Heroist
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Driven by the cold breath of frost, wild snowflakes swirled behind the closed shutters. The icy seal of the north enveloped the walls of the shelter with an immutable, invisible web. Thousands of curved, whitish strands, like the branches of a gnarled tree, stretched towards the inhabitant of the room, receding only before the blazing hearth. Leaning against the wooden headboard of his bed, the wandering Knight felt the insignificance of his own existence as never before. His body had turned into a lifeless vessel; only in his eyes, darting across the pages, did a single spark of life still flicker. Like a warm fireplace, with each breath, he realized the pleasant silence of the absurdity of human struggle against the inevitable. Soon, the flame will die out, the invisible walls surrounding him will shatter with a crash, and myriads of sparkling fragments will lull the burial ground beneath his feet to sleep. His native, dear, beloved Void is already waiting for him. He has won in this life, and the reward of the merciful mistress will be eternal peace. The deservingness of this prize did not concern his tranquil, book-induced mind. Let the renowned philosophers ponder this.
Closing the book, he was surprised by a new sound that disturbed the fragile harmony of the crackling hearth and the howling blizzard in the courtyard. Hours passed, which, however, had no meaning in the useless rhythm of the existential cycle. The Voidwalker recalled a conversation about the western expedition. Without a doubt, this will become an epic ascension to Nothing, although any ordinary death would have suited him as well. Stretching slightly, he felt that his mind had once again returned to a pleasant emptiness.
On this note, Hargon was ready to move on to the next day (if I haven't forgotten anything for the tutorial).
Closing the book, he was surprised by a new sound that disturbed the fragile harmony of the crackling hearth and the howling blizzard in the courtyard. Hours passed, which, however, had no meaning in the useless rhythm of the existential cycle. The Voidwalker recalled a conversation about the western expedition. Without a doubt, this will become an epic ascension to Nothing, although any ordinary death would have suited him as well. Stretching slightly, he felt that his mind had once again returned to a pleasant emptiness.
On this note, Hargon was ready to move on to the next day (if I haven't forgotten anything for the tutorial).
Whatever
Небо
