Prota removed his burnt-sienna leather vest. In his cream colored cotton shirt, he nestled into his makeshift sleeping bag. He took a moment to recollect himself by looking at the familiar bandages on his right arm.

He didn’t know where he came from. He had no memories earlier than a few years prior to setting out on his journey. He estimated that he was in his early to mid twenties, but in truth, he had no clue when or where he was born. The earliest thing he could remember was waking up in the rain, in the middle of the muddy streets of Seaside Village. The townspeople found him, took him in, and treated him like one of their own.

They got a lot of vagrants in that town. It wasn’t unusual in this day and age. Nowhere had enough space to house everyone. Thus, many people came and went from town to town in search of a place to call home. The townspeople figured he was another product of these troubled times, simply trying to find his way.

But there was one thing about Prota that was unquestionably weird… something that didn’t sit right with him. Running up his right forearm… was a zipper. It didn’t have a tab to slide it open with, but no matter how one looked at it, it was undoubtedly a metal zipper embedded in his arm.

At first, the old woman who found him sent him to a doctor to figure out this abnormality, but unsurprisingly, the doctor didn’t have the slightest clue what it was. Not wanting to be invasive, the doctor declined operating on it, out of fear that it might be vital to Prota’s wellbeing, perhaps from a previous medical operation. Thus, after that, Prota settled for keeping it covered at all times, hoping to keep the unsettling feelings that it caused at bay.

He laid his arm over his ribcage and looked up at the cave ceiling. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce. He needed to think ahead and figure out how to deal with their enemy.

Prota was an inventor who fused magic with machinery. This meant that he had an arsenal of numerous weapons, gadgets with a variety of magical capabilities. He determined that the holy sword, which had previously been incredibly useful, wasn’t the best match for this opponent. He decided he would take a different approach and focus on magic abilities that inhibit the opponent. The next morning, he collected his paralysis gun, electric drone, and time-slowing watch. Since he wasn’t fast enough, he deduced that his best bet would be to stand back and let his drones fly in and slow down his target, by stunning him or freezing time, while his friends continued to attack.

He was up all night thinking about the strange phenomenon that he experienced when Tiki attacked Anta’s shoulder. It could’ve been a fluke. Prota could’ve just had a sudden pain in his shoulder at the same time that Anta was hit. …But he didn’t want to take any chances. If Anta put some sort of enchantment on him, which seemed highly likely, after taking into consideration the “attraction” that he mentioned to Krain the night before, this meant that any attacks done to Anta could also affect Prota. So, Prota would come prepared by setting up a continuous healing spell. He would have to be strong and take the hits, but at least the spell would heal him each time.

As they prepared to leave the cave once more, Tiki approached Prota. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Prota said.

“Your heart…”

“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’m used to it. It’s as normal as breathing for me. Not like it can kill me.”

“But it can hurt you,” Tiki reminded him. “If it makes you incapacitated like that during…”

“It won’t,” he said, with certainty. “Actually, there’s something I haven’t told you. It might’ve been a coincidence, but… When we were up on the sundial, I… My heart wasn’t hurting.”

Tiki’s turquoise eyes grew wide.

“It always hurts,” he continued. “Not always as bad as yesterday… Sometimes it’s just a dull ache or a subtle throb, but… it always hurts. Even now. But on the sundial, for a moment, I was free.”

“Prota…”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Prota concluded. “Maybe, if we stop that man, I’ll finally… finally be free of this constant pain.”

Tiki looked into his brown eyes. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him.

He basked in her warmth for a moment, but he knew it was too early to relax. His heart reminded him of that every moment. It reminded him that his pain was nothing compared to all the people out there, back home, and through all the places they’ve traveled… All those people, who were suffering unimaginable horrors. Those who bled to death but are still alive… those with excruciating, untreatable ailments… They’re doing this for them, so they can finally rest in peace.

“We got this!” Tiki said, encouragingly, as she held him at arm’s length and gripped his shoulders tightly. “That bastard is going down!”

“Yeah,” Prota nodded, confidently.

“From the sound of it,” Krain chimed in, sword on his back, “his anti-death machine should be inside the gear tower. So all we have to do is beat him up, get in there, and destroy the thing!”

“Yeah!” Tiki cheered. “Piece of cake!”

A weird mix of emotions swirled around within Prota. This whole time, he had one goal: to bring death back to the world. He still wanted this for all of The Lost, but… He thought he had wanted it for himself as well. But now, after having felt a moment without pain, life felt a little more worth living. He wondered what it would be like to rest in Tiki’s arms when all of this was over, without this nagging pain in his heart.