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I am a Winsel

** ** I didn't know where I am...

Everything's blurred as I was pulled in by the featureless demon to a place unknown. Ani and grandfather looked at me hopelessly, and Ani was still trying to help me despite of my grandfather's objections. That Jackal...he may be blind, but he wanted to help so badly, even ignoring safety concerns. Grandfather knew that I was beyond helping. The moment this demon pulled me in, I was dead. Even after I called upon them, I knew it was futile, and I closed my eyes as their last images vanished into nothingness.

At least that's what I thought my fate was. Surprisingly for me, this demon did not pull me into a void, but instead of a void, I'm back to where I belonged: Hell. No, I am not saying that I'm damned! I'm a hellhound! But, well, I hadn't been here for ages. I left this bleak place when I was 5, and now I returned.

I was in the middle of nowhere, with no water and nothing to eat. To be honest, I wasn't thinking about eating or drinking. I was still in the heat of battle. The moment I realized that I wasn't dead, I quickly resumed my fighting stance.

The black, featureless demon looked upon me with its featureless eyes. I wasn't sure if it was staring at me or what, but that thing was freaky. I tried to attack it but it vanished and quickly reappeared behind me and kicked me across the plains. I hit a rock and coughed out blood. That was harsh. Not only that, this demon did not care if I was a child or not. It knew my mind was an adult, and I could fight it. I took a weapon on the ground and hold it in front of the demon, but then I realized what I took the moment I saw its curved blade.

It was Ani's curved sword, somehow taken with me to the past. I was clinging to it when I was fighting some crazed rebels when my dagger was snatched away from my hand. I wanted to thank Ani, though. This blade was strong, sturdy, and was easy to throw. I defended myself against the demon's attacks. I mostly failed, but I knew it was a futile attempt if this demon kept disappearing and reappearing somewhere in a blink of time. It was as if it stopped time, which it was.

Days after days we fought, and I was always on the losing end. The time wraith (I knew its name when I knew its ability to move within time). The wraith was so careful as to not give me a fatal wound, which I did not know at that time what it was. I taunted the wraith to give me a good fight, but it did not answer or even gave me any more challenge that wearing me out.

By the fifth day, the lack of food, coupled with the heat and my own injuries before we even got here, got the best of me. I panted so hard like a hellhound in heat, but my fighting spirit did not falter. It was then I realized that I had lost, and that time wraith had won, by a single rock. My body was a ten years old body and I ran half the speed of an adult, so of course I wasn't able to get to the time wraith even if I wanted to. I tripped the rock as a result of my exhaustion. I wasn't concentrating on the plains. I fell, face-first, to the hot rocky surface of hell. Ani's sword was thrown away from me and I was left with no weapons left. My beloved bow was broken, and I was half-naked because I was wearing my tribe's clothes. So, this is it, I thought back then. I knew my fighting spirit had betrayed me, and my body refused to listen to me. I knew that I would die, exhausted, in the middle of nowhere.

Even then, that son of a bitch did not even relent, yet it gave me something like a twist. It sat near me, head away from me, and it said, "(You are a character in a long life story throughout time. If your older self did not say the word, I will be breaking the first rule of time; I would have changed history)."

My older self? What was it talking about? I didn't know what the time wraith was saying. Of course, I was just a simple hellhound tracker with little to no knowledge to the ways this world moved, or to that matter, how time worked.

"(I simply looked into the time flow archives and see you, a victim to a vicious loop called a bootstrap paradox. When your older self told me that 'The future is the past', he had ensured his own existence and of course, your future)."

I did not understand any of it, and I did not have any energy to talk anyway, so all I could do was listen.

"(Now, it's your choice on how this story will continue. Will you let yourself die here, in the middle of nowhere, without any chance to meet your friends again and discarded the future, or will you continue following your legacy, until the time is right for you to understand your current fate? I have no rights to interfere. The time is in the flux. Your future had not been determined yet. What is your answer?)"

Of course, as a hellhound in a brink of death, I would try to find a way to stay alive. Survival is our forte, after all. But then, a thought struck me back then. What if the world ended if I stayed alive? This was a ridiculous concept, and I admit, that was stupid. But again, that thought lingered, and I was unable to tell it my decision before I passed out due to exhaustion.

I woke up some hours later, with the time wraith gone and I was alone. I looked at my body and winced. It was still hurt from the fight. Sleeping did not help at all. I knew I was thirsty, but since I am a hellhound, water was not my concern. My concern was hunger, and in the Outer Ring plains of hell, you either got killed or kill your attacker. Now, I don't talk about being a cannibal, but apparently some hellhounds preferred this kind of life, and, well...they were not right in the head since.

First things first, ignoring what that time wraith was doing, I proceeded to try to find anything to eat in this barren wasteland. My life as a tracker helped me find a herd of weird-looking furred animals that resembled a giant rabbit, but with more eyes than nothing. They were vicious, unlike hares or rabbits, and could tear your head off if you didn't care. My grandfather told me that.

You know what could happen, right? I was an experienced hunter and I knew how to blindside my prey. But then, I was exhausted from a fight, starving, and unable to even move fast enough to counter this creature. The result? I was attacked and got even more wounds. I knew this was the end, but I did not want to die because of oversized multi-eyed rabbit, right?

Then a miracle of sorts happened. As I shielded myself from the leap of that rabbit, I felt something inside me. My heart jumped like I was startled, but all of the sudden everything around me stopped. Yes, including those three creatures. I was the only one who could move. It was not only the creatures. The fire ravaging a thorn beside me stopped flickering and was suspended in a moment. I could hear any sounds or any sorts of wind. Everything stopped.

I walked towards the creature, one of which was in the middle of pouncing me. I quickly used Ani's sword to disembowel the creature. Right at that moment, everything moved and the creature was howling as its inside poured out, intestines and such. It quickly died. The other creatures stopped in their tracks and became cautious of me. I held the sword in front of them and growled at them. They quickly ran away. I did not hesitate. As they left my presence I turned around to the body of the creature, used Ani's sword, and skinned it. I was so hungry at that time that when I took a chunk of its meat, I immediately ate it before I realized that it was raw. Luckily, there's a fire beside me endlessly burning a patch of thorn I recognized as bloodthorn. They were unique thorns that used blood as nourishment. They could be used as a grave marker, as morbid as it sounds. Just try not to get splinters of this thorn inside you. They'll grow in your body and turning you into a tree yourself. It is nasty, but it isn't something that is dangerous if you immediately treat it and remove the splinter.

Hellhounds have fireproof fur coat that also generates heat, yet their skins are not. If one is not careful, they might get burned by fire. That was the fact grandfather told me when hunting. Hell creatures were different and they needed to be skinned to be properly cooked. With the exception of the furless Ulshurfaks, many creatures in hell are fireproof.

I ate my fill, taking up half of the creature's carcass. I then realized that I was dirty from eating voraciously, the fight, and my injuries. This wouldn't do, I thought. Leaving my camp behind, I started to try to find any settlements or towns. They wouldn't care if I was dirty or even bloodied. All I needed was a place to clean myself and tend to my wound.

Of course, hell was and still is a vast place. I can still get lost when I wrote this, but back then it was worse. In hell, you don't have a sense of direction. Compass is not working down there due to strong magnetic interference from behind the wall towards the gate of hell. That, on the other hand, helped me back them. Many of the settlements were made around the gate of hell because it would be easier to do trades with the layer demons. The Winsel Estate and the Schelkz kingdom were very near to the gate that it took over all the view on one side of it. It did not cause any problems, but the wall, bordering the realm of the living and the realm of the death, was menacing enough to see than to get in. I couldn't imagine what they found beyond the wall....

Which returns us to this scenario. Unfortunately for me, I was thrown too far away from a settlement to have any reasonable journey with wounds like these. I ended up walking through the wasteland for a day, or maybe more, I wasn't sure. I had been accustomed to see days with the sun, but without it, I couldn't know for sure. What made it even worse was the unpredictable wasteland condition, the wilderness, and my injuries. I could only walk for at least 10 miles before I needed to rest. I usually could do better than that, but my child body would not help me.

That whole day felt like torture to me. For someone who was forced to walk on a dangerous plains with only a sword and time-altering ability as weapons, it was very exhausting. Luckily for me, that one day journey was worth it. I found a small hamlet near the wall, with many hellhounds in it. But then, considering how these hellhounds had no sense of sympathy, they would just leave me to death if they wanted to. I knew that all too well.

As I expected, the hellhounds did not care. I ended up garnering attention to how dirty I was and how battered up I was. Adult hellhounds with wounds were common, but apparently cubs with injuries were not common. We may be demons, but we still care for our young.

Walking through the town was painful enough, now I needed to buy some bandages or at least something to wash myself off. I did not have any money and no one in this place would be willing to do that. At least that's what I thought.

I started to lose consciousness again when I bled and my hastily burned wound opened again. I forgot to apply pressure on it due to the joy of seeing civilization again. It wasn't perfect, but I was relieved to see the hamlet. I fainted and everything faded to black again. I did not expect to survive this one, seeing how much blood puddled underneath me....

Just then, something happened to me. I did not have a dream when I fainted, and I woke up as if I only closed my eyes for a moment. I did not expected to see the ceiling of a home and...bandages. Well, that was uncanny. I thought that I was dreaming, but I could hear many noises that seemed to be a home. The voice of knife cutting through flesh, and that sizzling noise...I was in someone's home.

Then, the owner of the house walked into my room carrying a big kitchen knife. I immediately made a fighting stance out of reflex, but the hellhound said, "(Whoa, whoa, kid, calm down! I am not trying to fight you!)"

"(Put that knife down!)"

"(Alright, alright!)" the hellhound disappeared behind the door and returned without taking anything. "(See? You can trust me)."

"(We are complete strangers. We cannot trust each other. I appreciate your help, but I must go)."

"(Whoa, wait there, kiddo, you ain't going anywhere until you are healed!)"

"(Yeah, like you care about me)."

"(I can't just leave a kid to die in the streets, right? You look like you've been bullied by someone and you run here for help. Look, kid, this may sound weird to you, but we want to help)."

For me, that was not something weird. If you had been living among a tribe of hellhounds living on the surface, you must knew that these hellhounds had a sense of sympathy and they would be glad to help each other. But still, meeting a hellhound who was claiming to help you in hell was new, alright.

I did not want them to think that I did not deserve help. I was hurt and starving, but they were willing to help me, patch me up, and cook something for me. It was right to give him a thanks.

"(Y-yes...I owe you one there),"

The hellhound sighed in relief and said, "(Right. Now, just wait until dinner, alright?)"

After the hellhound walked away from the door, I heard some noises and a conversation talking Hordo. They were somehow arguing about...the food, I think? It seemed that the hellhound wasn't alone, and was living with a female hellhound. With them together, I could say that they were a married couple, and that argument gave hint that their marriage was not because of survival, but of true love and care. I smiled with that suggestion and laid on the bed, thinking on the others. Did they survive that ambush? Something told me that they were mourning me right now. It had been days since that ambush. I could've been thrown in hell and if they were planning to take it upon themselves and started attacking hell, I thought that there would be a small chance we could be reunited again. Well, seeing that I was in a body of a ten years old and I screwed things up in that ambush, those other hellhounds would not think of me seriously and would not let a kid going into battle, especially a hot-headed kid like me. Ifrit and Anubis might not care because we were the best of friends, but they were just two monarchs. Considering how liberal the hellhounds had become, their influence would not win anyone's respect. They were only considered as powerful warriors and that's it. No prince title, no privileges, no nothing. They were just hellhounds on the surface of the earth, safe from the danger and threats around us.

Which came to the major problem in this situation. The civil war that my grandfather told me was harsh, bloody, brutal, and took so many lives. The revolution of the ordinary hellhounds not given powerful 'gifts' called monarch gifts to claim liberty ended miserably when many of the hellhounds were divided. Some, who would form the rebels, stayed to their belief that us monarchs were a danger to hellhounds and were oppressing them in an unfair treatment, while the supporters (with no name) claimed that the rebels had shallow thinkings since they were apparently forgetting the constant days of peace for so many years since the monarchs started to lead them away from problems. In the end, the promised 'land of freedom' did not happen, and anarchy happened.

Those things did not happen to me. Any hellhounds who saw me would know that I was Eshdar Winsel, a Winsel monarch with an ability to pacify beasts (and an extra ability to alter time flow). Everything seemed to be normal. Well, there were still fights and conflicts, but were not so big and there was no collective interest. They were fighting for their own, surviving for their own in the bleak wasteland we all called Outer Ring, our former home.

My line of thoughts were quickly cut when the hellhound came to me again and said, "(C'mon, kid, we're ready)."

It did not take long until the scent of charred meat that was cooked into perfection took my nose. I quickly followed the hellhounds and looked at the food, which was the same creature I had been killing for my survival. There were also innards like liver, intestines, and such being laid on the table. If the humans looked at it, it was like a debauchery of sorts, but for me, it was a grand dinner.

I walked towards the food. The scent was very peculiar and great. It had a spice smell like those of Knapples and some kind of root, something very similar to Canis roots that gave out a unique aroma. I didn't know the equivalent in the Outer Ring but I could say these hellhounds had a good taste.

"(Hmm, never thought you like it, kiddo)," said a female gruff voice. I turned around and saw a brown-furred hellhound crossing her arm and smiled at me. She looked like a housewife of your typical Tragorian household, except that she was a hellhound, wore tattered rugs, and was slightly fat.

The male hellhound was dark brown-furred, with a horn that was shaped like a twisted pattern akin to a kind of deer. He was muscular enough, at least enough for me to say that he was also a fighter instead of a mere hunter. I noticed scars on his right arm, as if he was cut and was defending something with his arm.

I immediately sat on the floor and took a chunk of them and ate them. Oh, how I was reacting! A properly cooked meal was far better than a hastily cooked one, or for that matter, a raw one. This was like a dream came true after days of malnourishment and injuries.

"(Wow, never thought he liked it)," said the female hellhound. "(You really have a knack of cooking, huh?)"

"(I'm following your recipe, Ertha. Of course it is good)."

"(Yeah, at least for him. You put too much salt in it)," said Ertha while trying it. I could see her approach me and said, "(But I don't think you care anyway, huh, kiddo?)"

I nodded to her, as my mouth was stuffed by this thing. Fuck salty, I thought. I did not ate something good for a while.

We all ate together while talking to each other. I took my chance to find a way to find out where I was, in between small talks and rumors from the both of them. I knew their names as Igen and Ertha, and they were clearly experiencing some kind of new sensation when they found out their feelings ten years ago, but they did not know it was 'love' that they had found from each other.

Then, the whole talk became a little bit sad when the topic changed into something somber and serious.

"(You know, kiddo, you are just like our son, Rindis. He was kind, liked to play with us, and fought well, too. If your fur is brown now, you looked almost like him with that smile and yellow eyes)."

"(I wish I can meet him. But...you're referring him in the past, so he's...)"

A normal hellhound who did not had any feelings would just say "(Yes, he's dead)" and specified the year of death before moving on, but I could see that upon talking about Rindis, their expression changed into sadness. Ertha, who had been eating with a glee feeling, suddenly stopped her eating and looked at Igen with a sad expression, and started to shed a tear. The talk became something of an unpleasant evening, with everyone, including me, caught in sorrow.

"(Kid...do you mind if the two of us talk about it...in private)," said Igen as he stood up and escorted Ertha to another room. I looked at them and could not help to think that I was pulling up a very sensitive topic to them. So Rindis died recently? I didn't know that. Most hellhounds in hell did not think death as a thing since they were living near a gate separating the realm of the living and the realm of the dead. But, they were just like humans and Lycans. They mourned the dead and remembered them in memory.

In the end, I did not feel like I want to eat, losing my appetite as I was drawn into their sadness. I walked into my own room, as I did not want to offend them more by eating while pretending to be oblivious of their sadness. Just then, Igen knocked my door and said, "(Do you mind if I come in?)"

I replied "(Not at all)" and he opened his door. Igen's face became somber and full of sorrow. I could faintly hear Ertha sobbing before he closed the door behind him. What had I done?

"(Kid...I'm sorry if that talk became...well, unpleasant. We didn't mean to make you lose your appetite)."

"(No, I'm okay, Igen, but tell me..., why did Rindis died? Maybe I can help...)"

"(Thank you for your concern, kiddo, but Rindis...he was our everything. Our future...and our son. You may not think so since you are an orphan...or maybe your parents threw you out.... If those are your past, I'm terribly sorry if I offended you)."

"(No, don't worry about that. It's all in the past)." Of course, I couldn't tell them that I was in the middle of a big battle a demon with an ability to alter time, and I was more than 20 years old, right?

"(I'm glad you care. Unlike most hellhounds who somehow did not feel anything when they had an offspring, Rindis was...our everything. Ertha felt a sense of bliss and satisfaction when she bore Rindis, and I felt something new inside me, something I could not find the word for it. Ertha took care of Rindis like a prized possession, as he should be. He was the product of our love, and I wanted him to grow up into a hellhound that could continue our legacy).

"(Of course, the other hellhounds saw us as weird couple since we cared Rindis a lot, but none wanted to get involved with us. Then...that happened)."

"(They killed him?)"

"(Oh, no, no! They may think of us as weird, but they did not feel threatened. When Rindis was ten, he was...struck by a sickness. We tried to find a way to cure him, but no hellhound could help him, and we could not do anything as Rindis died by Ertha's lap. We sang him a lullaby, something we came up while reading a poetry and decided to give tone to it. He went to sleep and...and...)"

"(You might want to stop there, Igen. I know that feeling...I'm sorry, Igen)."

Igen started to shed tears and sobbed. "(I could've saved him. I could be a good father, but...Rindis...I'm sorry...)"

Oh, boy, I guess it was wrong talking about Rindis with them. They found happiness, but they also felt sadness for the first time with the death of their firstborn. I wanted to talk to them, at least to console them, but...I knew they were drowning in sorrow. I wanted to help them, but I knew they wouldn't be able to recover.

In the end, I felt that they did not need someone for now and I wanted to leave their house. Just as I dressed and saw the bed frame for the first time, a phrase made me both surprised and horrified at the same time. I quickly moved closer to the bed frame, made from chiseled stone, and saw the mark on it. I wanted to make sure something I took a glance off was right.

The mark was two Hordo words, but one of them did not make any sense. It was as if they sensed me and wrote something there, but it couldn't be.

"(Rindis...Winsel?)"

But he never had any relatives with the name Rindis before, or any Winsel branch family for that matter. There was no way Rindis Winsel was someone from his present. He was the Winsel of his generation, except if his grandfather or Ensalder had any brothers they did not want to talk about....

"(Wait a minute.... No civil war, small hamlets...Rindis Winsel...Impossible!)"

A sudden realization struck me. The home he was in was not some random house of a mourning couple. It wasn't just a home with hellhounds with feelings. It was the home of his ancestors.

It was the home of the first Winsel family. I was not only transported to hell, but I was also transported through time by that time wraith.

My hubris was heard by Igen, who quickly ran towards my room and said, "(Are you alright, kiddo?)"

"(Tell me, Igen.... Is your name Igenir Winsel and Ertha is Rethanis Winsel?)"

"(What? We've never told you about our full names! How did you find out!)"

"(This is Rindis's bedroom, isn't it?)"

Igen's face turned somber and he nodded. I knew they thought I looked like Rindis and thought that I was their son, but then there was a hole in my history. Igenir Winsel and Rethanis Winsel were the first Winsels who started to make the Winsel family into monarchs, with my grandfather, Anarim Winsel, the first king. Our family was not very old as the monarchy only lasted for a hundred years, with the last kings being my grandfather (who took the title after Ensalder descended into madness), Hynorsi Schelkz (Ifrit's father), and many other kings we had yet to meet. I should've thought Igen and Ertha were subtle names of Igenir and Rethanis, but those were common names.

Then, the hole started to form in my mind. Where was my grandfather? Seeing how Rindis Winsel was brown-furred like Igen and Ertha there was no way my grandfather, a red-furred hellhound like I did, would be their biological son. They would adopt him today or some years later. I would need to wait for it to happen and got away before he saw me.

Somehow I knew that interfering with the timeline would cause a paradox, in which one thing that could happen might not happen, and the whole time was altered like a ripple that became wave. This butterfly effect, as I understood it, would be disastrous to me and my future would be negated. How the hell did I know all this, anyway?

But then, despite of this confusion, Igen and Ertha were more concerned on how I knew their full name and demanded an explanation. I didn't know what to say, but then I explained to them that a red-furred hellhound named Anarim would go to them and I urged them to meet him. To my surprise, their reply was, "(You're the only red-furred hellhound I've ever met for a while. Kiddo, I don't know how many fur color a hellhound had, but everyone around here were either brown or gray. You're clearly someone who ran too far away from home)."

Wait, what? Was Winsel a common family name, too? Was only one Winsel got to be monarchs? This was all confusing and made me starting to doubt my line of ancestry. If Anarim Winsel was not Igenir and Rethanis's son, so who was he? Who was my grandfather.

This tension of my judgement and doubt did not falter until a day later, when Igen told me if I wanted to read some of his books to pass some time. I really need some reference and relaxation, so I went to his small study, full of tattered and old books. Some were of his writings.

Another surprise came to me when I saw a book sitting on the bookshelf. I pulled it out and was surprised by it. It was my grandfather's most prized book and something that he had since he was a kid, given by his father, Igenir.

"(Oh, that.... I feel embarrassed to admit it, but I like to collect some samples of things I've hunted and wrote my experience in it)," said Igen rubbing the back of his head. "(I feel like, 'why not? At least no more hellhounds are hurt hunting creatures, right?)"

It was all the same as I saw it, except this one was newer and looked recent. Coincidentally, it was my favorite book, too. I had it in Arbal before I was transported back in time and place....

Wait...favorite book? My grandfather's favorite book was this book, and...I also liked this book. I was transported back into the past. I was the only red-furred hellhound around this area...and the people who cared me were named Igenir and Rethanis Winsel. It surprised me that I dropped the book to the table, with a realization that was so impossible, yet it was true.

I remembered that my grandfather used to tell me the reason my name was Eshdar and he was Anarim. Eshdar came from Eshodaren, a Hordo word that was translated as 'Happiness', while his name, Anarim, had no good meaning since he somehow had forgotten the reason he was named Anarim. He recently told me that Anarim's meaning came from the word Aner'immaran, or, as it was translated from Hordo...

"The traveler", I whispered, which made Igen asked, "(Huh? What's that?)" "Ty'zak rek Aner'immaran khranog."

"(Yes, you are a traveler, kiddo. Why you ask?)"

"(I'm sorry...Igen, I think I got my head jumbled back there)," I said to them with a smile. "(By the way, I haven't introduced you my name, right?)"

"(Yes, kiddo, I wanted to ask you before. What is your name?)"

I knew that this was what the time wraith said as a 'bootstrap paradox' as a 'vicious time loop'. It could be that I was thrown into the past to fulfill my own destiny, then in the future I would start the loop again by convincing that time wraith to take me back to the past. It may not happen again, and everything I tried to do might end up making a new timeline that could be better or worse. But, stumbling into Igen and Ertha's home, realizing that they were named Winsel, and...this book, sealed my fate. Everything had become a complete loop.

Yes, I know, it wasn't something you can understand so casually. This causal loop has caused inconsistencies, but I know it will happen someday or another. So, right now, it begs a question I myself thought was impossible. Who is Anarim Winsel? Was he a completely different hellhound who met Igen and Ertha, who adopted him into the Winsel household and create a kingdom out of nowhere, or is this 'Anarim Winsel' was actually someone from the future, came to the past, and told the two of them, a normal family with a son who had recently died with them not being able to move on his death, to be convinced that there will be a future they would never thought to have ever happened to their lives?

As you can see, my name is Eshdar Winsel, but back then, I was...

"(Just a traveller. An Anarim)."

"(Anarim, huh? It is such a poetic name you have there)," said Igen putting his hand on me. "(But, uh...Anarim...you have been such a good kid and someone who can help Ertha regained her smile. So...can I call you my son?)"

Now, this story can end in two ways, depending on the answer. I could've said 'yes' and I become Anarim Winsel, continuing the history as I was told by my own grandfather, my own future self, on my friendship to Albreich Schafner, on my decision to go out to the surface world, on my knowledge on English, and Ensalder. I may have hated him, but as the father of my past's father, I could not find a way to hate him. Everything would go on, becoming the story that you have known and experienced.

Or, I could just refuse their adoption and I could just walk away, leaving them on friendly terms, and never look back. Yes, that can be a possibility, but the outcome seems so bland. I would be written out of existence because, well, Eshdar never existed without Anarim. Or, it could be a start of an alternate timeline, which might or might not be different with the one I had.

Even then, let me give you a question to end this story.

Is the one writing this journal the Eshdar who chose to be Anarim, or the alternate Eshdar who decided to alter the timeline and creating one new timeline by becoming Aner'immaran, the traveler?