that I was back in the torture room, the one in the Scavenger’s Safehouse. Panic flooded my senses immediately and I whimpered, scared out of my mind and searching madly for Coum.
The elven mage wasn’t here.
But Khan was right. Just by being back in this room, I wasn’t myself again. Concept of choice, the power of logic and reasoning went out the window and I struggled like a wild animal, the skin on my wrist tearing. I could’ve sworn that Coum was in front of me, his knife reaching out and drawing a long line down my belly
-his hands reaching in-
-grey ropy things slithering out of me-
I came back to myself, my voice hoarse from all the screaming.
I had blacked out.
Then I looked around me again, my eyes falling on the blades. My god, panic began to fill my brain and I was going to get fucking hurt and beg for my life and I just wanted to die and-
This time, I was swaying back and forth, speaking in gibberish. I saw the torture tools around the room again and-
'The opposite of pain is indifference.' A voice whispered in my mind.
So I closed my eyes.
I forced myself to think of nothing. Nothing. No sight. No hearing. No sense of smell. No touch. No pain. No joy. No anger. Just sheer empty darkness.
The first thing I let myself have returned, was the sense of speech. I didn’t want to scream. I didn’t want to be a madman, yelling out gibberish. I was going to be a coherent, logical human being.
“I’m going to be a coherent, logical human being.” My voice was nothing more than a rasp, but it was mine.
Then I turned my attention to the smell surrounding me.
Smell of blood. Iron. Burnt flesh.
And memories returned to me. Of Coum taking a burning needle and stuffing it under my toenails, one by one and threading it like a needle unto my shin and-
When I returned to myself this time, I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t speaking in gibberish either. I was just whimpering.
I hit myself with the memory again, losing all sense of self.
I was only breathing hard when I returned to consciousness.
“Come on, bitch.” I heard myself snarl. “Let’s fucking dance.” Then I hit myself with the memories again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
“Again!” I growled.
Ang again.
“That all you got, you bald-headed freak?”
And again.
“I could do this all fucking night!” I yelled, fierce pride welling up in my chest.
…And again.
And when I opened my eyes again, the sight still hit me. I winced physically, remembering the things that Coum had done to me. But I didn’t black out. I didn’t lose myself in a fit of panic-induced hallucinatory visions. No. I stayed myself and I was all too aware of what was happening around me. I could feel the breath enter through my nose, welling up in my chest and then leaving.
I felt the spikes from [Ryker’s Manacles] tearing into my skin, the droplets of blood spilling down my arms from me thrashing around so much. I felt the tender scar tissue over my stomach and legs, all over my arms as well.
I finally felt that my mind was mine.
What I had done wasn’t as simple as suppressing my fear. I’d done that enough times. But I think back then, I didn’t know what true fear was. That was just fear of death, a one-time thing. Coum had taught me that fear isn’t a one-time thing, it lingers. True fear waits. It stays with you, a dark mass of wiggling-slithering-tentacle like monster that coalesces into jaws with too many teeth to devour you whole. The fear that you, as you know it, aren’t you anymore.
Fear dominates.
Fear hurts.
Fear takes over.
Fear just is.
I hadn’t mastered fear. Not by a long shot.
Because what I was about to do next made me afraid. Even just thinking of doing it sent images of Coum’s torture running down my brain through my nerves, causing unwanted twitching all through the toes and fingertips.
You see, Khan gave me a hint on how to escape.
[Ryker’s Manacles]. An item used to lock down a person’s stats, Core abilities (both active and passive) and even their mana. It returns you to just being mortal.
But they had to be big enough to fit everyone, even orcs who had much thicker bones than humans. They, the Players I mean, had found one just big enough to fit over my wrist. But it was still a loose fit, provided that the tiny teeth-like spikes constantly scraped against my skin.
You see, us humans, we can do some pretty amazing things once we master our minds. Because like everyone says, it’s mind over body.
I swung, using momentum to lift my feet from one end to another. The teeth kept biting into my wrist and I heard something start to scrape like a saw against wood. Pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing, but I ignored it. I fought through the pain, gritting my teeth and hoping that Khan was the real thing and not a dream.
I flung my body upwards and grabbed the chain with my feet, braced myself…
…and with a sickening crunch of bone cracking and skin ripping apart, ripped my hands through the [Ryker’s Manacles].
I was fucking free.
There was going to be hell to pay.
***
Comments
Dane Dunlop
This is another great chapter
Mordock 24
Thank god I thought he was going to have to be rescued by arione
Predyca
Thanks a lot for this chapter dear author ♡♡
