34 – The ark of truth

When he came back to, he was in the verge of tears. Even with all the people outside, with everything he had done, he was alone when he woke up. Alone, in pain, and with his head that felt like it wanted to explode.

There was a strange sensation among the many, masked by the throbbing pain but quite clear at the same time. Reality, like a glass, shattered. He writhed on the ground, large wet spots on his clothes, locks of hair half burnt and now completely drenched in sweat.

He convulsed on the ground, in the basement of his tower, by the portal.

Alone.

He woke up, and he saw darkness. Shapes, and shadows. He wished he could just start over, reset everything. Make it up for all the many ways he messed up. Find a way out of the tangle of thigs he got into. The responsibilities and the moral debts. The ties and relations to a people, the elves, he did not know.

It was all his fault. No, it was because of his stupid ability. The mods, he hated the mods. He wished he could play a nice game of vanilla Minecraft. But he was not in a game, was he?

It was the mods, they made it all turn to shit. Their stupid progression paths, arbitrary and evil.

The grinding.

The pain he had to endure.

He rolled again, his head hitting something that he could not see. His eyes saw a brief flash of white, then a trickle of something warm wetted his face. Sticky.

He wished he was back home.

Home! So long, how much time was it since he last thought of home? But why?

Why.

He cried.

He wanted to just be over with this.

Or, at least, to have a chance to just make it all go away.

“Yes!” He yelled, but his voice came out low like a whisper.

“Yes!” He cried. “Please,” his voice broke down.

“I don’t care! Make it go away! Make it all go away! It hurts, my head hurts…” he whimpered. “All these things in my head, they hurt me.”

He cried.

He tried to get up, but everything was dark.

His body felt weak, he had no strength left in him.

“I want to go to my family.”

“Why! Why did my family have to go? Why did I have to go!”

He collapsed.

“Yes… the mods.”

“I need… dragon egg.”

“I have to play more.”

“I have to…”

“Have to…”

The words fell distant. The voice echoed. His eyes closed.

“No!”

He punched the ground. He felt it through his fingers, he felt its texture and its coolness. He clung to this sensation.

“No!” He yelled.

The sound came to him muffled, but was there. He tried to stand up, concentrating on the sensations from the outside world.

“Let me go!”

He punched and struggled, feeling the pain of his injuries and the hard obsidian of the portal. He tried to cling to those sensations, every new thing another weapon in his arsenal.

Then, after so much time, so much struggle, it shattered.

Clarity awaited.

Clarity of mind, of purpose.

He walked up to his digital storage, and saw all his items in there. He took out his end-game gear, a portable access point for the storage and dismantled everything else. Then, he took off in flight, disappearing over the horizon.

The integration was a lie. The rushing winds were cool against his face, the speed he was flying at monstrous, but he didn’t stop. His whole ability was a lie. Woods and mountains went by, below, like a movie in a cinema. The sun, then the rain from heavy clouds. His ability was not how he thought it was. His mind was cluttered with thoughts of mods and a forced progression, but that was the real lie.

Why would a real world behave like that? He didn’t have to follow some strange and dark rules only he knew. The proof of that was everywhere, he just chose not to see it.

Or was forced to.

He had only a tiny glimpse of his real potential, back when he made the turbine. The sense of what he could do, what he could be, what he could achieve. There were no mods, only infinite possibilities. Then, his mind closed that door never to open it again. Until now.

He kept flying away.