Return of the Woodcutter
Chapter 170 - Fragmented Memories

The Khül's POV.

At the center of the crater, amidst the charred area and grains of sand that had turned into glass because of the previous explosion's heat, the Khül moved. 

It took one step out of the crater, more focused on its wounds than the human struggling to his feet tens of meters away from him. 

There was something familiar about this situation. The explosion, the taste of the blood in his mouth. A face disfigured, half-burnt to a crisp. He finally took notice of the ax lodged in his ribs and the pain it caused him. 

'Why does this situation feel so familiar?' It thought, his mind half awake and half asleep, stunned. Or was it half asleep and half awake? 

The sand, the arena, the many people watching him. The blood and gore. Glory and Death. 

'Why are those things so familiar?' The Khül wondered again, its mind dizzy and ears ringing to an annoying sound akin to nothingness. It took step after step, more by habit and the desire to do something rather than a real need.

For a few seconds, it questioned itself about his whereabouts, how it had come here or how it had been wounded. The Khül would not die from such injuries, it only handicapped his mobility. 

But somehow, despite the confusion, it felt more clear-minded than it ever had before. 

It could recall bits of images from his past, fragments of ancient memories lost to time. Images of destruction, death, and chaos. Powerful enemies. Dead lands. 

Sadness washed over him the more it thought about it. It could see orcs die by the thousands, forced to flee, chased by… by….

'Who was it?' The Khül thought, clenching his fists. 

It could remember some of the enemies were powerful but couldn't make out a shape. Damn blurry. 

'Was it him?' It wondered, gazing at the puny human facing him in the distance. 'No, that's impossible. Such a weak being could not be the reason for our… our what?' 

It was confused. One time it thought it knew what was happening, then a second later the Khül forgot about it.

Clear and foggy memories intertwined, forming a ball of confusion, rendering him crazier and crazier.

Turmoil raged in his mind as it halted his steps midway to the human. The Khül grabbed its head as a tremendous pain seized him.

His legs weakened under the mental pressure. It didn't even notice when his knees touched the ground floor heavily. 

'Who am I? I'm the Khül! Who is that human? He is my opponent! Why am I here? To fight for glory and entertainment!' It thought, on one side, on the other… 'No! That weakling cannot be my opponent. He does not even deserve to be my enemy! To fight for glory!? Where is the glory in killing such a weakling! His name doesn't even deserve to be called in the same breath as mi… what's my name?' 

The Khül trembled uncontrollably. It clawed the sand, as if in search of his lost memories, and hit his head against the ground, trying to hammer the memory fragments together. 

'Who am I? Why am I here?' 

New images brushed past his mind. 

'I am… the Khül… but… what is my name?' 

The orcs living on the sixth floor.

'Fake… orcs. They aren't my people. What is… even the sixth floor?' 

The moderator. 

'A piece of shit. I can sense him observing me from afar.' 

And… 

"The gods…," it said, clenching his fists. A loud bang was heard when it hit the ground. The Khül didn't exactly know what the gods did, but it could feel an incredible hatred flaring when it thought about them.

It knew instinctively, somehow; they were the culprit behind his current misery. 

Hiding in the immaterial plane of this world, they were observing him. Playing with him as they saw fit. It was like a pawn they could use wherever and whenever they wanted. 

Unable to tolerate the pain and confusion any longer, a blinding fury submerged him. 

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU COWARDS!? STOP HIDING AND FACE ME!" 

Blinded by a storming fury, the Khül trashed his surroundings. Though there was only empty air and sand, they fled from his anger. The pressure from his punches pierced the air. His ax dug into the sand, slashing the small grains in half, cleaving the wind itself.

Not far from the Khül, the human stared at him motionless, grabbing a small horn. The Khül stared back, seeing more than his eyes actually transmitted. 

The human's figure overlapped with a blurry memory of destruction, chaos, and sadness.

At that moment, the Khül knew it was living a lie. The people that revered him were a lie. Everything here was a lie! 

It knew it, yet it didn't. 

Every time the Khül tried to recall his lost memory, something would block his path, like an impenetrable dürnium wall or like… as if it had disappeared somehow. 

The giant orc was over centuries of years old and yet it couldn't recall his most important memories.

There was certainly something fishy, disturbing even.

Either something was blocking his mind or it had simply gone mad. But instinctively, it knew it wasn't the case.

It roared like a mad orc, swinging his giant ax, mindlessly destroying what it could until his gaze laid upon the human.

If it recalled correctly, the weakling was the only living being, apart from him, in this damn place that was actually real. 

'Then he must know something,' it thought, stopping his rampage. His furious glare glued to what was supposed to be his sacrifice, his toy to play with. 

Desperate for an answer, the Khül rushed at the human. Forgoing his previous declaration of a fairer match, it used both hands to brandish his ax. 

Crossing the dozens of meters separating them in but a second, it brought down his mighty weapon on the weak human who took a defensive position. 

Like before, the human's shield repelled the weapon that whirled away from his grip. But that mattered little to him. The Khül pulled on the human's shield, bringing the weakling closer to him before grabbing his neck. 

Lifting the puny human with one hand, it said, "Tell me where your gods are hiding!"