A Viking vessel floating on the mist has approached and you got on board. Here you are, alone, cruising on the abyss. Rocked by a silence of death, you fall asleep against the mast.

Suddenly a noise wakes you up : three chaps get off a dinghy and step on board ; three pirates.

" What the hell are you bastard doing here ? "

Already one of them moves forward up to your nose and eyes you down. " What's the matter with you ? You're looking for trouble ? " The two other guys are now on each side. " We're insulted ! " " Watch it you prick ! ". You came across real rowdy characters. You have no clue about what is going on. Still on your spot you try a vague explanation with a movement of the hand meaning annoyance.

But what your mouth says nearly accidentally sounds a provocation :

" I didn't start it ! "

Everything after that, you have just made it out from your helpless brain. The sword was not here anymore. All you knew is that you broke one of the guys' eyebrow with a punch. They all stepped back. The one you hit had his left eye in his hand : he was pissing blood.

For the eyebrow bone is tougher than five fingers even put together. Your whole body was in your hand, in the terrible agony of your broken hand. All your organs felt for the pain in your hand and your whole mind was drawn into it. You were somewhere else.

It must not have last so long.

Now you are on the ground, on the paving of a cell, huddled up like an insect being impaled. You hold your swollen hand against its abdomen. Your eyes are creased by pain and your tiny neck muscles tightened like violin cords.

You need at least five minutes to decongest your limb. You notice with stupefaction that the gnome who brought you to "warriors' paradise" is staring at you.

A mallet in his hand, he observes your moans with a face showing sadistic pleasure and pity.

At this very moment you understand : all that power was just a dream. And your hand-ache has a simple explanation : the dwarf smashed it with his mallet.

Invicibility is just an illusion. Your body is weak and your reflexes are slow. You feel as humiliated as can be ; bewitched by this mean little animal, you then became his toy.
So power holds onto a thread.

The being tempering his instincts, bent to self-discipline of senses, is the true modern overhuman !

The person who can live with his wish for power without giving into it on one hand, but without having to vilify it on the other, will overcome the human...
You can not believe what you are hearing. The disgusting midget sermons you like a mislaid parishioner.

" I hope you learned your lesson " he concludes.

But it is also true that you do not have a perfectly clear conscience. Giving up full satisfaction, living a bit less to let others live are rules that are not only safe for life in a group – and you do not give a damn about that –, but above all it means sparing hurting oneself. All the guys you have slaughtered without restraint some time ago may have deserved otherwise.

You can not devour others without cannibalising yourself at the same time. Because when they are annihilated you find yourself facing your own emptiness :

" You are nothing without others even though you have absorbed all riches, all knowledge; even if you have reached the death throes of senses.

" You are nothing if it is not for someone in front saying : "you" "

But this time it is the Nun of Hell who is talking to you. She came in as if by magic and sharply sent the gnome away to the end of his lair.
From then, you are so grateful that you undeniably want to hug her.