My Creation Came to Life on an Island in Another World
Chapter 33: Memory Fragments (Extra)

Chapter 33: Memory Fragments (Extra)

Author’s Note:

As always, this is just something I wanted to share, but it’s not necessary to read.This time, it’s a part of Khan’s memories.

I’ll focus only on the story between Khan and his first younger brother. Just know that he has two more siblings.

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I was never a very talkative child, but even so, I had a fairly normal childhood.

At 8 years old, I had few friends, but it never really bothered me. School was relatively normal, no drama or problems.

When I was 11, there was just one small change—that was because of my younger brother, who was 9 at the time.

My mother always insisted that I take him along to play with me.

At first, everyone treated him as an equal, since no one really minded. I also felt more at ease bringing him to play.

But at some point, my brother started to suffer a bit of bullying from some of my classmates—and I didn’t notice it, since he always smiled through it. It wasn’t anything heavy, but there were mocking remarks.

That went on for a year. When I turned 12, I got my first computer.

Online, since I liked to read, I ended up stumbling across pages talking about bullying.

Understanding the situation better, I realized my brother was being bullied by my own friends.

I tried asking my brother if he felt okay about our friendships.

He just said:

"Nah, I’m fine. I know they’re just joking around."

I just listened and stayed quiet for a while after that.

A few months later, one of those kids we used to play with tried to bully him more harshly—intimidating him and daring him to react, only to push him even harder if he did.

Seeing that, I rushed at the guy. I hit him, he hit back, and we started fighting.

When I got home, all bruised, my mom was worried.

"Son, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

I didn’t say anything. My brother tried to explain, but I interrupted him and said:

"Don’t talk." Then I turned to my mom and added, "Nothing happened."

As we entered the house, my dad came with his own question.

"So... did you beat him or get beat?"

I just answered,

"I hit him."

Not much happened after that. My mom kept asking questions for a while, but eventually the questions stopped. I took a shower, worked on my projects, and went to sleep.

After that fight, I noticed some friends slowly drifted away... if you could even call them that.

Realizing this, I shut myself off a bit more. My mom noticed it and took me to a psychologist, but that didn’t really help.

I started isolating myself even more, spending most of my time on the computer and at home—but I always played with my brother.

Four years passed. I had already started Project Void, though there wasn’t much progress.

By 16, I had made new friends, but the relationships were always distant.

Now 14, my brother was the one dragging me into teenage antics.

We messed around and had a lot of fun together during that time.

Two years later, at 18, it was time for me to serve my country.

I chose not to and decided to go to college instead. I dreamed of becoming a programmer and already had a head start because of my projects.

In my country, that kind of choice is allowed, and my parents supported me.

Two more years passed. I was 20 and in college, and my project had expanded beyond just Vazio.

During college, I had a decent job and a relatively calm life.

At that time, I only had friends at work—none in college, except for the occasional group project.

That same year, my younger brother turned 18. He chose to enlist.

My parents congratulated him, and so did his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to do it then.

I congratulated him later, but I felt a pang for having put him second.

Two more years passed. I was 22 and nearing the end of college.

My brother chose to stay longer in the army, so even at 20, he was still serving. That year, he was sent into combat.

My parents were really worried, but there wasn’t much choice. It was supposed to be for two years.

A year went by. I had finished college and had a stable, calm job.

At 23, I got curious about why my brother had decided to stay in the military.

I did some research, and after a while, I found something strange in some forums:

[Your family is obligated to send at least one child to serve the country.]

I wasn’t sure if that was true, so I kept digging—until I confirmed it.

Then something crossed my mind:

Is he serving because of me?

After a while, another question hit me:

But then... why did he choose to stay longer?

With those doubts, I messaged my mom.

Me: Mom, do you know why Talos chose to serve and continue?

Mom: He didn’t tell you? He served because of En. He didn’t want that burden to fall on him.

Me: I didn’t know that. And why did he choose to stay?

Mom: He wanted to save some money to give himself time to decide what to do with his life.

Me: I see.

After those messages, I felt horrible. I thought:

So because of my selfishness, he served? Did he have another dream?

A few months went by without any word from Talos.

Then we received news: he had died trying to spare an enemy he thought was unarmed.

We were called to identify the body.

What I saw was... horrifying. My brother no longer had a face—there was just a hole where his lower jaw slightly remained.

That was the first time I cried.

At the funeral, the coffin remained closed. I stood there with a feeling of emptiness and sadness, remembering our childhood, holding a single rose to place on his coffin.

I didn’t even notice I was crying.

When the burial ended, I began to think,

This must be my fault. If I hadn’t been selfish, maybe none of this would’ve happened.

Filled with sorrow and a hint of anger, I wondered,

Why was he so kind? Why did he try to spare an enemy?

Questions that would never have answers.

Months passed. I was consumed with guilt. I lost my job because I no longer had the will to keep going. I couldn’t even look my family in the eyes.

All that remained was my savings, my project, and my medication.

A year passed. I was 24. I was 180 cm tall and weighed 50 kg.

I still felt uneasy living near my family because of the guilt.

Since I had a decent base in English and a moderate one in Japanese, I decided to leave my country and move to the other side of the world.

There, I managed to build a decent life and found a job that kept my mind busy while I continued my project.

With time, I decided to recreate my brother in the project—and that’s what I did.

In a project called Sacred Land, he would have the same name and appearance.

Blond hair, blue eyes, and a pure aura that wouldn’t hurt anyone, treating everyone equally—and his name would be Talos.

His role wouldn’t be to kill but to protect.

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Now in the present—no longer just memories—Khan walked through an orphanage he had visited before.

After returning to the island, he remembered more clearly Talos’s origins and wanted to see him.

Standing among the children was Talos, watching over them.

Seeing that, Khan thought:

After remembering all of this... it hurts to see him alive now. Maybe before, I just passed him by because I didn’t remember much... but now...

Khan approached. Talos saw him and immediately knelt. The children stopped and stared.

Khan simply said,

"I want to talk with you... but I’d like us to sit first."

Talos responded right away,

"As you wish, my Creator."

Khan didn’t seem pleased with that response, but he just ignored it.

Sitting on a bench beneath a tree, the two of them watched the children go back to playing.

Khan sighed and, with his eyes turning white, said:

"I’m sorry..."

Talos looked confused and stood, then kneeled again, speaking in slight desperation,

"Did I do something wrong, my Creator? If so, I’ll gladly fix it."

Khan’s eyes slowly turned back to blue as he thought,

What did I expect from saying that? He’s not the same Talos I knew...

Khan just stood up and said,

"Don’t worry... you didn’t do anything. That’s all... I’m leaving."

Khan simply walked away, leaving Talos in confusion.