Nelanian retreated to the shack where he had sought solace. His head pulsed with a persistent ache, inhibiting prolonged concentration. Pain surged in waves, lulling him into a gentle stupor before unleashing sharp throes that sent him tumbling from his seat. He reached for a homemade concoction and took two hearty sips, gradually regaining his composure. After a brief reprieve in the chair, he deemed himself fit enough to stand and walk toward the shack's entrance.The dwelling, worn by time, seemed poised to collapse to even a moderate breeze. Termite erosion had gnawed at most walls, and the absence of a proper door accentuated its dilapidation. Resourcefully, Nelanian had cobbled together a makeshift entrance—utilizing a found sack, he cut and patched it into a curtain, which he suspended in the door frame. Stepping outside, he noticed ominous black clouds encroaching from the south. A storm brewed on the horizon, urging him to complete his task before the rain descended.

Leaving the cabin, he clutched an empty bag, flipping it upside down and giving it a vigorous shake. Bread crumbs and dust cascaded forth before he hoisted it back onto his shoulders. Nestled uphill, he surveyed the marketplace below, its image distorted by the distance. Scouring his pockets, he unearthed a handful of coins—not sufficient for a hearty repast, yet ample to stave off nocturnal hunger. A far cry from the plight of some market denizens who retired to bed on empty stomachs.

Nelanian had taken refuge in an unfamiliar village, cut off from the outside world. It was a primitive village that relied solely on its agricultural prowess and a strong belief in the ways of the past. In the village, there was little to no technological advancement. The only obvious trace of technology was a cellphone tower near the hills where Nelanian was staying; otherwise, it was simply hats and makeshift kiosks that people constructed to stay in.
Nelanian grabbed another note from his old trouser's side pocket. It was a clean note, yet it didn't seem right. It has a wax seal on one side as well. Nelanian ripped it open and read the name scrawled in calligraphy.
'Assassinate Mr. Starkridge by the 20th of this month.'

 At that moment, Nelanian's true identity resurfaced in his mind. "I am Zegrath Void, The Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, the hundred and seventh to hold the title," he silently affirmed as he descended the hill.

Nelanian strained to piece together any fragments of memory from before he awoke in his cabin, yet his efforts yielded nothing. It was as though a veil shrouded his recollection, rendering it utterly blank. Up to a certain point, he retained memories, but beyond that threshold lay a void. While treading the path, he contemplated his choices until he reached the settlement. Observing his own arrival, he noticed a local man adorning the village gate with decorations."Did you bring it?" the man queried.Nelanian looked at him, baffled."Didn't I send you just an hour ago to retrieve it?" The man's skepticism was palpable. "Are you absolutely certain you haven't forgotten?"Forgotten? Nelanian had no inkling of encountering the elderly man, let alone any task assigned by him. In response, Nelanian merely shrugged, evoking a deep groan from the elderly man—an evident expression of his exasperation with Nelanian's apparent scatterbrained disposition."By the stars, lad, your memory is fish-like." Pointing at his own back, the elderly man sighed, "The bag is right there, on your back. I asked you to fetch it so I could provide you more food."Nelanian fumbled behind himself, retrieving the bag and surrendering it to the elderly man. They jointly proceeded into the village, where Nelanian took his time to absorb his surroundings. The village seemed to embrace him naturally; it was a close-knit hamlet where familiarity was the norm. Neighbors standing outside their dwellings appeared to recognize him as he passed by, leading him to surmise that he had been a part of the community for an extended period.

"Did you like the potatoes I gave you yesterday?" the old man asked, making a sharp turn on a path bending towards the market. Nelanian had no idea what he was talking about, so he merely gave a blank response.

"Yes, sir, they were quite good,"
"Last night, my wife attempted a new recipe. I gave it to you since I didn't want to try something new. For once, I believed you'd appreciate my wife's cuisine,"
According to the manner he spoke with Nelanian, the old man seemed to know him well.
"I don't know what you were teaching Sam about swordsmanship, but Sam missed you. My old brain can't recall the name,"

"You mean swordsmanship ranks?" Nelanian asked, swiftly putting two and two together.
"Yes! that's the one Since you gave him his sword, he's been lying with it."
Nelanian attempted to recall Sam's appearance, but nothing came to memory, so he decided to throw caution to the wind and ask the elderly guy a question.

"Hey, sir? forgive me for asking, but, could you tell me how I got here?"
The elderly gentleman came to a halt and turned around to face him.
"This again? He inquired, "Have you lost your memory again?" For him, the look on Nelanian's face was enough of an explanation. He went down the path before speaking once more.
"Well. You've been in this community for nearly a year. Since then, you've been coming in and staying for a bit, assisting the locals, and then disappearing. You seemed to forget everything the last time you were there, which was strange. Now you're back here, and you've forgotten everything about it. But this is the longest you've spent with us, probably a month or two,"
Nelanian was cautious in his assessment of the scenario. His memories appeared to have been obliterated selectively. He could remember bits and pieces of the past, but he couldn't recall the entire history. He could recall leaving IAA shortly after the old guy informed him that he had been there for some time, but he couldn't recall anything else.

They were at the old man's house before he knew it, and a young child ran up to them. He was outside the home, playing with a wooden practice sword, and when he noticed them, he swiftly dropped it and dashed towards them.

"Grandpa!" he exclaimed as he hugged the elderly gentleman.
"Nelly! You've returned!" exclaimed the young child, his gaze turning to Nelanian. He jumped in and hugged him. Nelanian returned his hug halfheartedly, and the youngster sensed it.

"Ah, just leave the kid alone." "He's lost his memory again," the old guy muttered as he entered the house.
"Again?" exclaimed the kid, a little dismayed.
"So I have to explain everything from the beginning!" exclaimed the child, his face exhausted. With a smile, Nelanian returned the stare, and the two followed the old man into the house. Later on, an elderly lady greeted Nelanian and he figured it was the old man's wife whom he was talking about.

Soon enough, they were all seated at a tiny table for dinner. The elderly man prayed to his gods in an unknown chant to Nelanian, and he assumed he was Yulcite or a Lorth. Those two sides had a strong religious lifestyle; it was their pillar. The old man lingered after supper as his grandson practiced with his wooden practice sword. Even while Nelanian was speaking with the old lady about the weather, he felt out of place. When a tremendous thunderclap shook the wall's rooftops, Nelanian decided it was time to return to his cottage.

"It's probably best if I leave now. Thank you for your kindness, madam; the food was delicious," Nelanian said as he stood up.
"Let me take you to the gates," the old guy murmured as he rose, gripping his knees. When he moved, they made odd sounds, a testament to his refined age. Sam waved goodbye as Nelanian waved him off, and the two were on their way.
The old man tugged Nelanian's arm and brought him closer to his wrinkled face before they even reached the gates. His voice altered considerably, and he seemed to be speaking with a lot of rage behind his words.
"You dimwit!" You did not answer me, did you do it?" he asked.
Nelanian became perplexed all of a sudden. He couldn't tell what the old man was thinking; one minute he was pleasant and welcoming, and the next he looked to want to pull Nelanian's head off.

"Do what? I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're saying." Nelanian inquired, clearly perplexed.

The old guy became furious and exclaimed, "You didn't give me the sealed letter from The Seventh, Death List!"

The name rang a bell in Nelanian's head, and he remembered the sinister voice that always spoke to him. He remembered the letter he had found in his pocket shortly after and fished it out. The old guy smacked his lips together when he spotted the broken seal.
"What were you thinking when you opened it?"
"I didn't know I was supposed to open it?"
Nelanian spoke forward, his voice ringing with sincerity.
"Of course you did, you idiot, you had your memory erased again. Listen, if you can't handle taking another person's life, this isn't a coping technique for you. Those beings are always playing tricks on you. You need to grow up and quit wiping your memories every time you kill someone,". The old man muttered as he slipped the note into his pocket.

"What do you mean by killing someone?"

"Are you not Zegrath Void? Keeper of Darkness and Necessary Evil? Hundred and Seventh to hold the title?" The old gentleman inquired. Nelanian nodded in agreement, recalling what he had been chanting earlier that day as he descended the hills.

"Well, my name is Zegrath Reid, Former Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, and I am the Hundred and Sixth to hold the title," the old man remarked as he turned to face the road that led back to his house.
"The Council of The Watchers assigned me to be your mentor, but I can't keep teaching you while you squander my energy by erasing your memories every time. Find another mentor; I'm done with you; and you may tell The Watchers that I quit the next time you meet with them," the old man stated. He started walking back to his house.
With a panicked tone, Nelanian continued, "Wait, I don't understand, I don't remember any of this." Before he went too far away for Nelanian to hear him, the old man turned to face him. "I don't think you'll ever grasp it with that attitude,"
"Well, I remember the Watchers choosing me. They said they saw something special in me, so perhaps I don't need a mentor to teach me, and I'd be better off on my own!" he said. The elderly gentleman turned around and walked back to him.
"What do you believe makes you so unique, Zegrath Void? How do you distinguish yourself from the rest of us?" The old gentleman inquired. For a little while, Nelanian remained silent.
"When they recruited me, I was as young and as naive as you. They all said the same thing to me, that I was unique. Let me ask you this, Do you have a home?"
"No," Nelanian responded, his tone softening slightly.