Without misfortune, how can one truly attain happiness? Rargnes pondered the question. If these setbacks strengthen me, then I'll gladly take as many as needed.
I once wondered why. Why did I exist? Why were we in this world? I thought I had the best answer: living was a goal that was always accomplished and could never be ended. You just passed your life doing that unique job.
But I know I would die. I drugged myself to have no thoughts; I just went with the flow... until my death. Yeah, these lashes are a blessing.
Without hopelessness, there is no desire to change, no dreams. No true happiness.
That's probably why I'd want to talk to the king or whoever created this world if I saw them.
---
Rargnes walked in the muddy forest, following the lines of soldiers before and behind him. His firearms filled his hands, stuck to his torso. Why did the voice keep coming back even during the day?
It wanted to live within him, Rargnes realized, terrified. It! The first Rargnes! The one who had died without knowing anything about this world. He could even call him Rargnes. He was but dust, inexistent.
Rargnes ran, aimed, and shot at the remnants of the masked man's group. The soldiers signaled them to continue. They still hadn't seen the masked man, but the soldiers were excited - they were ordered to kill, and for a time, they wouldn't have to give the kill's energy to the commandant.
'Do I really wish to do this?'
'It advances your objective.'
'Yeah, but can energy make me live? I doubt I can beat the commandant.'
He had fully adopted this group's methods and didn't even notice the number of kills they made. Maybe it didn't matter; nothing mattered in the end except that he was safe, that he was as he had always been, that it had been his choice—he could have left—but he was indulging in power and energy.
Rargnes stamped on moss and suddenly turned around. He glimpsed at the clods encircling them, where the goblins' heads now stood, rising to the top, protected by medieval men in dragon-bon-like armor. They wore black armor, their helmet painted with white dragon bones, and their template spiked with blackthorns.
The goblins waved their wands, and the ground began shaking. Dust flew off, rising to his eyes, before Rargnes realized the whole landscape had been lifted, distorted by gravity. With pain, his legs slumped on the ground, barely moving, a pressure force keeping them on the ground that was rotating to replace the sky.
Then gigantic fireballs formed on the goblin's wand, firing at them from all sides, alongside attacks of different elements launched at them. Soldiers were firing bullets, trying to grasp at trees, stumbling, then falling in shock on the ground from a dozen meters high, smashing on the hard rock that now replaced the ground.
The soil interred them.
Rargnes opened his eyes in panic, gesturing his hands to clear away soil for no use. He gritted his teeth and jumped out, his back hurting like hell. He screamed, then fell heavily on the ground.
As he clapped the sharp rocks with his hands till blood appeared, he got up with horror spread on his face, running forward as he saw heaps of goblins casting new spells.
Each jump agonized his back, screaming in pain. His breath was short. Roots of rock spread on the ground, forcing him to jump over black charred bodies in fire, yelling and begging for help as they scrubbed on the ground.
The goblin mages were covered by huge square shields placed by the dragon armor's men, loading another spell. Spheres of blue and orange stuck on their clothes slowly drained as they cast spells onto spells.
Thundering yelling was heard from behind. Rargnes looked back at the better-looking man, clothed in golden buttons—the noble—raising his hands as his dragon-armor men charged. The rock was scraped, their footprint impregnated on the hard rock, dashing with unprecedented speed.
'I can't outrun them!'
He passed by a panicked soldier, paralyzed by the situation, and kicked his legs, slumping to the ground with a curse.
'But as long as I can run faster than my teammates!'
He didn't know if anybody saw him. He didn't care. He could do it! There was no way he would die. Not to be replaced! Not to become a small voice inside his head!
He could do it!
He breathed heavily, sprinting to the retreating army, pushing people behind him.
The goblins were still firing from the side. Behind them was the noble.
Rargnes sharpened his nose, sniffing dust and blood. His mouth tasted the iron-like scent of his blood, a mark of his body that was weakening by the second, burning or freezing at part.