Two cycles had passed. Thirty years.

  The war finally shut its trap, but not because anyone won or got smarter. All sides simply ran out of resources and food. The soldiers left the chat because they had nothing left to shoot and nothing left to eat. Typical.

  What was I doing all this time? Nothing special.

  I went back to my old, forgotten habits: either sleeping for days on end or working as a "scarecrow" for Mira. The scheme was well-practiced: I’d show up to a meeting with the latest demons of fear, stand there with a stone face, and Mira would pointedly gesture at me: "Look, this is Zenhald." The reaction was always the same—the fears would start shaking, leak information, and follow any of my sister’s orders. Convenient.

  As for my "acquaintances"... honestly, I don't give a damn about them anymore.

  Lianel and Alphus? Dead. They got surrounded somewhere or something—I didn't look into it.

  Anna? She became an invalid, couldn't handle that kind of life, and offed herself. Cael, that eternal do-gooder, couldn't take the grief: first he slaughtered his own child, and then he followed right after. Professional, you have to admit.

  Draconite kicked the bucket too. Either poisoned or kidney failure. And their child, the one I spent a thousand souls on? He folded as well. What a little shit, just up and died? I poured so much "fuel" into him; it was the investment of the century, and he just went and stopped breathing. A real shame about the wasted time.

  Alexia’s father, our "great king," died as well. But he—HA-HA-HA-HA—turned out to be the luckiest of all. He just died of old age in his own bed. His dynasty was immediately overthrown, of course. Now there are some new clowns sitting there trying to keep the kingdom from falling apart, but they’re doing a lousy job of it. Alexia was either kicked out or killed—I’m not sure. I try not to think about them at all. I tossed them into the archives as unnecessary characters whose arcs had come to an end. It’s too much of an honor to waste memory on them.

  However, my mind is getting worse and worse. The hallucinations haven't gone anywhere; they’ve become my constant companions. The world around me isn't getting easier; quite the opposite—it’s fading and crumbling. Only Mira remains for me as a kind of light of hope. The only stable object in this chaos.

  What about the Sultanate? Hell if I know. Maybe it’s prospering, maybe not. Oh, I remember! We fought so hard there once that all their underground lakes receded even deeper into the earth. Now they have a total water shortage. They walk around licking dry rocks. Well, it’s their own fault; they shouldn't have gotten in the way.

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  In short, everything in this world is as usual. Someone dies, someone fights, someone wants a drink. And I’m just waiting for my timer to go tick again, so I can finally forget this overextended filler.

  "HA-HA! Look at this idiot!"

  I turned to the stream. My own reflection stared back at me from the water—disheveled, with a mad glint in its eyes.

  "You're the idiot," I stuck my tongue out at myself and poked the mirror-like surface, sending out ripples.

  I got bored standing by the water. POP. I teleported deep into the forest, crouched down, and found an anthill. I pulled a piece of stale bread from my pocket. This was my main entertainment for today. I placed a crumb directly in front of one scout ant.

  "Ooh, he took the bait!"

  The ant got frantic, ran to his buddies. A minute later, a whole crowd followed him—about twenty of them, at least. They were already anticipating a feast, twitching their antennae, reaching for the prey...

  I sharply lifted the bread.

  "HA-HA-HA-HA! Tricked you! Tricked you! You fell for it, you little shits!"

  I laughed so hard that needles showered down from the branches. At that moment, a silhouette emerged from a tree to the right. Blurry, gray, almost transparent.

  "And what are you doing here, Zenhald?" asked a voice I once knew. "There, beyond the forest, the world is burning. People are suffering. And you're playing games?"

  To the left, another shadow detached itself.

  "Where are you wasting your power?" it whispered.

  "You could stop all of this with one move of your hand. Why are you hiding in this hole?"

  I didn't even turn my head. I continued to twirl the bread in front of the confused ants' noses.

  "Oh, bug off, will you? Those people don't give a damn about my power. They’ve got their own problems, their own kings, their own wars. They're having plenty of fun without me."

  "Just look at him..." someone giggled thinly in the bushes.

  A dozen more beings stepped out of the shadows. Ghosts of the past. My "friends," my "enemies"—now they all had the same face. They looked at me with an unbearable, viscous sympathy.

  "Where are you wasting your time, Zenhald?" they asked in unison.

  "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" I roared, jumping to my feet. "I'll waste it wherever I want! My time! My cycles! If I want to troll ants, I will; if I want to sleep for decades, I will!"

  "Why do you need such power?" came a voice from right beside me.

  "JUST SO YOU’LL SHUT UP!"

  I shoved the air with all my might using mana, and the ghosts momentarily scattered like smoke.

  "Why are you ruining my moment?" I grumbled, sitting back down. "I just decided to play... Ha-ha-ha-ha! To play, yes! It’s the most important occupation in the world!"

  "He's completely lost his marbles..." came from behind my back.

  "Look who's talking," I snapped at the void.

  I lay on my back, hands behind my head, and stared at the sky. The clouds were suspiciously motionless.

  "Where are you all when you're actually needed..." I whispered.

  "If only someone would come and just scratch my head. Without the lectures on saving the world."

  "We're in the grave," someone’s voice responded merrily from a deep pit in my memory. "We all died a long time ago. And we aren't coming. Just accept it, Zen. Stop summoning us. Let go of the past; it smells of carrion."

  I closed my eyes.

  "I already let you all go," I said to myself.

  The forest was silent. The ants, having lost interest in the invisible bread, went about their business. And I lay there, thinking that being insane is damn exhausting. But at least it's not as boring as being a hero.