To Be a Father Again in a Game

Zerek made up his mind to follow this uncertain path for his own goals. The deal offered him a chance to change everything, but it also carried risk. Yet, his hope for a better future for Ash, his desire to provide safety, and his determination to correct the mistakes of his past outweighed the fear of the unknown. When he accepted the deal, he received a simple, yet profound line of advice:

"Choose your path. No restrictions. Make the best possible choice and find the best ending for this world. Your reward will be given each year accounting for the current progress of your son, Ash Ironheart.

[Chibi Zerek is seen dramatically 'dying' in an exaggerated fashion if the goal isn't met.]"

Zerek cautiously read the message, stunned by it, because the game followed a linear path with different executions. It felt like he was being told to improvise.

I understand. I'm a cog that has destroyed the equilibrium of the perfect machine that is this universe. A cog that is not in its perfect design.

The message was clear—Zerek’s actions would ripple across the world, altering events in unpredictable ways. The original story’s path no longer mattered; each choice he made would now reshape the future in ways he couldn’t foresee. Yet the most surprising thing was learning about his son's importance. Memories of his wife suddenly popped into his mind as if he had forgotten. 

He looked around his small apartment, his eyes taking in the surroundings for the first time in what felt like an eternity. It struck him how much he'd taken this space for granted. Every worn piece of furniture, every faint glow from the sliding door, all of it now seemed like a reminder of the life he was fighting to protect. He realized how precious even the smallest moments of peace were, and how easily they could be lost. The sliding door that led outside carried a subtle resemblance to Japanese architecture with a modern twist—metal frames embedded with softly glowing carved stones that emitted a dim, ambient light. The floor was a mix of wooden planks and cold metal tiles, creating a unique blend of warmth and industrial precision. There was little furniture—just a low table, a cushion, and a small cot where he had laid for what seemed like only moments. The quiet stillness of the room contrasted sharply with the turmoil inside him, making him feel both detached and painfully aware of his surroundings.

How could I forget? Everything’s happening too fast. I’ve lost track.

Today was the day. He had to be there for her, and the realization hit him with a rush of adrenaline. His stomach twisted, anxiety surging through his veins as he struggled to regain focus. His head pounded, a dull throb that made it harder to focus, and a wave of disorientation left him feeling unsteady.

Urgency crashed into him like a wave. Zerek took one last look around the room before bolting out. His feet barely touched the floor as he slid the door open, the soft whirring drowned by the pounding in his ears. As he exited his apartment, only one thought occupied his mind: to be there for Irene. He ran towards the clinic, his heart racing against the inevitable.

Zerek rushed out of his small home, heading directly to the clinic near the village exit, where most of the guard patrols were stationed.

I remember the way since I had a hard time navigating the game. I had to memorize the clinic path. Sure came in handy.

As he ran towards the building, he carefully navigated through the iron shards protruding from the ground like tree branches. It was annoying, but in the village, only a few of them were left. The shards emitted a faint luminescence, casting eerie shadows on the ground as the early morning light struggled to break through the thick clouds overhead. He passed by compact homes with small, shuttered windows, their metal frames dull and worn. The village center had a small fountain, a simple carved stone structure that acted as the primary water source, its surface shimmering with the faint glow of mineral-infused water. Guards were patrolling the area, their footsteps echoing off the narrow pathways, and Zerek carefully evaded them, staying close to the walls as he made his way.

His breaths were heavy, visible in the cold air, and his heart pounded in his ears, adding to the urgency that gripped his entire being. With each step, he felt the disorienting mix of fear and hope driving him forward.

With heavy breaths, he nearly reached the clinic, barging in as he was late. The clinic's air was thick with the scent of antiseptics, and a handful of villagers sat waiting, their anxious faces illuminated by the dim, flickering lights. The atmosphere was tense, the quiet murmurs of people mixing with the soft cries of a child in the background. The clinic's entrance was small and dimly lit, with a couple of worn chairs lining the walls. He barely noticed them as he scanned the area, not waiting for the receptionist's response. He remembered the way to his wife Irene's quarters, the path feeling both familiar and surreal. As he ran down the narrow hallway, he heard Irene's painful screams echoing through the space. The process was already underway, her screams heavy and filled with agony.

With a heavy breath, he stood before the door, frozen. The hallway around him felt stifling, the dim light casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly, amplifying the fear gripping his heart. Irene's anguished screams echoed through the door, each one piercing his chest like a dagger, tearing at his resolve. His breath caught, and his hands trembled as he reached for the door handle. He wanted to burst in, to do something or anything but he couldn’t move.

The weight of the game’s prologue held him in place, an invisible chain of hopelessness and fear. He knew the tragic ending that awaited, the one he’d played countless times, yet experiencing it in real life—feeling the warmth of Irene's presence, hearing her screams—it all became unbearable. It was as if his body refused to witness this pain all over again, paralyzed by the sheer inevitability of it all. The weight of inevitability crushed him, leaving him trapped in that single agonizing moment.

These memories. Irene. She looks like my wife. How can I stand still and bear it again? I can't.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, and took a deep breath. He knew he had to push past the fear.

As soon as he entered, the nurse rushed to block his path, her arm outstretched to stop him. Zerek paused, his body trembling, but he didn't resist. He simply looked her in the eyes, his gaze pleading, raw, and full of desperation.

"Please... she needs me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

Zerek didn't look at the nurse. He didn't notice the clinic or his surroundings; everything else faded away. There was only one thought in his mind:

I need to be with her.

The doctor carefully pulled the baby, his hand glowing with a beam of light that cut the umbilical cord, almost like magic.

"It's a boy. It's a miracle. He is healthy," the doctor said with a cheer. The nurse also rejoiced, and the baby let out a small, weak cry, filling the room with fragile hope. Zerek quickly sat on the ground near his wife's bed, holding her hand to comfort her. Her breathing was labored, dark circles heavy beneath her eyes, her figure frail and malnourished. Zerek could not hold himself together. His hand trembled as he held Irene's hand, her skin cold against his. He could not meet her gaze, his head hanging low, weighed down by guilt and helplessness.

It's just a game.

He groaned, tears streaming uncontrollably down his face. His vision blurred as emotions overwhelmed him, his chest tightening with a pain so deep it felt almost physical. His wife watched him with heavy, labored breaths, her eyes clouded with a mix of exhaustion and love.

Yet these memories. The resemblance. Why... What kind of torture is this? You sick, fucking god. Why do you want to torment me? His thoughts spiraled, a storm of anger and despair crashing inside him.

He cursed out loud, the words escaping before he could stop them, his voice cracking under the weight of his anguish. The doctors and nurse exchanged sorrowful glances. They had already given their verdict a week ago: both the child and the mother could die in the birthing process. Irene was too weak, and they had known the risks. As they carefully began to leave the room, their footsteps soft and hesitant, Irene's voice, faint but determined, stopped them.

A low yet firm voice of a gentle nature.

"Please... could you leave the baby with me? I... want to cuddle him. Just once... hold him in my arms." Her voice was weak, each word a struggle, punctuated by her labored breaths. The effort it took was visible—her chest rose and fell with difficulty, and her eyes, filled with longing and exhaustion, told the entire story. The voice was even lighter than before. Her eyes told the entire story.

The doctor complied, gently placing the baby wrapped in a towel near her. Irene's face softened, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at her child. The baby let out a soft cry, and for a brief moment, the room seemed to fill with fragile hope. Tears streamed down Zerek's face, his heart breaking under the weight of his emotions. He finally found his voice, though it trembled with guilt and sorrow.

"It's all my fault. If I hadn't raised my voice against the lord, we wouldn't be in this situation." His words were choked, and his emotions were raw and chaotic. The memories he held felt real. Two distinct lives merged into one, and now he was Zerek, forced to watch someone he loved die once more. The helplessness tore at him, a familiar agony.

Irene, her breaths shallow and labored, summoned every ounce of strength left in her frail body. Slowly, her trembling hand lifted, finding Zerek's chin and guiding his gaze to hers. Her touch, though weak carried the unwavering love that had always defined her.

"It's not your fault. We did the right thing. Never forget, Solara the Radiant will never forget how you stood up for those who had no voice. Don't blame yourself."

She caressed her baby gently, which made the baby cry, and she sang a melody that made Zerek stop crying as well as the baby. She embraced both of them with her hands.

"Please never doubt yourself, Zerek. Protect our baby." She held the baby in her arms and said a name: "Ash."

"Your name will be Ash," she said, giggling while she laid her head looking at Zerek. He held her arms.

"Promise me, Zerek, you will protect our son and be the person you always were..." Her words grew weaker with each breath. "You were the light for those around you, always kind and caring, even when times were darkest. A firm protector who would take on the world for his loved ones..."

"You didn't need to ask, Irene." His response was soft. She smiled as her eyes faded in color, her gaze losing its warmth. Zerek watched helplessly, his heart shattering into pieces as the life slipped away from her. He called her name, his voice breaking, repeating it over and over, hoping for a miracle that he knew deep down wouldn't come. Her gentle smile remained, frozen in death, and it felt like a knife twisting inside him.

Ash began to cry, the small, desperate wails filling the room. Zerek quickly held the baby to his chest, cradling him gently. As Ash's cries faded, the weight of his own loss bore down on him, leaving a hollow ache that settled deep in his soul. He tried to comfort the child, whispering softly, "I'll protect you, Ash, no matter what." Each whispered promise was as much for himself as it was for Ash—a desperate attempt to hold on to a purpose amid the storm of grief. His heart was broken, shattered beyond repair, as he sat there holding Ash, trying to offer the child comfort when he had none for himself.

It was a day that would forever be etched into his memory—a day that took everything from him, leaving only a gaping void that could never be filled. A day he would remember until his last breath. The burial was simple and quiet, just as Irene would have wanted. Zerek insisted that she be laid to rest at the top of the small cliff overlooking the village—a place that held a sense of peace. The few villagers who knew Zerek came to offer their condolences, though their glances held a mixture of sympathy and resentment. The subtle glares from those who blamed him for their suffering were not lost on him, gnawing at his already fragile state.

Ash remained in the clinic, cared for while Zerek tried to find a semblance of stability. He needed time—days, not hours—to process everything that had happened. As he stood before Irene's grave, his eyes wet with tears, he was reminded of his own wife from another life. A sense of unease settled over him—a nagging feeling that their ordeal wasn’t over, that there were still dangers lurking in the shadows. The knowledge from his past life whispered to him like a warning, urging him to remain vigilant. He clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of his responsibilities grow heavier, and vowed silently,

I won’t let the same fate befall Ash. Not again. The grave was unmarked, just a mound of earth beneath the two trees that framed the cliff, their faint hues of red and blue adding a touch of solemn beauty to the otherwise desolate scene.

The village was low on resources, and not many had come to pay their respects, but the spot was safe—far from the dangers that loomed ahead. Zerek looked out at the view of the village below, the wind rustling through the leaves, and vowed with a heavy heart.

"I swear on my life. I'll come back here with Ash. When I do, I will give you a proper burial. I will raise Ash to be better and feed him lots, and I won't hold back on sweets," he said, his voice breaking with each pause.

He waited, almost expecting a response, but there was only the gentle breeze, displacing the fiery red and cold blue petals from the trees. Some landed softly on the grave, a bittersweet reminder of the life she once had. This place held significance for the future, but for now, she was safe, and protected from monsters and void creatures alike. The flora would guard her resting place, warding off any threat.

He knew what he had to do, and nothing would stop him from keeping his promise.

"Rest well, Irene. This fool has a long road ahead. I’ll count on you to put in a good word for me." Zerek knelt by her grave, placing a fiery red flower gently on the fresh soil. It was her favorite Flower he picked up before the burial. He lingered for a moment, his hand brushing against the soft petals, feeling the sting of loss settle deeper in his chest. He had no time to waste, but leaving her there, alone, tore at him. It felt like abandoning her all over again.

Deep in his heart, as Zerek approached the village, he knew this was a predetermined fate. Irene's death was meant to be the prologue of the character Zerek—a catalyst that would push him to vow to do anything to escape his predicament and keep his son safe. But even understanding that didn’t make it easier; his heart hung heavy, the weight of two lives pressing down on him.

If only I didn't have these memories. It's like I'm back at the hospital all over again.

The pain was fresh and raw, and the echoes of his past life merged with his present. He could almost see his former wife's face superimposed over Irene's—the blurring of lines between the two worlds he now straddled was dizzying. The memories of his old life as Marcus clashed violently with his new reality as Zerek, making it hard to distinguish between the love he had lost and the one slipping away before him. He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning as he forced himself to keep moving forward.

As he walked away from Irene's resting place, the weight of loss hung heavily on his shoulders, suffocating every breath. Each step felt harder than the last, as if the earth itself was pulling him back to her. The subtle glares and side-eyed looks from the villagers were almost imperceptible at first, buried beneath the storm of emotions roiling inside him. As he passed a group of men hauling heavy carts, one of them muttered just loud enough for him to hear, "We’re all suffering because of your damn heroics, Zerek." Another villager, an older woman, shot him a withering look before turning away in her raged clothes. 

Their resentment felt like a tangible weight pressing down on him—each glare, each whispered accusation, only adding to the burden he carried. But their resentment soon became inescapable—Zerek knew why they blamed him. His defiance against Lord Asuis had led to the village's punishment, condemning them all to backbreaking labor under threat of death. To them, Zerek's bravery was nothing but recklessness, a curse they had to endure. He could feel their silent accusations, their hatred cutting deeper than the cold air, each glare another stone added to the burden on his shoulders. But soon, the whispers crept in, quiet at first—then louder. Accusations, resentment.

They were like tiny stabs, each one adding to the weight of guilt that already crushed him. Zerek's fists tightened at his sides, his knuckles white, but he forced his head down, determined to move forward, even if it felt like the world was against him. He needed to focus—Ash needed him. As he looked around he only saw a few homes. The village was small, with only 20 homes and 24 people in it. It was not a village per se, more like a mining camp for criminals. Everyone had a story for themselves in how they ended here, but Zerek was different. He was just someone who dragged many here with him due to arguing with the lord over unfair taxes and demands. 

The side eyes and disdainful stares were from human folks and non-human folks alike. Some were wary, some just observed without hostility, recognizing that he wasn't entirely to blame. . The tension in the air was thick as Zerek passed by people hauling stones on carts, their muscles straining with effort. The clattering of wheels and the grunts of labor filled the narrow pathways, and he saw a few individuals who stood idly, watching with tired eyes. This was the third death in the village in everyone's first month, and it weighed on them all. Finally, opening the door, he entered his small-sized home. He had the key, and the door glided sideways.

Zerek took a chair and sank into it, the wooden frame creaking under his weight. The room was cold, the chill seeping through his thin clothing, while the scent of dampness and worn fabric filled his nostrils. He let his thoughts swirl in the quiet solitude, each heartbeat pounding in his ears like a distant echo. He needed time—time to regain his mental fortitude. Slowly, minute by minute, he focused on his breathing, the rhythmic rise and fall pulling him back from the brink of despair. After about twenty minutes, he finally steadied his breathing, his composure returning as he assessed his current predicament.

"I only have 100 Moonstones. I need to go to the mines now, huh?" he sighed, the weight of his situation heavy in his voice. He recalled everything he could from his fragmented memories, scribbling notes onto a page and tucking it carefully into his shirt's hidden pocket.

I know so little... I only read the lore for Zerek and Ash and played for the ending. There are too many details missing.

He glanced down at himself, surprised by his own appearance. His white shirt and brown pants were worn and in poor condition—stained, and torn at the seams. He hadn't noticed before, too consumed by the chaos and confusion of the past few hours. Now, in the stillness, it all became starkly clear. The fabric felt rough against his skin, a constant reminder of his circumstances. He rubbed his forehead, sighing deeply, trying to piece together what was next.

A knock on his door startled Zerek, making him immediately wary. He cautiously grabbed a knife, gripping it tightly as he approached the door, hiding the blade behind his back. His voice was firm but cautious as he asked,

"Who is there?" He glanced at the screen feed projected by the door, revealing who stood outside.

A man and a woman were waiting there.

"Zerek, it's me, Lieon and Rosha. We wanted to give our condolences for Irene's passing." Zerek was momentarily taken aback. He hesitated, then opened the door, sliding the knife up his sleeve, ready just in case.

Both visitors stepped into the house. They were unmistakably distinct, and Zerek quickly recalled who they were and the relationship he had with them before.

One is Beast Folk, and the other is a vampire.

The air was tense as they entered. Zerek could feel the cold breeze slip through the small gaps in the doorframe, mixing with the warmth inside. The dim lighting of the room cast long shadows on the walls, adding to the unease. He noticed the slight fatigue in their eyes, but there was no hostility—just sadness and weariness. The village had already been through so much, and this was just another loss in a long line of tragedies.

Rosha, who was Beast Folk, had golden brown fur covering her instead of bare skin, with distinct shades of brown that gave her an exotic look. Her features were a blend of human and animal, with high cheekbones, pointed ears, and eyes that seemed to glimmer with a natural warmth. Despite her animalistic traits, she had an alluring figure, her posture graceful, and her face strikingly pretty. She had no tail, but her fur-covered body made her look more animalistic than fully human. Her attire consisted of a long, flowing skirt and a makeshift top—patched and torn, yet enough to cover her essential parts. It was typical of the Beast Folk, who preferred freedom and despised the stuffy feeling of full clothing. Her slender, muscled arms and legs showed her physical strength, yet there was a gentleness about her that put Zerek somewhat at ease.

Lieon, the vampire, had an almost otherworldly allure. His long, dark obsidian hair framed sharp features and his deep red eyes seemed to pierce through the dimly lit room, giving him an unsettling, yet intriguing presence. He was lean—his wiry build suggested agility, honed from years of survival rather than brute strength. Despite his slender appearance, his posture was resilient, an unspoken promise of danger if pushed. His black shirt and torn trousers gave him a rugged appearance, and his pale skin bore a few sun-induced rashes, a side effect of the harshness of the daylight on his skin. Despite his slender physique, he had a presence that matched Zerek's. There was a latent power just barely oozing from him like smoke, an aura of confidence that spoke of someone who had faced his share of struggles.

Although Zerek was cautious, he knew from his memories that these people meant no harm. He remembered the night he had first met them, months ago, during one of the harshest winter storms. Lieon had saved him from being mauled by a pack of starved wolves, and Rosha had offered him a place to stay, risking her own safety while he was hunting for food. That night had bonded them—three outcasts with nowhere else to go, each clinging to the others for survival. Now, as they stood before him, he quickly softened his demeanor, inviting them to sit at the dining table, grateful for the bond they had forged. The room was dimly lit, with shadows stretching across the walls, adding to the heavy atmosphere that hung over them.

Lieon, the vampire, broke the silence first, sensing the tension in the room. He placed a gentle hand on Zerek's shoulder, his voice filled with empathy.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Zerek. We can't even begin to imagine what you're going through, but we're here for you."

Rosha nodded, her eyes reflecting the shared grief. "Irene was a wonderful person. We're so sorry, Zerek. If there's anything we can do, please let us know."

Zerek took a shaky breath, struggling to keep his composure. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes downcast, before finally speaking, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Irene may have left me, but I have a son now. I... I'm so sorry for dragging you both into this. It's all my fault. I destroyed your peace and safety over something so minor."

He looked at Rosha, his eyes filled with guilt and desperation. "I'm sorry, Rosha... Tell Glare I'm sorry as well. I never meant for things to end up like this."

"I'm sorry, lieon... It must be harsh working in the sunlight" he said, his voice trembling, each word weighed down by the enormity of his regret.

I hope she doesn't decline.

Zerek took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he forced himself to continue.

"I... I have a responsibility to my son, but Irene is gone. There's no one to feed him. Rosha, I will work in your stead, gather the Moonstones on your behalf and mine alike. I swear I'll do whatever it takes, but please..."

He paused, the desperation in his voice palpable. His eyes, filled with anguish, met Rosha's. "Please... could you help me with my son, Ash? I know I'm asking too much, but I have no one else to turn to. "

Rosha was taken aback. She had known Zerek for years. he was never one to ask for help. He always preferred to handle things on his own, no matter how difficult. Seeing him like this, vulnerable and pleading, broke her heart. She thought about it for a moment, her own emotions swirling, and made her decision.

"I'm already taking care of my young one. What's one more? But I think you don't need to push yourself too much. Even if you gather half of the daily quota, that will..."

Her words were cut by Zerek, his voice desperate and unwavering.

"Please, Rosha... I can't let myself fail. I need to do this. I have to prove that I can protect Ash, even if it means pushing myself to my limits. It's only six months, and I'll find a way. I won't settle for anything less. I know I'm already asking a lot from you, but this... this is all I can do for my son."

Zerek knew that Rosha was currently weaker. In the game Chronicles of the Chosen, she and Lieon were side character NPCs who helped with mining, but her illness was the reason she suffered the most. If she didn't take proper rest, she would die. There was no one else among the people who had a close enough relationship to help care for his son.

She also gave birth recently, so she could help feed Ash.

"You just need to rest, Rosha. You're already looking weak as it is," Zerek said, his voice gentle but firm. "Plus, Lieon will help me."

Lieon looked startled, raising an eyebrow. "I will?"

Zerek shot him a sideways glare, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, you will. Unless you want me to tell everyone about that time you tried to fight a water Shell clamp... and lost."

Leon rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Fine, fine. You always know how to twist my arm, don't you? But for the record, that thing was way bigger than it looked."

Zerek couldn't help but chuckle. The tension in the room eased slightly, the weight of the situation lightened by the familiar banter. Despite their strange friendship, Zerek knew he could count on Lieon. Vampires didn't need to eat or sleep. Alos had better stats than humans. although it would be harsh to abuse him it was only for a few months.

I'll repay him 10 folds for this

Rosha smiled, shaking her head at the two of them. "Thank you, both of you. Just don't push yourselves too hard. We all need to get through this together."

Zerek smiled and thanked Rosha. They had a few more talks and then asked about the situation in the camp. The answers were not pleasant to hear. They were assigned to Ironhollow Village. This was the starting area of the game for Zerek's character. The village he was at was called Ironhollow, with iron-like shards protruding from the ground like a tree. But they were scarce, and they were also a mining source.

Due to a heated argument with Lord Asuis, the current acting lord of the Redstone Hollow City region, Zerek and those under his command were exiled to Ironhollow Village—a harsh punishment designed to make an example out of him. Lord Asuis, desperate to maintain control over his tenuous hold on the region, sought to crush any semblance of rebellion. He feared Zerek's influence would spark unrest among the people, and so, sent them to the very fringes of the continent, where danger was ever-present, and survival was uncertain. A place where monsters and void creatures were ever-present. For six months, they had to serve their sentence mining for rare minerals as well as Moonstones. Those who didn't meet the monthly quota would be tortured, and food would be halted. 

That's not the only problem as well.

After hearing the current state of the people, Zerek was not surprised. The ragged clothes that he, Lieon, and Rosha wore were proof of their harsh treatment. The Lord treated us like slaves—barely enough food to survive, worn-out clothes that offered little protection from the cold, and work that pushed them to their limits day after day. It was clear that Lord Asuis saw them as expendable, nothing more than tools to extract the precious Moonstones.

I hated this lord in the game as well. They only way in the game to clear this level was to steal and plunder as well as become a pet to the lord. 

With night approaching, both his guests bid farewell, and he was left alone with his thoughts. There were many things to do. The first was earning money "Moonstones" The currency of the world. He needed a stable income to provide for Ash, but also enough to buy supplies for their eventual escape. The second was gaining the villagers' trust. He needed allies—people who would help them survive the looming dangers. He glanced at the sparse furnishings of his room, the quiet determination hardening in his eyes. And then, there was the bigger plan—the one that involved getting out of Ironhollow and away from Lord Asuis' grasp. But that would come later—once he had secured Ash's safety.

As he thought about it, a notification on his status window appeared.

"You have identified the threat. Survive the upcoming destruction of the Redstone Hollow region with your son."

As he lay on his bed, his eyes hardened, and his resolve grew stronger. He knew what was to come, and he was prepared to face it.

"I'll tear this world apart before I let anything happen to my son," he muttered, his voice cold and filled with determination. The words carried the weight of his past—hints of a life that had taught him how to fight, survive, and now, protect his son at any cost. As sleep took him, his mind was set for the next thing to come.