Asher found himself on a hard asphalt floor. Rough gravel pierced through the fabric of his shirt.
"Ow...?"
The only thing he could remember was his name, Asher. Even after waiting for a few more minutes, he remained cold and confused. How did he get here? And why was he here in the first place?
He quietly stood up and looked at his surroundings.
The alley was quiet, littered with trash, and stained with mysterious brown stains that gave off a sickly metallic scent. He didn't know how, but they reminded him of a certain smell.
The smell of blood.
Asher backed away with trembling legs, his confusion only rising further.
'What is this place, did someone kidnap me??'
The world looked so big to him. Or he was just really short. Garbage bags reached up to his waist; he was positively tiny.
Just as he was about to run, he saw three individuals walking down the alley. They wore tattered clothing, dirtied black from grease and grime, yet their familiar human forms still gave Asher a sense of relief.
Each of them had a hood pulled over their head, masking most of their physical appearance.
Asher called out to them with unhidden joy. His high pitched, childish voice was completely unfit for the dark atmosphere.
"Hey, do you guys know where we are right now?" The three people's heads jolted upwards at his voice, but they calmed down after seeing only one naïve looking boy staring back at them. One of them gestured to the others and stopped in his tracks.
"It's dangerous for little kids like you to be here. What are you doing in the Backstreets?"
As the man spoke, he slowly walked towards Asher, slowly opening his hands to show that they were empty.
"Where are you from, kid? The Nest?"
Asher shook his head, but he didn't know either. Was he from the Nest? What even is the Nest?
As he shook his head, he didn't realize that the other two people also drew near, quietly surrounding him.
"Mister, do you-!" Asher looked down, feeling an icy feeling in his side. The glint of a knife poked from his stomach, covered in red blood.
"W-Why?" Blood dribbled from his mouth as he curled up in pain.
"Your body should sell for a few bucks at least..." The man looked away from his dying body as the other two stood in reluctant silence. This was what life was like in the lowest parts of the City, the slums of the Backstreets. To survive was to kill.
As Asher's vision faded, a prompt appeared in his head.
[TT2 Protocol Activated]
[Punishment Mission: N/A]
...
*Gasp*
Asher took in a sharp breath of air, finding himself back on the hard asphalt floor. Springing to his feet, he saw he was still in the same alleyway.
Remembering what happened to him, Asher clutched his stomach. He breathlessly gasped for air.
A prompt helpfully displayed itself.
[Next Punishment: One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds]
But this only left him more confused.
"How am I alive? Why am I being punished? And what is this goddamned text box in my head!"
[Hello, Host. You have died for your first true death. Would you like to learn about the functions of the System?]
"True death...? What do you mean about that?"
[This was the second time you have used the services of TimeTrack. The first activation was, according to your perspective, 15 minutes ago. According to universal time flow, it was activated 13 years in the future.]
Asher took some time to ponder the deluge of information. He... died? But he was alive? And what was that part near the end?
"Eh? Then if I came from the future- wait. How come I can't remember anything?"
[I sealed your memory in accordance with your optimal growth plan, analyzed by me. You might slowly regain memories depending on your course of actions.]
Asher glanced at his hands. Sure, they were small, but they looked normal to him.
"Can't I have some of them at least? I don't think future me wants me to get murdered like that, right?"
[Currently, my authority only allows me to give Host nine names. They are: Philip, Eileen, Greta, Bremen, Oswald, Tanya, Jaeheon, Elena, and Pluto.]
"W-Wait, hold on!"
As if to spite him, the prompt immediately fizzled away before Asher could take another glance.
[Don't bother to memorize them, most of them are still ordinary people at this moment.]
[Their titles are the Crying Child, the Mother of Gears, the Eighth Chef, the Musician, the Ringmaster, L'heure du Loup, the Puppeteer, the Blood Red Night, and Yesterday's Promise, respectively. These you should remember.]
This time the prompt stuck to his vision like glue.
'Okay...'
Asher committed those names to memory, but he shuddered while reading through some of them. Names like 'Puppeteer' and 'Blood Red Night' sounded quite sinister to him.
And the weird sounding one, L'heure du Loup, he somehow knew that it meant 'Hour of the Wolf'.
[For now, don't worry about these.]
"Alright. But why are you in my head? What can you do?"
[Simple. Every time you die, you will be set back to a previous point in your life. After each death, I will issue a Punishment Mission, which can benefit the Host's ability to survive.]
[The only functions accessible for now are punishments, revival, and statistics. Would you like to see your current statistics?]
Asher's mouth gaped at the amount of information given to him. Did everyone have this revival memory sealing thing? He thought maybe that was the case.
A small voice in the back of his head sighed in disappointment after hearing his conclusion.
"Yeah, I think I'll check my stats."
____________
Statistics:
Fortitude: 5
Insight: 5
Temperance: 5
Justice: 5
Skills: N/A
Description: Unremarkable, but with great potential. Capable of utilizing TimeTrack rewind services.
____________
Sensing Asher's stare of confusion, the System sought to elaborate.
[Fortitude measures everything physical. It measures strength, endurance, speed, among others.]
[Insight measures everything mental. Magical Prowess, thought capability, etcetera.]
[Temperance measures more abstract concepts, such as determination and grit and their subsidiaries, such as pain tolerance.]
[Justice measures the strength of one's morals. One of the most and least important attributes; the higher it is, the more extreme one's actions become in accordance with their morals. It is necessary for the usage of certain abilities, for example, in order to use certain Synchronization skills.]
[You can increase these attributes by doing punishment missions after death.]
Seeing this, Asher felt confused.
"So you want me to die so I can get stronger?"
[Punishment missions will slowly get more intense as time goes on. Does the host have the will to bear such hardship? When your mission count reaches double digits, dying will be your biggest fear.]
Before he could talk further, he once again saw three individuals walking down the alley. It was the same three people that murdered him last time.
He looked at them closer. Although their clothes were rough and tattered, he could occasionally see the glint of a metallic knife he didn't notice last time.
Although Asher wanted to run away, he did not know where to go.
"Hey! Why do you kill other people?"
The three people's heads jolted upwards at the voice, but they calmed down seeing only one naïve looking boy staring back at them. One of them gestured to the others and stopped in his tracks.
"Everyone's gotta survive somehow." The man seemed wary of him, his words laced with distrust and hidden malice.
"Where are you from, kid? The Nest?" The man slowly walked towards him, just like last time.
However, this time Asher knew better and backed away a few steps. After all, anyone would flee from a person who had already confessed to murder. As the man approached faster, Asher dashed out of the alleyway.
Strangely, the man did not chase after him. He went back to his companions, scoffing quietly.
"He's entering the territory of that chef. That kid has no chance." The man turned to leave.
One of his companions chimed in, pulling her hood down to reveal her tangled auburn hair.
"But the pie he sells is really deli-"
She was interrupted by the man's intense glare.
"Do you know what that meat is made of? That guy's one of 'those' chefs... D-Don't tell me, you ate from him one time??"
The sounds of vomiting soon filled the small alley.
Despite its abundance, human meat was not particularly yearned for by the general public.
...
"Ha... Ha..." After running for minutes, Asher leaned on the wall, panting heavily. He was surprised and relieved after he looked back and saw that the man was not chasing after him.
Out on the street, everything was so clean and drab, unlike in the alleyways. People in mottled grey clothing silently walked by, paying no attention to the panting boy in front of them.
He noticed the glow of neon above him, and looking up he saw a sign that displayed the words 'Hal's Meat and Pastry Confectionary'. The door leading inside was wide open, so he strolled into the building, following the smell of food.
The savory smell of grilled meat and fresh pastries assaulted his nose. The pleasant aroma led him through the various tables, with a few customers sitting down to enjoy their food.
Finally, he reached a countertop stocked with meat, where a wooden stand displayed his various red cuts of flesh, including steak, sausage, as well as more exotic meats such as liver and heart.
The organs were chopped so finely that he couldn't tell whether it was beef or pork. Or maybe something else.
A greyed old man stood behind the counter, giving him a gleaming look. A rustic stone oven sparked behind him.
"Hello, sir?" He stepped in front of the counter, staring at the bloody chunks with fascination.
The wrinkled man looked up, and seeing Asher, his face broke into a grin.
"Hello there, little one. See anything you want here?" He propped his head on his hand with enthusiasm.
Asher thought about it for a second. No, not really. He was more interested in cooked meat.
But wait-
"Is this place the Nest?" A seemingly random question burst from his lips.
Hearing this, the man chuckled.
"Now, why would you think that? And even if it was, it wouldn't be *the* Nest."
The man's patronizing tone caused Asher to cough, his face blushing red with embarrassment.
"W-Well, I just came from the alleys, and I thought that those were the Backstreets, right?" At least, that was what those three people in the alley told him.
The man cackled in amusement.
"The City is split into 26 Sections, each with their own Nest and Backstreets. How... do you not know such things?" The man paused, appearing pensive for a split second.
Before Asher could notice, he reverted back to his original smile.
Asher nodded, filing away the piece of information.
"Er, I'm lost, and I don't really remember where I live. What section are we in right now?"
"Lost, hm...? Well, we're in Section 12 right now. Don't worry, kid, you can stay here. By the way, what's your name?" A sinister undertone was hidden in his voice, one that Asher's innocence could not pick out.
The man stood up, gesturing at Asher to follow him.
'Wow, so nice of him...'
"My name's Asher. I'll be in your care for a while, mister."
Asher heaved a breath of relief, following the man upstairs. His mind was still torn with confusion.
Maybe a good night's sleep will help.