Behind me were woods potentially filled with dangerous traps.

Ahead was a girl with her hand on a knife clearly meant for more than dealing just with food. I was unable to give a satisfying answer, and I could surmise that any lie would be seen through by this person. She was already suspicious of me.

“You found me, right? Then wherever I was coming from… that is where I am from.”

The girl’s emerald eyes rooted me to the spot. The pressure of her stare seemed to embody the nature around us, as though the trees bent over me to shut away the warmth of the sky.

“I don’t believe that you lost your memory,” she announced. “There must be other survivors. You can’t tell me that all Se… that all demon-kin in Darvaza were killed by the mere Imperial army. That’s ridiculous!”

I recalled the singular memory I hosted. The enormous expanse of collapsed stone and scorched remains. In the smoke I had breathed was only dust, decay, and flesh.

“That was Darvaza…” I murmured. “’Gate’…“

“To Hell,” the girl finished. “So you did come from there.”

“A passage to be feared by all mortals,” I recited. From somewhere within the large hollow of my mind, those words were carried on a wind that smelt of a warm breath. “You have no need to fear any others coming from there,” I told the girl. “There was certainly nothing left there.”

Huh? That’s not what I—!… No, right. That’s good, no demons will be coming for revenge…” She laughed in apparent relief.

The vague sense of the world that I had received from the Goddess; Human-kind, and Demon-kind. As my instincts had suggested, it appeared that humans lived in fear of what might come from the lands inhabited by the various races of the demon-kin. However, that scene. The dull beat of drums, and the victorious blowing of horns which carried over the battlefields and the wastelands. That was the aftermath of war that I was born into.

The leaves behind the girl rustled, and a lanky grey-bearded man appeared in the small clearing. He staggered against a tree trunk, clearly drunk.

“I fought I saaw peeple come heer,” he slurred. The girl jumped in surprise, but rolled her eyes when she saw the face of the man.

“Jerry, how many times have I told you, you can’t come out here to take a piss. You’re going to get hurt one of these days.” She pushed him away. “But it keeps tha anamils away!” he protested. I made to leave after the two of them, as the drunk man continued, “Come driink, yuu too stranger! We nevar haff to worry about tha deemons again! Ther countree is deefeated!”

“Yes, yes,” the girl said, exasperated.

As the man wandered off, the atmosphere grasped my curiosity. Based on what he said, I could guess that the razing of the city I saw was the cause for this degree of good spirits.

A war between kingdoms. Though it may have just ended, what a time to lose my memories. I wasn’t sure how to feel about anything in this world.

We had returned to the road, and a group of men and women not far off were loudly drinking and establishing a roasting pit. It seemed that the village was certainly in holiday spirits. I felt the need to know more, so I spoke up.

“It seems to be a special day—“

I was cut off by an open palm raised directly to my face. The girl held it there, not swaying a millimetre, as if with an oppressing stance. Nothing happened. I tilted my head to look past the hand at her face, unsure of what she meant.

“You’re not going to defend yourself?” she asked, puzzled.

Her arm looked ordinary. Maybe a little frail for a girl of her age. Despite having a seemingly similar female build myself, I couldn’t imagine her hurting me very much unhanded.

I shook my head. Despite an expression like she wanted to hit something, she lowered her hand and sighed.

“I haven’t heard your name,” she said. “What is it?”

Another question I didn’t know how to answer. But I felt that it was no good to continue this way.

“Sycop—no, just Syco.”

“… Mine is Cris.” She then turned and left without a farewell.

I was left alone again. Here in some unknown village, surrounded by people suspicious of me and with no allies. With no better plan in mind, I decided that I would find out how I might get to the Capital. By being there, I would at least have meaning.

I walked a short distance down the street and spoke to one of the least drunk looking people I could find: a young woman with a toddler on her lap.

“Hello,” I smiled at them both. A shadow fell over the village as a cloud concealed the sun. The kid cheerily giggled. “Is there a way to travel to the city from here?”

There was no response. “Excuse me…?” I tried to get her attention.

The sounds of birds grew loud. Their cries echoed strangely.

It wasn’t only the woman. The toddler, too, was staring into the distance. I spun around. Everybody there was staring into the distant sky. The village was filled with abundant silence. The only sound was of the roast pit being spun, but the man rotating it was similarly lacking presence of mind.

I had no idea what was happening. A strange tradition or ritual? After several seconds of it, I found myself too disturbed to stay there.

It was as if the world had forgotten me.

When I was a few further yards down the street, the din of conversation and frolics continued as if there had been never any suspension; the only difference was that the child’s giggles had turned into a cry.