Pushing her growing frustrations with her son's deteriorating attitude to the back of her mind, the shade of Alan's mother steeled her resolve, and continued to speak. “ALAN GERALD ROBBINS!! You do NOT talk to me like that!“

To which her son rolled his eyes and scoffed sarcastically.

“Sure thing mammy salami,” he replied icily. “ We'll be here in the palace dutifully awaiting your return.“ He looked around at their unsanitary hovel and took a slow breath before continuing. “You know mom…you should just let me go. You are much better at handling Clarice, and I'm smaller and faster. I'll have a better chance of sneaking into Oldtown. Oh! And ACTUALLY making it back in one piece.“

After giving his mother a pointed stare, he continued, “Those Scarlet Elves have already started expanding their settlement above us. The population of Oldtown is growing too fast. There's been a lot more of them around here recently...I think they're planning on building a new fortress up there. What are you going to do if one of them spots you?? Monsters are one thing mom, but those guys are smart.“

“And,” he added, hoping to drive the point home. “Dad told me that Scarlet Elves can see in the dark. Not only that, but he said they can see your blood!! Like, right through your skin!“

Though he knew she said no, Alan hardly heard his mothers reply. He didn't even bother with a response.

An unwanted deluge of thoughts had begun to storm through his young mind, and it was far from the first time.

As Alan stared down into the frenzied eyes of his younger self, for just a heartbeat, he was within the boys mind. He could feel what he had once felt in that moment with harsh clarity. He could feel that a part of himself wanted it all to end. And the whispers were growing in intensity almost by the day now. He couldn't take watching his baby sister waste away any longer.

He remembered how he had felt like he was a failure as a brother. But not only that. He felt weak. He was a coward. He had grabbed his sister and run away screaming when the Shovel-claw scorpions had broken into the bunker and killed his father. And most of everyone else. There had been less than a year left until they finally gained System access, but in a single day, everything had been taken away. They'd been made to abandon the only home he'd ever known, the place of his birth, and take refuge in this filthy sewer.

He had blatantly refused when asked to help in the search for his fathers body. It had torn him up inside to do so, but the terror of having to chance facing those claw wielding, eight-legged freaks again had been too much to ask of a scared child. He just couldn't do it. His legs refused to move.

The look Clarice had given him then was one he knew would stick with him to the day he died. It was like she caught sight of some strange creature who had taken on the guise of her brother. Like he wasn't even human anymore. Though they'd more or less patched things up in the time since, there was still a distance between them he feared would always remain.

He fixed his mother in his irate gaze and gave her a stiff salute. “Whatever you say mum,“ He responded with a shrug. The moment the boy spoke, Alan's consciousness was ejected from the boy's unwanted memories and back into his incorporeal form. As his confused mind tried to piece together what he'd just learned, the ghost of his mother began to speak. Her tone said the conversation was over.

“It can't wait any longer Alan, and you know this as well as I do. If I don't find some antibiotics and food, Clarice is going to die. Her legs are only getting worse, and I REFUSE to wait another second.“

If Alan had possessed knees in his current spectral form, they would've buckled under the onslaught of dark thoughts and roiling emotions he had sensed surging through his younger self. Though he could no longer feel the anger and desperation coursing through him, he knew with deep intimacy what the young man was feeling.

He had felt it himself when standing in his shoes all those years ago. Only now, he had far more important concerns. How had he forgotten his own family? How could such a thing be possible? And why hadn't it ever occurred to him to ask? Surely Uncle Alex would've told him something…

The thought of his uncle brought about another round of sudden understanding. If this was his REAL family, then how had he come to live in the Guadalupe River Dungeon? Surely he hadn't been born there, the memories of his sister left no doubts to this fact.

If Rexus isn't my real brother, then who is he? Alan was unable to stop himself from wondering.

The dreams! Alan realized with a start, finally starting to connect the dots. For some reason, in this strange place of memories, if he focused, it was well within his abilities to recall his reoccurring dreams with vivid clarity. All it took was a thought and he was given unobstructed access to his dreams of a boy hiding on the rooftops, hoping not to be spotted by his monstrous pursuer.

He remembered watching in shock and awe as a cloaked figure strode confidently out of the nearby alley, and began shooting flames and lightning from the palms of his hands.

He relived the destruction of the Cyclops, and the subsequent explosion. When the dust had cleared, the cloaked stranger had stood next to him, and cast a strange spell. Amid a flash of emerald light, the boy had fallen unconscious and been whisked away.

As the dreams continued to replay before his eyes, he became hyper-focused on one memory in particular. It just didn't fit in. Amid a sea of orange grass, he saw his 'brother' Rexus running towards him. Alan replayed the dreams over and over, scouring his memories, but try as he might, he couldn't remember having ever seen Rexus before this point.

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Finally, he saw the visage of his uncle. He hovered just above Alan's face and uttered a single word laced with Mana and desperation. “Forget.” And it wasn't just once. All of a sudden Alan remembered dozens, Hells, perhaps it was hundreds of times that his uncle had uttered that same powerful word.

“Forget.”

Alex, what did you do? Surely his uncle hadn't ACTUALLY made him forget right? His mind ran through all of the options he had on hand, but every time he tried to rationalize, he always came back to the same thing. A single word uttered countless times.

“Forget.”

Amidst the protests of her daughter, Alan watched his mother's memory lift up the flap of tarp that served as the door to their modest home and walk outside. As the flap fell back into place, Alan mentally steeled himself for what was to come.

It's happening all over again, Alan thought. I already know what's going to happen! What's the point of me being here?! For the first time since arriving, Alan resolved himself to leave. He needed to get back to his body, and fast. Preferably before the creature outside decided it was time to come in.

He focused on the faded, blue plastic wall, and attempted to will himself through it. After another disorienting shift of perception he felt himself rebounded off of an invisible barrier, and left hovering just out of reach of his destination. He tried multiple times, but each attempt ended in failure.

In the midst of his fifth attempt, he mentally cringed when he heard a earthshaking roar, followed by a bone-chilling shriek. A sickening crunch cut the scream short, and from there, things began to progress in a rapid downward spiral. Alan realized he was frozen in place once more right as an enormous, flabby arm tore through the hut like a tornado, painting the interior of the hovel in spatters of blood and viscera. The front half of the tarpaulin enclosure was ripped away, leaving behind only shreds of blue plastic, now stained red.

The unmaking of the wall revealed a Cyclops. The beast was so girthy, it had to stoop over in half just to fit through the tunnel. Its yellowish skin was covered head to toe in hideous sores. Even standing down-wind of the beast wouldn't be enough to mask it's stench. Its bulbous, unclothed stomach jiggled side to side in time with its labored breathing. On the beast's right side, his mother's limp remains were tightly clenched within its meaty fist.

Blood flowed freely from a gaping hole on her torso. Her entire right arm and shoulder were gone, along with most of the ribs along the same side. Her wound revealed the edges of snapped off bone. Dangling streamers of her entrails traced out horrific patterns on the floor. Alan was once again happy to not have a physical body. He could remember the cloying smell of blood and meat that had filled the air of their ruined home. He would've gagged if he had a body with which to do so.

Alan tried to look away, but he may as well have been trying to move a mountain. As his sister began to wail, he tried to shut his eyes, but there wasn't anything to close. He was a helpless witness to his child form taking a hesitant step forward. The boy froze up mid-step when the Cyclops fixed him in its gaze.

The boy hesitantly looked towards a butter knife on the floor, seeming to contemplate his chances of getting off an attack. The look on his face said that if he could only will himself to move, perhaps he could manage to do something to help. Ever since the Scorpions killed his father and overtook their home, he'd been called “The Man of the House". Though it wasn't much of a home, it was all they had in this messed up world. Most of all, he felt it was his job to keep the women safe. He knew he HAD to try, and he desperately wanted to. He really did. If only he wasn't so afraid…

Before he was able to muster up the courage to move, his eyes widened in horror. He was unable to stop looking as the the Cyclops lifted his mom up, and into to it's overly-wide mouth. The savage beast gripped her with it's teeth and yanked it's head back. What was left of the top half of her body was pulled free, unleashing a fountain of shredded innards into the air, reminiscent of profane fireworks. Stunned into a stupor, as the young Alan trembled, he lost control of his bladder.

From his spectral form, Alan continued to relive the worst day of his life. He was distracted from the sad sight of him soiling himself when he heard his sister yell out. “Put my mom down you bully!“ He looked at her just in time to witness her inevitable end. Unable to help, or even voice his outrage, he saw his baby sister run at the Cyclops. Without batting an eye, the beast took one look at her and lifted it's leg.

The sight of his sister about to die was like a jolt of electricity, shocking the young Alan out of his stupor. With next to no time left, he scooped up the butter knife laying by his feet and dashed forward. But as his eyes lifted to meet the gaze of the Cyclops, he knew he was already too late to make a difference.

“NOOOO!!!“ Both versions of Alan bellowed out at the same time, just in time for the obese monster to slam it's meaty foot down. The full weight of the Cyclops fell atop Clarice's head. Her tiny body had no means of withstanding such an overwhelming attack and flattened like an accordion. “No! CLARICE!!“ Alan heard his child form scream out amid an arc of gore splattering the area around the Cyclops' foot. The child's voice was laced with unmistakable pain and anguish.

Though he was too late to save his family, the boy grit his teeth. With a howl filled with raw pain, and laced with madness, he sprinted forward and stabbed his knife into the distracted beast's foot. It felt like trying to stab the blade into hard rubber. Not only did the dull knife fail to penetrate, but the tip bounced of the Cyclops' elastic skin. Young Alan wasn't expecting his attack to rebound.

The rubbery flesh not only deflected Alan's attempt at damaging it, but it made his whole arm vibrate. He lost his grip on the knife just as the Cyclops raised its hand. Alan studied the scene, already knowing what to expect. The enraged boy tried unsuccessfully to jump out of the way. He was able to avoid getting outright crushed, but still, the Cyclops managed to swat him across what was left of the room with the back of a hand.

Alan could remember the feeling of weightlessness he felt when the beast had sent him flying into the tunnel wall. He cringed internally when his child sized body hit the concave surface with a hollow thud, and rolled to the floor. On trembling arms, the boy managed to push himself up off the grimy stone, and climb to his feet. Blood dripped to the ground from a gash on his forehead.

Both Alan's were given no choice other than to watch in horror as the beast lifted their mother to it's mouth for a final bite. Alan tried to will himself to look away, but what little control he'd recently gained over his movements had been taken from him upon the Cyclops' arrival. He knew without looking that his past self was rooted in place, likewise unable to avert his unbelieving eyes.

With a stomach-turning snap, the beast tore off his mom's legs. The Cyclops looked to the boy on the floor and made full eye contact. After spreading its thin lips in a cruel grin, the foul beast chewed menacingly, and cocked back the arm holding his mother's remains.

In a display of heinous disrespect, it hurled the last uneaten bits of his mother at him.