CHAPTER 21: IDEAOLGY

William Jones stood alone in the dimly lit corner of his apartment, his thoughts swirling like a storm in his mind. His gaze was fixed on the world outside the window, the city lights flickering like tiny, distant stars, oblivious to the darkness within him. His life was built on pragmatism, on logic, and yet, it had always felt like something was missing—something he could never quite grasp.

He had always seen the world through a lens of Pragmatic Nihilism, a philosophy that echoed in the very core of his being. It wasn't something he had learned from books or teachings. It was something he had built for himself, out of necessity, born from the painful understanding that life was devoid of inherent meaning. It was a philosophy forged from the chaos and emptiness that defined his existence. The universe, in his eyes, had no grand purpose. It was indifferent, a vast and uncaring force that did not offer solace or hope. People, too, were meaningless. The concept of higher powers or an ultimate truth was laughable, a comforting illusion for those too afraid to confront the harsh reality of life.

In his world, there was no divine plan. No fate. No destiny to guide him. He wasn't special, nor was he cursed—he was just another speck in an infinite void. Everything, from his violent actions to his inner turmoil, was a result of choices and circumstances. The universe had no grand meaning, and neither did he. But he wasn't helpless. In this vast emptiness, he had the ability to shape his own path, to carve out his own meaning, even if it was temporary, fleeting.

His mind wandered back to the times when he had questioned his very existence. He remembered the early years of his life—before he embraced this philosophy—when he was lost in the idea that maybe, just maybe, there was something more to life than just survival. But each time he searched for meaning, it only led him deeper into despair. The world wasn't kind, and the people in it were driven by their own selfish desires. He had learned that the hard way, over the years, in the cold streets and the ruthless underworld.

It was during his darkest moments that he had realized the painful truth: life itself had no purpose unless he gave it one. No one was coming to save him. No grand force would reveal itself to offer him guidance. It was up to him to navigate this bleak existence, to carve out meaning where there was none. And in that realization, Pragmatic Nihilism was born—a personal code that allowed him to survive in a world that seemed indifferent to his pain.

The essence of Pragmatic Nihilism was simple: Life was meaningless, and so was everything in it. But instead of succumbing to the void, he would create his own purpose. He would not look to the world for answers because there were none. He would not search for salvation or hope, because such things didn't exist. In a world that was indifferent to human suffering, the only thing he could control was his own actions, his own choices. He had to make those choices for himself, based on what he valued in the moment, without relying on the illusion of greater meaning.

For William, that meant embracing the harsh realities of his existence. His actions, however brutal, were his choices alone, driven by his own set of values. His code didn't come from any moral or philosophical school of thought—it came from the necessity to survive. He killed not because he was a monster, but because, in a world that cared little for the lives of others, it was the most effective way for him to assert his own existence. He could not wait for the world to change. He could not wait for others to validate his actions. He had to take control, to shape his own destiny, even if it meant walking a path that others would never understand.

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His belief in Pragmatic Nihilism also meant that he didn't cling to any illusions about love, fate, or justice. He didn't look for meaning in relationships or search for some grand, universal truth. He didn't believe in the comforting lies that society peddled—like the idea of a better future or the hope of redemption. His path was defined by his own choices, and those choices were guided not by some external force, but by his own understanding of reality. If he wanted to survive, to succeed in the world he had created for himself, he had to accept the fact that the only meaning he would ever find was the meaning he gave to his own life.

But there was a contradiction. Despite his belief in the meaninglessness of life, William could not escape the haunting emptiness that followed him wherever he went. In his solitary existence, the philosophy he had built to protect himself from despair sometimes felt like a cage. The idea that everything was meaningless was both liberating and suffocating. He could make his own choices, but at the same time, he was bound to the same hollow existence that had brought him to this point. No matter how many missions he completed, no matter how many lives he took, it never seemed to quell the gnawing sense of loneliness inside him.

And yet, in the silence of his apartment, William could see the logic in it all. The pain he felt wasn't a result of some failure of the world—it was simply the consequence of living in a world without meaning. The emptiness he experienced was a natural part of existence, something that he could not escape. It wasn't a flaw or a punishment—it was just the way things were. And in that sense, Pragmatic Nihilism became his armor. It shielded him from the crushing weight of existential despair. It gave him a reason to keep moving, to keep fighting, even when everything around him seemed pointless.

In this worldview, he was both the creator and the destroyer of his own meaning. He shaped his life, his actions, and his purpose based on his own values. He was not bound by the expectations of society or the constraints of traditional morality. He was free, in a sense—but that freedom was lonely. It was a freedom that came with a cost, a cost that could never truly be paid.

As he looked out at the city below, William reflected on the choices he had made. Each decision had been his own. Each kill, each mission—everything he had done had been driven by his own philosophy. And while it had kept him alive, it had also kept him isolated. He could never truly escape the loneliness that came with the path he had chosen.

But there was no going back now. In a world where nothing mattered, the only thing that could keep him going was his own will to continue. He had built his life on the foundation of Pragmatic Nihilism, and it was the only thing that made sense in a world that had no meaning.

As the night fell over the city, William sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. The emptiness was still there, but it no longer felt as suffocating. He had learned to live with it, to accept it as part of who he was. And in that acceptance, there was a strange kind of peace.