Demon Lord Shapeshifting System

Harker went out of the cave, and was met with the strongest blizzard he experienced in his life.

He can barely see anything. The white snow blinded him, and they fell onto his face the same way those memories of Joan did. Those memories that were not his, which he consumed that night.

"Joan!" He yelled out.

There was no answer. Only the blinding white.

He ran to nowhere, not even knowing if he was going north, east, west or south. He could only hope that he was taking the path towards her. But in this endless bright road, he could still not find the destination he wanted.

Harker searched. He couldn't find Blank either, or any signs of his encampment. Soon, he was going in circles in these woods, out in the cold, with no one by his side.

It was freezing so much that he felt like the ground beneath his feet would turn to ice.

And he too, would be frozen in these unforgiving mountains. He hugged himself, trying to get himself to stand up. But it was impossible, as the pain in his body, heart and mind was debilitating.

His chest felt so cold, and the coldness was spreading through his veins. He could almost see black cracks there, like the fissures on a frozen lake.

Black marks.....

It slowly returned to him. Ahanu and the black worms. His body was shaking, but he steadied himself. He closed his eyes…..

And focused on one thing. His own heart.

Something had infected his heart. It was the parasite he must get rid of, this parasite that brings the neverending coldness.

It was the toughest battle in his life. He could never solve it with punches or kicks. All he could do was to stay still, and focus all his energy in taking out the parasite that plans to eat him from inside out.

Harker had almost expelled it all, black worms coming out of his mouth….

When he finally saw someone else in this desolate wasteland, holding out a hand to him.

"What are you doing out here, lad? Are you not feeling cold?"

It wasn't anyone he knew before. A complete stranger, and yet somehow, he wanted to take that hand he was offering. His heart felt like swelling up just from the sight of him. Like an oasis in the middle of the desert, the first star to be seen in a very dark night where even the moon hides its face in disdain.

Harker felt his mouth opening without willing it to. "I will return, Teacher. Just give me a moment."

He realized that once again, his body was not his own. Yet this wasn't a dream.

It was never a dream, he truly was gaining the memories and experiences of other people.

The difference from this one was that his uneasiness was not the same as with Joan's memories. This man looked nothing like him, even though Blank said that Harker reminds him of this Science teacher.

There was a gentleness in his eyes that can't be found in Harker, giving the impression that he was a sensitive soul. But there was also heavy sadness in them, somehow, almost like Joan's but not quite.

It's a sadness that has been there possibly since the man was born.

"John Starblanket, if my memory does not fail me?" The kind man asked him, holding his small hand gently. "You have a pleasant name."

Harker realized that they weren't speaking English at all. They were speaking French, and they're way of speaking was quite old at that. Harker somehow gained an understanding of this aged way of speaking in a language he never learned too.

He felt his cheeks feeling hot. "Thank you, but that is not truly my name. My name is unpronounceable to most and 'Starblanket' is the translation of my true first name."

"Truly? What is it then, in the Aboriginal language?" The man asked.

"Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit."

"Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit…." The kind teacher repeated the name perfectly. "I think that it is also a beautiful name, nay, even more beautiful than John Starblanket. The rhythm of the words has a certain charm to it that reminds me of those colorful spiderwebs."

Blank felt even more sheepish. "No one had ever told me that before….. But why spiderwebs, Teacher?"

"Oh, not the usual spiderwebs. I meant that charm that some of the tribes use to capture bad dreams. They placed it over my head when I was having a nightmare, saying that it will protect my mind from the evil spirits trying to take over it."

The mental image of a dreamcatcher came to Harker's mind, but he knew neither of them call those that.

Blank calls it asabikeshiinh, and explained that it wasn't just used as protection for nightmares, but bad fortune in general. They continued to speak more of the culture of the tribes and how each one actually has differences that can be as opposite as night and day. The man was genuinely fascinated by this, and continued asking him more about it.

And the more they talk, the more Blank feels that this white man doesn't actually just see him as a pesky Indian child that tried to escape tasks by running into the woods during a blizzard. His worry was real, and he worries for him as a fellow human being, not a responsibility.

In fact, when Blank talks to him, he doesn't feel like he was being treated as a child at all. He could be his real self and show parts of him that people judged before. And the man never chided him for it.

Never called him savage, and never called him white ghost's son. Simply Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit.

The man never gets tired of pronouncing it, never tries to give him a new nickname. Blank also liked the way his name sounded when he said it, in different moments and different tones.

There was the surprise 'Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit' upon seeing him cleaning the tables without being ordered to, when he was known in the school as a 'chore skipper'. There was the comforting 'Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit' when the man found him crying after being punched by someone from an enemy tribe. And often, a proud Ahchuchhwahauhhatohapit for getting the right answer in Science class.

The first was special, and he was the first person to make Blank feel genuinely cared for. To feel….

"Loved. Why would she say loved? Am I no longer loved anymore? Why must it be in the past tense... No, why must I question such a thing? Of course my wife still loves me!"

The memories were like the blizzard for Harker too, in the sense that he can't make out the end of the road for them. They were cut off, replaced, scattered into bits. But he managed to hold on to this one.

Blank was peeking through the door of his office, since he was used to visiting there to have  lunch together.

The man gripped his head and the pain was so visceral that Blank felt he would end up crushing his own skull with his own hands. He kicked the walls, and slammed his fist on them.

"Stupid fucking headache! Get away! Away, I said!"

But it was more than just a headache. Blank soon learned there were also voices...

And no matter how much the man tried to silence them, they ended up being louder than everything else in this world.