I don't know if it's the bath water making me feel too pruney, my small failure, or my excitement for the new day, but I can't sleep. I've been lying in bed for the past hour, thinking about life and conjuring grand ideas that I hope will happen soon. I just need to sleep, and then I can work on all my schemes. Except sleep never comes, and my schemes get larger and larger, making sleep all the harder to obtain.

If I factor in all of my schemes and ideas, I'm practically a god. I'm super rich, too. Not that I know what to do with money or why it is necessary right now. That doesn't matter. While I try to sleep, I think of all the ways I can be better, and being richer is one of them.

In terms of power, I have progressed a good deal in the few months since my first resurrection in the desert. I'm no longer the simple scorpion kicker I once was. For one, thanks to my death core, I can have the dead do all the kicking for me courtesy of a skill called reanimation. If the dead can't do the trick, I can summon a minion to do it for me, so long as I don't promote a minion to a leadership above my own.

I've thought of creating a new minion a few times. Because my death core is gilded, I have enough strength and mana capacity to do so. I just don't think I'm ready for another minion. There is no way the second minion can live up to my expectations. Or worse, it surpasses expectations, and I have worse Bones. It's a clear lose-lose scenario.

So even though summoning minions to do my scorpion kicking isn't a reliable option, I can entirely forgo kicking scorpions completely. I can summon not only bone material but also black dragon steel, which makes scorpion poking more feasible. Of course I could try wrapping it in improved leather or magical cord if I feel more inclined to go the peaceful route.

Maybe if the scorpions are asleep, I can use my flame magic to burn them. They are susceptible to burning. More unrealistically, I can drown them with my water spout or kill them with kindness and heals. If I feel like it, I can even try to yell in an attempt to scare them. If I'm being honest, though, the roar ability is mainly for the passive buff it gives to my team.

I get lost in creative thoughts of scorpion slaying. Not because I enjoy the slaying but because scorpions tend to go out of their way to pick a fight, making them the perfect 'self-defense scenario.' Shadow swords and shadow stepping are used in conjunction to attack and disappear. Perception masks reality, warping the scorpions' behavior. Mind mana enhances my body and armor, giving me strength, quickness, and protection. The purple energy enhances my weapons that strike into the sand huggers as mental probes further discombobulate the foe.

Sleep is no closer than when I started this mental escapade, and now I'm drifting from imagined reality to dreamy fantasy. The purple energy of my mind mana is nearly black with power — a far cry from the ivory color it once was. With my surging power of mind, I'm the god in the desert. At my command, the sand and scorpions are clutched in the mind tentacles of power. I'm the storm I once ran from. The sand is my weapon.

Purple abyss carries the scorpions and sand by my side as I stand face to face with the hungry, pale figure of death. Death mana tries to force me to bind the rest of my soul. I can feel its enticing power trying to tempt me to let it in. Wrapped in my power, I'm not the helpless fool I once was. Mind mana beckons to my will, and I'm coated by an impenetrable armor. With the sands and scorpion, a massive hand forms and grabs hold of death. The dull gray energy thinks this is a welcoming embrace and does not fight as the grip tightens around its lifeless shape.

My will and desire harden to become one. Death is shredded in my colossal desert hands. As the hungry, empty energy dissipates, I find myself wrapped in a feeling of peace- not the peace I find when I rest in the comforts of water but the peace of feeling like I am enough.

Live. The damn word whispers in my mind like it has so many times when I woke up from death in the desert.

Live.

Live! The voice is louder now.

Live!

Live! Each time, the word is more assertive and more demanding. My heart begins racing. Am I dying?

LIVE! This last one is practically a scream. I'm now lost in the ocean. My body is barely afloat. There is no hint of land in sight, just the endless abyss of water. I try to swim only to find my arms and legs are heavy. I begin sinking in bloody water. Breathing is no longer possible. I feel my last desperate attempt demands I breathe no matter the cost. My mouth opens, and water painfully surges through me.

LIVE!

I wake up screaming in my bed in a swamp of sweat. When did I fall asleep? My breathing is heavy. What the hell was that all about? I thought I had this whole life thing figured out. I just slayed death in my dreams. If that isn't living, then what is? Live… what does that even mean. I have been living. I'm happy most of the time. Sure, I have my struggles. My hands are permanently stained and I don't like that I'm really good at keeping them stained. But that is life. You get the good and bad. So what the hell useless command? How do I live more? What am I doing that isn't enough?

I take a deep breath, releasing some of my frustrations. I'm proud to admit that I did not start yelling at myself at the height of my anger. At least not verbally. A few more breaths later, I'm mostly calm. Unfortunately, the desert isn't my bed, so I must clean up my soaked bedding. Curses slip out as I strip my bed and head to the lake. Luckily, the academy residents are still asleep. Gratefully, I won't have to explain to anyone why I'm carrying a bundle of wet bedding around with me.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I quicken my walk of shame in case there are any early risers. The four flights are covered without complications. The great hall where we had our feast is also empty. All signs of last night's party have been cleared. Even the tables and chairs are gone. My stomach sinks when I think about who was assigned the task.

I leave the great hall and see Cru still tending to the golden mana tree. Night has yet to give way to morning, and no reasonable person is awake.

"Hello, Cru," I greet the goblin, who now eyes the wet bundle in my hands. "I had an accident with water." That didn't come out right.

"You know you could have washed it in your tub." Cru's attention returns to the tree he is sending his mana to.

"I do now." I reprimand myself for not thinking clearly earlier. "Had a bad dream as well and needed some fresh air."

"The bedding looks a lot like what I cleaned back home. Leave it with me, and I can get it cleaned for you quickly," Cru says. Now it's me scrutinizing the goblin, though he doesn't notice because he focuses on the tree. I send my perception into the tree to better understand the situation. As before, I can't make sense of the tendrils of life affecting the tree. I can trace some of the mana back to Cru, but that is about it.

"Thanks, Cru. I'll clean up my mess, though." I ditch my efforts to follow the mana tree's struggle for survival and return my focus to Cru. “You know I didn't invite you here to do clean-up and chores, right? I'm assuming you cleaned up the great hall, too."

"It was a task that needed to be done. It was nothing. It kind of feels comfortable. I am at a strange place where spiders worship me. I am no longer among goblins; I am far from the home I used to know, and everything is different. Cleaning and chores are something I understand."

"I get that. I feel so out of place as well. Believe it or not, I felt more comfortable in my cave than with all these people. Now, I feel I'm on my toes, struggling through conversations trying to impress people. Instead of work, I find myself soaking in water for refuge."

"Why do you care so much what people think about you?" Cru's question catches me off guard. Doesn't everyone care about others' thoughts?

"Don't you?" This is the only response I can muster.

"I used to. I didn't care if people saw me as a goblin runt, the weakest of the pack, or a waste of space. I am, was, all of those things. What I cared about was people still seeing value in me. However, no matter how hard I worked or the amount of jobs I got done, I was never accepted among my own. Then, one day, while fighting this demon tree, I decided I was valuable no matter what others thought. Once I accepted myself for who I am, what others thought of me no longer mattered."

"What if you don't know who you are? What if you don't like the person you are?" I try not to be broody with my words. Cru's advice makes a lot of sense, though. Can I accept who I am? "I think a part of me fears I will ultimately be rejected and abandoned. I woke up in the desert alone and don't know if I will ever recover from that." Now that issues I've buried are uncovered, they seem to keep pouring out of my mouth. "Then, despite some voice telling me to 'live,' I keep dying and killing. On top of that, despite all the guilt I feel, I don't know if I ever want my memories back. Can I still accept myself if I don't know who I am?"

Cru's mana that he pushes into the tree has pushed much of the decay into one of the lower branches which begins to wilt under the corruption. The vibrant mana of life keeps pushing the decay further down the branch away from the main trunk. Cru's left-hand transforms into a machete-type blade, which he uses to hack off the limb in a smooth, practiced motion. The withered branch is absorbed into Cru's channels, and the tree stands firmer.

"I don't know," says Cru with a hint of pride in his restoration skills. "Maybe the right question is, can you find value in who you are now?"

Do I add value? That question seems a lot harder than it should be. I can see how I provide value to others, if only as a means to help others live. However, do I find value in myself, and if so, why? I curse my nightmare and dirty sheets for the deep thoughts they force me to think upon. Thoughts that I thought I long left in the desert. I have more to think about, but gratefully, I feel like I am headed on the right path.

"Thanks for joining us, Cru. I'm glad that you are here."

"I think I will like it here. You know, this is the only time I can recall I was not cleaning up alone."

"You weren't alone?"

"The life princess helped me as well. I tried to tell her she didn't need to clean but she refused to leave the mess behind unless I did." I'm shocked and relieved that Cru has an optimistic outlook for his future. Even more,

"Life princess? Bloom?"

"Lana," Cru shakes his head and squints his large round eyes as if he is shooting life rays from them into the tree. I also focus on the tree in case I can get a hint at what the druid is doing. "The new lady we ate dinner with." Cru is so focused on the tree he mixes up the names.

"She's attuned to light and isn't a princess," I clarify.

"Yeah, she's probably more than a princess." Cru has yet to blink. Now, my eyes are starting to feel dry. "Her life readings, like yours, are not normal."

"Wait. What?" Cru's body tenses. Did I say that too aggressively? A boisterous laughter from Cru is not what I expect. The laughter grows louder and wild. It isn't coming from Cru. I let out a heavy sigh. In front of us, the Golden Mana Tree is laughing.

"You two are so adorable. Did you miss me?" Roxi, the dryad, asks between her laughing fits. Thick streams of golden energy swirl around the tree. Life energy condenses around us, wrapping us in a gold fog. There is a sweet smell and taste in the air, which leads me to discover that my mouth has been left open.

Despite all the commotion, the only sounds from the tree are Roxi's laughs. Roots begin to form into a pair of legs and feet. The trunk becomes a body with exaggerated curves. Branches turn into elongated arms that are long for her proportions. Finally, the dryad's smirking face forms. Her eyes are full of malice and passion, and the sweet taste in the air turns sour.