Villain With The Strongest System - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Edge Of Insanity
Rocky lost his soul when he lost his ability to perform swordsmanship.

Surviving the chamber was hard enough for him already, however, with him having the option of pouring his heart and mind into swordsmanship, Rocky was able to pass his time, however, with swordsmanship taken away from him, his life finally became purposeless.

Neither physical training, nor penance could fill the void in his mind as once Rocky lost a goal to strive for, every second felt like it stretched on for eternity as Rocky’s idol mind turned into his worst enemy.

As the hours melded into an indistinguishable blur, Rocky found himself trapped in a silent, dark world.

Deprived of vision and touch, and now his only solace—swordsmanship—his mind began to fray at the edges.

Rocky’s once disciplined mind, an asset he was so proud of, began to wander down dark, untrodden paths, as finally Rocky became a true madman.

He would catch himself inflicting self harm to his own flesh, pulling away at hair that he could no longer feel.

His voice, once firm and confident, now echoed off the stone walls with a hollow desperation, as there was a raspy sadness behind him, which echoed the state of his existence.

Sound, his only reliable sense, became his new tormentor; the drip of water somewhere in the darkness was like the ticking of a clock, each drop representing a drop of sanity slipping away.

It got so bad for Rocky, that he could not stand the presence of others around him, becoming holed up in his room whenever he was not forced to partake in some daily task, as his continued isolation gave birth to paranoia.

The absence of touch meant he could no longer confirm the reality of his surroundings, as things got so bad for him that the whispers of his own voice began to sound foreign, as if someone else was in the chamber with him.

Often, he found himself pausing, holding his breath to listen for another presence, but there was only the echo of his own madness.

Rocky’s mind, once his greatest ally, began to betray him. Memories of the past tormented him—visions of holding a blade, the feel of a perfect strike, the camaraderie of chopping trees with Erin and Buhara—all painfully out of reach, as he sobbed like a little child when he thought of such sensitive topics.

In desperation, he sought out new ways to fill the silence and darkness. He created stories in his mind, narratives filled with color and light, epic battles, and triumphant victories. But as his grasp on reality weakened, these fantasies became indistinguishable from memories, the line between past and present, real and imagined, blurring irrevocably.

“Red!”

“Why can’t I remember red- why can’t I remember for sure what Buhara looked like? Why am I not sure if he had two tusks coming out of his mouth or four?”

“I’m going insane….. I can’t discern true from false anymore-” Rocky shouted out loud as he got scared by his own voice and then became paranoid that the devil was there to get him.

Eventually, Rocky stopped speaking, his voice lost in the void as if he feared disturbing the phantoms his mind had conjured. He sat for hours, motionless, in a silence so profound that it became a presence in itself, a dark entity that fed on his despair.

In his isolation, Rocky’s sense of self began to unravel. He could no longer remember a time before the darkness, before the silence. His identity as a strong driven individual, once the core of his personality, seemed like a distant dream, as if it were a story told by someone else about someone else.

Without his vision, touch, and swordsmanship, who was he? The question echoed in his mind, unanswered, as he finally reached the point that the chamber god wished he would.

With everything superficial stripped away, at day 40 Rocky finally touched upon the question that was most important.

Who was he?

What was his purpose in this world?

What did he want to achieve?

Why was he going through this suffering?

Once he reached this point, he began undergoing his final descent into madness as he quietly surrendered control, slipping away into the depths of his mind, where reality was what he decided it to be.

In this delirious state, Rocky lived in a world of his own making, where he could see the sun, feel the weight of a sword in his hand, and hear the cheers of citizens of the universe.

It was a world where he was god, where everything played out exactly how he wished it would play out and it was in this world that he found the answers of what he was looking for.

Yes he wanted fame, he wanted adoration of the masses and although he pretended to be cool and aloof, he really cared a lot about what others thought about him.

In his ideal world, he wanted everyone to view him as the ideal individual, not as the Champion of Gemini, but as Rocky Yadav, the epitome of what a human could become!

He wanted to fight great wars and leave behind him a giant legacy of epic moments.

He wanted to protect those he cared for and have the power to punish those he did not like.

He wanted to be a disruptor, someone who could challenge the heavens and climb to the 101st floor of the tower, having his legacy immortalized as the strongest climber.

But these visions of bliss were fleeting and were soon shattered by the cruel return to his true existence as he realized that the world around him could never change, however, what could change was how he viewed it.

As his mind reached the absolute bottom of insanity, he realized that he could never control the perception of others no matter how hard he tried.

That he could never make everyone adore him, nor could he create a perfect society as there could never be perfect society.

Once he realized this, his goals changed, his visions changed as from controlling his environment Rocky turned his focus towards controlling himself.

How did he view himself?

What did he want to achieve?

How was he going to achieve it?

His dreams turned from idolistic to realistic as his personality underwent a massive change.

In his state of insanity, he began to find a kind of peace, the peace of oblivion, where the pain of loss could no longer touch him, and the darkness was no longer an enemy, but a companion in his eternal dance with madness.