James was quite disappointed. Nothing happened. Was the rush of power and that indomitable feeling all fake? Was this really a dream? Why did he keep going through this every so often?

Existential crises are meant to be once in a lifetime type of thing, right?

Or maybe his mind needed to create fake images of progress and rewards to keep him sane. Did hallucinations happen in extreme conditions to keep people’s brains from frying? His shoulders couldn't help but sag a bit at feeling like a normal person after all this time.

He looked back to where he was meditating not too long ago. A slight smile appeared on his sullen face. Swinging a weapon was always a good way to relieve his stress. He had so many swords and spears, he was quite skeptical on why only those.

From the beginning, the only shield he received was a broken mess he eventually used as fire wood instead of the stacks that had somehow replenished themselves every time he was running low. The second he got some shut eye, they would be back full.

No axes, bows, polearms, staffs, or any other weapon. Just types of swords and spears.

Then again, he wasn’t going to complain about getting what sounded like world shattering weapons. Dragon slaying this… Titan crusher that… Leviathan demolisher those…

His newest toy seemed to be the most special with moving dragons! All the ornaments were usually stationary, but the new spear was different.

Six red dragons danced around each other locked in an eternal battle. They moved in unique patterns, different every time, as he spun the spear. What made James really fall in love with it all was the detail and love placed into each part.

No dragon looked the same. They all had their minute differences that made them unique and individuals. Their eyes glinted as though they were sitting before him. One had a missing leg! And yet it looked like it was the most dominant between the others.

One skinnier than the rest, another was what could only be considered chubby. Its wide eyes and fatty cheeks made it look more adorable than fierce. Another just looked utterly terrifying. It wasn’t the way it grimaced or roared, it was the cold glint of a real emotionless killer that somehow exuded its body. It would destroy nations and a thousand lives or commit genocide and not blink an eye.

James shivered. Was this how a cultivation protagonist looked down their madness line? The thought of going down that route had him terrified. Would he one day be so callous and cold that death didn’t affect him? What would be the point in life if he somehow unlocked the system and became a true monster that raped, killed, pillaged, and burned down villages on a whim.

He wasn’t religious, not by a long shot. But he had seen and experienced enough in his miniscule time on earth to notice that you reaped what you sowed. It might not be a day after your bad actions, maybe not even a year, but it always eventually caught up.

The world conspired to demolish them. James could only imagine this would be multiplied by many folds in a universe filled with actual qi, mana, or spiritual power. Heavenly Punishment or something like that.

James swung the spear in a sweeping motion. A dull thrum followed in the air. He started to throw stabs, leg sweeps, chops, everything he could think of with glee. Every hum sounded more and more familiar to James.

He laughed like a maniac, unwilling to stop. It sounded like a real lightsaber! He couldn’t help but imagine it, a red like DarkVader’s. He took a proud stance, deep, loud, and haggard breathing.

“Do not choke on your aspirations.” James copied Dark Vader’s line. He used his left hand to pull with the force then swung his makeshift lightsaber.

He reached out again, using the force to choke an invisible enemy. “Your lack of faith is disturbing.” With a twist of his fingers he imagined snapping the enemy’s neck. More of them charged him, but it was pointless.

The master of the dark forces could not be defeated! Unless a hero suddenly appeared…

“Luke?! I am your father!”

James laughed his heart out, his inner child allowing him a moment of peace.

James stared down the edge of the island. The endless skies stretch further than he could possibly see. There was no end even imaginable after so long. His mind would not let him believe there was a bottom. If he squinted enough, he could see another set of clouds even further down.

But they were too far to be sure.

He took a deep breath and closed his weary eyes. They ached him from lack of sleep. At some point he just couldn’t get any real shut eye no matter how much he needed to. It was at that moment that he knew his time was basically over here.

There needed to be an end to this uninterrupted torture. Or was this purgatory? Why? How? What was he supposed to do?

James gulped, letting the eons of meditation, that being the only source he had for rest, calm his chaotic thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on this. It did little to benefit him in any way. What good was knowing the distance of the moon to a bee? Its world was so separated from needing to understand…

He couldn’t help but laugh. Those old people's quotes just popped in his head more and more lately. It felt natural and just the correct course of explaining things. It made a tonne of sense too, bees only lived about a month. Their entire existence was constructed to work and accomplish a tiny task for the minute time they have.

But they played their part to perfection. James could remember news stories about bees being endangered. Something along the lines of the world would end in 7 years if there were none?

That was not here nor there…

Now was the moment for everything to end. He held tightly to his favored spear, the dragons seemingly weeping at his choice. It had been with him for more years than he could remember, the thought of life before it was distant and difficult to recall with great detail. The six dragons responded to his emotions. It kept him sane and alive when even the system notifications became sparse and far in between.

They made it sound like he was at an unimaginable level and yet he was still a mortal. No matter how hard or how many times he tried, the results were always the same. No qi, no magic, no spiritual energy.

The eons were filled with his constant struggle to make his suffering ‘worth it’. Like some fantasy novel. But here he was at the precipice of extinguishing his pitiful life. He didn’t even have the courage to slit his wrist. Hoping the jump would kill him eventually.

James smiled, sad and exhausted. He leapt off the edge and fell gracefully. His long simple robes fluttered in the wind, hair trailing behind him–he never got to cutting it again–and beard stuffed itself into his face.

James tisked and attempted to maneuver to look up and get a more comfortable fall. He deserved this moment without his beard stuffed into his mouth and nose. Instead, he started spinning out of control.

Shit!

His spear slipped out of his grip. James for a moment forgot he was falling out of control without an ounce of grace he tried to exude. He fought to straighten himself and then started swimming towards its hurling form.

It out paced him with its sleek edges cutting through the air with impunity.

James tisked. Fuck this! His spear was sentimental! He pressed his hands together and tried to make himself as aerodynamic as humanly possible. His heavier weight allowed him to gain ground on it.

They blasted through levels of clouds after level. The unending sky gave him the time necessary to finally catch up. He caught it and gripped it with both hands and legs. He laughed at his triumph, fully focused on the task at hand and more importantly eyes closed shut.

Forgetting he was free falling…