I Xi Hen, am an unlucky man…..

“Oi! That brat is getting away!”

“Run Xi Hen!”

“Leave it, we already have the woman.”

“Kukuku, she may be used goods but still quite a stunner.”

“Probably the only thing of value in this back water village.”

I Xi Hen, am not a man, I’m a coward

“Mom….”

I choke back the sobs, futilely trying to keep some semblance of face.

….………………………………………………………………………………………………

The small Chinese kid ran through the forest. It was quite a surreal experience. While I was seemingly able to feel everything the child felt, I could also observe from afar. There was a dissonance in it, myself feeling detached from the events playing out and yet, I also felt all the frustration, terror, and self-loathing of the little boy as he ran.

A part of me hated him too, turning back to the village I could see the bandits begin to ‘sample’ their haul from ransacking the village. How dare that child run, leaving his mother to be subjected to such a fate. It was hateful, but logic reasoned that it was his only choice if he wished to survive.

I followed the child, who eventually stopped in a small glade. Where he promptly threw up. Through the link, if it could be called that, I could tell it was likely due to the stress of running so hard.

The boy proceeded to cry as he collapsed to the forest floor. The bamboo and willows swayed in the slight breeze as time passed.

Day turned to night. The little child who had eventually fallen asleep awoke. It seemed as if what little light reached the glade at that time had disappeared.

There was only darkness in the boy’s dead eyes.

After several hours the boy had made his way back to the village. Through the link I could feel it….

HATRED.

All of this boy’s feeling had been forcibly assimilated into one overbearing, virile, indiscriminate hatred.

The boy’s footsteps were light, his frail body slight from hard work and a lack of nutrition despite his mother’s best efforts. Not a single bandit awoke.

Furthermore, they were small fry, they hadn’t even set a guard. Room by room, the child walked with a blood soaked knife. With each ‘schlicking’ noise made as iron pierced flesh, his hatred gained clarity and focus. Hatred at himself and hatred at these bandits. Eventually, only one building remained unchecked in the village.

It had been his family’s hut, before his father had been cut down and his mother was defiled. In it, I could see the sleeping form of the last bandit, along with his mother. She too was sleeping, exhausted by the trauma subjected to her. She shivered as her skin was left naked to the night air and faintly whimpered, unable to escape torment even in sleep.

It was this small release of her voice that caused the bandit to stir. In doing so, he saw the child coming with his bloody knife.

The boy saw him rise and let loose a cry that communicated his hatred as he sprinted towards the bastard who lay in bed with his mother.

With quick action, the bandit raised the readily available meat shield by the neck and interposed her between himself and the boy. A strangled gasp quickly turned to a wet gurgle as her son’s knife plunged into her exposed chest, killing her instantly.

Despite having killed his mother, the boy showed no hesitation. He rapidly pulled the knife from the now empty flesh and stabbed into the throat of the final bandit. He had been distracted trying to find his sword rather than facing the small boy with his fists. Committing this kind of amateurish mistake costed him his life.

With that final act of fratricide and murder, the boy left the village.

His anger now a thrumming molten core in his chest.

Years passed though the hatred never abated.

It sustained him while fighting in the war of some feudal lord.

It powered him as he fought his way free of his former allies after victory. They had been looting and pillaging the village of the enemy and he took exception to their raping the local women

His hatred flourished boundlessly.

He never knew happiness, joy, or love.

He never even knew sadness or madness.

He just felt hatred.

In his later years he infiltrated bandit groups time after time. Each time he would spend a few days with them and then leave. Only leaving cooling bodies as a parting gift.

One day, he was resting by a wooden bridge. His once smooth childish hand now gnarled knobs like the roots of a great oak. His limbs, still slim from lack of food, still contained a feverish strength. He pulled the hemp shawl tighter about his body, his wispy grey beard fluttered slightly in the wintry wind. Above, people bustled over the bridge, going about there business. None paid attention to the old miser by the river’s edge.

A few days ago he had received a wound to his side while killing off a small group of three that had acted as highway men an hour or two up the road from the bridge. He had used the money left behind by the deceased to eat, but there had been little and prices were high due to the season.

Each breath caused the now old man to wince in pain.

“Kyaaaa!”

“Hao Xixi! NOOOOOOOO!”

The old man’s head swiveled to track the noise and found that a young girl was rapidly being swept away by the turbulent currents of the river. Furthermore, that no one was jumping in after her.

Before a truly coherent thought had passed through the old man’s head, he found himself gasping as his body rapidly numbed in the frigid waters. Without being able to see clearly, he targeted the young girl by her cries. After a struggle he reached her and then pulled her to shore.

He roughly heaved her onto the riverbank before struggling to haul himself out of the water. His vision began to blur and I could feel the onset of hypothermia through our connection.

“Oh! Xi’er! Thank the ancestors that you are safe!”

A lady in fine clothing wrapped a luxurious woolen blanket around the girl. Guards swarmed the area.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I gasped for air. The wound in my side had opened up, that damn pissant from the other day had truly gotten a lucky shot.

The mother and daughter were truly a pair, their fine dresses and skin fairer than the snow currently falling denoted them as nobles. What a worthless lot, why had I bothered to save someone from that class?

I could feel my vision blurring even further, the only source of warmth was from the blood leaking from my side. Had I, Xi Hen, truly used what little of my life I had left on such a sow.

Damnit! I couldn’t die, there were rumors of a group harrying villages to the south of here. They were the next group to go after. The next ones that needed to die!

All of those bastards needed to die!

“thank…..”

What? Is someone touching my hand? Why can’t I feel it?

I scanned the area in front of me, my vision blessedly stilled for a moment so I could get a clear view.

There was a small face, still wet and shivering. Delicate eyebrows were scrunched up in concern, causing milky jade-like skin to be marred. I small cold hand touched mine again. Lustrous black eyes stared into mine, they weren’t marred in any way. They were……….. pure.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“He……hehehehe. You. Are. Welcome.”

That funny, I’m looking at the ground now.

Why?

I can’t feel that hand on mine any more.

She was nice for a noble.

It has been a long time since I ever saw innocence in someone’s eyes.

It’s so cold, I’m so sleepy.

I Xi Hen am at peace.

….…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The old man, once so full of hate finally felt peace. The softness of the new emotion that traveled through our bond was foreign after only feeling hate for so long. It was like I had become his past self.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Rise boy, or you won’t get to hunt!”

”Yes!”

….……………………………………………………………….

A small boy in a viking village set off to hunt with his father. Unfortunately his father was gored by the stag they had been targeting. The boy was forced to drag both his dying father and the stag back to the village.

After that he grew to become a heroic figure, desperately struggling to keep his fellow men alive. Eventually he died to a French horseman far away from his love, protecting their child.

He had experienced a whole slew of emotions, the strongest of which had been courage.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………

“And so, due to the aether we can explain how gaseous water once again is…..”

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………

A British school boy listened in rapt attention to the, incorrect, chemist explain natural chemical reactions. It was at a time when new elements seemed to be waiting to be discovered just around the corner.

The boy eventually grew to be a successful chemist, but never new great renown. He merely worked at a college seeking to better understand the foundations of our universe before happily returning to home each night to greet his wife and children.

His greatest emotion was curiosity.

….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“ooohhhmmmmm.”

….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The young Buddhist diligently meditated. The cold winds off the Himalayan mountains no longer bothered him after having spent a year already in such a cold climate.

He continued to be diligent throughout his life, subjecting himself to hardships in order to sharpen his mental state in hopes of attaining enlightenment.

He lived over a hundred years and by the end of his life was in a near transcendent state. His death was of old age, he simply was healthy one day and dead the next morning.

His greatest emotion was determination.

….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A myriad of lives swarmed through me. Each one adding a layer to my soul, it would become denser and more nuanced. As each life came and went a shape began to form from my soul in addition to its lustre deepening. Eventually after hundreds of lifetimes I came to what I knew was the final one.

….…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Love……..you………Cecily.”

“Tom?..TOM!……TOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

Everything was going black, I’m so sorry Cecily….to leave you.

I truly did love you, with all my heart.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

My memory became flooded. A striking personality with a sharp mind and will but a gentle caring for those she loved. Then a warm voice that happily greeted me every morning and evening despite the long hours spent at the college. Then the brave face of the woman who gave me a healthy son, I could never forgive myself for being out on a raid while she was pregnant. Finally, those eyes so black against the jade like skin, so warm despite the rest of her being frozen by the river.

Truly she supported me, stood beside me, saved me, throughout all my lives. It took till the last one though to fully feel her love though.

The strongest emotion of my life as Thomas Ackermann was surely………Love.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

*FWUMP*

The Book shut itself abruptly before resting silently on the podium. Before me was The Grand Archive.

Despite it being my first time within its depths, I knew it for what it was.

It appeared as an endless library, books occasionally shifted and floated through the air to other shelves. In what I could tell was the center of this infinite space was a sphere of shifting information, occasionally a new book would be birthed from its depths and find itself a place on the shelves.

I inhabited the area before this sphere, behind a reading podium containing the most absurdly normal hardcover book ever seen. It’s cover felt like the hardened cardboard used in modern times, its pages a creamy white color. It was neither thick nor thin, it was just right. Truly it was Goldilocks’s book.

I stayed there for a time, processing the emotions and memories of my past selves.

I was no longer Thomas.

Nor Kitlling.

I was pure, unfiltered ME.

At last my soul had a cohesion it had been missing. I felt as though I was an ancient oak, self assured that I would continue to grow towards the sky as I had done so for the past hundreds of years.

I think I finally had a name, one that was all mine. It was one I liked, it was the one that I had selected. It held no meaning, it wasn’t special to anyone other than me. It was MY name.

My name is………..

“Kill ‘em!”

“Kill the filthy mutt!”

“Get ‘im! Get ‘im Legolas!”

Ah, it appears that I still live.

I can feel the pain as the sinner Legolas uses his magic to stifle my blood flow. It’s a testament to the strength of my current body that he has so much trouble doing such a task. Clearly a waste of magic.

The world of The Grand Archive thrummed in response to the riling of my emotions. The bastard had harmed those that Kitling had considered friends. He would have to pay the price.

Unfortunately I couldn’t leave here. I could only temporarily give former self the knowledge and power derived from here, within the depths of our soul.

….……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

IT HURRRTTTTTTSSSSSS!

Whatever Legolas was doing was wrecking my body.

Wait…..why can I feel it again? I thought he took away my senses!?

I thought I was dead.

~Recovery complete~

~Purging foreign energy~

~Activating Defense Protocols: Grand Archive Unlocked~

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM*

….………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Legolas stepped back in time to avoid…….whatever was happening. He clutched his right hand as though it had been scalded

The little scamp’s body had suddenly stiffened. Then he had felt his power suddenly flowing in reverse and returning to himself. Shortly after he felt like a great beast was suddenly standing before him. It had surprised him………..

No, it had terrified him.

Suddenly there was a faint black flash from the half-breed’s body. Then there was a rumble and it suddenly stood up.

A voice spoke from it, far deeper than the youthful voice, “Legolas, I’m sure you have made many transgressions, harming those I care about will be your last I’m afraid.”

“Huh?”

*Shlick!*

A knife suddenly sprouted from his chest. Legolas followed the hand attached to it back to the face of the small body that had stabbed him. The half-breed’s face suddenly disappeared to be replaced by the face of a human, though one that looked more like that of an elf’s. The black eyes of that face seemed like an abyss, cold and infinitely evil.

“This is my Hatred.”

*Shwick*

The knife slipped free of the wound and blood violently exited along with it.

Legolas died within seconds of the blade exiting the wound.

Silence pervaded the crowd.

“L-L-Legolas has fallen! T-t-t-the Silent Prince is Victorious!”

….…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I rushed to Zla’s infirmary. I think I had gone into shock after seeing Alephi hurt like that. Going through similar pain I think served as a wake up call.

I needed to be there. She needed someone to comfort her……to help her process those feelings.

It truly felt like someone violated you.

I was fortunate to have been able to rise up and strike down Legolas.

She hadn’t………I can’t imagine what that kind of feelings she would be left with.

I slammed open the door.

“Ki-Kitling?”

“Kitling!”

*Sniffle*

Yuli and Marin exclaimed in surprise. Alephi looked up but then looked away in shame, tears streaming down her face.

I ignored the others, un-belting my knives as I strode into the back room. In a fluid movement I was on the bed and had her in my arms.

She resisted, so I let her free, the last thing I wanted was to constrain her. I did put my hand on hers though.

“Alephi……I’m sorry I was away. But it’s over………he won’t be able to harm you ever again.”

She continued to cry. She refused to look at me.

Disheartened I let up on the pressure in my hand that was on hers. She then fiercely grabbed it. Before burying her head in my chest and clinging to me. It was like she was terrified I would disappear. Then she began to sob, her small back shuddering with huge shuddering breaths.

“I-I was so scared! I..eh…ah…I thought you were dead!”

“It’s ok, I’m here. I won’t be going anywhere.”

Her snapped up so fast she nearly clipped my chin.

“Promise me! Promise me Kitling! I…I don’t think I can do this if you disappeared……Ki-Kitling…..even if you hate me, please never leave….I need you!”

That…..was passionate but somethings wrong….oh……..I guess it’s the name.

I smiled at her.

“I promise.”

“I………..Albus………..promise.”