《Redefine Insanity: Conformity》


 Despair

    "Can I interest you in an extra can of soda? We have a special offer, and it¡¯s currently 20% off¡ª"


    "Just put the fries in the bag, bro"


    Michael paused, staring blankly at the customer before forcing a smile.


    ¡®Ah, I wonder if I would survive the fall from the top of the building¡ªor if the concrete pavement would win¡¯


    His money was on the pavement, but, of course, the only way to be sure was to test the hypothesis firsthand through the only true scientific method.


    Before he could dwell on that thought any longer, a voice snapped him back to reality.


    "Michael! Michael Carter! The f*ck are you!?"


    With a sigh, he turned and trudged toward the kitchen, where his manager stood waiting.


    "Hey, buddy... You know how Stacy just dipped on us? Yeah, so we''re short-staffed, and I was wondering if you could cover her shifts? Oh, and by wondering, I mean I already wrote you in, so good luck!"


    "Wait, what? I already have every closing shift next week, and you want¡ª"


    His manager raised two fingers in a lazy peace sign and slipped out the exit before Michael could finish.


    For a moment, he just stood there in stunned silence. Not the first time he¡¯d been taken for granted, but definitely the most blatant. Maybe someone with self-respect would walk out after being treated like this, but Michael didn¡¯t have that luxury. His manager knew that¡ªand exploited it without shame.


    "F*ck..."


    Muttering under his breath, he turned back to the chaos of the kitchen. Two coworkers, both new hires who had barely been here a month, scrambled to keep up. In a place that needed five people to barely function, trying to run it with three was asking for a miracle. The restaurant was packed, shoulder to shoulder. At this rate, there was a genuine chance of becoming a father by accident.


    And, as if things couldn¡¯t get worse, something in the kitchen just ignited. Great


    "This is fine" Michael said, reaching for the fire extinguisher with the same enthusiasm as a man reaching for his executioner¡¯s axe.


    "I¡¯m so sorry!" One of the rookies blurted out.


    "No matter. Now, give this to the customer"


    He handed her a plate of food so charred it could double as high-quality charcoal.


    "But¡ª"


    "Listen" He cut in, deadpan. "If someone¡¯s desperate enough to eat here"¡ªHe gestured dramatically to the grease-stained floor¡ª"then this is five-star cuisine compared to what we normally sell"


    She hesitated but, in the end, couldn''t argue with that kind of undeniable logic. The ¡®food¡¯ was swiftly packed and handed to an absolute unit of a man who, against all odds, had managed to squeeze through the restaurant''s entrance. Without hesitation, he inhaled the burger as though drinking it. His fat shivering in visible satisfaction.


    "Good" he grunted, he did not spare a word more¡ªmost likely afraid of losing calories by overexertion.


    "Happy to hear¡­" The rookie answered, her soul visibly leaving her body.


    Michael wiped away a fake tear. "Ah¡­ they grow up so fast"


    Two more hours till closing.


    ***


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    The hospital room was silent.


    Michael sat beside the bed, staring at the frail woman lying there, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm dictated by machines. She is in a coma, looking heart wrenchingly weak.


    The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the oppressive stillness.


    He should¡¯ve said something. Anything. But words failed him.


    Instead, his body spoke in ways he didn¡¯t intend¡ªhis leg bouncing restlessly, his heartbeat growing erratic. A tension built in his chest, coiling tight, waiting for the smallest spark to set it off.


    "Excuse me¡­"


    A soft voice jolted him from his trance.


    Standing at the doorway, half-hidden behind the frame, was a nurse with an apologetic look. "I¡¯m sorry, but visiting hours are almost over"


    Michael blinked, disoriented. The clock on the wall read nearly 9 p.m. He¡¯d been sitting here for two hours, lost in silence.


    It was hard enough getting a day off to visit, and now that he finally had, he felt like he''d wasted it. He swallowed that frustration, though, and simply nodded before rising from his chair.


    The nurse walked him to the exit.


    "You know¡­" She hesitated, glancing at his face before deciding to continue. "Things might seem hard now, but¡­ there¡¯s always hope when there¡¯s a tomorrow"


    Clich¨¦. Probably something she said to every grieving visitor. But still¡ªMichael let out a small chuckle.


    "Thanks"


    He waved as he stepped out into the cold night air, letting the words settle in. There¡¯s always hope when there¡¯s a tomorrow.


    That was what he had been telling himself all this time, wasn¡¯t it? That if he just endured today, tomorrow would be better? If he just persevered, one day his grandma would wake up, and he¡¯d have a real job, a real future¡ªone not fueled solely by empty hope.


    He just had to keep going. That was what he told himself.


    ***


    Two years passed in a blink.


    A constant cycle of working, visiting the hospital, and clinging to the idea that things had to get better.


    But today, that cycle broke.


    "The city looks beautiful from up here" Michael mused, gazing out over the skyline. The rooftop of the hospital offered a perfect view of the world below¡ªstreets bathed in golden light, holiday decorations twinkling against the dark. The crowds bustled below, nothing more than tiny ants from where he stood. He couldn''t see their faces, but somehow, they all seemed happy.


    Happier than he had ever been.


    His fingers curled into fists.


    Today was the day his only family¡ªthe only person who ever truly cared for him¡ªwas gone. And the worst part? He wasn¡¯t even sad.


    No, what he felt was something far uglier.


    "F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!"


    His composure shattered as he screamed, voice raw with frustration. Tears streamed down his face as the weight of his entire life crashed over him.


    His past replayed in his mind like a cruel joke.


    His parents, dead in a car crash.


    His grandma, raising him alone.


    Giving up college to work, barely scraping by to afford rent and medical bills.


    Lying to himself every single day, telling himself that things would get better.


    But they didn¡¯t.


    And now, after everything, after years of struggle¡ªwhat was his reward? Minimum wage and a hospital bill he couldn¡¯t pay.


    And then, the thought came.


    ¡®I wish she had died sooner so I could have had a chance at life¡¯


    A choked breath escaped him. Guilt, hot and suffocating, curled around his chest. But no matter how much he wanted to deny it, the thought rang true.


    If she had died sooner, maybe he could have finished college. Maybe he could have built something for himself. But instead, he had wasted years chasing a future that was never meant for him.


    Maybe some people were just destined to struggle while others were meant to succeed.


    Maybe he had been doomed from the start.


    His tears stopped. A quiet chuckle slipped past his lips. The absurdity of it all hit him like a punchline to a joke he hadn''t realized he was part of.


    Michael ran a hand through his hair and took a step closer to the edge.


    The city stretched out before him, full of life, full of people¡ªpeople who never had to try as hard as he did.


    He looked down at the pavement below.


    And he wondered if the concrete would win.

 The beginning after the end

    Michael opened his eyes, struggling with exhaustion. Yet, there was nothing to see¡ªonly endless darkness stretching in all directions. He could not hear anything either and even his own body felt like it was barely there.


    Then, the cold came. It seeped into him, not just through his flesh but into something deeper, something intangible. It numbed his thoughts, slowing them with each wave until even remaining conscious felt like too heavy of a task.


    But did he even have a reason to stay awake? If there had been one, it had already slipped from his grasp, lost in the void. The cold was all that remained.


    And with it came understanding. This was death, his end.


    Yet, the revelation brought no fear¡ªonly relief. His life had been nothing but pain. The cold began to feel strangely warm like a mother¡¯s loving embrace. It made him feel welcomed and he welcomed it in kind.


    Michael let his eyes close, prepared to never open them again.


    But was fate ever kind to him?


    A piercing light shattered the darkness, tearing through the void with merciless force. It clashed against his senses, demanding his attention. Anger flared within him¡ªan instinctive, irrational resentment for being dragged back from the peace he had finally found. But then, as the light swallowed him whole, his anger was eclipsed by something else.


    Terror.


    ***


    Michael opened his eyes.


    This time, his sight was clear, the haze of darkness lifting as his surroundings came into focus. A moment ago¡ªif he could even call it that¡ªhe had been lost in the darkness. Now, he stood in a place brimming with life, color, and presence. The change was so sudden it made him feel dizzy.


    Lingering fear curled in the pit of his stomach, accompanied by something sharper¡ªanger. He had been at peace, hadn¡¯t he? Why did it feel like something had ripped him away from that final rest? The memory of light, of something vast and overwhelming, flickered in his mind before slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.


    ¡®What¡­ happened? Where am I?¡¯


    He forced himself to focus. Around him, figures stood in neat formation, an audience clad in rich fabrics and gleaming armor. Rows of knights stood tall and disciplined, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. Beside them were men and women draped in silks and jewels, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and reverence.


    ¡®Nobles perhaps? What the hell is going on?¡¯


    Then, there were the others¡ªthe handful of people standing nearby, shifting uneasily. They looked as lost as he. Their clothes were foreign, their faces varied. Some wore what appeared to be battle gear, others casual clothing. The sheer diversity made Michael''s head spin. It was like he had stumbled into some kind of elaborate costume party.


    His confusion only deepened when he finally looked ahead.


    At the heart of the chamber, towering over everyone, sat an enormous golden throne. The craftsmanship was beyond anything Michael had ever seen, intricate patterns of divine symbols carved into its surface, glowing faintly with a light that seemed almost alive. It radiated authority, making even the air feel heavy. Anyone standing before it would feel insignificant¡ªjust an ant in the presence of something greater.


    Seated upon it was a man who could only be The Emperor.


    Age had graced him with long silver hair, but there was no frailty in his posture. His back was straight, his expression impassive yet commanding. His sharp gaze swept over them, measuring, judging. He exuded an aura of absolute authority, the kind that made people kneel without being asked.


    Michael barely had time to process it all before a powerful voice rang through the hall.


    ¡°Warriors! Hear my words!¡±


    The command cut through the murmur of whispers, silencing the chamber in an instant.


    But the voice did not belong to the Emperor.


    Michael¡¯s gaze shifted to a figure standing slightly lower on the steps of the throne¡ªa man dressed in regal finery, his bearing dignified, his presence almost as commanding as the Emperor himself. His voice carried unwavering authority, his tone sharpened by conviction.


    ¡°I am Prince Carl von Farhavaen, firstborn of Emperor Edward von Farhavaen, ruler of the Holy Empire and protector of the Light, before whom you now stand. Kneel in his presence¡±


    Michael hesitated. Around him, the others were already lowering themselves to their knees without question, whether out of instinct or self-preservation.


    The situation seemed ridiculous at best but not wanting to stand out Michael decided to play along. He knew too little to make any decisions.


    The prince, satisfied by their compliance, continued.


    ¡°By the grace of the All-Father and the blessing of the Goddess of Light, you were summoned here. The greatest warriors from distant worlds, deemed worthy to aid the divine in spreading their truth¡± His voice swelled with fervor. ¡°Rejoice, for you are to become the heroes of this nation¡±


    A heavy silence followed. The prince let the words sink in before his tone softened, though it retained its authority.


    ¡°I understand your confusion. You have many questions, and in time, they will be answered. But first, we must proceed with the Awakening Ceremony¡ªso that the divine blessings bestowed upon you may manifest. Servants!¡±


    A lectern¡ªcarved from a stone so white it seemed to deny the existence of any other color. It reflected the light around it with an almost unnatural purity. At the top of the altar, a shallow indentation had been carved, perfectly shaped to fit a human hand.


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    ¡°You may stand¡± The prince¡¯s tone was composed, but the unspoken expectation was clear. ¡°Step forward, one by one, from right to left. Place your hand upon the altar¡±


    A test. A ritual. An evaluation.


    Michael glanced to his right, realizing he would be last. Four others stood ahead of him.


    The first to approach was a middle-aged man clad in well-worn armor. Unlike the knights in the hall, his design was distinct, the metal dented and scratched¡ªused, and tested in battle.


    He stepped forward without hesitation, pressing his palm against the altar.


    For a moment, nothing happened. Then, without a word, the knight withdrew his hand and stepped back in line. His eyes flickered with something distant and a hint of confusion.


    The prince nodded. ¡°Next¡±


    And so it continued. One by one, each person stepped forward, placed their hand upon the altar, then stepped away, their expressions unreadable, their bodies tense.


    Then, it was Michael¡¯s turn.


    He exhaled, steadying himself. His heartbeat increased with each step forward. He placed his hand upon the stone.


    Everything changed.


    The throne room vanished.


    He was standing on the edge of a cliff, waves crashing violently against the rocks below. The wind howled past him, the smell of salt in the air. He turned his gaze upward.


    The sun burned gold in the sky. Its rays twisted, shaping into the figure of a woman¡ªa being of ethereal beauty, her form woven from light itself. She reached toward him, her fingers delicate, beckoning.


    A trance-like pull guided his own hand forward.


    Then¡ªsomething in his chest lurched.


    A memory surfaced. Blinding light. Overwhelming. Unrelenting. Devouring. And buried within it¡ªsomething monstrous. Hidden behind the glow. It was watching him.


    Michael¡¯s fingers barely brushed hers before his entire body recoiled, his instinct screaming at him to run.


    The woman¡¯s expression darkened and the dream-like world shattered into nothingness.


    Michael¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    He was back in the throne room. His hand had already left the altar.


    He stood frozen for a moment, his pulse racing, struggling to process what had just happened. But like the others before him, he simply stepped away without a word.


    The prince surveyed them with satisfaction.


    ¡°The ceremony is complete. The blessings you have received will guide you through the trials ahead¡± His voice carried a quiet triumph. ¡°Now, each of you will be assigned a Grandmaster¡ªyour guide and protector¡±


    The moment he finished speaking, armored figures stepped forward, approaching each of them.


    Michael barely had time to process before a woman knelt before him.


    She was in her late twenties, her blonde hair tied back in strict discipline. Her armor gleamed a stark white, pristine and unyielding. She bowed her head slightly, but her cold, piercing gaze never wavered from him¡ªsharp and focused.


    ¡°My name is Sarah, Grandmaster Knight of the Holy Empire¡±


    Her tone carried neither warmth nor hostility.


    ¡°I will be in your care from now on¡±


    Michael stood still as Sarah''s words reverberated through him, her cold gaze never leaving his face. Her tone was even, devoid of any emotion, yet there was an undeniable authority in the way she spoke. Her presence was as imposing as the knights surrounding the throne room, and Michael couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she was judging him.


    ¡®In my care¡¯ Michael thought. The words seemed strange to him, like they didn¡¯t belong. Wasn¡¯t he supposed to be the one figuring out what the hell was going on here? Wasn¡¯t he the one who had just been dragged out of death¡¯s embrace, only to be shoved into this absurd situation?


    He blinked, trying to push the confusion away, and forced himself to speak.


    ¡°Care?¡± His voice sounded rough, more uncertain than he intended. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    Sarah didn¡¯t respond immediately. She simply stood there, unmoving, her eyes unwavering as if his question hadn¡¯t been one at all. For a long moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something.


    When she finally spoke, her voice was almost mechanical. ¡°You are a chosen warrior, summoned by the divine to serve the Holy Empire. As such, you will need guidance. I will be the one to provide it¡±


    Michael frowned, his mind still struggling to keep up with the events unfolding around him. He had been summoned? By the divine? That didn¡¯t make any sense. He had been dead. Or at least he thought he had been. Was this some kind of twisted afterlife? Some divine scheme he had been dragged into?


    The prince, Carl von Farhavaen, stepped forward, his presence overwhelming as he addressed the group once more.


    ¡°Now that the ceremony is complete¡± He said, his voice deep and commanding ¡°You are to prove your worth by aiding the Empire in its mission. Only then will you fully unlock the blessings of the gods, and only then will you be worthy of your true power¡±


    The words hung heavy in the air, filled with an unmistakable weight of expectation. Michael wasn¡¯t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn¡¯t this. The idea of being tested¡ªof being used for some grand, divine purpose¡ªfelt wrong on so many levels. He had his doubts, but one thing was clear: whatever was going on here, he wasn¡¯t in control.


    Sarah¡¯s hand came to rest at her side, and Michael couldn¡¯t help but notice the sword strapped to her waist. He wondered if it was meant to intimidate him or if it was just a reminder of the role he was now expected to play. She was, after all, a Grand Knight¡ªsomeone who lived for the Empire, for the gods, for the mission or at least he assumed it to be the case. He still had no real grasp of the situation.


    He glanced around, eyeing the others in the room. The strange group of individuals that had been summoned with him. They all looked as confused and uncertain as he was. Some had even exchanged brief glances, silent questions passing between them. But none of them seemed ready to speak up, to challenge the situation. For all he knew, they were just as lost as he was, their fates now intertwined with whatever scheme was unfolding before them.


    ¡°Well, what¡¯s next?¡± Michael asked, more to himself than anyone in particular. But Sarah seemed to take it as a command.


    She moved toward him, stepping lightly, almost gracefully, as though every step was calculated, measured.


    ¡°You will follow me¡± She said. ¡°Everything will be revealed to you shortly. Come¡±


    Without another word, she turned and began walking, her armor clinking softly with each movement. Michael hesitated only for a moment before he followed, unsure of what else to do.


    The others began to move too, some more reluctantly than others. Michael walked with his head down, trying to ignore the stares of the other knights and nobles in the hall. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything.


    As he followed Sarah through the grand corridors of the palace, Michael¡¯s thoughts wandered. There was a nagging feeling deep inside him that he couldn¡¯t shake. Something was off, something he had sensed during the ceremony, in that strange vision with the woman of light. The memory of that piercing light, the terror, and the feeling of something hidden behind it¡ªit haunted him.


    His questions remained unanswered as they entered another chamber. This one was far smaller, with a long table at its center, set for what appeared to be a council meeting. Around the table sat various individuals, each in varying degrees of formal attire, their expressions ranging from stern to casual.


    Michael noticed a large map on the wall, a detailed chart of the Holy Empire, with territories, cities, and borders marked in meticulous detail. The Empire was vast¡ªmuch more so than he had initially thought. And these people... they seemed like they were preparing for war.