It took less than ten minutes for Ashton to leave the cathedral after first entering it. Maybe he rushed out a bit fast, and maybe he could have tried to be a bit more diplomatic toward those two. But the moment Ashton saw them, the emotions that he felt almost every time he saw them, especially Jonah, came up.

  That deep, guttural discomfort that Ashton was never able to put properly into words. Weirdly enough, it was similar to how the Summoner made him feel.

  Of course, there were complete orders of magnitude between the two, but at the basic level, they were shockingly similar.

  They both thought of others as beneath them, and themselves as something that was fundamentally different—greater—than those at their feet. And they were going to prove that fact, one was or another. As long as it was what they felt was right, there was nothing that could stop them. No pride, no shame; nothing.

  And that was Ashton's opinion of Jonah even before he found out any details of what kind of man he really was. Not only did he hear stories from Clementine when they were both old enough, but he had first-hand experiences with Jonah that gave him plenty of personal reasons to hate that thing hiding within a human's skin.

  And yes, Ashton had made experiences with much, much worse. Hell, if you actually compared Jonah to the Summoner, that man was nothing but a puppy playfully biting at a finger. But somehow, now that the memories of those two poured back into Ashton's head, the hatred that he felt for Jonah was as fresh as it could be.

  Every emotion felt as new as it did on the day he first experienced it. Whether it was hatred, love, disgust... all of it was fresh in Ashton's mind. And it was overwhelming.

  The moment Ashton stepped into the fresh air, he rushed over to the side of the cathedral and found himself a bush, which he quickly leaned over and vomited into.

  It felt like something was trying to crawl its way up through his throat, clawing at the inside of his oesophagus. Ashton pressed his hands onto his forehead, keeping his head from spilling out through a crack in his skull that he felt like forming by smashing his face into the brick wall just a few steps away.

  "Why is this so... hard..?" Ashton groaned, trying to keep it together. He knew that he wasn't normal when it came to his memory even before all this, but at that point it was just a neat party trick. Though by now, he also remembered times where he was just as overwhelmed as he was now. His father's funeral was one example.

  Ashton had such a breakdown that he almost tried to dig his father's casket back up after everyone else had left. Not because he didn't understand why this was happening. Ashton wasn't stupid; he was thirteen, at which point he understood the concept of death more than well enough, maybe better than most of his peers.

  No, what Ashton struggled with more than that was the concept of time. When he stood in front of his father's grave that day, Ashton was somehow unable to understand that this death was the last point in Arthur Garling's timeline. It felt like that time Ashton was taken by his father to get some ice cream, or the day Ashton cried so bitterly after seeing his father in the hospital after a routine surgery, had happened after this very day. It was all so clear and fresh in his mind that he couldn't understand what was going on.

  So if that was the case, if those things were yet to happen, despite the fact that Ashton should have no knowledge of these events in that case, he asked himself how it could possibly be his father down under that freshly piled-up soil.

  Ashton had to confirm. So, he started digging with his bare hands until someone saw what he was doing and pulled him away.

  It was the perfect way for others to force their way into Ashton's life with Jonah's help and take everything away from him. His inheritance, his parents' house, even those books on his mother's bookshelf that Ashton's father was keeping free from even a speck of dust for the seven years he outlived her.

  The only things Ashton had now were things that he could stuff into his pocket, and that those bastards wouldn't even miss. A lighter, a wristwatch, and a fountain pen.

  As Ashton couldn't use it right now anyway, the wristwatch was safely in the Backpacker's storage. The lighter was in one of the pouches at his hip, right next to his cigarettes. And the fountain pen was sitting in a pocket by his chest, having been turned into the 'Pen of Insight'.

  Those were technically the only things that he had left of his parents, but right now, it was like every moment he ever had with them coexisted with each other. Ashton was able to keep the time in order right now, for the most part, but it still all felt so recent to him. However, not only have ten years passed here on earth, Ashton lived more than another whole century somewhere else entirely.

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  How the hell did memories, pains, anxieties, and fears from so far in the past feel just as fresh as the ones that he experienced just today?

  Ashton slid down onto the ground, leaning against the brick wall. His heart was jumping against the inside of his chest like a wild animal stuck in a too-small cage.

  Poppy had climbed onto Ashton's knee, looking at him anxiously. This was the first time that she saw him like this, so of course she was scared and worried that the world might really end this time.

  "I'm okay, I'm okay, just... the mental exhaustion is building up a little after all," Ashton explained. And it wasn't a lie, either.

  The combination of potions that Ashton had been using to stay awake at essentially peak condition for the past three or so days wasn't some sort of miracle elixir. This could already be seen by the fact that exhaustion started to build up faster than before after the potions had been taken. There were some other side effects, too.

  Natural healing would slow over time, though Ashton has been circumventing that with potions thus far. You were more prone to infections, to injuries, your muscles would slow down their recovery and growth as well. But again, these were things that Ashton has been able to counteract with even more potions.

  But the mental strain and pain and trauma weren't things that could just be gotten rid of with potions. The underlying exhaustion would continue to build up, even if Ashton's mind felt fresh. Sleep, and dreams in particular, helped process the information of the day. Instead, Ashton has just been adding more and more and more information.

  It was all just... too much.

  And so, as he was sitting here, Ashton breathed. He looked inward, and felt his lungs fill with the air around him. He felt the mana flow through his body, to every cell that made up 'Ashton Garling'.

  He just had to try and calm down somehow. The memories would keep coming, and the emotions would continue to feel as fresh as they do now, that was for sure. Ashton would figure out what exactly was going on with him sooner or later; even if he had a good memory, this wasn't something that could just be called 'good memory'. But he couldn't change that. Of course, there were ways to diminish his memory, though it was essentially a magical lobotomy. And it wasn't like this was a bad thing, it was actually incredibly useful.

  Ashton just had to learn not to let himself be overcome by the emotions connected to his memories.

  After a few minutes of concentrated, calming breathing, Ashton stood up again. The connection to the wisp was interrupted as Ashton tried to calm down a bit more. The mental strain through the elementals couldn't be underestimated, either, and so a brief, 'total reset' seemed like the best idea.

  And now, the world around Ashton came back into view. As everything came back to him though, he also saw the beginnings of another path. Of course, Ashton also knew where it led.

  He slowly got up and wiped the corners of his mouth while passing through the stone arch into the old, large graveyard. This place was not looking good.

  It seemed like the fairly tall brick walls that surrounded it already helped keep monsters out from here, but some still made their way to this place anyway. At least, the traces of blood and guts weren't fully cleaned away.

  A lot of graves had been damaged, and many were even partially dug up. Carrion crows were perched on the low branches of nearby trees, and some rats were still trying to dig into the graves. Surely, maggots and beetles had made their way to the remains by now, and soon, no trace of any dead body would be left here. But the air of this place would still be that of a graveyard.

  As magic flowed through the world, places like this often took on a more specific vibe, like their existence was being solidified through the image of numerous people. Churches, graveyards, libraries, castles; places like this were often shrouded in a special sort of mana. If the perception of this place didn't change drastically, of course.

  There was a slightly weird flow of mana here right now, so Ashton was worried about the graveyard turning into a dungeon; a place where monsters were artificially and repeatedly created. The space was often distorted, and a powerful 'Boss Monster' would appear as a guardian.

  Ashton should warn someone that this was possible before leaving, though from the way things were looking, he doubted that people would abandon this place easily. Worst-case, Ashton just had to come back and fully clear the dungeon before anything bad could happen to them. No matter how much disdain he had for Jonah, there were too many people here to just abandon at this point in time, when Ashton could actually do something to help them.

  For now, though, there wasn't much he could do. The only way to stop a dungeon from being created here by the system was to basically completely drain all the mana from the area, and that wasn't something that Ashton was capable of doing at this point in time.

  The best he could do through the wisp was move a small area of mana back and forth. Maybe with a Wisp, just 'Wisp' without the 'lesser' prefix, he could try something kind of larger spell to remove the mana, but that was still a bit away.

  The lesser wisp barely reached level ten, and it was possible for them to advance to the next stage around level twenty.

  But the first proper dungeons were still at least a week away. They should appear roughly at the same time as elementals showed their heads here naturally. He didn't have to think about this for now, since he couldn't change anything about this in the first place.

  So, instead, Ashton stopped. His feet had brought him here without even thinking much about it.

  He stood in front of a grave for two people. The stone was cracked and overgrown. It had been far too long since Ashton had last been here.

  Ashton squatted down in front of the grave and smiled lightly.

  Vivian Halley Garling. January 13th 1941 - May 27th 2010

  Arthur Myrddin Garling. March 3rd 1939 - November 10th 2016

  "Hey mom, hey dad. How've you been?"