leonardwarren Chapter 207 Fear is a mental killer
Chapter 207 Fear is a mental killer
Chapter 207 Fear is a mental killer
All the fears in this world stem from the betrayal of the inescapable ultimate reality of death.
Yes, if all living beings could live forever, given enough time, all mistakes could be made up for, and all imperfections could be restored. Given enough time and a steadfast will, there would be nothing to fear. But this is not true.
Death is final, inevitable, and inescapable. It is a great black hole, and all we know is slowly but steadily crawling toward it.
Yes, everything is inevitably heading towards decay.
If you don't accept this reality, then fear will forever linger in your heart. Fear of loss, fear of never having another chance to correct your mistakes, fear of the endless silence and darkness at the end—fear of stepping into that eternal void amidst regret and remorse.
The fear of death is so real that wizards of the Illusion School can even turn it into a weapon to harm the master of that fear.
Using the thorns in the victim's heart to pierce his own, the victim and the perpetrator are one and the same.
No one can overcome the fear of death. They may claim to be unafraid of death, but when disaster strikes, they still harbor a desire to live, to take a few more breaths, and to see more of the world before they leave.
This is human nature, and it cannot be overcome with a few grand words.
In other words, since everyone experiences fear, they are susceptible to this type of illusion, such as the power of phantoms, or even more advanced witchcraft, like the Phantom Assassin. It is impossible to defend against or counter.
This highly ironic form of witchcraft is despised by many wizards, but what can they do when they are enemies of illusion wizards?
What a bunch of self-inflicted trouble.
However, even such powerful magic can sometimes fail.
When the target of that illusion not only does not fear death, but also desires it—
That thorn in one's heart will transform into a sharp blade in one's hand, piercing towards the illusionist who cast the spell.
It's black in front of you.
Geb's world suddenly turned pitch black. He could not see space, nor could he feel the flow of time—only a cold voice whispered in his ear.
"Fear, fear is a killer of the mind."
"Fear is the prelude to death."
"That fear passes through our bodies, but leaves no trace."
"Because we yearn for death—we yearn for eternal silence. A lonely and infinitely cold world of death is our eternal resting place."
Geb was stunned by the voice in his ear. His heart was tightening, and an indescribable fear spread from head to toe.
What happened?
Is that voice coming from that monster?
"Poor, pathetic little thing, clutching that filthy and lowly life tightly in its arms—why, why does every living being resist death so much—can't you see it?"
"What—what are you talking about, monster—we can't see anything?"
Gebu spoke through trembling teeth, his whole body feeling frozen by the bone-chilling cold.
"Death is eternal, silence is the final destination—your struggles—are meaningless—"
Geb had neither the inclination nor the energy to engage in a philosophical debate with this guy; all he knew was that the scene he found himself in was eerily bizarre. The goblin wizard tried to move, but found himself frozen in place, unable to move at all.
"You—if you want to die so badly, then go die yourself—no one's stopping you—"
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
The voice seemed enraged, cursing incessantly, its tone almost piercing Gebu's eardrums. After venting its anger, the voice suddenly lowered, and when it spoke again, its tone held a hint of restraint.
"—It's not time yet. We haven't finished what we should do—the great Jauss will not allow us to return to that eternal silence—"
Just as Gebu was about to ask further questions, the voice suddenly rang out.
"The traveler's pawn—the hoarder's servant—the descendant of the resentful—the pathetic little thing being watched by the shadows—"
Is this... talking about me? Gebu wondered. The Traveler's Pawn—he could vaguely make that connection, but what about the others?
"—Perhaps you should taste the flavor of fear—only then will you understand the liberation bestowed by the god of death."
Geb's vision went black again, and when he woke up, the scene in front of him made him feel breathless.
"There's another goblin here!"
The dwarf shouted and fired his crossbow into the bushes.
Whoosh!
A goblin scout sprang out of the bushes, its amber eyes gleaming with an untamed ferocity.
Wait a minute—isn't that me?
Geb suddenly realized that he had somehow entered the body of the goblin scout. He could see through the creature's eyes and hear the surrounding sounds, but he had no control over the creature's body and could only be a first-person observer.
This made Gebu very uncomfortable—was this what it felt like to be possessed? It was truly unbearable.
The dwarf before him looked terrified and hurriedly loaded an arrow into his oversized mechanical crossbow—it was Dulin!
That dwarf uncle who always encounters danger but always has incredible luck and manages to escape danger.
Why don't you recognize me? It's me, Gebu! I've saved you several times!
Geb wanted to call the dwarf's name and greet him, asking him not to attack, but he couldn't speak or move.
He could only watch helplessly as he charged toward the dwarf with his spear.
No way?! Hey!!!
Geb was frantic. Just as his spear was about to pierce the dwarf, he suddenly noticed a cold light above his head and felt a chill under his feet. The goblin scout fell to the ground, his spear lying to the side.
it hurts! !
Gebu felt his legs completely lose their strength, and a warm, wet sensation surged from his ankle—had his Achilles tendon been severed?
"Are you alright, Dulin?!"
A familiar female voice rang out above Gebu's head.
Swordswoman?
For some reason, the moment he heard the swordswoman's voice, Gebu felt a warmth in his heart—but he immediately realized that he had no way to communicate with her.
"Did that goblin hurt you?"
"No—it's okay, it was so dangerous—"
"There are so many goblins on this road—ugh, disgusting little beasts."
"It's like ice," the woman with the sword said coldly. Gebu's heart tightened.
Why are you talking like that? — Do you hate goblins?
The goblin scout struggled to lift his head, and through his blurry vision, he saw two figures, one tall and one short.
Swordswoman, you'll recognize me eventually, won't you? — We've fought side-by-side, risked our lives together —
He recalled how, in the ruins, she had bravely shielded him from the monstrous mantis's towering figure—and the night he and the swordswoman rushed to Martina, her chest heaving like a fawn in the moonlight—a gentle despair fermenting in Gebu's chest—a complex emotion he had never felt before.
The swordswoman's boots tapped on the ground, getting closer and closer.
"Cough—please—Gob is a good brin—"
"That's what the goblin scout said."
For some reason, Geb remembered—these were the words he had once said to that half-elf wizard.
That was the beginning of everything—if it weren't for that one stroke of luck, Gebu would probably be a charred corpse by now, like his unfortunate goblin companions, a meal for carrion beasts.
"Good goblin?" The swordswoman looked down at the pleading green little guy with indifference. "Good goblin, that's a dead goblin."
A white light obscured Geb's vision, and in that instant, the consciousness of the goblin scout and the wizard Geb merged.
Don't go—it's me—don't kill me—
I could have done so much—I could have become stronger, I could have become your partner—we could have experienced so many stories, and there were so many journeys to go on—how could it end like this?
But no one heard the goblin's thoughts.
The swordswoman and Dulin glanced at the dying goblin with disgust, as if he were trash. They didn't even wait for him to completely breathe his last before turning and leaving—the goblin's death wasn't worth a few minutes of their time.
Yes, there is no magic, no journey, no dramatic twists, and no grand ending. The goblin is dying a lonely and miserable death, like a stray dog on the street.
Like the countless goblins before and after him.
Fear gripped Geb's entire consciousness; his body acutely felt life slipping away. The woman's figure receded into the distance, his vision blurring further and further—
I'm so afraid—that everything I've done will be meaningless—that everyone will leave me, and I will die alone and pathetically—
So cold.
That cold voice never rang out again, as if reminding Gebu that the end of life is endless silence, without a final note or an epitaph.
silence.
C
"Gebu—wake up—please!"
A distant female voice murmured.
Something gently touched the goblin's body, and a warmth spread along his cold body, awakening Goblin's almost stopped heartbeat.
His eyelids were so heavy that Geb almost didn't want to open them—but the woman's voice was sobbing and pleading, so compelling that Geb couldn't bear to refuse her request.
Then he opened his eyes.
As the vision gradually cleared, a pair of familiar gray-blue irises appeared before the goblin's eyes.
It's Dove.
The memory was still vivid in his mind, and Gebu felt somewhat dazed. He opened his mouth, but couldn't speak for a long time. Only after a long while did he slowly utter a few words.
"—You didn't leave?"
The girl hesitated for a moment, then wiped her swollen eyes and smiled through her tears.
"What are you saying? I've been waiting for you for ages."
The lingering fear in Geb's heart vanished with Dove's words. He felt he should say something, but couldn't find the words to describe his feelings.
The woman with the sword hugged Gebu tightly, making him ache all over. But he didn't struggle; he simply placed his hand on Dofen's back, feeling the warmth emanating from her skin.
Through skin and flesh, two warm hearts call out to each other and beat, dispelling the fear of death and loss.
【BONUS】Character Sketch: Dofinennis of Thuns - Eaglewood
Aside from annoyance, you could hardly see any other expression on this woman's face. Even in normal times, her handsome eyebrows were always furrowed, as if she anticipated something terrible was about to happen to her.
After traveling together for several months, the woman seemed to have developed a great deal of trust in Gebu.
Perhaps it was because from the very beginning, the goblin had displayed his cunning and mischievousness to her without reservation. Such frankness was rare in the swordswoman's past. In her eyes, an honest scoundrel was far more reliable than a hypocritical gentleman.
At crucial moments, the seemingly unreliable little guy stood firmly behind her, even though most of the trouble came from Gebu.
When Gebu saw the swordswoman sleeping unguarded, he once sighed: "This woman is actually a good woman, but it's a pity that her troublesome personality makes it impossible for her to get married."
Hmm—maybe it's not such a bad thing—probably.
Geb thought of it.