Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.
One of many words of wisdom that never truly registered for me before.
I remember, back when I was younger, I used to daydream. I dreamt of magic and amazing power, of being unconstrained by society, existing as a force of nature that everyone had to account for and take care not to disturb. Such a cool guy, that is me, would also live in a world where ancient secrets, treasure, and interesting people could be found everywhere, under practically every rock.
Childhood fantasies, nothing more, and as one grows older, it becomes harder and harder to daydream about such things and extract real enjoyment out of them. You can feel only so much righteous fury about an imaginary battle against non-existent Sith Lords after all. You can only feel warm and fuzzy inside, imagining the adoration of a non-existent maiden for so long.
Still, in the back of my mind, there was always this silent hope. That maybe something 'magical' will happen in my life. Maybe aliens would turn out to be real, maybe god, the one from the Bible, can hear me when I sometimes address him. Maybe humanity will unlock faster-than-light travel during my life, and I will live to see a wild-west era of space exploration.
I know that at least some of my hopes must have been right. I am sure God was listening.
Because here I am. Born with power beyond humanity, immortal, in an alien world, living in a literal fantasy setting.
But as always, there is a twist.
I sat amidst the trees, on a small clearing not far away from a crude cabin I constructed for myself. The birds sang loudly, as is normal for the season, and a small river, practically just a spring, flowed close by.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection - an image both familiar and alien. A youthful face stared back, untouched by time, appearing no older than eighteen. Golden hair cascaded down like a silken waterfall, framing features so symmetrical they bordered on the divine. Eyes of piercing blue held a depth that belied their age, and the delicate balance of sharp cheekbones and soft lips could have graced either gender with equal grace.
Yet, amidst this near-perfection, two thick, curved horns arched gracefully from my temples, their dark-crimson hue contrasting starkly against the pale strands of hair.
The image in the crystal clear water reflected a man dressed in rags, remnants of an old cloak, yet the body itself was pristine, with skin so lustrous any human woman would die of envy. A small worn journal on my lap, and with it, a feather in my hand, and a bottle of ink by my side, gently placed amidst the short grass, were also there, I the reflection.
But as I gazed upon myself, I felt nothing.
Which was the crux of my troubles, was it not?
Demons do not feel as humans do. We feel emotions, but they are stunted, undeveloped. Satisfaction of doing a task, especially if it's related to hunting humans, pride in something you do, in an accomplishment, anger at being hurt or slighted, fear of death or pain, all of that I can experience. Even though the stimuli felt much weaker than what I vaguely remembered from my human life.
But more complex emotions eluded my kind, and by extension, me. I wasn't able to feel guilt anymore. I could never again feel pride in someone else, I couldn't experience hope, and I couldn't feel compassion. Not to even mention love or affection. From my research, crude as it is, I hypothesized that the demons' minds simply weren't wired for such things.
It made sense. An apex predator, naturally gifted with magical might that a human would need a decade to cultivate, a being who can regenerate with magical energy, who can effortlessly enhance its own body, and who is born with an instinctive ability to mimic and quickly learn languages… why would such a being need more complex emotions?
Humans and other primates developed those gradually, as pack animals, to better survive and function as a society. Demons didn't need a society, a single demon was a self-sustaining being who could only die if killed, which in the wild shouldn't have ever been possible, unless the death came from another demon.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Then, dipping the feather into ink, with careful strokes, I continued to write in the language I learned to write in from staring into books I found. Something we, demons, apparently could do, just as we could learn to speak a language by merely observing humans for a day or so.
…For a long time now, I've been forgetting what certain things feel like. The memory of my human life grows dimmer. I do not believe it's a supernatural phenomenon or a byproduct of my reincarnation; rather, it's simply that my new experiences with passing years overwrite my previous ones. We, demons, are beings that are composed of magical energy in solid form; while our bodies, even internally, emulate humans, most of this emulation is surface-level at best. We have livers, stomachs, kidneys, and brains, but they are all redundant organs that do not serve a purpose. I conducted numerous vivisections on weaker monsters, I know that even damaging a brain, as long as the wound isn't too big and does not disturb their body's structure too much, does not affect them. I am certain it wouldn't affect me either, though I wasn't brazen enough to wound myself to check.
The only real essential organ in both monsters and demons is our hearts, and from what my research indicates, it would be more accurate to call it a 'core'.
There are two ways to kill a demon, one would be to destroy enough of our bodies that our regeneration can't catch up, and the whole construct starts to fall apart into ambient energy, as it can't cope with the increased load of trying to maintain it's shape, or to destroy our heart.
The heart is the only thing we can't regenerate.
My research indicates it's because a demon's heart is the core. A core from which all our mana originates, and which houses our consciousness, memories, and thinking. It's functionally both a heart and a brain, it's the center of our being.
That is to say, just like a human's brain is filled with neurons and hormones that dedicate their personality, memory, behaviour, and manner of thinking, we, demons, must have a core processing unit within ourselves, and without a doubt, it's our heart. Hence, a term 'core'.
The change in my memories is likely because just like neurons in a human brain are restructured with new experiences, making some memories more vague, or some associations more pronounced, demons likewise are rewired by the way we live.
In layman's terms, if I've felt pity in my previous life as I saw a wounded animal, but in this life, for years, I've seen animals die without feeling anything about it, so I will inevitably start to forget what that pity for wounded animals felt like. Or with enough time, I will cease recognizing that I am even supposed to feel pity for the wounded animals.
The same principle applied to practically every single one of my emotions, but most importantly, patterns of thinking. Intellectual, I knew that I used to think and consider my actions while taking into consideration other people and their feelings, but I am completely incapable of it nowadays; it takes real, tangible effort to imagine what a human may feel if I were to do a certain action. While I was a human, it would've been effortless, a part of my normal pattern of thinking; nowadays, it's an exercise in creativity, trying to force yourself to consider someone other than yourself and your immediate goals.
Those changes in patterns of thinking are what concern me the most. In my previous life, there was a famous quote: 'I think, therefore I am', but at this rate, I will cease to think the way I used to, and instead of being a human trapped into a wrong body, I will be a true demon with vague memories of once being a human. The former is me, the latter would be someone else.
I do not feel anything thinking of this transformation, there is no revulsion or fear. I suppose it's similar to how a human would think about being a different person once they become older.
But on an intellectual level, I find that change unacceptable, and ironically, my demonic pride supports me in the objectively stupid decision I am making today;
That is, I am conducting an experiment that will most likely kill me.
This is not an introduction to you or anyone else who is reading this message. This journal is simply that, my ramblings; the other journals you would find alongside it are filled with autopsies and my research into monster and demon anatomies, and magic. I tried to adhere to a scientific method, though I lack a formal education in magic; as such, most of the terminology was invented by me, for my own needs. If you are a mage, maybe you will find something useful amidst my notes.
In the latter parts of this journal, I listed, in broad strokes, what I remembered of the technology and science of my old world. Concepts such as steam turbines, various fuels one can use for industries, concepts of factories, railroads, cellular theory, and what I remember of gravity and space, and some other smaller details concerning science that I recall.
You may be wondering why I bother taking any notes at all, and the truth is, my demonic mind doesn't feel stimulated by this idea of sharing knowledge. Leaving a legacy, trying to help someone else follow my footsteps, simply sharing my knowledge for the betterment of others, to the current me, all of those are hollow concepts. They produce as much emotional stimuli as thinking of helping humans, and if, for some reason, you, the reader, are unfamiliar with demons, that means I feel nothing.
The real reason why I write this is because I think the human me would've done it.
Now, as for the nature of my current experiment, it's simple. All of my research, magical or otherwise, was centered around trying to find a way to influence a demon's 'core'. The end goal is to be able to reshape it into something that can simulate a human's mind. The heart of a demon is comprised of solidified mana, much like the rest of our bodies. Demons can also solidify our mana at will, to regenerate ourselves, or even modify our bodies to an extent, for instance, growing sharper claws or teeth. Naturally, if we extrapolate this, a demon should theoretically be able to modify its core, if our personality and thinking patterns are created based on the magical equivalent of hormonal and neurological activity inside our core, changing those neuron/hormone-equivalent mana particles and their arrangement will change our personality. With enough mastery, one should be able to reshape our core in such a way that a demon would think, feel, and experience a world not unlike a human, except while being stronger, faster, and biologically immortal. This is a goal I strive towards, a being with all the benefits of being a demon and a human, this is what I wish to be.
I, as a former human, am probably the only demon who can even approach to attempt such magic. Though this is a herculean endeavor that will likely take centuries of study, and likely vivisection of monsters, demons, animals, and likely even humans, to understand everything about how brains and 'hearts' function, and to be able to modify the latter freely.
However, if I were to lose my memories of being a human, if I were to lose all my patterns of thinking, habits, and goals, I would lose my advantage in being aware of how demons and humans think. There is a chance I wouldn't even be interested in pursuing the path of returning my humanity. It's troubling.
Therefore, the current experiment. I created a curse that should allow me to relive my memories, not as one would see a dream, but with physical effects on one's body.
Currently, I lack most of the necessary knowledge to directly affect the inner workings of my core. I am still very much in the observation phase of my research, in the monster's I've vivisected, I am yet to name every mechanics and interactions of solidified mana within the core, obviously I didn't yet make sense of how the 'heart' of a monster works, much less a 'heart' of a much complex beings such as demons.
My curse is less working with tangible variables such as mana-particles in one's heart, and more centered around bringing up the memories from within one's soul and projecting them onto one's brain… or a core.
As a demon, magic comes almost instinctively, but developing this curse took me over a decade. This curse was my original focus ever since I mastered enough basics to defend myself, as I wanted to be able to perfectly recall my previous life in perfect clarity, especially any scientific articles I've read or studied, and the current application of this curse wasn't originally my plan, I didn't even consider my personality and very manner of thinking being changed gradually with my new state of being to such an extent.
Foolishly, I believed my morals and mind were more resilient than this. Alas, the mind does not persist over the body.
This curse I created was tested on monsters, which are abundant in the surrounding forest; they survived. They also trashed in their restraints while reliving them, as I mostly made them relive the fight I had to capture and subdue them. But I couldn't find, nor would I've been able to restrain a fellow demon. Demons and monsters are similar, but monsters are much more primitive in terms of cognitive functions; an apt comparison would be a human and any other animal. Essentially, I am going to cast a curse tested on dogs, on an equivalent of a human, a spell that is equivalent to a brain surgery, and hope for the best.
This is the main reason for this note. I am almost certain I will die.
I do not know how spells are normally recorded, and if I can even write down a demon's curse in such a way, so I am unable to share this piece of my magic. Demon's way of doing magic is half-instinctual, half proper knowledge. If I survive this, I will try to broaden my magical education with systematic human knowledge.
For a second, I considered the journal, the notes I wrote. They irked me. The fact that I wasted the ink, the paper, and the time to write this bothered me.
My pride demanded that I structure my message properly, make it more grandiose, even if it would impact its clarity, and make it more sympathetic. So that, at least, if a human reads it, it may benefit me if he takes pity. I wanted to write something more manipulative, something that serves me, my purposes. However, rationally, I knew that this was good enough.
Besides, amongst other things, I resolved myself not to lie so brazenly.
This note worked. It was good enough to emulate what I would've written if I were still a human. Or I think that's what I would've written.
It wasn't likely anyone would find it if I were to die, anyway. However…
Written by Albert.
I wrote that down; it seemed like something a human would do, too. I remember clinging to what remained of my previous life back when I got here. I promised myself to act morally, to follow the ten comandaments, to use my real name, and even though the original emotions that drove me to do so are mostly forgotten, and promises mean nothing to a demon, I followed those rules so far, out of habit, even if I felt nothing for them anymore.
No, probably, it's precisely because I felt nothing about those rules anymore that I followed them. In a few years, that might have changed.
Silently, I stood up, my body wasn't sore despite the hour I spent meticulously trying to write like my old human self. My body felt relaxed, yet ready to explode into violence at any single instance.
Like it always did.
Silently, I went back into my hut, the crude building was constructed out of evenly shaped logs and a tiled roof. I couldn't produce clay - I didn't remember how - but it turned out that carving rocks from the nearby mountain into identical flat stones worked almost just as well. Lining those 'tiles' across the roof made of logs, and clogging the holes with mud from the spring, seemed to make a decent shelter. Not that a shelter is needed for a demon in the first place.
Inside, it was barren. There was a pile in the far side corner, armors, swords, hammers, a lot of junk made of metal, like lanterns, pots, or even hinges from doors. I hammered a few daggers and bolts I found into the logs that made up this hut, to keep them together, for a demon, this wasn't difficult, but that was the extent of the uses I found for steel.
Many flying monsters lived on and around the nearby mountain, and they seemed to like stealing anything shiny. When I found their nests and used the monsters for research, I took the metal they collected too, the metal that wasn't rusted completely, anyway. I even had some coins due to that.
Then there is the small table I made, and my treasures, the three empty books I found, and a few books that weren't originally empty. One of the monsters in the aforementioned mountain must have attacked and devoured a merchant. I found the remnants of an entire carriage just smashed into a tree, and inside it, across piles of junk destroyed by rain and time, there was a small chest, and inside it, those three books, originally used for accounting. It was the first entries in those books, as well as a separate tome detailing religious texts and history of some ancient time, and a belief in the Goddess of Creation, that allowed me to learn the language. I knew that, supposedly, divine magic, or whatever the proper term was, was coded into this book, but I've yet to find anything, and besides, I was not foolish enough to try and cast spells that are created to destroy my kind.
This book at least allowed me the understand that I was in the world of 'Frieren', which, all those years ago, for a naked and confused fledgling demon child, was very useful. It saved my life, and was the only reason why I avoided the human village in the surrounding area when I accidentally stumbled across it, and chose to observe from the shadows for a day, instead of following my nose and walking straight into it.
I remember finding it ironic then, and amusing, the holy book saving a demon… though, back then, while I could experience amusement and irony by proxy, by remembering it's supposed to be funny, nowadays I was incapable of even that much.
I gently placed my journal on the table and carefully wrapped the books in a piece of cloth. I then gently placed it into the chest I originally found it in, locked it, while leaving the key inside, and placed the chest on the table.
"It's year fourteenth of my stay in this world." I voiced, addressing no one. My voice is distinctly musical in its qualities, alluring, perfect to entice humans. It sounded odd in this barely livable hut. "Either this is the end, or the real beginning."
I did not speak out of sentimentality, but rather out of habit. Narrating my thoughts was the rule I made for myself. It seemed like a human thing to do.
"Now…"
I turned around and exited the hut, once again heading to the same spot, by the stream, under the shade of a nearby oak. It wasn't a bad place to die.
My mana ignited. Suppressed as it was, unnaturally and uncomfortably, stirring it awake always felt right. Proper. Suppressing it was infuriating and uncomfortable at first, I grew used to doing it, but willing it into action, feeling it ripple and spill out as my concealment failed, despite annoying me due to it being a failure of suppressing mana, still felt satisfying to some primal demonic part of my being.
"Resonant Soul," I whispered to myself, my voice suddenly turning otherworldly, as the sounds around me dimmed unnaturally.
I directed my mana, weaving it together in an arcane pattern, half knowing exactly what I was doing, half-guided by the instincts I didn't truly comprehend.
The otherworldly voice was also a component of the curse I deliberately created, because it felt like something a human would expect. Only the name was something I chose myself, as it felt appropriately powerful and factually correct.
Within a fraction of a second, the spell was woven, igniting into a bluish vortex as my mana concealment wavered, I focused on the specific memories I wished to re-live, and forced the curse upon myself…
***
I woke up with a gasp.
It was night. The stars were shining overhead.
My body was trembling. With shaking hands, I wiped my wet face, only to see tears.
Demons could cry on demand. I knew, because I had made myself cry before, just to see if I could. But demons never cried from genuine emotions. Tears, as well as facial expressions, were just used by us to manipulate others or convey something in a conversation.
It's the first time I spilled genuine tears in this life. Maybe I was the first demon to ever do so.
My body was already calming down, returning to normal, but the memory was fresh.
My birthday, back when I was twelve, and managed to gather all my friends together. My first girlfriend and our sex. My first breakup. That one time I went skiing in Austria…
"I can't believe I forgot…" I whispered, my voice, for the first time in this new life, filled with genuine emotion. Envy, anger. "I forgot how amazing it was to be human." It felt like I should've said something more profound. Something deeper, instead of those basic words that spilled out of me.
But they were the truth.
My curse worked exactly as I wished. I've lived through those parts of my life again. I've thought the thoughts I thought up back then, felt the same things, experienced the same sensations…
Only now to realize how much more… muted this cursed, demonic body is. It had none of the lingering aches a human body had. Its capacity to experience emotions was so weak and diluted that a disappointment a human child would feel at not getting a toy he wanted for Christmas would dwarf the greatest tragedy a demon could experience. A demon would be less afraid to die than a human would be at getting his first love confession rejected.
My body was shaking, not because of the anger and regret I was feeling now, but because the emotions I just experienced, emotions I remember experiencing due to the curse, were so much more overwhelmingly real and powerful.
Slowly, carefully, I rose to my feet.
"Only when going to sleep. I will cast this on myself only when I am going to sleep." I promised myself quietly, "Otherwise, I will get addicted."
The sheer depth of enjoyment I experienced was incomparable with anything this demonic body could produce. I wasn't sure, maybe devouring humans was just as pleasurable for a demon, but now, with the memory of my human life so fresh in my mind, thinking of devouring humans made me feel uncomfortable by proxy!
Which meant it worked! I am, at least partially, back to my previous self!
"Estimated time…" I glance at the moon above, with almost fifteen years of practice, estimating time wasn't overly difficult, "Six hours and a half under a curse. Meaning I probably lived through this memory at fifty or so times the speed of the real world." It made me feel a tingle of displeasure. This significantly impacted the possible combat application of the curse. "This is unexpected, the monsters I tested this on seemed to relive their experience in up to four times acceleration…" I paused, considering why it could be. "Maybe the amount of mana the target has increases the speed at which they relive the memories."
It made sense, instinctively. Mana was somehow tied to both the demon's heart and our soul, which logically meant that mana would probably subconsciously shield someone from the effect of the spell, in sufficient quantities. But I expected the curse to possibly fail if the target is too strong.
I didn't expect it to be more effective on a stronger target. In case of that spell, in combat, it would be more beneficial if the target was staggered for longer, reliving past experiences.
Or maybe it's because the spell was cast on myself, that there was no resistance from the mana at all? More testing is needed either way.
A good avenue for future research.
But for the first time in the last couple of years, I didn't feel like doing research. I just wanted to…
I leaned back on the grass, staring into the night sky, feeling an echo of wonder I surely would've felt gazing upon this beauty as a human.
Yes, right now, for the first time in years, I don't care for my research; I simply wished to savour this. And so, indulging myself, I did.
Surely even the Lord wouldn't hold this moment of weakness against me.