Focus

I could see amusement dancing in the monster’s incarnadine eyes, though something gave me the impression he wanted me to get that feeling. The dim light of the numerous candles keeping this place livable seemed to spiral through his sclera and swim in his iris until it fell into the void at the center of his eyes, falling into those pitiless pupils as inevitably as any blackhole. For a brief moment I felt like I was falling into those pools of darkness, until he spoke and the spell was broken.

"Ah, you're a Natural, then? How interesting." He waved a long fingered hand dismissively, "I suppose your lackluster display so far can be attributed to a lack of formal training; for a complete amateur, you have done well enough. Failure to resist a skill you don't know about is understandable, if unforgivable in the field."

While a distant part of me filed away the term "Natural" for later investigation, most of me was focused on not hyperventilating and having a full blown paranoid mental breakdown as my mind spiraled into increasingly horrified conjecture. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears as I scrutinized everything around me with a mind to threats hidden in the shadow of molecules, of unknowable horrors distorting my very perception and twisting my thoughts to avoid seeing them; my worst fears were all but confirmed, I couldn’t trust anything! Are my senses accurately portraying the world around me? These empty walls could be hiding a legion of monsters erasing themselves from my perception! How could I even trust my own thoughts?! Am I thinking these words or is someone projecting them into my mind to deceive me?! Can I trust the System? Is it even real?! Am I even-

Through special action, Paranoia has evolved into Extreme Paranoia!

Paranoid Trait has evolved into Extremely Paranoid.

My world was suddenly so much smaller as the range of my limited omniscience shrank notably and claustrophobia joined the cavalcade of delusion and fear, I felt trapped within the ethereal walls of my own perception. My fears swirled together as my vision swam. Is anything I’ve seen real? Has any choice I’ve made, any thought I’ve had even been my own? Is-

A hand slammed down on my shoulder, gently but firmly shaking me until my unfocused eyes swam slowly up to meet the crimson orbs of the monster that shattered my already fraying grasp on reality. “Woah woah, calm down there lad. Seems I underestimated your reaction to mental attacks.” He hummed softly, “Well, we don’t have time for you to fall apart on me.” For an instant I could see him moving to backhand me across the face even as my eyes told me he hadn’t moved; a half second later, my eyes confirmed what my extra senses told me and the back of his hand met the side of my face with enough force to twist my head to the side.

Hp -6

"Get a hold of yourself! Even if you were surrounded by invisible monsters, which you aren't, what does that change, hmm? Nothing!" He grabbed my muzzle with the same hand he slapped it, forcing me to look him in the eyes once more. I focused on those crimson orbs, letting my racing thoughts slowly fade away as my panic stabilized.

I took several slow and deep breaths, focusing on the feeling of air rushing into my lungs and ignoring the flies buzzing around inside them. With a slightly clearer head I came to the conclusion that he was right, even if there were invisible creatures observing me at all times, listening to and even influencing my thoughts (as horrifying as that thought is), that doesn’t really change anything for me; the possibility had always existed and I’d yet to be killed by an invisible monster or have my thought process radically changed (that I’m aware of). Therefore they either aren’t really there, have changed me so fundamentally that I could never tell or do anything about it, or they are entirely passive; either way, there is nothing I can do about it for now. I’d just have to look into means of detecting undetectable things and protecting my mind when I get the chance.

I had a lot of experience ignoring problems I can’t change, what’s one more horror lurking in the back of my mind?

Objectively speaking, the only thing that's changed is that my fears have been confirmed as possible. I've gone from strongly suspecting I can be mentally manipulated to knowing I can. While this knowledge is absolutely horrifying on a level that even manages to edge out a win against the constant buzzing in my bones, there is nothing about that that wasn't true before I knew it. Now, I know my fears are valid, which both makes them more frightening and warns me to prepare for them; while the knowledge is deeply unsettling, it's better to know. Ignorance is danger, not bliss.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Better to fear what I know, then die from what I don't.

Wisdom +1

I steadied my breathing, staring straight back into Rokharth's eyes. His gaze flickered across my face, evidently finding whatever he was looking for as he released my jaw with a nod of his head. "Got your head on straight again? Good."

I seriously doubted I’d ever be anything less than “lowkey terrified and filled with background dread” anytime soon, but I suppose that’s better than a full blown panic attack for now; at least lingering existential dread doesn’t cause paralysis and damaged thought processing. It's a familiar feeling after living with a less justified version for so long, an icy chill that's almost comforting after having known it for so long.

Rokharth patted me on the head condescendingly before stepping back, ignoring the faint scowl on my face as he looked me over. "Alright, if you're done freaking out we'll head to the training ground and do a proper evaluation. Markus may have faith in his damn initiation test, but I need to know what my subordinates are actually capable of if I'm to properly utilize them."

I nodded slowly, allowing a blank expression to settle over my face as he didn't even wait for my response before turning and walking away. I rushed to follow him, having to take four steps to keep up with every one of his. I noticed as we walked that it was easier to keep track of the long legged bastard now that I knew what was going on, everytime my focus or interest began to slip a spike of dread and terror would shoot through me and I'd immediately redouble my efforts to keep an eye on him.

Will +1

Evidently, it was decent practice resisting such powers. Much as the idea repulsed me, it may not be a bad idea to just hang around this bastard and grind Will (which also just rocketed up my priorities list now that I know it helps resist mental attacks).

----------------------------------------

Zildan’s laughter only grew louder as hellfire exploded out from his opened stomach, burning red arms swirling together and pulling themselves from within him as the ethereal chuckling of demons joined his own cackles. Hellfire danced around him, swaying to his will with the barest of thought and he felt better than he had in years even as demon after demon dragged themselves out of his hellfire-weeping wound. He felt stronger, lighter, more energetic, it felt as if his wounds and exhaustion were just fading away.

But he knew they weren’t. He had trained, if only a little, to handle the euphoria and recklessness that a sudden enfusion of large amounts of demonic energy resulted in, so despite how much he wanted to just exalt in his new found power he knew he needed to act quickly. Explosions beneath his feet threw him forward, rocketing over the abomination’s head even as more and more demons pulled themselves out of his stomach and engaged the living sin. He watched the small horde of cackling demons attack the monstrosity, their flickering red flesh dancing like flames as their glowing orange eyes shone with amused malice.

It was nice to see their yellow toothed grins, to know that Lord Drelkingor’s sons shared his hatred of the Great Pestilence.

It was less encouraging to see one fold around the behemoth’s massive fist, crumpling like paper in a splash of glowing orange blood and dispersing into red mist with a cry of pain and hatred. Even so, most of them danced around its huge hands, slashing out with burning blades and wicked claws that carved trails of hellfire across the beast’s grey skin. Red flames burst from its innumerable wounds, but grey sludge flowed from beneath its feet to snuff them out and seal its wounds even faster.

His euphoria dimmed at the sight even as he flipped over the Blighthulk's head. So long as there was Blighted material around for it to heal with it would be incredibly difficult to put down, and so long as it had that malignantly glowing blade it would never run out; their wounds burned its flesh and soul, but it had plenty of both to spare. He knew higher ranked members of his Order and even stronger demons had means of getting around such things, but he was not supposed to be facing these creatures so soon and his ritual was unlikely to attract the attention of anything strong enough. If he even just had his spear he may have been able to pull off something relatively safely...

He cast the useless longing aside and darted forth, ducking under a screaming demon as it was torn in half by an errant swing of the beast's blade. Hellfire and sunlight built up in his hand rapidly, far too quickly for any degree of safety or even truly control. He didn't care, he would only get one shot at this and he would gladly sacrifice his own life and safety for the cause. He wanted to live, but he wanted to fulfill his duty even more.

His master would probably give him a thrashing if he survived this, but one rookie field agent for a piece of aetherium and a whole city was a trade any of his brothers would make without blinking.

Red light spilled between his burnt fingers as he leapt inside the monster's guard as it swung the blade once more. He compressed the barely contained power in his hand as he reached out, steeling himself for what he was about to do, what he was about to lose, even as he roughly forced the unstable energies in his hand forward.

He slid around the beast from behind, his arm following behind it’s own and the burning fury barely contained in his hand lashed out in a primal need to destroy. He closed his fingers around the hulk’s massive wrist, feeling the welcoming contagion of it’s Blighted flesh wrap around his bones and seep into his very soul; it disgusted and horrified him, giving him a brief glimpse of what it was to be consumed by this ineffable grey. The feeling… so lifeless, so welcoming, so homogenous… it only redoubled his contempt.

On some unknown impulse he felt his eyes slide to the right, finding the lifeless grey of his maniacally grinning enemy meeting his gaze. For the briefest of moments he stared into those depthless eyes, wondering if it was even capable of feeling confusion or fear. Then he unleashed the loosely bound power in his hand, driving it forth as best he could. His world became naught but light and pain and rushing wind before a powerful impact from behind made it all go dark.