New Eden: Live to Play, Play to Live

The first one to react was Khalor. He slammed both his hands together, almost in a praying position, and murmured.

‘Legacy Skill: Memories Of The Dead’

A dark sphere started expanding from his hands. It rapidly grew, exploding outwards as it swallowed the zone they were in.

Astaroth looked on in awe, as the surroundings changed from a plain with a pyramid to a burning and desolate cityscape. He could hear screams of terror and pain in the distance.

“Where is this?” He asked, looking all around him.

“I am not surprised you don’t recognize it in this state,” Khalor said, flashing a sad smile.

“Should I even recognize this?” Astaroth questioned, his face shifting in confusion.

“Ahh, yes. You should.” Khalor answered.

Astaroth looked around, this time trying to focus a little more, but nothing seemed familiar to him. So he gazed back at Khalor.

“A hint, maybe?” He asked the Necromancer.

Khalor extended his hand, pointing at a ruined building. He said nothing, just pointing his ghostly finger forward.

Astaroth followed the direction and turned his head to look at the building. At first, all he could see was a charred mess of what used to be a building.

It was only after a few seconds of focus that he spotted something. There was a half-burned ad placard in one of the broken-down windows.

When he read what was left of it, his eyes widened in terror.

“This… This can’t be where I think it is. How is it in the game?” He asked, his mind racing.

“These are memories. The memories of dead people. They don’t come from the game.” Khalor slowly replied, pressing every word.

“What dead people? You are not making sense.” Astaroth replied, the confusion in his head becoming thicker.

“The skill I used lets me conjure up the memories of the dead I control. Sadly, this doesn’t come from them. This one is a bit more personal.” Khalor explained.

‘Shouldn’t be long, now,’ he thought, turning his head to one side of the street.

Not a moment later, a group of four people ran around the corner. They had terrified looks in their eyes, and their clothes were bloodied.

Astaroth turned his head, following Khalor’s movement, and saw the group running. When he looked at them, he frowned.

These were all Humans. And their clothes were not clothes from inside the game either.

They were dressed like your regular Jack and Jill. One guy was wearing sports clothes, as if he had just been at the gym.

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The two women following right behind were also dressed in normal day attire, one wearing a skirt and nice blouse, had it not been bloody, and the other wearing what looked like a store uniform.

This confused Astaroth. How were they wearing normal clothes while inside the game?

He hadn’t heard of anyone yet crafting outside clothes for inside the game. This made no sense.

The group of four ran past him and Khalor, not even looking at them. It was as if they weren’t even there.

“What are you running from?!” Astaroth shouted, trying to grab one woman by the arm.

His hand went through her, though, like she was made of fog.

“What the…” Astaroth looked at her in confusion.

“Don’t bother. I told you we were in a memory. These people don’t see us.” Khalor said.

“You are still not making sense,” Astaroth replied, his eyes showing signs of anger.

Khalor sighed heavily.

“This is the memory of a dead man. That dead man,” he said, pointing at the guy in the sweatpants.

“But who is he? And when is he dead?” Astaroth asked, fishing for answers at this point.

“That man is me. And the answer to your question is three years from now. Or at least, it was, before a month ago.” Khalor answered, his eyes locking on Astaroth.

“How can you say we are in a memory, and then say it is a memory of three years from now? You make no sense!” Astaroth burst out.

Khalor had promised him answers, and all he was giving him were enigmas and more questions. So anger was taking hold of him.

Khalor chuckled at the outburst.

“I thought you would have a more relaxed temper than this. Looks like I was wrong. Follow me,” Khalor said, snapping his fingers.

He then teleported both him and Astaroth up to the top of a building, looking down on the street they had just been. Khalor walked to another side of the building.

Astaroth followed him, walking to the edge of the building, but keeping a healthy distance from Khalor. Khalor again pointed at something.

Astaroth looked in the pointed direction and saw a billboard in the distance. The billboard was still relatively intact compared to the rest of the city.

On it, an ad for New Eden was plastered. It was an ad for the next tournament.

The strange thing was that it announced the fourth tournament. And there was a date underlined right under it.

The date showed the month of August, but the year was off by three years. Khalor, who was standing further to his side, noticed the look of confusion.

“The date isn’t wrong, in case you were wondering. You were supposed to be in that tournament, by the way. Sadly, it was never meant to be,” Khalor said, sighing lightly.

He then turned his head to look down at the streets again. His gaze was following the group of four.

Astaroth was staring at the billboard, trying to make sense of it all. But that was not an easy task.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a woman scream. The scream came from below, and his eyes looked for the source.

‘Goodbye, Carmen.’ Khalor whispered out of earshot.

Astaroth found the source of the screaming and his face contorted in horror.

The woman that had screamed had a spear in her shoulder, and she was down on her knees. And before her stood three tall figures, skin red as blood, horns jutting out of their heads.

It took a matter of seconds before one of them started chewing on the woman, not bothering to kill her before doing so. He tore through her in a matter of minutes, while the other two figures went on after the rest of the group.

“Can’t we help them?!” Astaroth barked, turning to face Khalor.

“No. I already said this more than once. We are in a memory. Nothing can be altered here. It has already happened.” Khalor reiterated, annoyance creeping up his face.

Blood drained out of Astaroth’s face, as realization dawned on him.

‘This can’t be real,’ he thought, dropping to his knees.