As his consciousness slowly came into focus, like being dragged from a deep sleep, he stared into the all-encompassing darkness as questions filled his mind. “Where am I? Why is it so dark?” He reached up to wipe the haze from his mind, but no response was forthcoming from his arm. He tries to move in desperation, testing his limbs, with panic welling up inside. To his horror, his limbs are unresponsive. His breathing and thoughts became erratic as panic set in, while his attempt at screaming resulted in only silence. Leaving him with nothing to do but internally yell in defiance as he makes futile attempts at moving his unresponsive body. “What’s going on?! Why can’t I move?!” Jerking his body to one side in desperation sent him rolling over onto his side, slamming into an unknown object. The object shifted slightly under the pressure of his weight as he lay there, screaming internally. “Ahhh! No, no, no! What happened to me?!”

His mind was racing, teetering on the brink of a mental breakdown, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. “Breathe, just breathe! I need- I only need- to focus. Focus, merely focus on my- training? I- I was trained. But- but for what?” He felt a slight headache as he tried to remember what this training was, causing his mind to feel increasingly hazier the harder he tried to recall the information that seemed just out of reach. Mentally shaking his head to clear the mental fog from his mind, he pushed the thoughts away. Continuing to focus on his breathing, he repeatedly reminded himself to breathe, desperately trying to maintain what little composure he had managed to claw back. “Breathe, just breathe. I only need to focus on my breathing.” His ragged breathing began to take on a rhythmic pattern as he pushed all the stray thoughts aside, focusing solely on his breathing. “Breathe in. One, two, three, and hold. One, two, three, and out. One, two, three.” He continued like this for a few minutes, his breathing becoming steady and his racing thoughts calming. “I need to analyze my situation and figure out what happened to me.”

He began running through what he knew. “Ok, let’s see what I can figure out. I can’t see anything; I can’t move my arms or legs, and I can’t speak.” Clearing his mind and focusing, he listened to the world around him for any audible sounds, but there was nothing, no animals, birds, insects, not even the rustle of leaves. “I can’t hear anything. That could mean I’m deaf or there is nothing to hear. Both options are a worrying prospect.” He paused, focusing on his breathing as he pushed this troubling train of thought from his mind. “I should focus on things I can do for now. I can roll over, but more importantly, I felt myself hit something.” Focusing on his sense of touch with a desperate zeal, he pressed himself against the object he had rolled into earlier. The sensation was odd; instead of his side, it felt more like he was running his hand across the surface of this unknown thing. This peculiar sensation allowed for a far more detailed inspection than he had ever expected. Surprised, he quickly pulled away from the thing; his breathing quickened as panic crept into his mind, but he quickly pushed down his fear and panic again. After taking several deep breaths to steady his mind and nerves, he pressed himself against the object again. Pushing the oddity of the sensation aside, he focused on what seemed to be a large plant. It gave slightly at his prodding, but it remained firm. He could feel the vertical veins traveling up the smooth, waxy surface of the large plant. Pulling away and now directing his focus on his surroundings allowed him to feel a gentle breeze against the surface of his body. Redirecting his focus towards the ground allowed him to feel the coarse dirt and sand, along with an assortment of small stones and other particulates. “I’m outside! I can feel things!” This simple realization brought him more joy than it should have, giving him hope. “If I’m outside, what does that mean for me? I still have no idea what happened to me. I need answers.”

Searching his mind for memories of what had happened, he realized that he could not recall anything about himself, his past, or even his name; his mind shot back to an earlier thought. “I was trained? I was trained not to panic. Trained to deal with terrifying and stressful situations. Was I a soldier?” He felt a slight headache forming as he continued focusing on these thoughts, pushing the pain aside as he continued the line of thinking. “It’s more than that… I worked for someone, an agency? No, an intelligence agency? Aargh!” The pain ripped him from his thoughts as the minor headache was now a full-blown migraine, as though someone was stabbing an ice pick into his brain. “Do I have a concussion or something? Aargh. Why would it start now? Did all this pain start because I tried to remember what happened to me?” These thoughts race through his mind as he tries to focus. “Breath, just breathe and focus on the objective. I need to figure out what happened to me.” As the pain began to ease, he redoubled his efforts, trying to dig out any memories that could help. “If I used to be an intelligence officer, I must have been working for a governmental agency; was there a conflict? A war? Aargh!” The pain was building as he continued to untangle this line of thinking, but the second he realized that he was possibly involved in a war, the pain ripped through his body like a bolt of lightning. This pain was unlike anything he had felt up to this point; the feeling was as though his being had been shredded, ripped to pieces, and scattered; for that moment, his entire world, his very existence, was nothing but soul-rending pain.

Through the fading pain, he could hear a laughing voice sounding in his mind. The feminine voice laughed as she spoke. “Ha ha ha. Are you a masochist or something? Don’t let me get in your way if you are having fun, but your core stability is below fifty percent. If you keep this up, you will die.” Having forgotten that he could not speak, he tried to call out to the voice in vain. Realizing the futility of his efforts, he directed his thoughts toward the voice, hoping that the voice would be able to hear what he was thinking. “Hello, can you hear me?” To his delight, the feminine voice, replying in a playful tone, rang out in his mind again. “I can’t decide whether I’m impressed or disappointed. You panicked far less than I was expecting. I’ll give you nine points for that. You were somewhat able to analyze your situation. I’ll give you five points for that, though you could have done a far better job. Lastly, trying to kill yourself right off the bat was very surprising. Usually, excruciating pain is enough of a deterrent to make anyone stop their current course of action, but nooo, not you. If you were actually trying to kill yourself, I’ll give you full marks for the effort. I have to say it takes some reel moxie to try and go out like that. This assignment is either going to be a very interesting or a very short one. So if you want to finish the job, hurry up and get on with it.”

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He sat in stunned silence for a minute, unsure how to respond. The voice sounds pleasant and playful, but her words are, without a doubt, dripping with sarcasm. Regardless of her mocking tone, he needed answers, and she was the only one who could provide them. With tentative thoughts, he responds. “With all due respect, I was not trying to kill myself. I-” Laughter fills his mind, cutting him off. “Ha ha ha. You could have fooled me.” Her amusement over his current ordeal was evident, irking him to no end but keeping his tone neutral as he continued. “Would you mind telling me who you are and what has happened to me? I would introduce myself first, but unfortunately, I have lost my memories.” Replying with a huff, he could feel her disappointment through the mental connection. “Tsk, you are no fun. I was hoping this would be a quick job or at least entertaining. Well, at least you are not dumb. However, the verdict on whether you enjoy pain or not is still out for debate. Fine.” Her tone shifts, becoming flat and formal, losing the playful demeanor. “As per the agreement with the God of Beasts, you have been reincarnated as a level zero, grade G, small lesser slime spawn. My name is Winter, and the God of Beasts has, unfortunately, tasked me with keeping an eye on you.” Silence hung in the air as he sat there, expecting her to continue, but to his disappointment, no further information came.

Having received a good deal of impossible information, he was unsure what to believe, but none of it answered his pressing questions. He took a few deep breaths to maintain his composure before speaking. “What’s wrong with my memory? I can’t remember who I am or what happened to me, and why does it cause me so much pain when I try to remember?” He could feel her apathy towards his plight through the mental connection as her voice sounded in his mind. “In all likelihood, it has something to do with the agreement you made. I do not know the particulars of this agreement, so I cannot say for certain, but I can give you the most likely reasons for your memory loss. As you have already discovered, you cannot remember your name, past, identity, or related information. The agreement you made has either erased your memories or sealed them away. Unfortunately, there are several different reasons why this could have happened. One, you may have requested it to be done. Two, it was the price you paid in exchange for something, likely your reincarnation or a powerful skill or ability. Three, the God of Beasts, required it. If your memory loss is a result of the last option, there is no way to know why, at least not for sure, and the God of Beasts is unlikely to tell you why, even if you were to ask. It could have been a whim; he may not have liked the person you were prior; perhaps he wanted to see what you could accomplish without your past influencing your actions or any other unknowable reasons. In regards to the pain you experienced, that is easy to answer. Simply put, you were in breach of your agreement, and the pain was a punishment for that breach.”

He was once again left in silence to digest the idea of having his very identity and past erased. Calling out to Winter as a realization hit him. “I did remember things from my past. They may have only been vague fragments, but they were there. Does that mean my memories are only blocked, not erased, right?” He could feel a mixture of amusement and annoyance bleeding through the mental connection as Winter spoke. “No, as you said so yourself, they were fragments. What you were able to remember could be leftover fragments that will fade over time, or they could be fragments that you forced through the seal; either way, it does not matter. Or have you forgotten that just remembering fragments nearly killed you? You need to understand something extremely important. The damage you suffered was not a simple mental or physical attack; it was damage directly to your very soul. The more you try forcibly remembering your past, the more damage you will take until it obliterates your very soul. No more you. No second chance. No resurrection. Just oblivion.”

He sat there, his mind spinning, his berating growing more erratic by the second, teetering on the brink of a full-blown panic attack, overwhelmed and in shock as the weight of Winter’s words utterly crushed his last ray of hope. Suddenly, he felt a rush of annoyance mixed with a tinge of sympathy over the mental link as Winter snapped at him, her words shaking his entire being as she spoke. “HEY! I suggest you calm down, pull yourself together, and focus on something other than your past. You hardly have the time to sit there and wallow in self-pity.” The force of Winter’s words pulled him out of the downward spiral; his breathing slowed, returning to normal as a feeling of calm washed over his mind. “Just breathe.” He repeated to himself as he collected his thoughts. “I know she’s right; I was being a fool; there are more important things to worry about right now. I need to stay calm, keep my emotions in check, and focus on the important things. I know nothing of this world or how it functions; if I want to survive, I need information.” Once he had collected his thoughts, Winter continued. “Since you have not noticed, I will point out your oversight. Your affected memories are only related to your identity and related things; it does not apply to everything you know. From what I have seen of your thoughts, you still remember your native language, along with terms, ideas, and concepts, not of this world. On top of that, you have a new life in a new world; try to make the best of it. Or don’t and just sit there waiting to die, again.” He considers Winter’s words as he continues to take slow, rhythmic breaths. “She’s right, and no matter how much I desperately want this to be some horrible nightmare, surviving is the most important thing. There are so many questions; where do I even start?”