Lord Evolution: Starting With SS-rank Skills

Memories flooded the mind of the cultist as he lingered closer to death's door.

He recalled his childhood — living with his beautiful and loving mother in a peaceful city alongside his older brother.

He recalled a certain house, his home, it wasn't that lavish but it was extremely beautiful, filled with nothing but love and peace.

There was plenty of food to eat, friends to play with.

'Friends. I had friends?'

His mind wandered — his last twenty years, he never had any friends. After joining the cult, he never really made friends. The cult forbade friendship!

But the memory of his old friends kept appearing in his mind — himself and other kids running around happily, memories of them stealing food to hide from their parents to share with each other, memories of them acting as soldiers fighting against evil.

'I really had friends.'

It was as though this memory had long been clouded in his mind, pushed to the extreme end so that he could never recall any of them.

'Was this ever my life?'

He wondered.

The memories kept playing out.

It was filled with peace and laughter.

And then... DARKNESS, BLOOD!

A particular bloody scene played out.

The beautiful house at the beginning of his memory was on fire.

He was in the midst of it.

Alongside his mother, friends, brother, and a stranger whose face was hidden behind a mask.

The mother figure had a dagger stabbed in her chest, she was dead, but her eyes were open, filled with sadness and dripping with tears as she looked deep into his eyes.

Beside her corpse were his friends, killed in brutal manners — one decapitated, one with missing limbs, one with her entire inside burst open, and the others died from daggers stabbed in their stomachs.

'Dead! They died?? Why?!'

He could not find an answer.

The memory was just a replay of an event that had taken place.

Until this moment, these memories were hidden. How could he find an answer?

'Who is this man?'

The masked man was emitting a peculiar dark aura as he looked at the corpse.

His hands were placed on his shoulder and that of his brother, who stared at the scene with bewilderment.

Tears were dripping down his eyes, but he wasn't even crying.

The fire in the background was still burning hot.

But somehow both of them were unaffected, unlike the corpse, which was gradually consumed in flames.

'Why? I never had these memories? Did I ever live these moments? Come to think of it, I never really remembered how my childhood was... I never had a father?!'

The realization that one's entire life had been a lie was painful, especially when it was only realized moments before death!

Who was that masked figure?

How come he never recalled meeting this person?

How come he never recalled any of these?

How come he only believed that he had a childhood and never really recalled any of it?

The cult—they made him believe all these?

"You and your brother were born into the cult with a special destiny to fulfill the grand cause and rise up to become our ambassadors!"

These words summed up his childhood.

Those were the words he grew up with, they shaped his beliefs and his mentality.

At this moment, his mind brought up something he fought hard to toss aside, but it just kept bringing it up — they were used by the cult!

'How can that be?'

'The cult would never do such a thing! Or... could they?'

Once again, a question only he could find an answer for.

The memory kept replaying, repeating the same dark scene of death and blood over and over again, as if trying to send a message.

What message?

The moment this question appeared in his heart, the memory fast-forward to a scene that had never been included in the previous replay — a scene of the masked man placing his hands on their head while muttering unknown chants.

'What is he doing?'

The hand of the masked man was wrapped in foggy, dark magic.

His eyes traced down to his brother, who began zoning out and then, after a moment, collapsed.

And then.

BLANK!

The memory entered a blank state, nothing was being displayed anymore.

Xandros's mind wandered as he gradually questioned and understood the last scene.

'This was when our childhood memories were hidden!'

No wonder he never recalled them.

No wonder he never realized he ever had them.

No wonder he never cared for a family or a friend.

No wonder he only sought after the cause of the cult and not his personal goal.

No wonder he was devoid of the ability to love and feel loved.

The blankness gave him more than enough time to recollect these facts.

And then the blankness ended.

The memories began to replay.

Scenes of him slaughtering innocent humans in cold blood.

Scenes of him committing all sorts of atrocities in order to fulfill the cause of the cult.

In this memory, he was nothing but a furious killer, always wearing a dark grin as he took the loved ones of others and destroyed thousands of homes.

Then he recalled the first set of memories about his family.

The sadness, disbelief, and other emotions he felt watching his friends and mother die.

That same feeling is what he had proceeded to cause other innocent humans to feel.

And for what? Because a group of people called him special, the same people in charge of stealing the love and brightness away from his life.

Disbelief.

Regret.

Anger.

Frustration.

These three flooded his mental sphere.

Disbelief that his life was all a lie.

Regret of the life he had lived under a false reality of his own life.

Furious that he could not exact revenge on those people who altered his life.

Frustrated that there was nothing he could do to change his past or even warn his brother about their false reality.

And then came sorrow.

'I do not want to die!'

But does he have a choice anymore?

NO!

The realization that his life was over came with the sound of D'andre's foot smashing his face.

He was back from memory lane to reality.

He was embraced by pain.

And then came death.

'It all ends? Just like that?'

His last question to himself.