The way with which he spoke my name was caring and tender, as if the two of us had shared many moments together, possibly even intimate ones. But even though his brilliant face and rumbling voice should’ve registered in my memory, it was blank. Zero response. I’d never in my life met this stranger. Not in this realm nor the real world. Of that I was absolutely certain.

“How do you know my name?” I meant for the words to sound careful, but it came out as an accusation.

The smile, which masterfully curled his lips ever so slightly, disappeared at my words. It was clear that I’d hurt his feelings, somehow.

“I was really hoping you would be able to remember me and the times we spent together.” Again, he was speaking as if we should know each other. He was clearly delusional.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I replied, this time with some force behind it.

“My name is Kerebor. Until a few days ago, we were companions, you and I; fighting with the other brave souls at the Frontier. We were supposed to break free of this place and meet in the real world one day. You promised me that once. But I suppose you no longer remember...” He was speaking in a grandiose tone, as though play-acting for a congregation of kindergartners. I suppose he greatly enjoyed the role of shiny knight.

“I don’t understand anything you’re saying,” I told him.

‘Kerebor’ scratched his head awkwardly. I thought it to be a fitting mannerism for someone going by such a silly name. “I apologise, I’m not very good at explaining things.”

“Give it your best shot,” I said sarcastically. It was clear from the surprised expression on his face that he had not expected me to use such a tone. It was strange that he would expect anything from me at all.

“You had better sit down for this,” he instructed. It was likely more for his own sake, what with his incredible burden of silvery, plated armour, but I obliged nonetheless, as my legs were still rather shaky.

Kerebor splayed his hands out before him after he had plonked down onto the grass in the shade of the lone tree. I sat down opposite him, putting some distance between us, since, regardless of his words, we were obviously strangers.

“Right now, we are in another world—”

I waved my hand in the air in frustration, cutting him off before he even got started. “I know that! I want to know why I don’t remember anything.”

Again, a pained and surprised expression on his face. “You used to be a lot different before you died,” he said in a sombre tone befitting of his booming voice.

“I died?”

“You were stabbed by the King Consort on the Spire Stage of the Silken Valley. When you die in this place, you lose your memories of that ‘life’.”

“That’s absurd.” Truly it was, but then I remembered that voice and I knew he was telling the truth.

“I agree, but it’s an unavoidable part of this Mad God’s game...”

“So how do I leave? There should be a way out of this place… right?”

He shook his head. “No one knows how to escape. Those of us at the Frontier believe that, if we can clear every World that’s thrown at us, we will be set free. You used to believe the same thing.

“However, a lot of other people believe there is no ‘real world’, that Earth is just an implanted memory we all share, and that this is our only world. It’s especially common with those that have died many times before. Some people have taken to calling them the Forsaken.”

“So, you’re saying that if I die again, I won’t be able to remember we had this talk?” The idea of such a concept was, to say the least, very disturbing.

“We already had this talk once before, actually. Except you were the one telling me these things. I’m here to repay that favour.” I wondered why I would ever have wanted to help this guy like he was helping me now, but the answer to that was of course lost when my previous life ended.

“Help me understand something, though. If dying only resets your memories of the life we’re living here, why have I lost the memory of things that happened before I came to this mad realm?”

“I don’t know. It happens to all of us, it seems.” Something in the way he said it made me realise it was bothering him too.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“How many times have I died? Just the once or more?”

“Definitely more than once, perhaps even a dozen times, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Great…” I mumbled to myself. “Anyway, let’s rewind real quick, how can I be sure we actually knew each other?”

Kerebor seemed to consider this for a moment. “Maybe you can ask me a question only a friend of yours would know?”

“That’d work,” I replied. “Hmm…” I wracked my mind, trying to think of some nugget of personal information that wouldn’t be too private but that a friend of mine would know. Considering my immensely shredded memory bank, that was easier said than done. Eventually I just settled for something easy:

“What’s my favourite colour?”

Kerebor grinned like I’d made a joke. Clearly that was too easy.

“It’s black. But that’s too easy, ask me something harder.”

“Okay, what’s my favourite kind of food?”

“Anything fried!” he blurted out so suddenly that I couldn’t help but laugh.

He scratched his chin in embarrassment, but then recovered quickly and suddenly listed off a bunch of stuff:

“You have quick reflexes; you’re a just person, but not above breaking the rules; you seem to really like animals, regardless of species, as far as I can tell; your biggest fears are spiders and clowns—”

Again, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Kerebor seemed pretty pleased with himself. “Should I continue?”

“No, no, I believe you. But I don’t remember you at all. It feels kind of awful when you have all these memories of me.”

“Yea…” was all he replied.

“So, anyway, what’s the ‘Frontier’? You keep talking about it like I’m supposed to already know.”

“Sorry. The Frontier is what we call the highest Stage reached. This realm is split into many different Worlds, each of which has several Stages that you need to complete in order to progress. You will soon learn that these Stages are very difficult, and because you only have one opportunity to learn a fight, since death will… well, you know… it means that many never make it very far before resetting. Those who do continually progress eventually run into the Frontier, which consists of veteran fighters, and even a few Immortals—”

“Immortals?”

“People who have not died at all since being transported here.”

“Those exist?”

“Yes, but they are few in number, and several of them are vicious PKers. A few spend their time actively helping the other players at the Frontier, but the majority of those that are left tend to just hang around in cities doing very little.”

“What’s a PKer?” Something about it sounded familiar when I said it, as if it was a word I might’ve used before.

“A Player-Killer. Most people refer to those of us who were brought here as ‘Players’, so, essentially, a PKer is someone who will kill other players for their items or sometimes just because they can.” From his face I could immediately tell that he had encountered such players before. It was a mixture of pure hatred, but also fear. I could hardly blame him for it. The thought of players turning on each other, despite being in the same struggle to survive, was truly the epitome of all that was bad about humankind.

“We’re ‘players’?” I asked incredulously.

“Considering this place resembles a game, with all its rules, items to loot, ways to level up, and so forth, it’s actually not that much of a stretch. Also, the Worlds are populated with Husks: empty fabrications of people, who lack the true spark of life found within us who were transported here. Having the ability to distinguish who is real and who is not is important.”

I thought about this for a moment. “For whose entertainment are we playing, I wonder.”

Kerebor just shrugged. “Best not to think too much about it.”

“How long have we been here? I don’t remember even arriving to this place.”

“It’s different for everyone. Apparently, you were one of the first people here, along with Heiress and Aeran,” he said, as though I should know who those people were. “Some of the Immortals say they’ve been here for over a year, but most people at the Frontier say this has been going on for several years. Also, nobody remembers how they got here, at least we all have that in common.”

“Hmm… So, anyway, where I died—”

“The Spire of the Silken Valley.”

“Yes, thank you… is that where the Frontier is at?”

“No.”

“But didn’t you say I was part of the Frontier?”

“You were, but we went back to an earlier Stage, because you wanted to acquire a special item. You never told me what it was for, but you knew someone with a way to unlock an alternative version of the boss fight.”

“I died in a Stage I’d already cleared, then?”

“Yes, but that is not to say it was a walk in the park. I have never seen a fight so chaotic as that one. There were spiders everywhere. The King Consort killed two other players besides you. And the item that dropped is just a useless Consumable.” Despite talking about my death and that of two others, his face was really empty for a moment, as if unfazed by it.[1] It was kind of terrifying. For a second, I wondered if he was putting on an act, though it wouldn’t make any sense for him to be here if he didn’t care at least a little. Or would it? I couldn’t actually say, truth be told, and clearly we’d been friends, so I was perhaps just reading too much into it. He seemed to care about me a whole lot at least.

“Do you have it with you?” I was curious to see what it was I’d died for, since I doubted that I’d have gone through so much trouble for something useless.

“Yes, it is in my Inventory.”

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.” Kerebor swiped two fingers in front of him, tapped something invisible, scrolled through a list only he could see, and then pulled an object out of the thin air. He opened his gauntleted hand towards me and showed a small glass heart resting in his palm. I knew it was a heart, despite the fact that it looked very alien in shape. It had six tubes connected in pairs to its three chambers. It had an organic yet oval shape, and a light flickered around inside it like a tiny firefly, giving off a dull, barely noticeable, red-orange glow. Gingerly, I picked it up with both hands, and found it to be quite sturdy and not at all fragile like I’d expected.

----------------------------------------

[1] Sort of like someone just reading from a grocery shopping list.