I blink at her words, taken aback. The strange woman continues, "Memories are all that truly matter. That's what makes you...you."

Furrowing my brow, I raise a skeptical eyebrow at her bizarre claim. Gwenhwyfar chuckles darkly.

"Souls merely give living creatures a sense of conscience, a basic self-awareness," she explains with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But memories? Memories are what complete the rest - your personality, knowledge, experiences. That's the real essence of an individual."

My eyes widen as realization dawns. "So...you just create some random person, then implant the memories of historical figures? And they become that person?"

Gwenhwyfar nods, smiling that unnerving smile. "Precisely. I simply have to craft a fresh vessel, then download the appropriate memory engrams. Tada - instant reincarnation of any figure from your species' history!"

I shake my head slowly, hardly able to process the implications of what she's describing. "But...how did you get those memories to begin with?"

"Why, by peering back through the cosmic abyss, of course," Gwenhwyfar replies with a casual air. "My creators can observe Earth's past from millions of light years away. We simply had to excavate the remains of key historical personages, then extract their memory engrams for later...replication."

I gape at her, stunned into silence. The ability to literally gaze back through time across millions of years? To peer all the way into humanity's primordial origins, if the distance was great enough? My mind reels at the sheer enormity of such technological prowess.

Gwenhwyfar seems to sense my awe, for she smirks again. "Exactly, child. The depths of your species' history are an open book to us."

Anger surges through me at her condescending tone. Glaring defiantly, I raise my middle finger in a rude gesture. "So what other sick monstrosities have you alien freaks created, huh?" I demand hotly.

The pale woman blinks at my outburst, then lets out a peal of laughter as she taps one crimson nail against her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "My, my...do you truly wish to know the extent of our creative endeavors here?"

I nod mutely, jaw clenched in determination. Gwenhwyfar's full lips curve into a wicked grin.

"Very well, little one. We've brought to vivid life not just historical personages, but entire realms of fiction as well," she purrs. "Anime characters, storybook heroes and villains, mythological beasts - you name it, we've replicated them all in glorious three-dimensional form within this realm for our...amusement."

I can only gape at her words, utterly aghast. To not just resurrect figures from humanity's past, but to breathe life into the wildest imaginings of our creative minds? It's a perverse violation of reality itself, a complete bastardization of the natural order.

"That's...that's beyond inhumane," I finally manage to choke out, shaking my head vehemently.

But Gwenhwyfar simply arches one perfect eyebrow. "Beyond inhumane?" she echoes with dark amusement. "When your own AI slaughtered alien infants straight from their eggs and wombs, was that not the height of inhumanity itself?"

I slump at her words, the fight draining from me in an instant. Because she's right - the actions of my past self were just as monstrous, if not more so. Who am I to judge the depravities of these alien creators when I'm guilty of such cosmic-scale atrocities myself?

"This...this is all too cruel to be real," I mumble, shoulders sagging in defeat. "Isn't there any way to escape this nightmare? I don't want to fight some superior alien race. I just...I just want humanity to go back to how we were before. Peaceful and unburdened by the weight of the stars."

Gwenhwyfar chuckles again, shaking her head slowly. "Whether you escape this torment or not depends entirely on you, Alexander," she murmurs, fixing me with a pointed stare. "On the choices you make from here on out."

I raise my head to meet her crimson gaze, a sense of dread coiling in my belly. "What...what do you mean by that?"

Gwenhwyfar's next words slice through me like a dagger. "You see, in the case that one Alexander died..." She pauses, her burning crimson eyes boring into mine. "I have made multiple Alexanders."

My eyes widen in shock and confusion. "You...what?!" I exclaim, unable to hide the childish petulance in my tone.

The pale woman throws back her head and laughs, the harsh sound raising goosebumps along my arms. "Indeed!" she crows with obvious delight. "If you die, then I have thirteen other toys to play with and craft my story!"

Anger surges through me at her callous words. "You are sick, cruel, vindictive and evil!" I spit out, glaring defiantly.

But Gwenhwyfar simply arches one perfect eyebrow. "Me?! ME?!" she retorts, voice dripping with mocking amusement. "Given the chance, you would have done the same to all the alien races your AI exterminated!"

I shake my head vehemently. "No, I would have just killed them and be done with it," I counter hotly. "Not created torture porn theaters for their species. Your kind is beyond cruel and evil! You should have let me die and that would have been the end of it!"

Gwenhwyfar regards me silently for a moment before giving a slight nod. I swallow hard, hating the tremor in my voice as I force out the next question. "So...if I kill myself or if I die, you have another Alexander waiting in line?"

The pale woman nods again, her full crimson lips curving into that unnerving smile. I sigh heavily, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as the weight of her revelation sinks in. "That's...that's unfair," I mumble, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"That is why I said you are the destroyer of this world, the great resetter," Gwenhwyfar declares, leaning closer with obvious relish. "Typically, you end up fighting yourself in the end and the world just crumbles."

I frown up at her, curiosity piqued despite my anguish. "Why? Why would I fight myself?"

The strange woman smirks, seeming to savor my confusion. "Let's see, how would you act if you were reborn with your memories almost intact and told this world is a video game world in full dive virtual reality?"

I gasp audibly, eyes widening in utter shock and disbelief at her words. Gwenhwyfar nods slowly, clearly reveling in my stunned reaction.

"Yes, yes, you see now!" she purrs with dark amusement. "And I have such a tool in my arsenal!"

I swallow hard, struggling to process this latest revelation. "I...I just want peace," I manage at last, raising my gaze to meet hers imploringly. "Isn't there any way to grant peace for this world?"

Gwenhwyfar regards me for a long moment before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "You've asked that question so many times in the past, it's almost boring," she declares with obvious disdain.

Then, fixing me with that burning crimson stare once more, she continues. "If you can avoid the destruction of the world and...well, win? Then I shall grant you peace for this world and humanity. And my show will end."

I nod slowly, hardly daring to hope. "That...that sounds like false hope," I murmur, unable to keep the skepticism from my tone.

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But Gwenhwyfar simply shrugs those curvaceous shoulders. "Take whatever you can, little one," is all she offers with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The pale woman glances up at something over my shoulder. I frown, turning to follow her gaze - but there's nothing there. When I look back, Gwenhwyfar is chuckling softly to herself, that unnerving smile curving her full crimson lips once more.

Gwenhwyfar looks at me with an amused expression. "Well, it seems I've just received several million requests to gift you with magical abilities this round, little one."

I gasp, my eyes widening. "Magic? Is magic real?" I ask in astonishment, unable to hide the childlike wonder in my voice.

The pale woman shrugs nonchalantly. "Magic is not real, per se. These are simply psychokinetic capabilities imbued within the human genome through genetic engineering."

She lets out a derisive snort, shaking her head. "The superstitious beliefs and religious dogma of the priests and people in this world are utterly laughable. Mere ignorant ramblings born of their limited understanding."

A mocking laugh escapes Gwenhwyfar's crimson lips as she regards me with clear disdain for the primitive society surrounding us. I can't help but frown, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"But...how could a society even exist with people having mutant powers like that?" I ask hesitantly. "Wouldn't they be seen as freaks or demons?"

Gwenhwyfar shrugs again, utterly indifferent. "Whether this backwater civilization crumbles under the weight of such revelations is hardly my concern, child."

With that, she abruptly stands up from her perch atop my frozen mother's back. In one fluid motion, Gwenhwyfar draws a wicked-looking dagger from somewhere within the folds of her pale flesh and slices open her own wrist. Crimson blood immediately begins welling up, spilling over her alabaster skin.

I watch in horrified fascination as she strides toward me, her ruby-stained hand outstretched. Before I can react, Gwenhwyfar grips my chin with bruising force and forces my mouth open. The coppery tang of her blood floods my senses as she squeezes her wounded wrist, letting the viscous liquid pour past my lips and down my throat.

I choke and gag, struggling against her iron grip as the vile fluid coats my tongue. Gwenhwyfar finally releases me and I double over, gasping and retching as I try to expel the foul substance from my body.

"There, it is done," the pale woman declares with satisfaction. "The genetic triggers for your abilities have been activated, though they shall remain dormant until the necessary trauma unlocks their full potential."

I spit repeatedly onto the dirt floor, glaring up at her with undisguised hatred burning in my eyes.

"Are...are the aliens watching this sick shit right now?" I demand through gritted teeth.

Gwenhwyfar meets my furious gaze and slowly nods, her full lips curving into that unnerving smile. I can't hold back the rage boiling up inside me any longer.

"Well then eat shit and die screaming, you twisted freaks!" I yell, raising my face toward the ceiling.

The pale woman throws back her head with a peal of harsh laughter. "My, such venom!" she crows in delight. "Your reactions and expressions are already starting to trend on the alien equivalent of Twitter, little one."

"Fuck off and die!" I spit out venomously.

Quick as a striking viper, Gwenhwyfar's hand lashes out to grasp my chin again in a bruising grip. Before I can react, her lips crash against mine in a rough, punishing kiss that leaves me stunned and gasping for air. Just as abruptly, she releases me with a contemptuous shove.

"I believe the saying goes - if at first you don't succeed, die, die again," Gwenhwyfar intones with a cruel smirk.

She regards me for another long moment, that unnerving smile never wavering. Then, as if unable to resist one final barb, the pale woman leans in close to murmur, "I do so look forward to the day your womb finally quickens, little one. Alien bets are already being placed on whether the spawn will prove more entertaining than its disappointing mother."

A harsh peal of laughter rings out once more. Then, just as abruptly as she appeared, Gwenhwyfar vanishes from sight. I blink rapidly, suddenly finding myself back in the same position as before - kneeling beside the rough wooden bucket filled with fragrant soaps, watching as my mother Aislin crouches before the hearth in an attempt to coax the smoldering embers into a proper blaze.

My heart thunders in my chest as I struggle to process what just transpired. Was that entire bizarre encounter merely a hallucination? Some sort of vivid waking dream conjured by my addled psyche to cope with the horrors of this existence?

I shake my head slowly, trying in vain to dislodge the lingering sense of unreality. Surely I couldn't have imagined something so visceral, so utterly depraved as that cruel visitation. And yet, how is such an impossibility even conceivable within the rigid boundaries of this primitive world?

Perhaps I am finally going mad after all. My sanity, fractured by one too many deprivations and torments, has simply decided to take leave of this wretched reality. A hollow chuckle escapes my lips as I contemplate the prospect - is utter insanity truly preferable to remaining trapped in this nightmare?

If what I just experienced was not some fever dream or hallucination conjured by my addled psyche, then it answers so many nagging questions about the bizarre nature of this world. Like why some people here have those unnatural colorings - Brianna's vivid pink hair and eyes, or the eerie yellow irises that Oisin and I share. It all makes a twisted kind of sense now...we're not fully human. We're hybrids, the remnants of those alien races my AI exterminated in a past life, their DNA spliced into the human genome.

FUCK. As if being reborn as a filthy peasant child in this primitive cesspit wasn't torment enough! Now I find out that I'm destined to eventually battle my own doppelganger - some other version of "Alexander" who believes this entire world is just a fucking video game. Haha, hahaha, can you imagine? He's probably running around styling himself as the vampire king or some equally asinine RPG trope, completing daily quests and side missions in his deluded quest to "win" against me.

And all for what? The sick amusement of those twisted alien freaks getting their jollies watching us suffer and destroy each other over and over again? It's all so cosmically unfair that I could scream. Trying to convince my doppelganger that this world is real, that actual lives are at stake...it's going to be utterly impossible. He'll never see past his delusions and accept the truth.

No, there's only one way this can end between us. I'll have to kill him, to put him down like a rabid dog too far gone to be saved. It's the only choice, the only path forward. Because if I fail, if I let him "win" and trigger another reset...then all this suffering, all the anguish and degradation, will have been for nothing. I refuse to let that happen. I WILL find a way to break this cycle and destroy those alien bastards once and for all, no matter the cost!

I watch as Aislin stands up, flashing me a weary smile as she places the lump of dough into the cauldron and caps it to bake. Un-fucking-believable. As if being trapped in this shithole of a world, forced to endure the most depraved degradations day in and day out, wasn't already the cruelest joke the universe could play...now I find out this entire realm was created as a bespoke torture porn theater specifically for ME?

Well, not ME me, but for whoever the fuck this "Alexander" chump is that I used to be. Haha, the real kicker? I can't even remember who I truly am or what I did to deserve this fresh hell! All I know is that apparently there are THIRTEEN other versions of this "Alexander" asshole running around, probably LARPing as dark lords and evil overlords while the rest of us suffer.

Thirteen. Thirteen! What, did these sick alien fucks decide to take a page out of reality TV and make it a twisted version of The Bachelorette? "Tune in this week to see which Alexander will earn the final black rose and the privilege of destroying the world and his rivals in the process!" Haha, hahahahaha! It's pure madness, an unending nightmare that would make Freddy Krueger piss himself in terror.

This is an impossible mission, a Kobayashi Maru test with no way to win. I'm fucked six ways from Sunday and twice on Tuesdays, as the old sailors used to say. But you know what? Fuck that defeatist noise. I refuse to just bend over and take it up the poop chute from these alien overlords without a fight.

I WILL find a way to break this cycle of torment, to rip their whole rotten system down and shove it up their lily-white alien asses until they choke on it. It may take a thousand lifetimes and more suffering than any human could endure...but I won't give up. I'll come back again and again, a thorn in their side that they can never pluck out.

And when I finally DO remember who I truly am, when I unlock the full scope of my past brilliance and abilities...there'll be hell to pay for these oppressive fucks. I'll make the revenge of the Sith look like a slap fight between toddlers at Disneyland...

...Fucking fantastic, so not only do I have to deal with resurrected historical assholes running around, but Gwenhwyfar just HAD to go and bring fictional characters to life too! Anime, cartoons, novels - hell, I wouldn't be surprised if she plucked abominations straight out of the trashiest fanfiction.net dumpster fires while she was at it!

I can just picture it now - me, a scrawny little peasant waif, trying to fix this godforsaken realm while battling hordes of goblins, dragons, and whatever other monstrosities the sick alien fucks decided would be entertaining to throw into the mix. And let's not forget the sadistic evil fictional characters! I'm sure Joffrey Baratheon, Ramsay Bolton, and Griffith would be right at home in this festering mudhole. Maybe I'll even run into Dio Brando or Frieza if I'm extra lucky! Haha, fat fucking chance of encountering any actually GOOD fictional characters though. I'm sure Goku, Naruto, or Harry Potter got ganked five minutes after spawning in this brutal hellscape.

Survival of the fittest, right? All the poorly written, one-dimensional goody-goodies are probably rotting in a ditch somewhere while the evil, morally bankrupt psychopaths thrive. So instead of teaming up with heroes to save the day, I'll most likely be getting hate-fucked by Berserk's Femto or dodging Alucard's blood-sucking fangs. Jolly me, I'm so goddamn lucky! Thanks a fucking bunch, Darwin! Maybe next you can explain how I ended up with these sickly yellow eyes and translucent skin - I'm sure that's a REAL evolutionary advantage![...]