Everyone has memories they don’t want to recall. That’s the same even for warriors.
Warriors are people too, after all.
Whether they’re high-realm experts or low-realm novices. They too have memories they want to erase.
Memories they’d turn back time to eliminate. Or ones that make their teeth chatter just thinking about them. Those kinds of memories.
And I was no different.
No, if anything, I’d confidently say mine are worse than anyone’s.
It wasn’t enough to erase the memories; I wanted to shred them into tiny pieces and burn them to nothing.
So I’d never recall them again.
So they’d be buried forever and sink down just like that—those are the memories I wanted to make that way.
Unfortunately, the more I tried, the more those memories tightened around my neck. My stupid brain forgets other things just fine, but clings to these until the end.
So, perhaps this is a kind of karma.
Karma that says never forget, remember until the very end.
A memory I want to forget but can’t—that became a kind of karma for me.
Shackles that will bind me for life, impossible to escape. That’s what those memories were to me.
And of all things.
“Punk. Look at those eyes.”
That damned shackle was right in front of me.
In the exact form from back then, no less.
Torn and ragged black martial robes. Not just worn out, and seeing it made me…