the 2nd of Saun 718
People never learned.
Their requests never ended.
And like an absolute madman, the adventurer helped them out anyway.
He never knew why, at least, not at first. He only knew that every time he came across someone who might need help, he would talk to them and hear them out. When presented with the opportunity to not assist them with their problem, but rather solve it completely, he accepted the request immediately.
He recorded all of these in a large tome he kept stored in the otherworldly dimension that was his inventory. Though it had a weight limit he could not exceed lest he wanted to move like an old snail, objects of any shape and size could be stored in there. A good thing too, as his book was about five inches thick now, filled with descriptions of the request, and the steps he’d taken to complete it, as well as what he’d experienced while attempting to complete the request.
The adventurer didn’t do this for the rewards he knew he would receive from the happy people he helped out. He didn’t need their coin.
His reason for helping them out was that he couldn’t stand an incomplete record of his exploits while fulfilling these requests, and even though he had long since decided he would not write down the requests anymore, he could not stop. He wasn’t allowed to. A long while back, he’d enchanted his book to fill in the pages magically every time he encountered a request for aid. He had believed this would make his life easier, as this was more convenient. However, he soon learned his enchantment was too strong, and even the mere mention of someone who might be in trouble got recorded in the tome. He soon stopped actively talking to people, but he heard fragments of conversations in passing, and when he looked in the tome, there was a record of it. ‘Talk to person x about mystery item y’ it would say, or ‘I heard about a disappearance in x city, I should ask the guard for more information’.
He had tried to not open the book anymore, hoping that his compulsion would not play up that way. However, he knew something was recorded every time it happened, and he could not help himself. He might resist for a while, but eventually—It was futile. His curiosity was too powerful. He had tried throwing the tome away, but he’d forgotten about the enchantment that made it return to his inventory if he lost it. He tried removing the enchantments, only to discover the sheer strength of the enchantments had infused the book with too much magic. It had gained a will of its own, it wasn’t quite sentient, but it did possess a survival instinct. It leeched off his own magic power, using it to keep itself in pristine shape, and to retaliate against everything and anything that would try to destroy it.
The adventurer, in his foolishness, had created a cursed item.
He was well aware he would have to possess this tome until he died, which would stop the flow of his magical power into the book. He also knew that the book would still hold a huge amount of magical energy, enough to keep itself in passable condition for thousands of arcs if it used it sparingly. Lastly, he knew that the first person to pick up the book after the death of the adventurer would fall victim to the same fate as he had. The adventurer had thought about locking himself in a tomb, waiting for death, but he couldn’t. There were always new requests in the book, always more people in need of aid. When working on one errand he picked up several new ones. He could never hope to complete the records. He couldn’t kill himself either, as the incomplete mess left behind was simply something the tome would not allow. It desired to be complete, as impossible as that may be.
He’d gone mad arcs ago.
He’d long since given up.
He talked to people again. There was no use in ignoring them anyway.
New pages and new entries were added to the book by its magic. Old records were completed and sealed inside.
He’d grown famous over the arcs. People recognized him now. He was that guy that helped anyone and everyone. He did anything they asked for them.
Once he’d been sold to the Endor Mines. Forced to take the place of someone else. He was stuck in there for two arcs before he managed to get out. Someone had asked him to aid in their escape plan. He freed every slave in those mines. Endor’s economy collapsed afterwards.
Once he’d been approached by bandits. They wanted him to kill everyone in a small town, and leave their emblem among the wreckage. Fame, fear, notoriety. To keep the guard and rival gangs away from their hideout. To show them how dangerous they were. The adventurer saw an opportunity. If he had to murder everyone in a town, he had to get near them. If he got near them, they had requests. If he told them about the bandits, they might ask him to protect the village and its denizens. It would create a paradox. The tome would be incomplete no matter what. He had hope.
Idle hope.
It didn’t let him near the village. It forced him to stay clear of it. He had no choice. He used magic to raze the entire place, used his bow to rain down arrows from above when the people tried to flee.
He could only enter the village when he’d fulfilled the task given to him. When he had to place the emblem.
There was a survivor, a small boy. The tome didn’t act up. The child asked who was so cruel as to take everything from him; house, parents, friends—He showed the boy the emblem, and mad with rage the child asked the adventurer to avenge everyone in the village. The adventurer agreed, then ran the boy through and left the emblem on his corpse.
He first told the bandits about the total destruction of the town and the deaths of its people. They were pleased, rewarded him with gold. He murdered all of them, sweeping through the hideout like a hurricane of steel and blood.
He only laughed when it was over. He laughed so hard his body shook and trembled. He laughed so hard tears streamed from his eyes. He laughed so hard his nose started running and his eyes turned red.
His expression was the complete opposite of mirth however.
He’d gone mad a long time ago.
I loved them both and I hope to see more. Well done!