[center]Flashback [u][b]Mato Sif[/b][/u] [i]Bayera--Nymia--Decrepit Church's Basement[/i] Early morning[/center] The patient was heaving, the spasms of his body growing harsher with each passing second, and Mato didn't have the strength to still him. It was a misfire of tiny cells that made up the inside of the head, They were neurons, though Mato knew no such word. He could see this, but he could not stop it, as the problem was integrally wrapped around the man's very being. In order to fix this man, truly stop the spasms that is, he would make the man immobile and probably ruin his life. The patient would try to recall memories later and would be unable to recall them in their entirety. He had seen it before, and it drove the subject crazy. If he had more time, he could suppress the brain's neuron firing, induce a coma, and then. . . No. The problem could be solved, but his brothers would not allow it if it couldn't be fixed immediately. The patient's family would be too impatient. They would claim Mato was possessing the man, and he would be forced to stop. The hand slowly withdrew from the man, and Mato's eyes opened in sync. He was surprised to find who he had imagined as a man was in fact of only twenty. He glanced up at his brothers, their brown cloaks hanging over their thin frames, standing in a semi circle around him. They weren't meeting his eyes; They never did anymore. [b][color=8e8eb2]"He won't survive. There is nothing I can do, for God has willed it."[/color][/b] As the words left his mouth, a small headache grew from exertion. It was a lie, and he felt a small wound appear on the back of his hand; the one he wasn't treating with. Mato was quite sure it wasn't his God's will, and the belief that it was a lie led to the injury. Mato had seen the man's life in those firing of neurons, the small electrical pulses. Mato had forced each one to fire in a specific, yet natural order. Tests and responses at first, before enveloping into memories. Young at first, living in a world that seemed unfair to the core. He grew up poor, and was going to die poorer. The man had struck his head a couple hours ago, and the broken blood vessels had destroyed parts of his brain. The neurons misfired rather consistently from that point on, causing epileptic fits, though Mato knew no such word. The monks nodded their eyes resting on the ground. It seemed to be quite interesting for they kept their eyes cast downward as they filed out of the room. Mato followed them out, his white and blue robe a sharp contrast to their brown. He slipped his gloves on one at a time, his eyes falling to the ground as well. His shoes were simple black things, more socks then shoes with no hard bottom. It didn't bother Mato though, as he walked only on the stone floor of the monastery. Jeremy, one of the younger monks, was directly in front of Mato, and Mato hated him. At a touch he had learned of Jeremy's true nature. If he knew the word Mato would have called him a psychopath. All he did know was that Jeremy lacked empathy for others a good ninety percent of the time. It was true that Jeremy could turn his empathy on and off, though he rarely turned it on. At first Mato liked him, mostly because the man had shown interest in Mato outside of his strange power. The man was playing everyone like a puppet, though, and had comforted Mato out of his own self interest. A touch and the firing of a few neurons had been all it took to know Jeremy better then he knew himself. The hallway was stone from floor to wall to ceiling. The underground chamber he preformed his healing inside of was cool, and consistently that. The hallway was thin enough that the monks walked single file out of preference more then tradition. They approached stairs, and the group slowed down a bit as they climbed them. Mato took the steps two at a time, having to pause a bit after doing so to allow the monks to climb The worst thing was that he knew why they didn't like him. It wasn't for anything unreasonable, it was actually quite simple. Mato didn't seem like a gift from god, but instead a mistake. An abomination, who rarely healed. It seemed to them he purposefully withheld his power when he could fix them, as if he enjoyed watching them die. It wasn't true, Mato never savored the defeats he faced, at least when the patient had been loyal to the church. At the same time he couldn't force them to believe him, he didn't know how. The only way he knew was to put each of them in a coma, and redesign their brains in a way that would make them like him. They would never remember not liking him, but that would kill him. Instead, he had to make a small change. As the monks parted ways Mato followed the eldest of the seven. He had an idea that might fix the problem, though it could backfire. He decided it was worth the risk, though, and it was a relatively minor change. Mato removed his right glove, and reached out to touch the old man's hanging hand. Before the brother could so much as gasp, Mato had altered his brain structure. Every time the brother saw Mato's face he would feel a rush of endorphines and dopamine. Mato gasped before the man did, and almost collapsed from how much it drained him to alter the man. One of his knees hit the ground hard, and Mato knew a bruise would form. He was short of breath, and he had to recover now. His name is Sean, Mato thought dully, as the decrepit man looked back at him surprised. [b][color=gray]'Are you feeling well?[/color][/b] He asked, in a concerned tone. Sean was one of the nicer ones, and Mato hated having to affect him first, but he was truly the best choice. Mostly because he wouldn't report a single touch to the head monk, but for other reasons as well. A quick shake of the head turned into Sean leading him to his bed, even going as far to support Mato's hanging frame. Mato laid down slowly, relaxing as his head touched the pillow. He wouldn't sleep for a while, his mind was too crowded. What would come of this test? Could he be harmless in his changes? No. Something would go wrong sooner rather then later, that Mato was sure of. It had been quite a large change to the brain structure, even if the overall effect was small. After a while the young boy's eyes fluttered shut. The boy didn't wake up in Nymia though. He instead woke up in Olias. [center][u][b]Mato Sif[/b][/u] [i]Bayera--Olias--An inn near the edges of the city[/i] Early morning[/center] Bread was baking in a room not too far from Mato and the scent was intoxicating. The nightmare was soon forgotten in the rush to get up, and buy himself food. He wasn't the first to wake, though he was one of them. He bought bread and soup without a second thought, the few bronze coins he had tumbled out of his coin purse hastily and he was handed a large chunk of bread and bowl in exchange. A greedy bite into the bread led to the cheese and garlic filling his mouth. He dipped the bread before the next bite, the beef stew clinging well to it. Mato sighed happily, and ate the rest of his meal slowly, taking care not to spill on the easy-to-stain white outfit he was adorned in. He was finished within about two minutes. Mato glanced around the waking inn, and pulled his cloak tighter around himself, standing up slowly. He was glad to stand out at least a little bit less than usual, as bright clothing seemed to be common. He walked to the door, and exited the inn into the waking city. It was quite quiet actually, nothing like Nymia in that regard. The activity in the streets was pretty subdued, Mato noted as he walked them, his gaze flickering from person to person curiously. He was looking for a library currently, as the monastery he hailed from did not have one. Despite the distinct lack of proper schooling, Mato had learned a lot from going through people's heads, and was probably considered to have a college level education through sheer amount of information he possessed. Unfortunately he could rarely put words to feelings or ideas without seeming very daft. Unfortunately in no way did Mato look natural in the setting he was occupying. Mato probably appeared to be a tourist if viewed by an observer, as he stared at every interesting thing within sight. It was quite the sight though, as magical marvels dotted the cityscape about him, and Mato wasn't quite ignorant enough to think any of it was built using any scientific means. Mana flowed in every nook and cranny of Nymia, powering anything and everything that needed to be. Mato's eye caught on a shopkeeper, and he approached him timidly, his eyes scanning the man quickly. [b][color=8e8eb2]"Excuse me?"[/color][/b] He began, getting the man's attention. [b][color=8e8eb2]"Do you know where the nearest library is?"[/color][/b] His voice wasn't very deep, and he seemed very unsure of himself; Not just based on his voice, but also with how he carried himself.