Realm Lord
Chapter 192: What is Wrong With Me?

Chapter 192: What is Wrong With Me?

After a little while, it became obvious that their laughter had evolved beyond mere amusement at the prank. They were laughing because, after everything that had recently happened it felt incredibly good to feel good. They were laughing because they were alive, because they had each other, because even in the darkest moments there could still be light and joy and friendship.

Their laughter gradually subsided into occasional chuckles and contented sighs as they settled back into their seats, the oppressive atmosphere that had filled the vehicle now completely dissipated. Aziel looked at Arthur with a warm smile, his eyes bright with the afterglow of shared mirth and the satisfaction of a successful mission to restore his friend’s spirits.

"You know you can talk to me about anything," Aziel said, his voice gentle but carrying an underlying note of seriousness. Then, with a grin that was pure mischief, he added, "Well, I mean, depending on what you tell me I might make fun of you, but you can still tell me, you know..."

Arthur laughed again at his friend’s words, a sound that was lighter and more genuine than any he had made in hours. The simple honesty of the statement, the perfect balance of support and humor that was so characteristic of Aziel’s approach to life, filled him with warmth and gratitude.

"Thank you," Arthur said, his tone laced with lingering giggles but also genuine appreciation. He smiled at Aziel, who nodded in acknowledgment, and for the first time since his episode, Arthur felt like perhaps everything might actually be okay.

They talked a little longer, their conversation lighter and more natural than it had been in hours. They discussed inconsequential things—memories from better times, jokes at each other’s expense, plans for when they reached their destination—all the small talk that helps to weave the fabric of friendship stronger and more resilient.

Eventually, Cara and Myah returned to the vehicle, both women immediately noticing the dramatic improvement in the atmosphere. The tension that had made the air almost unbreathable was gone, replaced by something that felt almost normal, almost like the comfortable camaraderie they had shared before the recent troubles began.

Without much fanfare, they prepared to resume their journey. Cara settled back behind the wheel with renewed energy, her brief rest and meal having restored some of her depleted reserves. Myah took her seat, and Aziel and Arthur arranged themselves comfortably for the next leg of their travel.

As the engine rumbled to life and they pulled back onto the endless road, Arthur found himself feeling more hopeful than he had in days. The questions about his episodes remained unanswered, the fears about his condition were still valid concerns, but for now, surrounded by friends who cared enough to shock him back to sanity when necessary, he felt like he could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

The vehicle carried them forward into the uncertain future, but it no longer felt like they were fleeing from their problems. Instead, it felt like they were moving toward something.

The road stretched endlessly before them as the day began its slow descent toward twilight, the sun painting the barren landscape in shades of amber and gold that would have been beautiful under different circumstances. The steady hum of the engine had become a constant companion, a mechanical heartbeat that marked the passage of time as they moved ever closer to their uncertain destination.

Hours passed in relative quiet, the earlier tension having dissipated thanks to Aziel’s shocking intervention and the therapeutic laughter that had followed. The group had settled into a comfortable rhythm of travel, with occasional bursts of conversation breaking the monotony of the journey. Cara maintained her position behind the wheel with renewed energy, her brief rest having done wonders for her physical and mental state. Myah dozed fitfully in her seat, her body swaying gently with the motion of the vehicle as she caught whatever fragments of sleep she could manage.

Arthur found himself feeling more stable than he had in days, the lingering warmth of his friend’s support acting like armor against the darker thoughts that had been plaguing him. The memory of their shared laughter still brought a smile to his lips, a reminder that even in their broken world, moments of genuine joy were still possible. For a few precious hours, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps his episodes had been nothing more than stress-induced nightmares, temporary aberrations that would fade with time.

But as the sun sank lower on the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and burning oranges, reality began to reassert itself with cold inevitability. The approaching darkness seemed to carry with it a weight that pressed against Arthur’s consciousness, awakening fears that the daylight had temporarily suppressed. Each passing mile brought them closer to another night, another opportunity for his sleeping mind to betray him, another chance for whatever was growing inside his head to manifest in ways that might endanger his friends.

When the last traces of sunlight finally disappeared behind the jagged silhouette of distant mountains, Cara guided their vehicle to another roadside stop. The location was similar to their previous rest point—a small clearing beside the cracked asphalt, surrounded by the skeletal remains of dead vegetation and offering a clear view of the surrounding terrain.

Just as they had the previous night, they started a rotation of sleeping and keeping watch.

Cara took the first watch, positioning herself strategically on the roof of the car just as before. Aziel, despite his injured condition, had insisted on taking a later shift, his stubborn pride refusing to allow his wound to be seen as a weakness that might burden the group.

Arthur settled into his designated sleeping area within the vehicle, arranging his few possessions with methodical precision. He pulled his thin blanket up to his chin, the fabric providing minimal warmth but offering psychological comfort through its familiarity.

But sleep, that merciful escape from consciousness that his exhausted body desperately craved, remained stubbornly elusive. Every time Arthur closed his eyes, the memory of his earlier episode flooded back with vivid clarity—the sensation of losing control, the look of fear in his friends’ faces, the weight of his soul sword materializing without his conscious command. The images played behind his eyelids like a twisted film reel, each repetition adding new layers of anxiety and self-doubt to his already troubled psyche.

He couldn’t allow himself to sleep, not after what had happened the last time he closed his eyes and surrendered to unconsciousness. The risk was too great, the potential consequences too severe. What if the next episode was worse? What if he hurt someone? What if whatever was happening to him progressed to the point where his friends could no longer restrain him, where he became a danger they couldn’t neutralize without lethal force?

Hell, even if he had wanted to embrace sleep’s oblivion, his racing thoughts would have made rest impossible. His mind was like a caged animal, pacing endlessly through the same corridors of worry and fear, examining every angle of his situation without finding any satisfactory answers or solutions. Questions multiplied like cancerous cells, each one spawning a dozen more until his consciousness became a maze of interconnected anxieties and unanswered mysteries.

So instead of sleeping, Arthur lay there completely motionless, his body rigid with tension despite his efforts to appear relaxed. He controlled his breathing carefully, maintaining the slow, steady rhythm that would convince any casual observer that he was deep in peaceful slumber. The deception was necessary—if his group knew he wasn’t sleeping, they would worry even more than they already did, and he couldn’t bear to give them one more thing to worry about when it came to him.

As the night deepened around them and the sounds of his companions’ quiet watch duties provided a subtle backdrop to his internal turmoil, Arthur became increasingly aware of something that had been lurking at the edges of his consciousness for a while now. The thing in his head—that dark presence he had been trying so desperately to ignore—was growing again. The sensation was subtle but unmistakable, like feeling a tumor expand within the confines of his skull.

The growth wasn’t dramatic or sudden, but rather a gradual expansion that made itself known through tiny increments of increased pressure and prominence. It was becoming more noticeable with each passing hour, more impossible to dismiss as imagination or stress-induced hallucination. The void that had begun as barely perceptible shadow was now a tangible presence, occupying space within his mind that rightfully belonged to his own thoughts and memories.

’What the fuck is wrong with me?’ The question echoed through his consciousness with desperate intensity, a plea to whatever cosmic forces might be listening for some explanation, some understanding of what was happening to him. But the universe, as always, remained stubbornly silent, offering no comfort or clarity to ease his growing terror.

But soon Arthur realized that the sensation of growth was the least of his mounting problems. For the first time since he had originally become aware of the dark presence, he noticed a different kind of change—something far more alarming than simple expansion. Where before the thing in his head had been more of an abstract awareness than an actual feeling, now it was beginning to manifest as genuine physical sensation.

And that sensation was pain.