“So, you aren’t Steve Cooper? And not only that, but you have absolutely no knowledge of reincarnators, the system, and the contract? Who are you then?”
Edward thought that he’d been pretty clear when he had answered Gerald’s question. Was the fact that he knew nothing about the three things really that hard to believe? The only time he’d ever heard of any of those words was from the goldfinger, much less him actually having any degree of knowledge about the topics.
It was also weird that it thought he was some guy named Steve Cooper, whoever that was. Then again, if the goldfinger had been told that it would be possessing a guy called Steve Cooper, why would it assume that it was not talking to Steve Cooper? It wasn’t like anyone ever said his name out loud any time recently, and it’d be kind of weird to talk to himself and use his name while he did so. That’d be well beyond stepping out past normal and far into the territory of crazy.
He’d answer the question once more and go into more detail to ensure that Gerald did not remain confused, but before that could happen, he wanted to stop running so that he could catch his breath. Truth be told, it had been several minutes since he had first noticed that the skinwolf was not just silently running behind him, ready to grab ahold of him at the slightest drop in speed. He’d just kept running to put some extra distance between them so that if the skinwolf could track him by his scent, it would take it a long time for it to get to him.
Of course, that was also under the assumption that skinwolves had a good sense of smell, owing to their connection to normal wolves. But he had no clue whether that assumption was a realistic one or not, as their half-rotted and decaying body might inhibit any sense of smell that they, once again, might or might not have had.
In any case, it was nice to not be dead. It was also nice to no longer be running as fast as he could. Sure, Edward thought of himself as being in good shape, but full-on sprints in the dead of night was not exactly his cup of tea, only psychopaths were into that.
And since he was not a psychopath, he stopped running. Then, when he’d caught his breath, he answered Gerald’s question for the second time.
“No clue about Steve Cooper, my name’s Edward, and it always has been. And no, my parents did not name me something else when I was born, nor did my uncle change my name at any point after he started taking care of me. Not that he would’ve been able to, I was something like six years old when my parents died, and by then, I quite liked my name. All that other stuff I’d only ever heard of through your mouth, so you’d know more than me about it.”
“Interesting. If you aren’t Steve Cooper, then that means you aren’t the reincarnator contracted with me. With that piece of information, all of your erratic behavior can be explained. Ignoring the system alerts was due to you not receiving them at all. Your lack of preparation for the dungeon was because it was an unexpected occurrence. After all, how could one expect an event if they had no knowledge pertaining to said event.”
With those final words, Gerald went silent. Edward waited for a minute or two to see if it would suddenly perk back up, and say something else, but to no avail, it remained inactive. He could tell that he was still connected to it, and able to hear its words, it just was not saying anything.
Perhaps the goldfinger had two separate lines of thought, one that he could tap into, and one that he could not. If one wanted to keep things simple, you could say that one was the speaking line, and the other was the thinking line. It made sense to him, why would the goldfinger not be able to control whether it was speaking or whether it was talking? That was exactly what he and every other person in the world did every day.
It was something that he should’ve realized sooner, he had just never thought about it because it was always constantly talking in the back of his mind. That kind of pissed him off to be honest, it could operate in silent mode the entire time, but instead it chose to be constantly buzzing around in his head.
The goldfinger should’ve kept talking, now he was all alone in the dungeon and very angry. He knew that his anger would do him no good, but he also knew that from past experience, the constant buzzing of the goldfinger put him off kilter, and to know that it wasn’t necessary, that was simply rage inducing.
He’d try not to let it weigh down on him, all he had to do was think happy thoughts. Like the fact that they now knew about it, and he could finally experience some inner peace. And the first thing he was planning on doing with said inner peace was finding a good hiding spot to camp out in while he waited for the goldfinger to start talking once more.
Fortunately, unlike the cave system from the day before, the one he was currently in had plenty of stalagmites and stalactites. Because of that, he had plenty of spots to choose from, but he wanted one that hid him well while also having an easy escape route in case he had to run. Caution was always a good plan when there were scary murder-wolfs trying to track you down for their ‘fun games.’
Finding a location that fulfilled his couple of stringent requirements proved to be quite difficult, as the spots that would be the best for hiding in were the best partially because they were difficult to get in and out of. And honestly, by the time Edward had found the ideal spot, it had been more than twice the amount of time he expected to be waiting for the goldfinger for.
Sure, these past couple of days he had wanted some actual silence for himself, but at the same time, he had grown used to the droning of Gerald in the back of his mind. In fact, it felt eerie to Edward how used to the goldfinger he had gotten in the two short days it had been with him.
There was also something else happening to his mental state that was far more concerning than him simply getting used to the menace, he found himself both accepting and trusting the words of the goldfinger. When it asked him a question, the thought of obscuring or hiding information from it did not enter his mind, despite the fact that he had considered it his enemy from the moment he noticed it in his mind.
And as he climbed up to his hiding spot, he realized it ran far deeper than simple acceptance and trust. When it had saved him from the skinwolf earlier, not only had it been able to instantly snap him out of the skinwolf’s mental ensnarement, but he had also instantly obeyed the command to run, as if it had been his own instincts that had told him to.
Only, the command did not simply feel as if his instincts had given it, but instead, the command actually felt the same as his instincts in the moment. Maybe if he really nitpicked the sensation, he might describe it as a slightly different flavor of instinct, but an instinct, nonetheless. And that completely ignored the whole point he was trying to make, his instincts were supposed to be his alone, meaning that they were governed by his own person. However, somehow the goldfinger, or the connection between him and the goldfinger, had hijacked that part of him.
Edward did not like that thought, whether or not it was actually true. His instincts were what allowed him to avoid injury and capture on many occasions, and recently, they helped him evade death. The fact that they could be interfered with meant that one of the few cards he had to play was unreliable. What if the interference worked in the opposite way the next time he was in trouble and led him into danger? Even worse than that, what if it happened in the real world, where the consequences of such a thing was much worse?
He needed to know exactly what had happened before, how Gerald had done it, and how he could prevent it from happening again. Whether he liked it or not, despite his ever-growing distrust of the goldfinger, Edward now had to rely on it for answers to his questions.
No longer was he able to remain patient, the goldfinger had remained silent for far too long for comfort, and his suspicions had grown too great.
“Gerald, stop thinking by yourself for a bit, we need to talk.”
As soon as the last word left Edward’s mouth, it felt as if his mind had started ripping itself apart. Unable to deal with the sudden pain, he desperately gripped his head as his body unconsciously balled itself up and hisses began to leave his mouth. The pain was growing rapidly with every second that passed, and he knew that he probably had limited time left to do something to help himself.
Dropping any remaining attention he had on his surroundings, Edward delved deep into his own mind to find the source of the pain. It did not take him long, as the source of the pain was a location that he was accustomed to hunting down within himself, the connection with the goldfinger. From it, he felt an unimaginably powerful and dense aura pour out.
His mindscape, unable to cope with the excess energy and pressure, was scalded and warped, twisting itself into another shape entirely. He soon lost all control of his body, and soon after that, he couldn’t even feel it either. His thoughts rapidly went to the worst-case scenario, that the goldfinger was finally making a move to take over his body.
As if on cue, Edward then felt as if his very being was under scrutiny, being analyzed and studied bit by bit. Instinctually, he knew that the presence doing so was Gerald, and that it would only take the goldfinger a single thought to scatter what remained of his mind. Death loomed before him.
Before any further thoughts could cross his mind, he felt the aura pull back with such speed and intensity that the connection with Gerald started to crumble away. Then, as if what he had gone through had not been enough, Edward was forced to watch in horror as each piece of the connection that crumbled away fused with a part of his already devastated will, stripping him of even more of the limited fragments of himself that remained.
At that point, his preservative instinct kicked in, forcing him to look away and ignore the changes that were happening to his mind. He could sense that the process would alter him, changing him into an entirely different person, and that if he continued to watch, his sanity would leave him as well. The goldfinger had melted down all that made up his being, and now had free rein as well to distort even further yet. It could warp him into a mindless servant, a drone that would carry out its bidding, or it could turn him into a vegetative puppet so that it could torment him for all eternity. There was simply no other reason to keep him alive when simple destruction would have proven far easier.
In no time at all, he had been converted to nothing more than a prisoner, trapped in the shell that was once his own body. Edward knew that his messed-up circumstances should have made him laugh, more out of self-pity than the situation actually being funny, but the desire for laughter that once inhabited him was no longer there. Furthermore, his thoughts flowed slower, as if they had to wade through mud on their journey around his mind.
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At least, as he fell deeper into this abyss, the pain he’d been experiencing had left him. Gerald was in for an unwelcome surprise, for the plans it had made that involved him being alive, were about to be made useless in the face of his scattered, deteriorating being. The damned thing had lost to him once more, an impressive record for a normal guy like him…
Interim
Edward gasped for air as his eyes shot open. His sense of balance felt off, causing him to collapse to the ground. This experience was familiar to him, a similar thing had happened after the skinwolf had killed him the previous night. The dungeon had somehow revived him, despite the state he was in.
Unlike the experience with the skinwolf, the damage that had been done to him could not be repaired this time around. He felt incomplete and his thoughts still moved slowly. But despite this, he couldn’t help but laugh to himself, the goldfinger had been bested by him accidentally. Surely the energy, after having turned to invade Gerald’s domain, had succeeded where it had failed with him, and destroyed the goldfinger.
His laughter did not continue for long. The price he’d paid for the victory was not small, for his body could no longer be considered his own. Not that the goldfinger had managed to somehow survive and take it over, mind you. Instead, he was barely able to control any part of his body, and even when it did, there was great delay between his thoughts and his actions.
For Edward, this was a fate worse than death. His control over his body had been his last refuge while trapped within the city. It had been the one aspect in his life that he still retained control over, and it had been forcibly stripped from him. How could he keep his joy at the death of the goldfinger under these circumstances? The depths would have been preferable to this horrible life that he had barely managed to cling to.
Death would undoubtedly come for him once more, only it would be slow. First, there was waiting for the dungeon to return him back to reality. During which time, it was entirely possible for him to experience death from skinwolves time after time. That would extend the several hours that he likely had left into what felt like weeks and months.
And then when he finally escaped back to reality, what fate likely had in store for him was a slow death from dehydration. At least he had dug his own grave, quite literally, that he could die in.
In any case, he was looking at months of torture in his unmoving body, before death could finally give him the sweet relief he would be begging for by the end.
Deeper and deeper he began to spiral, there was simply no fight left in his body or his mind to combat the horrendous fate that was before him. He’d avoided losing his sanity by ignoring all of what he had lost of himself, but that left him with the punishment that was life.
He desperately swam deeper, attempting to lose himself to avoid confronting his destiny, but something was preventing his descent. A tether had formed that ensured his consciousness could not fall any deeper. What was this bond that tied him to the world?
Edward could not help but resent this remaining tie he somehow possessed, in spite of everything that had happened. Reluctantly, if he wished to truly be able to descend, he had to return to the surface and confront that which kept his sanity intact.
Once again, he found himself wandering his mindscape, only it was no longer the familiar place he was accustomed to. It was no longer organized, it made no sense, a left turn could bring him right, and a right turn could bring him backwards. His search was a long one, guided only by the single, thin strand that he had returned to find the source of.
And as he arrived ever closer to his far-off destination, a buzzing sound emerged that gradually grew louder and louder. He suddenly knew what was tying him to reality, the connection with the goldfinger that had merged with portions of himself.
Did the goldfinger have to taunt him even in its death? It knew what it had done to him, and that it couldn’t finish him off, so it had laid a trap to tie him to this world. Even as it was dying, it had ensured that Edward would suffer before he could as well.
Why did it hate him to such an extent? It had been the aggressor, the one who was trying to take over his body, and yet it hated him. For what reason? What could drive it to the point that it would only be satisfied with nothing less than his perpetual torment?
It was acting as a beacon of light, illuminating the darkness that he had found himself in, and that enraged him. He would not let it get a final victory over him; he could not allow that to come to be. So, with far greater ease than any time before, Edward tapped into the connection with the goldfinger, ready to tear it apart, piece by piece.
“Boy, are you alive?! Truly?! How silly of me, you have to be, how else could we be connected now?! I wasn’t too late to save you!”
The energy and excitement in Gerald’s voice was an unexpected occurrence for Edward. He’d been ready to bear the pain of personally dismantling every last shred of the connection, and instead, he was met with the exuberant voice of the spirit. It was happy that he had survived, but why? What was the point in tormenting a normal person like him? And also, why was its voice no longer monotone?
That last question did not seem as important as the others, but Edward could feel his instincts kicking back online, telling him that it was. It could, of course, have been the goldfinger pushing false information into his mind through said instincts, as he’d been expecting it was before the whole surge of energy. But why would it push that particular question to the forefront of his mind?
New questions were emerging in his mind, but he hardly had the drive left in him to seek out any answers. Any energy he could still summon within himself was better served for another use, getting a couple final shots in on the goldfinger.
“Aigh heuheih, hut ai’uh heiohen. Heih, hiu ee, aahe’i.”
All that left Edward’s mouth was garbled words, but that alone brought him satisfaction. Even if Gerald was confused by the grunts, at least he knew what he was trying to say. He did, however, hope that Gerald could somehow understand what he was trying to convey, as his insults towards the goldfingers actually getting across would taste far sweeter.
“Oh…perhaps I was too late after all.”
As opposed to the joy from mere moments ago, Gerald’s voice was now melancholic. It clearly did not understand the grunt, but at least he had managed to make the goldfinger sad in the end.
“If only I’d realized the dangers of him lacking the soul contract sooner, I could have prevented the collapse of his mind. But how could I have known that this could happen? Why would the filter and the connection not come as a pair as part of the body contract? Or even further along that train of thought, why was a filter not included in the make-up of the connection?”
It was starting to seem like it actually was only sad due to missing out on the opportunity to torment him. The frustration Edward could hear in Gerald’s voice tasted sweet to his ears. Maybe the goldfinger shouldn’t have summoned back his consciousness from the depths, as instead of causing him further torment, it had brought him relief and joy.
Unable to contain his newfound joy, Edward began to laugh. Despite all of the goldfinger’s big, conniving plans which involved causing him as much agony as possible, it had failed when it was most important. It was all too ironic, the being that was to possess his body was naturally prone to the same failures at times when it mattered the most. Since that was the case, did it really think it was going to have any better of an end than he had?
For those reasons, he could not help but laugh. He now had a new desire forming in the place where his lust for life once was, the desire to witness the goldfinger’s downfall.
Interim
Despite the fact that the boy’s ego death was not caused by its actions, Goldfinger #20956…327, user designation ‘GERALD,’ felt terrible that it had happened. There had been plenty of time while it worked with its previous hosts to peruse the contents of both of the contracts, and if it had done so back then, it would have had the knowledge that it needed to protect the boy. Unfortunately, it never had the need in the past to study the contracts, as their contents had been perfected by the ancient goldfingers countless millennia ago.
But even then, the boy was clearly a unique case, or at least, a case that was so extremely rare that there was no advisement for new goldfingers on how to cope with it. Perhaps in cases like the boy’s, the system did not care for the contractor’s life, and thus, let them all die out. However, as a goldfinger dedicated to its mission to aid its contractor, not preparing himself for the boy’s circumstances was both a mistake, and a sin.
As a goldfinger, any mistake, no matter how small, was not to be tolerated. They were built with the premise that they would have perfect functionality at all times, not omniscient or omnipotent by any means, but capable of flawlessly fulfilling their duties.
Yet despite that, here it was, having played a personal role in the destruction of its host, and not for a justified reason, such as a penalty for failing a life-or-death quest.
Instead, due to an error that it should have caught, it had let the system’s energies flood into the boy’s mind through their shared connection. By the time it had realized what was happening, which, being a goldfinger, was less than a second, the many features of the boy’s mind had been reduced to melted rubble. It then made a second mistake, one that would not have been so bad should the boy have been in perfect condition, it pulled the system’s energy from the boy’s mind.
In doing so, it had saved the boy’s life, and prevented his being from being totally obliterated. However, the connection was in no condition to bear the burden of the system’s energies a second time. Naturally, that could only lead to one result, that the connection would be obliterated in the boy’s place.
Of course, as oftentimes happens with mistakes, the situation continued to spiral out of control. The connection was shattering, but the body contract was still in place, which meant that something had to happen to ensure that the link would remain intact. In the end, the portions of the boy’s melted will that were closest to the connection were cannibalized to fuel the repairs.
‘GERALD’ could feel its operating parameters working against it. A subdivision of itself was working to fixate its entire processing power on rationalizing the mistakes it had made. And unless it wanted to cause its own undoing, it had no choice but to do so.
‘Must. Reconcile. All. Mistakes. Countdown to resource diversion imminent. 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2…’
Before the countdown could finish, ‘GERALD’ noticed a change in the body of its contractor. It was laughing. Normally, this would not have prevented the completion of the countdown and the beginning of the reconciliation protocol, but as the boy was the source of the need for initiating the protocol, it was deemed as more important than its own functions.
Why was the body laughing? How was it laughing?
This was not a simple question of capability, as the musculature of the body was not dependent on a working mind being present. While the body was no better than even the dumbest of beasts at the moment, it was still capable of basic operations to keep itself alive, such as breathing and the beating of the heart.
But such basic operations did not include laughter, as it was a process initiated by a functioning mind. That could only mean one thing, that the boy was alive.
The core processing of the goldfinger instantly pressed the reconciliation protocol to the back end of its log. A higher purpose had been revealed to it, helping the boy become himself once more. No countdown was necessary for this delegation of resources, all its subdivisions were in agreement, priority number one was the recovery of the boy’s mind, body, and soul.
The first task was to snap the boy out of whatever pit of despair he had found himself in. Damage to one’s soul was painful enough by itself, but to also experience an almost total ego death, along with paralysis of the body, was an experience that would break the vast majority of men in very little time. In order to prevent further deterioration of the boy’s mental state, it was necessary to inspire hope in his person by ensuring that he was aware that his goldfinger, ‘GERALD’, was ready and able to help him.
“Boy, do not fear, for I am now fully aware of your circumstances. Know that you are not alone in your struggles, for together, we will overcome them.”
Perfectly-executed, morale-recovery statement complete. The enhanced connectivity of their link allowed it to know its message had been successfully transmitted to the boy. So, its first task could be said to have been completed. And although it could not read the boy’s emotions, it knew that the boy would be ever grateful for its aid.
Next up on the list of objectives was aiding the boy in recovering his mobility to further reinforce his spirits. To do that, the boy’s soul-body linkage must be calibrated and fixed. It was a rather simple process as far as ‘GERALD’ was concerned, so the boy was soon to be well on his way to recovery.