Bound and Broken: An Isekai Adventure Dark Fantasy (Melas Book 1) by V.A. Lewis (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

the first time I’ll be leading an important mission. And more than that, this is my first time even being in something this important."

That was right. Karna was still young for a Goblin. He was barely an adult. Only 13 years old. If he was a Human, he would be… 21 years old?

The comparison was not exact, but it gave a good idea of how young he actually was. The reason why Karna even showed some respect for Ihsan— despite his carefree personality— was because the Ihsan was older than him by nearly three years.

He stiffly continued.

"I… should be honored. That they entrusted me— that I received recognition for my talents. But I’m not. I… don’t know."

His face shadowed over, his hands were trembling slightly. And at that moment, I knew he knew what he was feeling. He was too proud to admit it— no, to accept it. I wanted to tell him what it was. But how could you say something like that gently?

The answer was that you could not. Not with someone like Karna. You could not skirt around the issue. You had to be direct. So I was.

"You’re afraid," I said.

His gaze snapped towards me. "I’m not—"

"Why?" I spoke over him.

He opened his mouth, then closed it slowly. He raised a hand, and saw the shaking. He placed it over his chest, as if he were feeling his heartbeat.

"What if I... fail?" Karna asked no one in particular. "I failed Sena. Because of my weakness, Sena is dead."

"You didn’t kill him—"

"But because of me, he’s dead. Because I was not strong enough. I nearly died too, and that cost you your prized potion. What if… because of me, the mission fails completely?"

His gaze bore into my soul. The weight of his problems, so unfamiliar. It was completely alien to me. I could not help him; there was no wisdom I could impart to him. But I understood one thing: what it was like to be afraid.

Our fear stemmed from different roots. From distant trees. So dissimilar, you could not compare them. Yet it all fell under the same canopy, existing in the same forest.

A state of fear.

Uncertainty.

Terror.

It was one where you questioned yourself, but got no answers. It was when you looked to the future, and saw nothing. I remembered dying— having all the bones in my body smashed, watching as my blood pooled up in the middle of the road, and thinking to myself ‘Is this it?’, before I lost everything for the first time.

Then I remembered fearing for my mother’s life. I did everything I could to prevent it; to save the person I cared about the most. And watched helplessly as I failed, and lost everything for the second time.

Finally, I remembered being a slave. Where every day of my life was filled with terror. That I could be sold at any moment. That I could be beaten, raped, killed, and lose everything for the third time.

But that never happened.

Was it a silver lining that I could walk freely now? Or at least, freer than I was before? That even though I died once, I was given a second chance at life— did that make it better?

It was not a consolation. It did not make me feel any better. I was still a slave by the brand on my face. I could never go back to my old world nor could return to the happy days in Villamcreek with my mother.

But these facts alone did not make me fear.

It made me feel angry. Sad. Unhappy. A dozen other negative emotions— none of it was fear.

Because fear came from something else. From questions with no answers.

Or maybe it was an instinct. A survival mechanism built into all living beings, designed to perpetuate life. And yet, it stayed true: I was not afraid of things that had happened, but of things that could be.

And so was Karna.

Not everyone could confront their fears and overcome it. The heroes you heard about in stories could. But I was not a hero; most people weren’t.

Fear could not so easily be dispelled. But there was a way to slightly allay it. If I could not challenge my uncertainty, I could at least find comfort in what I knew. At least, for a little bit.

So I pulled the Goblin’s hand off his chest. I clasped it tightly in between my palms. My eyes locked into his.

"Why did you become a Dark Crusader?"

It was a question. One only he knew the answer to.

"To change the world," Karna said slowly. "Goblins are… hated. Disliked for something our ancestors did wrong hundreds of years ago. But, was what they did even wrong?"

He looked heavenward as he pondered out loud. "What was their sin? Was it going against the Goddess by practicing magic? Defending their closest allies when they were invaded? Or was it… losing? Being defeated, and chased out of our home."

He stared dreamily at something in the sky. A wistful gaze, longing for something.

"Do you see that?"

He pointed at the horizon, southwards, hanging barely at the edge of the sable dome that stretched overhead.

"Inferna."

Karna said its name. I saw the glowing red dot past the tip of his fingers. It was the South Star. The star that hung over Hell itself.

"I was born in the Sharan Enclave within Anibes like most other Goblins. And there was this story that everybody knew, about a Goblin boy. It was a folktale. I’m not even sure if it is true. But I loved it. And I would have my parents tell me about it constantly."

"What was it about?" I asked softly.

"A long time ago, when Goblins still lived in tribes far from one other. There was a boy. He was a bold