Apocalypse respawn

Truckdriver was driving a vehicle, looking exhausted. Despite the enticing promises regarding the collection of the class evolution token, the demands were too high for him to fulfill in a world losing its magic.

The pain of the whiplashes itched his body. He tapped the steering wheel nervously, looking at the small green radar next to him. The red dot kept moving, making his job more difficult. His 'job'... It was better to consider himself a worker than a slave.

A camera hung around his neck – if the signal went out, he would be considered to have stolen a token of improvement – which was all the more stupid since the dangers of improving his class without preparation were huge.

He stopped the car, slammed the door, and took out a radar.

Hirs - the one who had spoken against fighting the noble - and other members followed him closely, carefully inspecting their surroundings.

The group had been formed since the vines appeared. Each was to glance in a direction and alarm upon seeing a purple head sprouting out of nowhere.

The radar needle went crazy even as they stayed immobile, making them sigh. They would have to search the entire area again.

***

Rargnes traveled back to the noble's territory.

The goblin mage's maneuvers worked halfway – he was no longer as often attacked by his visions, and the voices became less frequent.

Time passed in a loop where he no longer felt like himself but a tool.

Visions

Associations

Murder

More vision

More association

Another corpse whose blood splattered on his clothes and whose vision made him want to vomit.

Rargnes stood, dark rings under his eyes, a bottle of alcohol hanging at his waist as he reviewed their tasks and wrote all their potential allies' thoughts he had memorized during their conversation.

Ever since his power got stronger, he had recovered almost all of his memories, the voices and visions occupying most of his days at intervals he could now sense and reduce with his bottle - all the memories and thoughts of different people almost made him implode from the inside.

The months passed. They were repetitive, the visions becoming less and less emotional as if his body had cut off part of his emotions to protect him.

Their missions took place mainly around the typical city, but they went outside when opportunities allowed them to forge ties with the most powerful. 

Since then, they have practiced theatre nearly daily, gaining a reputation as a group of rustic warrior storytellers who had acculturated after fighting bravely for the king in the wastelands.

Rargnes' hearing of their present thoughts helped them greatly - he communicated them through signs that he passed off as rustic language, which the aristocracy loved.

In addition, the group quickly resolved the urgent need for a more feminine touch, which greatly facilitated their exchanges and successes.

One day, after they had just finished discussions that led to exchanges and reselling organized by the goblins with an important aristocratic family, the group was called to go to the military base as soon as possible.

Rargnes returned once again to the military base. In the hallways, they heard more and more rumors of an all-out war with the noble.

Conflicts had exploded, and their noble was fighting others, leaving part of his loyal companions to rule the country with his brother and sister, who were suffering repeated attacks from their group using the masked woman's teleportation.

A vision came. He felt it in advance and gulped down swigs of beer.

The situation was not improving - it was just becoming livable, it was habit, like getting used to avoiding thinking about certain things through music or certain thoughts. But recently, his power had progressed again, despite all the rituals he bought.

"I only see one solution," said the goblin mage. "Tame your power."

"How?"

"You've tried to diminish it, so do the opposite: release it."

"But that's madness!"

"We can try to seal it again afterward if it doesn't work."

"Won't that risk creating a breach where it can come in?"

"To be honest, the breach is already there, and what we sealed was never your power."

It took more than a second for Rargnes to understand the meaning of the sentence. 

"Wait, what?"

"All we did was allow you not to think. You can do it through alcohol, conversations, thoughts, rituals, and whatever you want. Then you believed the influence of your power had diminished, so it diminished."

Rargnes remained immobile, his eyes blinking as he felt a burning rage coming through his chest.

"That is why we should never underestimate the power of all the victors who happened to become our ancestors. They are the survivors who brought you the greatest treasure: your body."

His speech resembled that of the first goblin Heze had met at the beginning of the apocalypse, whose name he forgot.

"But you lied to me?"

"No. You asked us for help, and we have come up with a solution that works. It's like medicine: it helps your body heal, so it heals you."

"But it's not the same thing! What is this definition of goblins who can tell the truth? It's an outright lie!" Rargnes got angry, his face red, ashamed of having been deceived and unable to control himself. If this power was really controllable by himself, how could he not have been able to remedy it alone?

'They are liars!' the shrill voice dictated to him. He suppressed the urge to draw his sword and bleed them. The mage made a mage's staff appear on his left arm that lunged at Rargnes' stomach. He fell to the side in pain and heard the goblin's footsteps approaching him.

"Only results matter. That's why what we bequeath to the king at our death is the energy we have managed to accumulate. When you say you fight, do you precisely explain how you do it? How do you move your arm? Go ahead! Explain to me how you do it! But you can't. The ritual worked, so it's a solution like your alcohol is a temporary but necessary solution, given your situation. The best is the enemy of the good. There are sometimes non-optimal balances to accept."

That was a strange speech for someone preparing a coup against his lord.

"Come on! Get out of here! Junkie!"

Rargnes took a few seconds to get up before leaving.