Chapter 297: Zach

Chapter 297: Zach

Weep

Zach pushed his blade against the stone, leaning with all of his weight, carving a deep scratch. It was hard, the stone was strong, its Essence was dense enough that it resisted. Of course, it was all fake, this world around him. Still, it had its own rules. It made itself appear as if it was real, but it was all just Mind Essence. Tricking him or trying to at least. That alone was torture enough, knowing that none of it was real, yet it all felt like it was.

He was trapped in a valley surrounded by mountains, with nothing to occupy his mind but what came from within. The sun turned to the moon and back again, but nothing else changed. There was nothing but the trees, the land, and the mountains. No life and no sounds but the ones he created. No food either, and no water. He was in the constant state of hunger and thirst, though he did not tire nor need to sleep.

It hurt, everything hurt, and there was nothing that he could do about it. He yelled out, started cutting at the stone. Leaving gashes all over it, over the other notches. He had been trapped in this mind prison for a month, a month of pain and no way to alleviate it. He raged and cried, he cursed Hastur and he taunted him, trying to make him end it all. There was never any answer, never any indication that Hastur was even listening. Silence, only silence.

He activated his Windsong blade form, and he let it out. The wind sang around him, whistling, cutting the ground and stone. Shattering Song filled the valley, and then it was over. And silence came back, as it always did.

He pushed his blade against the stone, leaving another notch.

It had been torture, for a couple of months. But Zach knew how to deal with pain, especially when he knew that it was all in his mind, he faltered but he didnt break. Not that it made it hurt any less, he could just ignore it anyway. He had tried to eat tree bark and leaves, but it didnt have any effect. It was designed that way by Hastur, for whatever reason, just another thing to torture him with.

Finally, he finished another notch in the stone wall, and he stepped back to look at all of his work.

The entire section of the wall was filled with notches, scratches in the stone, hundreds of them. To be precise, exactly three hundred of them. One for each day he had spent in this place. Three hundred days, a year in the Infinite Realm. He remembered the beginning, how rushed he had felt. Searching for the way to escape, but there were none that he could see. He had struggled, pushed his mind nearly to the breaking point, trying to pierce the wall around it. He had walked through the valley, tried to go beyond it even, looking for any clues or weaknesses in the trap. There were none, beyond the mountains was the same valley, only from the other side. The entire space was looped, infinite trap that bent in on itself.

A prison designed to torture the mind.

Zach had tried not to think about it. Not to think about what was happening in the real world. He didnt know how much time had passed out there, different mind prisons worked in different ways. It could be that he had been here for just a minute, or it could be the full year. He had no way of knowing.

He bent down, picked up a small rock and gripped it in his fist. He looked at the notches, feeling a sense of finality in a way. A year trapped. It finally started to hit him, he had no way out. He turned around then hurled the rock, heard it whistle through the air for a moment before it was too far away. A moment of a break in the monotony of the silence.

He took a deep breath and then he opened his mouth and screamed. The constant pain, the hunger and thirst, the fucking silence. It was too much. And he was all alone. He let it all out, until his vocal cords broke, and only air left his lungs. He fell to his knees and looked at his hands, breathing quickly, his chest and throat burning. It was all fake, even the pain. But Hastur was right, it didnt matter, it felt real and no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it wasnt, it made no difference.

He closed his eyes, and waited. He didnt move a muscle, he only breathed and waited as his body healed itself. Then the torture continued.

He pressed his blade against the stone, again. Another scratch, notch number six hundred. Two years. It somehow seemed like it had been much longer. He turned away from that section of the wall, and walked a dozen steps to another. The mountain rose above him, and he glanced up at it wondering if a day would come when he would notch every part of it. He shook his head and focused on the writing in front of him. Scratched in by his own hand.

The Fire Heart

Mistress of Sorrow

Mistress of Gravity

The Sword God

Mistress of Paths

The Lord of Death

The Voids Chosen

Master of Area

Ideals, carved into stone so that he didnt forget. He glanced at the last one.

The Witness of Journeys End

Naha had spoken a little about Ideals, she hadnt known too much, even though she was old. She had never had the true ideal within herself, at least not in the way that was needed. Zach had read a few tomes that he found, and the rest was what Eratemus told him after he asked, after he saw all of their screens

He had little to do, so he had spent the last year trying to figure everything and anything out. This part of the wall was covered in writing on nearly any topic that had come to Zachs mind. He had spent time meditating, thinking about his life and what he wanted to do with it, if he ever managed to get out of this. If he didnt well, then he would be dead, and what he wasted his time on wouldnt matter.

An Ideal. Something that defined who or what you were. Zach had spent a lot of time in here thinking about that. Once, he wouldve known who he was and what he wanted to do. But he had spent two years in here, two years in silence, that changed a person.

Eratemus told him that some people found words in their minds to crystallize what their ideal meant to them. Zach had tried, though the only thing that he could come up with were his personal goals. The creeds that Naha and he wanted to follow.

I will protect the innocent, always.

I will fail, but I will never stop trying to do good.

His mind tried to trick him again, make him think of the old dream about something called the Infinite Realm. He didnt let it, his mind lied to him, it lied to him all the time.

He had the words scratched on his wall; Dont trust your mind. That meant that it had to be true. He was mad before, imagining himself in another world, imagining such grand things. Other people. Figments of a broken mind. He was better now, though, he knew that it was all a dream.

Sometimes, he almost heard voices, whispering that he should wake up. A woman, sometimes a man, they whispered to him that he couldnt leave them. They changed shape, but all were beautiful. A trickster. He didnt let them fool him. He knew the tricksters name though, no matter how hard he wanted, the voice never let him forget the name; Naha.

He was mad, and now he was sane again. A cycle, insanity, then clarity. Pain, thirst and hunger, the fucking silence. Over and over again.

Often, he wondered what happened to the others. How long had it been since he was trapped? He saw them sometimes, as if through a fog. He couldnt remember them clearly. Only two. Hastur had taken his soul, there was no other explanation. He was torturing him for all eternity. His body was dead, and he would never wake.

He didnt stop trying to escape. At least he could let his soul die or force the King in Yellow to grant him a True Death.

His will was as sharp as a blade now, his mind skills better than they had ever been. |Flaw Perception| and |Focused Mind| pulsed inside of his mind. This world was fake, but Zach was real. It was crafted from Mind Essence, so only his mental ability was truly able to grow. He saw more flaws in the world now, his periods of insanity lasted for a shorter time. He was focused.

Train, all day, all night. That was all that he could do. Sharpen his increasingly declining mind.

The dream of his life before was just a speck in the back of his mind. Something from long ago.

He remembered the blood spilled on the ground. The death and destruction on Earth. Long ago.

He had a friend once. Long ago.

He hated him after. Long ago.

Such a long time. Ryun, yes, that was his name.

He remembered hating for so long. And now time. Lifetimes of silence. What did hate matter, against that much time?

He had a love once. Long ago.

He wanted to help people. Long ago.

Alas, what was love against an age of nothingness and pain? Could he even love anything?

Naha. Perhaps he still did love. He remembered her name. Only those two though. Love and Hate.

He still remembered something at least.

He sat in the cave, and wept. He wept because he no longer remembered the dream, only this place, and only two names that he couldnt place to faces. Only that.

He carved the notch. The peak of the mountain was near, and turned, looking out at the valley far beneath him. He glanced at the mountain side, the stone walls, carved with lines. This one was number nine hundred and fourteen thousand one hundred. Three thousand and forty seven years.

Existence was pain and suffering. He jumped from the peak.

His willpower trembled. He didnt know why he was doing this, he only knew that it was the purpose of his life. His skills trembled, and he unleashed all that he had spent gathering over the centuries.

His mind went white, and he knew.

He did it, but his screens lied to him. His screens told him that his skills were still the same. They were not. He couldnt see the new thing, but he knew. It was all that mattered.

He glared at the sky, but did not try to escape today. The wall was too strong.

He went back, three decades he had taken to just read through all that he had written on the mountains. He went over it all. Ideas that he had forgotten long ago.

Words pulsed inside his head.

I will always remember the past, even when it hurt.

But he didnt. He couldnt. The words were a lie. It hurt because the memories were buried beneath such pain that he was even afraid to try and search for them. He was old. He felt old. His body wracked with constant agony, and his mind he had sacrificed something, he knew, sacrificed something for will that could shatter mountains. It was still not enough.

The things carved into stone, those were his last recourse. Something there had to be the key that would let him shatter this world, break the wall. That was all that he knew. His entire being was focused on that one goal. Get through.

He was just a memory.