《The Lord of Veins | A Shadow Slave Adaptation》


 Chapter 0: The Nightmare Spell (Lord Of Veins)

    [This is not complete at all. This will be updated as the story goes.]


    (This chapter will contain information for this story. Expect some elements to differ from the original Shadow Slave novel. I understand that some people would prefer a story that stays true to the original, but I find it quite difficult to manage. I am relatively new to writing, so this is what I have gathered so far. I have also changed a few things to suit my own preferences. I would enjoy feedback.)


    ? The Nightmare Spell ?


    The Nightmare Spell primarily infects young individuals (ages 16¨C18, though others can be affected). Once infected, the chosen experience a growing need to sleep. When they finally succumb, they are transported to their first nightmare.


    ? The Nightmares ?


    The Nightmares are trials forged by the spell. They are populated by creatures and humans, and are considered to be fictitious. Each Nightmare contains a central conflict, these central conflicts can be handled in a multitude of ways. These conflicts are believed to be reconstructions of events from a time of old.


    ?Awakened Ranks (Spell Carriers)?


    Dormant ?


    Awakened ??


    Ascended ???


    Transcendent ????


    Supreme ?????


    Sacred ??????


    Divine ???????


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    Key Details:


    Soul Cores: The number of cores a Spell Carrier can achieve is limited by the quality of their existing cores.


    Example: A Transcendent soul core allows up to four cores; an Awakened soul core allows only two.


    Power: Additional cores serve as reservoirs for essence but do not necessarily increase raw power unless the essence type benefits from multiple cores.


    ? Corrupted Ranks (Nightmare Creatures) ?


    Dormant ???????


    Awakened ???????


    Fallen ???????


    Corrupted ???????


    Great ???????


    Cursed ???????


    Unholy ???????


    Transformation Process:


    - Nightmare creatures can advance to higher tiers by saturating all seven cores with essence.


    - Once all cores are saturated, they merge into a single core, triggering the transformation to the next tier (e.g., from Awakened to Fallen).


    - Transformations can be gradual or instantaneous, with rare cases involving class changes.


    Note: Strength between ranks becomes more pronounced as creatures progress down the corrupted hierarchy.


    ? Classes (Nightmare creatures) ?


    (Still Experimenting with Ideas, I want to really get this down and I think these classes are decent so far.)


    I will run by this later and make corrections with grammar and stuff I am too lazy right now.


    Beasts:


    Focused on survival rather than hostility, they operate primarily on animal instincts. Geared towards survival, they can adapt to their environment better than most other classes.


    Monsters:


    Creatures that are not bound by reason or logic, acting unexpectedly with an uncontrollable desire to kill.


    Behemoths:


    Massive creatures deeply tied to the regions they inhabit. Some are seen wielding artifacts, making them unique due to their ability to wield memories like humans. This class tends to start smaller in the earlier ranks but increases in size as they advance to higher ranks. This class is also mostly neutral and in rare cases has shown outward hostility unless for survival purposes.


    Devil:


    Creatures with sick desires similar to monsters but act in a more calculated manner, allowing them to fulfill their twisted desires. They possess abilities akin to Spell Carriers, which means they also have flaws. These flaws can be acquired upon defeat and often represent accessories that come with both benefits and downsides.


    Terror:


    Creatures that focus on manipulating the environment to control the battlefield to their advantage.


    Tyrant:


    The most intelligent class among the documented categories, they are commanders of nightmare armies, giving them the power to create and control legions.


    Titan:


    (additional details not provided)


    [This is not complete at all. This will be updated as the story goes.]

 Chapter 1: Excluded from Warmth

    Looking at the poster plastered on the cafeteria wall, a buck-toothed smiley face flashed its thumbs up, accompanied by the words:


    [Save the Children!]


    Zerin''s expression contorted at the sight.


    "Save the children, my ass!"


    He muttered under his breath while clenching his fists in frustration.


    ''What genius thought this was okay to put up here?!''


    Pushing his empty tray aside, Zerin stood up and peeled at the clear tape securing the poster. A sharp whistle was blown, but ignoring it, Zerin continued to pick at the poster, only halting when the staff''s voice interrupted him.


    "Hey, leave the poster alone, kid!"


    The staff barked.


    Zerin reluctantly complied with a heavy sigh.


    He stood and walked away. After throwing his tray away, Zerin headed for the exit. But before he could leave, the staff member''s hand landed on his shoulder.


    "Hey kid...Your eyes...Do you feel fatigued?"


    Zerin laughed nervously.


    "Yes, I do. I can''t sleep a wink. It''s too damn cold in the Senior Division," Zerin said calmly to the staff member.


    "How long has this been going on for?"


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    "The heating?"


    Zerin furrowed his brow slightly in confusion.


    "No, the damn fatigue! How long have you been fatigued!?"


    The staff member said with a hint of desperation.


    "Only a day... Like I said, I didn''t get a wink of sleep last night because the heating doesn''t work."


    Zerin reinstated, his voice getting louder as he had to repeat himself.


    The staff member sighed in annoyance, shaking his head.


    "Hey sir, can you sort this out for me? I know we haven''t always gotten along, but I''ve been waiting for several days, and the senior division still doesn''t have its heating fixed."


    The staff member let go of Zerin''s shoulder and lifted his head to look at the other kids in the cafeteria.


    Zerin laughed internally, walking away from the staff member.


    ''This bastard still hates me! He has to get over it eventually, no?''


    As Zerin left the cafeteria, he approached the junior division. Divisions were based on the age range of the children, with two divisions: the Junior division spanning from infants to middle schoolers, and the senior division consisting solely of high schoolers.


    The orphanage had a layout that helped visitors find the kids they wanted to adopt. For example, the senior division was at the far end of the hallway, while the junior division was in the front, as most people preferred adopting younger children.


    Zerin walked down the orphanage hallways, entering the Senior division. The bitter cold seeped in from the walls as he approached his room.


    It was laughable to him how they managed to fix the junior division''s heating problems but didn''t care to fix the senior divisions. Eventually making it to his room, he had very few possessions, which he was fine with.


    Stepping into his room, Zerin laid on his bed, worn down due to years of use. To make matters worse, the repairs Zerin made to it weren''t much better; placing cinder blocks under a single box spring he used as a mattress really did nothing to improve its quality.


    Being picked by families was the only hope an orphan could have. Though it had been several years since Zerin had arrived at the orphanage, he''d been there for so long that the only thing he had known was the orphanage.


    He had friends of his own at the start, but eventually everyone from his age range got adopted and he never saw them again, leaving him the only one in the Senior Division. Therefore, it was extremely unlikely that Zerin would be picked now.


    ''Who wants to adopt a sixteen-year-old?''


    Zerin sighed as he looked up at the ceiling of his room.


    ''At least I get warm food every day and It''s real food unlike the synthetic food that most people from the outskirts get, so in that regard, I''m thankful.''


    Yawning even more, Zerin pulled his old blanket that he had used since he was a young kid, its edges tattered, and curled up into a ball on the box spring, allowing the blanket to cover his lengthy body, and slowly faded into sleep.


    And in the darkness, a strange voice rang:


    [Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial...]


    Upon hearing the strange voice, he opened his eyes. Was he outside? No... he was in hell...

 Chapter 2: Venture into Hell

    Opening his eyes, he was greeted by a sky painted in red hues and massive clouds deep red in color cast a shadow over him, igniting a primitive panic within him.


    Sitting up abruptly, he found himself amidst a forest where trees stood bare of leaves, instead laced with spikes protruding up to the sky.


    A circular clearing he stood upon, etched with ancient runes that glowed crimson, evoking an ominous aura amongst the already unpleasant scene.


    He ran his fingers over the runes, creating a tactile impression as his fingers traced upon its contours.


    A sharp whistle pierced the air, causing his head to flick about in search of the sound''s origin.


    Failing to locate the source, his gaze was then drawn to the massive moon. It was the biggest he''d ever seen, and its color was that of blood.


    A droplet splattered across his face, shattering the trance he was in, forcing a reflexive blink as he instinctively wiped it away, only to find his hand smeared with crimson. Panic crept back in; he used his other hand to wipe the blood, only smearing it further and further.


    Ignoring the second whistle, he wrestled with the surreal scene unfolding around him.


    Rain was falling from the sky, not of water, but of blood, filling the air with the metallic tang of iron.


    ''What''s going on? Is this hell?''


    Once more, that damned whistle pierced the air, guiding his attention. With intense fear engraved on his face, he turned left, emerging from the forest, a sight so chilling it gripped his soul.


    It wasn''t merely a person; no, this entity was a mistake, defying all human understanding. Its face resembled that of a man, with cascading long black, blood-soaked hair that touched the ground as it lifted its head slightly. Circular lidless eyes fixated on him, its body a grotesque fusion of a serpent donning human flesh.


    He could have probably discerned the details of its body, which seemed as long as a bus, if he could shift his gaze away from the abomination''s eyes.


    Zerin''s body remained immobilized, his muscles refusing to respond to his desire to flee.


    He stood transfixed in the midst of the clearing, his eyes locked with the creature that stood before him. Its gaze penetrated his very being, with such intensity that it caused him to tremble.


    It was as if the creature, with eyes as sharp as a predator''s, was studying him, sizing him up like prey.


    A primal instinct urged Zerin to scream, to release the fear and panic that was overflowing within him.


    But when he opened his mouth, no sound escaped his lips. His voice was stolen, swallowed by an unseen force.


    The creature then responded in a way that Zerin wished he could undo his actions. The creature''s mouth unhinged, snapping and cracking, a grotesque display of its elongated jaws dropping, emitting a piercing sound akin to the static of a television.


    The deafening noise assaulted Zerin''s senses, reverberating through his body.


    It was as if the very fabric of reality was disintegrating around him. He felt an indescribable pressure, as if an invisible entity was tearing apart the delicate strings of his fragile consciousness. The world around him blurred and then faded, as if someone was pulling the curtains.


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    -


    -


    -


    Feeling the pressure lifting, he awoke in darkness.


    This would have been shocking enough, but what startled him even more was the sight of a familiar set of runes, red in hue, emerging as he regained his senses.


    Blinking repeatedly, he initially dismissed it as a trick of his eyes. However, as he focused, the truth became clear - the runes were indeed there, and they became discernible.


    Name: Zerin


    True Name:


    Rank: Aspirant


    Soul Core: Dormant


    Memories:


    Echoes:


    Aspect: [Born Of The Blood]


    Attributes: [...]


    ''Born of the blood? What the hell does that even mean?''


    Zerin furrowed his brow slightly, lifting his hand to his head as the Aspect description unraveled in the runes.


    Aspect description: [Those Born From That Blood Are Particularly Favored.]


    As the torches lining the walls of the structure where he resides ignited, Zerin''s eyes squinted in pain from the sudden change in brightness, causing the runes to dissipate.


    Glancing around and taking in his surroundings, he realized he was naked and not alone; he was lined up shoulder to shoulder with others who were also unclothed, both men and women, their faces filled with worry, their wills seemingly stolen.


    Several moments of eerie silence were interrupted as the double doors of the dungeon swung open, admitting an entity into the room.


    The atmosphere shifted as Zerin''s eyes fell upon the hideous creature, triggering waves of nostalgia as memories flooded back to him, prior to his confinement in this horrid room that had the likeness of a dungeon. He remembered it all in a blink - the blood rain, the beast, and the crimson sky flashed through his mind.


    However, this entity was unlike the beast he encountered before.


    Levitating above the ground, its body exuded the stench of fresh blood, with curtains of flesh hanging from its form. The Entity''s face was a grotesque amalgamation of piles of flesh layered upon each other.


    As the door slammed shut, the Entity approached the first person in line; their hand lifted involuntarily as if controlled by a puppeteer.


    With a sharp claw protruding from its finger, the Entity sliced the person''s wrist, causing blood to drip. The individual grimaced in pain as the creature dabbed its finger on the wound, collecting a droplet of blood before navigating its finger through the hole that seemingly was its mouth.


    This macabre ritual continued down the line, each person enduring the same gruesome fate until a brave girl''s turn, if brave was even the proper word to say - more like stupid. Despite the force trying to manipulate her hand, she resisted it fiercely, surprising Zerin with her defiance.


    However, his amazement turned into horror as the creature swiftly severed her arm, eliciting ear-shattering guttural screams until her voice grew hoarse, followed by sudden silence as she collapsed on the floor.


    The Entity then lifted her severed arm, its grotesque face expanding wide with a groan, allowing the arm to seep into the Entity''s maw, devouring it whole.


    After that, no one dared to resist the Entity; they allowed the Entity, draped in flesh, to slice into their wrists and taste their blood.


    Moving down the line, it was finally Zerin''s turn. The Entity glanced at Zerin, and immediately Zerin''s hand shot towards the amalgamation against his will. the Entity dragged its claw across his wrist as it did to the others, causing searing pain that made him feel his heartbeat in his wrists.


    The entity then dabbed Zerin''s wrist with its long bony finger, tasting his blood before pulling back with a gurgling sigh, a disgusting smile arising on its face, sending chills down Zerin''s spine.


    ¡®What the hell is this monster smiling about?!¡¯


    To his surprise, the Entity placed its hand, covered wrapped in layers of flesh upon Zerin''s wrist, instantly coagulating the blood, stopping it from further spilling on the floor - a gesture it did not show to the rest.


    The entity then whistled, a sound that reminded him of the beast he saw in the blood-soaked forest.


    Out from within amalgamation of flesh slithered out the serpentine fleshy creature, or at least one of its kind, as this one was much smaller than the massive serpent he saw before. It rested near the Entity like a dog, as the monster stroked the creature''s head, the creature whistling at the Entity.


    Then, the Entity whistled at the fleshy creature and pointed at Zerin''s feet, prompting the flesh creature to slither towards him slowly, causing him to jump slightly in panic.


    "Fear not dear child¡­ It will not harm you..."


    The Entity communicated directly with Zerin''s mind. The message appeared to be meant solely for him, as he turned, and no one seemed surprised by the interaction.


    Meanwhile, the fleshy creature greedily lapped at his blood, panting like a dog as it mopped the floor with its face, then slithered on to the other pools of blood left by the rest.


    The Entity then reached out its claws, tearing into the living flesh that draped its body, causing the voices within to groan in agony.


    From this display, the Entity extracted a staff made of bone, with a swirling red mass at its tip, that Zerin could only guess that it was blood.


    "Take,"


    The Entity said this time in an audible gurgling voice, as its voice struggled to pass through the layers of flesh, before sending forth the staff to Zerin.


    Upon taking the staff, it felt cold to the touch, and the staff seemed to vibrate slightly.


    [You have received a Memory...]


    Zerin was able to move.

 Chapter 3: Obedience to the Flesh

    Upon taking his first step, the voice echoed once more,


    [Your attributes have been altered.]


    A flurry of runes danced at the edge of his vision, translating into text that he could understand.


    Attributes:


    [Guided Will]


    Attribute Description: "Your Will Is Now Guided By The Priest Of Flesh Himself. Fear Not..."


    His brows furrowed in confusion.


    ''Guided by this fleshly abomination? No way.''


    His gaze shifted, scanning the array of runes that overwhelmed him.


    [Acolyte]


    Attribute Description: "Bestowed With The Staff, You Are Chosen To Aid In The Ritual."


    His grip tightened on the staff, his frustration rising.


    ''Why should I be forced to assist this monster?!''


    Zerin in anger tossed the staff on the ground, it scattered across the ground near the levitating Entity.


    The amalgamation loomed before him, its ominous presence unwavering. Zerin''s gaze darted to the ground, anticipating a harsh response, as he balled his fists, but instead, the Entity raised the staff.


    In a guttural voice, the Priest spoke, emitting a belch-like sound through the layers of flesh,


    "Take..."


    Zerin accepted the staff from the air, wariness etched in his features.


    "Attire..."


    The Priest struggled to speak past the bulbous flesh, extending a hand towards the double doors. There, the grotesque, slug-like creature writhed on the ground, its tiny legs struggling to support its bloated form, from gorging on the pools of blood before.


    He gave in to the unexplained compulsion to follow the slug and he advanced, unsure if his attribute [Guided Will] was influencing him or if it was his desire to shield his nude body. Nevertheless, he pressed on.


    Passing through the towering double doors, he trailed the serpent, stealing glances at the portraits adorning the walls ¡ª a family seemingly frozen in time.


    However, his attention wavered, drawn to the creature''s chubby body slapping against the floor like a beached seal, its belly echoing with sloshing blood. The creature halted before a door and turned its gaze, fixing it on him.


    Zerin''s face ticked with disgust and annoyance,


    ''What the hell are you looking at, you ugly bastard?''


    Zerin made himself thin and squeezed past the fat serpent,


    ''How could something so small be so damn tubby?''


    With a sigh of relief, he finally cleared the space, and entered a spacious bedroom, securing the door behind him.


    The bedroom''s ambiance left him awestruck; extravagant furnishings and antiquities adorned the space, with the tone set by a serene fireplace and a balcony overlooking the lifeless kingdom.


    He pondered aloud, in amazement.


    "Where the hell am I?"


    Finding the closet, he scoured it, discovering regal attire¡ªa tunic and pants that surpassed even his standards for clothing.


    Donning the garments, he adjusted the belt when an abrupt knock reverberated through the room. Hastening his pace to fasten his belt, as he finished, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open.


    The Priest appeared, its massive body barely squeezing through the door, its stench dominating the room. The sheer possibility of such an entity existing lent an unexpected allure to its figure, which was paradoxical given its crude appearance.


    Zerin could feel a tangible connection with the entity, as if it were something he could touch. It was the same mental link he had felt before, where he could hear the Priest''s inner voice in his head.


    "My apologies for earlier..."


    The Entity''s unexpected display of remorse surprised him. He pondered whether it was genuine before replying,


    "I wasn''t the one who suffered the injury. There''s no need for you to apologize to me."


    A hush fell over the room as the Entity''s face shifted slightly, as its body swayed in the air, resembling a buoy swaying in calm waters.


    Zerin couldn''t shake the unsettling feeling creeping up his spine.


    "I suppose you are correct..."


    The Entity seemed to concede, its voice resonating with a deep tone akin to a mature man.


    Zerin struggled to grapple with this bizarre situation unfolding before him,


    ''What twisted game was this? And where the hell am I?''


    Layering on top of this already confusing situation, the Entity began to speak again,


    "The staff... it''s crucial for our ritual",


    The Entity said solemnly.


    Zerin''s voice quivered with uncertainty,


    "Our ritual?"


    The last thing Zerin wanted was to be some sort of sacrifice for a flesh monster.


    "What is this ritual exactly?"


    He spoke nervously, feeling tension building up.


    The Entity paused before speaking again.


    "Contact with the Goddess..."


    He pondered the words that came out of the Entity''s mouth,


    ''Contact? Goddess?''


    "Okay...you are trying to contact your goddess...but where do I fit into all this?"


    The Entity floated to the balcony, with its arm secured behind its back as it looked up at the blood moon, it extended its hands to catch the blood rain that rained down on its patchwork of flesh on its body.


    "Your blood... it''s destined to intertwine with the threads... that much I can perceive..."


    The Entity turned back to Zerin, peering down at him from the balcony.


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    Zerin felt a chill up his spine, is that what the sampling was about? Was he really a sacrifice?


    "How much do you need?"


    He responded, balling his fists in anticipation,


    The Entity glided towards Zerin,


    "I do not need your blood...the staff requires it...to weave the threads..."


    Reaching forth he grabbed the staff, his fingers closing around the ancient femur of this unknown entity that was used to forge this staff. At its focal point, a small light of energy swirled and began to vibrate slightly, stirring a sense of foreboding within him.


    He looked down at the Staff with curiosity as runes began to show themselves.


    "How am I supposed to weave the threads?"


    The Entity responded,


    "I don''t remember...my apologies..."


    The Entity momentarily froze, its body sinking slightly, almost touching the ground. Zerin, disregarding the runes, briefly examined the Entity as a few moments of silence enveloped the room. Just as the Entity was about to make contact with the ground, it rose back to its original elevation.


    The Entity seemed to sigh; its voice heavy as it tried to articulate itself.


    "Talking exhausts me... he ensured it would be so."


    With a graceful motion, the Entity floated out of the room, and so did that sinister, slithery slug of a bastard, as it leaped onto the Entity, slithering into its flesh, leaving Zerin alone in the oppressive silence as the door creaked shut.


    Overwhelmed by the events that have just played out, Zerin sank into the luxurious bed, his mind reeling with unanswered questions.


    "He?"


    Zerin murmured softly, his gaze fixed on the staff he held out above his head as he laid on the bed.


    The obsidian-hued femur bone gave off a sinister aura, its cracked surface and elongated shape defying what he would reason as conventional human anatomy. But what is conventional at this point? To this entity, this world raining blood seems to be normal.


    ''Is this my new normal?''


    Zerin had to stop himself before he continued because at this rate he was going to go crazy, then diverted his attention to the staff again, starting at its handle, wrapped in dark fabric, provided an eerie contrast to the crimson runes etched along its length, leading to the serrated and sharpened focal point where a swirling mass of crimson and ebony energies danced in an unsettling union upon him wielding the staff.


    As he analyzed the staff, the runes seemed to reach out, imprinting themselves onto his very retinas,


    Memory: [Crimson Needle]


    Memory Rank: Tier Four Transcendent


    Memory Description: [...]


    Memory Enchantments: [...]


    "Tier Four Transcendent?"


    Zerin had no clue what he was looking at; it sounded cool and flashy, but he didn''t really understand what any of this meant, so he continued to read further.


    [Memory Description]: "A heirloom passed down from generation to generation, passed down from the goddess herself."


    Memory Enchantments: [...]


    Throughout his life, Zerin had heard of the gods, The War god, The Storm god, and the ever-so-prevalent Sun god. However, the concept of goddesses, though intriguing, remained unexplored territory in his knowledge.


    ''Who is this goddess?''


    Zerin dove back into the runes, hoping that they would answer his question further.


    Memory Enchantments:


    [Faulty] - "The needle''s purpose was to weave the very threads of blood itself, but now it seems to have deviated from its original purpose."


    [Conversion] - "Obtaining the incorporeal requires sacrificing those of that blood..."


    "Faulty? If its new purpose isn''t to weave the threads, then what the hell is the point of it?"


    "And this bullshit blood-sacrificing enchantment..."


    Zerin sighed and dismissed the runes; the crackling of the fire seemed to bring his mind to ease as he pieced together what seemed to make sense to him.


    "If gods are involved, could this be a divine conflict?"


    Reflecting on the fragments of information Zerin had gathered, he tried to piece it all together, but to no avail.


    ''Who was this "He" mentioned by the Entity? And was it this goddess who personally bestowed upon him this staff?''


    Zerin arose from the mattress, his head hurting with all this thinking. Pushing himself off the mattress, he rose to his feet, holding the staff in the other.


    Raising the staff in a determined fashion, gripping it in his hand, he fixated on the focal point of the staff, upon picking it up he would see a crimson essence begin to swirl, albeit very faintly. Feeling its pull, he obliged, fixing his concentration, as the swirling mass grew, it conquered the fireplace''s light, filling the room in a bright red hue.


    His face filled with amazement, but his splendor was short-lived as an instant wave of overwhelming fatigue washed over him, his body betraying him as he crumpled to the floor.


    Awakening to the crackling of the fireplace in the background, Zerin stirred beneath the warmth of the covers, shifting to his side as he cast a glance towards the door.


    ''When did I fall asleep?''


    Zerin felt his entire body, how weak it felt, along with the shortness of breath he was experiencing, regaining his breath, he sat up in the bed.


    Startled by a sudden knock, he swiftly sat up, the creak of the opening door drawing his attention.


    The Entity glided into the room with an air of authority, each movement deliberate and commanding. Unlike its previous monstrous guise, its flesh now hugged its form tightly, as if it had undergone a dramatic transformation overnight, shedding the weight of at least 100 pounds.


    "Look who got a makeover¡­"


    Zerin remarked casually, remaining seated on the bed as he turned his head to face the Entity.


    As it began to speak, the room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.


    "I was informed of your awakening...I was..."


    The Entity''s voice trailed off, a sense of uncertainty clouding its words.


    Meeting its gaze, Zerin questioned,


    "Informed? Are you observing me?"


    It hesitated before responding,


    "Only recently, following your sudden collapse",


    With a mysterious gesture, the Entity directed Zerin''s attention behind him, introducing a sense of intrigue and apprehension into the atmosphere.


    Zerin turns, and behind him, on the other side of the bed, sat a massive fleshy creature about the size of a horse, sitting right next to the bed he was laid in, its appearance that of a lizard, with four legs but no tail, its hair, resting down past its chin, black in color, its eyes lidless, a reminder of his previous encounter in the woods.


    He instinctively recoiled, his voice laced with terror,


    "That thing was there the whole time?!"


    Zerin took a step back, alarmed with a sense of anger, pointing at the creature.


    "You can''t just toss one of these things into this room when I am sleeping!"


    The Entity spoke, its tone could easily be mistaken with remorse,


    "I needed to ensure your stability..."


    A brief pause filled the air, before it spoke once again,


    "You suffered from blood loss... My apologies... It was due to my lack of care during the sampling..."


    The Entity''s admission echoed in his mind.


    Reflecting on his outburst towards the Entity, a sense of guilt tugging at his conscience.


    "It''s fine, what happened to the others?"


    Zerin questioned, his tone softer, laced with concern.


    In a composed manner, The Entity reassured him,


    "They are resting peacefully. I have tended to their injuries, including the woman''s arm, and ensured their comfort."


    Zerin looked at the Entity with disbelief,


    "You tore her arm off and swallowed it whole..."


    The Entity speaks once again,


    "I assure you she is whole...you can visit her yourself soon enough..."


    ''It sounds ridiculous, but who''s to say this isn''t true? I mean, look at the situation I''m in right now.''


    A faint smile graced Zerin''s lips, a shift in his perception of the Entity unfolding before him.


    The Entity nods as it levitates a plate of fruits towards him, a sense of hunger and weariness stirred within Zerin.


    he asked, his curiosity piqued.


    "What is it?"


    The Entity responded cryptically,


    "Sustenance..."


    Sensing his hesitation, the Entity clarified,


    "Fruit."


    Zerin extended his hand, hesitantly grasping a tennis ball-sized fruit from the plate. The fruit was perfectly round, crimson in hue, with a black stem, and exuded a sweet aroma as he brought it closer.


    Taking a bite, the fruit burst with juicy sweetness.


    A fleeting chuckle escaped the Entity at the sight, followed by a contemplative silence.


    In a moment of curiosity and uncertainty, he gazed at the creature before him, pondering its seemingly unnatural behavior. Was that a laugh he heard?


    "Practice again",


    The Entity instructed, directing his attention to the fleshy lizard creature beside him, its gaze sending a shiver down his spine.


    "He will ensure your safety, I am tethered to him, so rest assured",


    The Entity reassured him as it floated out of the room, leaving Zerin alone with the unsettling creature.


    With a sense of unease creeping over him, he retrieved the staff, attempting to focus despite the creature''s unsettling stare boring into the back of his head.


    Upon raising the staff, the inscribed runes sparked to life, shifting hues from obsidian to crimson as the energy at its pinnacle began to swirl. Zerin honed his attention on the chaotic swirling power, sensing it gradually deplete his life force. Struggling to sustain his concentration, he faltered, unable to rekindle the formidable mass he had managed to create the first time.


    Feeling heavily drained, he took another fruit, shoving the whole fruit into his mouth, consuming it.


    Upon consuming it, he felt his strength come back to him, and he tried again.


    Directing the staff outward, Zerin locked his gaze on the focal point, unwavering in his concentration. Gradually, the mass of energy swelled to unprecedented proportions, pulsating with a red intensity. Yet, the overwhelming power caused violent uncontrollable vibrations, destabilizing his control.


    The energy scatters in web-like threads, resembling delicate strands of red velvet, before fragmenting upon contact with the bedroom floor.


    ''That''s it! The threads!''


    ''It was a failure, but I saw it!''


    Zerin smiled and turned his back towards the creature and the balcony.


    the creature''s eyes fixated unwaveringly on him, its form coiled into a tight ball on the cold, stone floor. The subtle rise and fall of its chest hinted at a sense of alertness beneath its seemingly relaxed posture.


    With confidence, Zerin grasped the final fruit, devouring it with haste to invigorate his weary spirit.


    Driven by determination, he funneled his energy through the staff, the chaotic energy swirling and amassing, to a great size again. This time, his focus zeroed in on the pivotal point from which the threads would unravel.


    To his astonishment, a deep hum resonated from the staff. An intense pressure swelled, a sensation unfamiliar yet exhilarating, a smile rose on his face.


    Amidst his happiness, an unexpected outcome unfolds; energy surged forth like a radiant beam of vermillion. The deafening sound echoed through the air as the energy whistled past. Its force alone was sufficient to propel him from the confines of the master bedroom, hurtling towards the balcony at increasing speeds.


    Just as Zerin was propelled towards the balcony, the fleshy lizard creature leaped into action, intercepting his trajectory swiftly, causing him to collide harshly with the beast.


    Slowly rising to his feet, he leaned on the creature''s imposing form for support, leveraging its massive frame to regain his full height. His body felt as though he''d been hit by a truck, but anything was better than being flung out of the window.


    "What in the hell was that?!"


    Zerin exclaimed, his gaze darting towards the spot where the potent beam had been positioned, he walked closer to see if it caused any damage to the solid walls. To his astonishment, not a single mark even scratched the stone wall.


    Breathing a sigh of relief, his body weary and drained, he conceded, as he sat on the bed


    "What do you think? enough excitement for today?"


    However, the joke didn''t seem to affect the creature as it remained stoically silent, its inscrutable gaze fixed. The uncomfortable gaze and its almost uncanny human-like appearance caused Zerin to avert his gaze from the creature.


    Acknowledging the toll of his efforts and recognizing the need for rest as blood loss and exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, he declared wearily,


    "I need rest..."


    Weariness evident in his voice, he collapsed on the bed.


    In response, the creature curled back into a protective ball, as if silently gesturing an understanding as Zerin succumbed to the comforting embrace of slumber.

 Chapter 4: Lasting Impressions

    As Zerin finally succumbed to sleep, a faint whisper pierced the stillness.


    A horror of screams¡ªthose of hundreds, no, maybe even thousands of people¡ªrang in his moment of slumber.


    [You have acquired a new Attribute]


    Startled, Zerin jetted awake. Sitting up, he strained his ears to check for any unusual sounds but was greeted by the sound of the calm fireplace crackling in the background.


    Shaking his head, he murmured to himself,


    "I could have sworn I just laid my head down,"


    But no matter how hard he tried, sleep remained out of reach.


    Running a hand through his brown hair, Zerin''s attention was abruptly diverted by a soft exhalation behind him.


    Whirling around, he was met with the sight of the ugly, slug-like bastard nestled on the bed beside him, curled up into a grotesque ball.


    Recoiling, he yanked the covers, trying to shake the beast.


    "Hey! Get out of here, you chubby freak!"


    The beast shifted slightly in its sleep.


    Springing off the bed in fear of the creature''s potential reaction, he stumbled to the floor with a thud. Arising to his feet, his knuckles were painted white.


    "You little..."


    Zerin grabbed a pillow and struck the creature with it, but the little demon remained undisturbed.


    Contemplating hurling a book at the slug, he hesitated.


    "Tempting... but I''d rather not end up as food!"


    Placing the book down on the lavish dresser, he observed the intricate cover, which depicted a serious middle-aged man in noble attire.


    Opening the book, he found that the initial page mirrored the cover, adorned with mystical runes. Running his fingers over the runes, he could translate only one word:


    "King."


    He fluttered through the entire book. To his disappointment, all the other pages were blank; not a single line was drawn on them.


    "What''s the purpose of this entire book if it contains only one written page?"


    Zerin hurled the book at the slug on the bed, missing by a long shot as the book lands beside the creature on the bed.


    ''Lucky bastard...''


    It took every fiber of Zerin''s being to prevent himself from tossing anything else at the creature, but he managed to battle against the impulsive urge.


    ''Bastard thinks he can sleep in my room!?''


    Zerin caught his thoughts,


    "My room? Am I truly losing my grasp of reality? This is my worst Nightmare!"


    Turning his gaze away from the creature, Zerin cautiously approached the door, each movement calculated to avoid disturbing the slumbering intruder.


    With a cautious hand, he pushed the door open, wincing at the protesting creak that pierced the quiet room.


    Under his breath, he muttered,


    "Isn''t that lovely..."


    He poked his head back into the room, glancing at the slug creature, oblivious to the world around it.


    Zerin shook his head in disgust, quietly exiting the room and venturing down the dimly lit hallway.


    His gaze fell upon a portrait of a family frozen in time. The dusty picture seemed out of place as Zerin inspected it further.


    In this ancient, dusty castle adorned with portraits, this peculiar photograph stood out, a stark contrast that left him wondering about the actual origins of the castle.


    With an ever-increasing surge of curiosity, Zerin removed the photograph from the wall, stealing glances down the empty hallways before returning to his quarters.


    Dusting off the family photograph, he was able to make out distinct features upon the portrait. The ominous figures transformed into that of a happy family of four.


    Further examining the family in the photograph, he noticed more details. The crest they had on their clothing was that of a crescent moon.


    Zerin searched his own clothing but didn''t see any such emblems on himself.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    He felt a sort of familiarity with the man in the photograph, though he couldn''t quite place it. As he looked around, his gaze fell on the book near the creature on the bed.


    Inching closer, he navigated carefully to the bed and grabbed the book before retreating for his own safety.


    This is the same man in the book. However, in this book, his attire didn''t have the emblem of the moon on it, and he seemed much happier compared to the book''s crude depiction.


    This moment of revelation was abruptly shaken by the intrusive snoring of the slug, now sprawled out on his bed.


    "You''ve got to be kidding me,"


    Zerin muttered, turning away from the sight before him.


    The resounding clash of what sounded like pots and pans clattering against the stone floor of the castle pierced the silence, diverting his attention from the slumbering bastard.


    Entering the cool and quiet confines of the stony hallway, Zerin approached the same set of double doors. He hesitated before pushing them open. The aged hinges wrenched in protest, eliciting a frustrated mutter from Zerin.


    "Damn it!"


    Throwing caution to the wind, he pushed the door open further until it was fully revealed...


    Before him, scattered pieces of black knight armor lay strewn across the floor, leading to the door. Below him, the very same girl, her hair dirty blonde, once mutilated, now stood whole, just as the priest had foretold. She quickly scattered the dark armor about the floor, swiftly moving it aside before fleeing from him.


    Pushing the door further, Zerin paid her no mind. His vision met the back of the Entity, seemingly distracted with something, its appearance reminiscent of their initial encounter.


    A nervous chuckle escaped Zerin''s lips as he offered a soft apology,


    "Sorry..."


    Just as he attempted to close the door, an unseen force halted its movement before swinging it open once more.


    "Come...forth..."


    A commanding yet seemingly compromising voice emanated from the fleshy priest as its voice echoed in the massive expansive room.


    Stepping into the expansive room where he was captured, its atmosphere was much more accommodating due to what could be seen as a group of people gathered conversing.


    A look of curiosity played on Zerin''s face,


    "Well, it turns out you weren''t lying after all..."


    The Entity turned towards Zerin, its body floating in the air, maintaining its intensity.


    Accompanying its speech was an undertone reminiscent of a man, creating an eerie atmosphere.


    "Results..."


    Struggling to conceal his unease as he understood the Entity was voicing concerns over his practice with weaving the threads, Zerin''s expression faltered slightly.


    "It''s only been a single day..."


    An exhale exuded from the flesh of the creature, leaving several moments of chilling anticipation.


    "Understood... Follow..."


    Emerging from behind the Entity, the much larger creature, the fleshy lizard, rose from its previous coiled position, exuding an air of composure and focus that starkly contrasted the chaotic behaviors of both the intense serpent and the clumsy devil that now resided on his bed. Just remembering that pudgy slug was enough to cause irritation.


    ''That little...''


    Setting his anger aside, he followed the lizard that led the way. Zerin found himself captivated by the journey through the castle. They traversed the expansive room, passing by rows of intricate black knight armor lining their path, descending down the winding staircase carved from stone. As they approached the vast Great Hall, its towering ceiling reaching a couple of hundred feet high, as Zerin could only guess, it seemed as if it had been forged by giants.


    Emerging through a grand archway, Zerin felt the chilled air sweep past him, carrying a faint metallic scent. Despite its hint of iron, it offered a refreshing breeze.


    Perched on a cliff, the castle overlooked a landscape embraced by mountains, with a single black bridge stained with blood stretching out from the fortress. The rain of blood that had coated the black surface added a touch of detail to the otherwise monotone expansive surroundings.


    Following the creature alongside the black walls of the kingdom, cascading red vines adorned the structure, while black shrubs lined the base of the wall, creating a stark contrast of colors that began to wear on Zerin as he surveyed the monotonous sight.


    Their path diverted as the lizard guided him down the side of the castle, passing by massive white pillars supporting platforms above. The pillars extended into a catwalk leading out into the moonlit sky, overlooking a sea of crimson below. The sea of blood originated from a distant waterfall of blood cascading down from the mountains, pooling into a vast expanse of blood-soaked land.


    The surreal scene stretched out before Zerin, a stark reminder of the ominous and otherworldly nature of the castle and its surroundings.


    The lizard continued its leisurely stroll down the catwalk, a sweet fragrance wafting through the air as Zerin followed.


    Approaching the end of the catwalk, Zerin''s gaze fell upon a towering presence¡ªthe colossal tree. Though in no way was it competing for dominance with the imposing castle, the tree commanded attention with its appearance alone. Its bark, a pristine white akin to the surrounding pillars, reached skyward, adorned with black and white leaves speckled with hints of red where the fruits nestled high above.


    Adjacent to the tree stood a lone pillar, severely marred as if weathered by a storm, its upper half missing. On the opposite side, remnants of a secondary pillar that was placed parallel with the other pillar.


    The fleshy lizard sniffed the ground, gradually making its way to the tree''s base. With a graceful motion, it hoisted its upper body onto the white bark, fixating its gaze on the high-hanging fruits above.


    Zerin stepped forth alongside the lizard.


    "How are we supposed to get up there?"


    Zerin observed the lizard''s apparent resignation as it descended from the tree, venturing towards the white railings of the clearing. A sharp whistle pierced the air, emanating from the lizard''s mouth and echoing over the tranquil waters several hundred feet below.


    Gazing down at the serene yet ominous lake, Zerin grappled with a wave of vertigo, the depths hundreds of feet beneath him triggering his fear of heights.


    The lizard''s attention returned to the tree, its stance shifting as it fixed its gaze once more.


    Taking a deep breath, Zerin addressed the creature, his nerves steadying.


    "Uh... Hello? Aren''t you supposed to help me get the fru-"


    A figure emerged slowly and silently, shrouded in the crimson moonlight, its colossal form casting a profound shadow over Zerin, enveloping him in a familiar haze of terror.


    Turning slowly, Zerin''s apprehension heightened as he craned his neck, locking eyes with the towering Leviathan, a dreaded presence from his earlier encounter, its menacing silhouette looming over him once more.


    Zerin hastily retreated alongside the lizard, his eyes fixated on the creature coiling its massive form around the towering, marred pillar, the structure groaning under its weight. His heart pounded in his chest, a primal fear taking hold.


    The Leviathan''s long hair danced in the wind, crimson droplets shimmering as they fell from its body. Its unblinking eyes bore into Zerin''s soul, its imposing length rivaling even the colossal tree as it focused its attention on him.


    Another whistle from the lizard pierced the air, yet the beast remained focused, its predatory gaze locked on Zerin as it lowered its head slightly to examine him more closely.


    A subsequent whistle from The Lizard diverted The Serpent''s attention toward The Tree.


    Zerin watched in awe as the serpentine behemoth lifted its tail, deftly encircling the tree''s highest branches where the fruits awaited. With an eerie grace, it bowed the branches under its weight, bringing the fruits close to the ground.


    The lizard nudged Zerin forward, prompting him to cautiously approach the towering Leviathan, trying to reassure himself,


    "It''s just a large snake..."


    Forcing a nervous smile, Zerin inched closer to the colossal creature, its neck snapping towards his movements.


    ''I am so fucking dead!''


    Extending his hand, Zerin hastily plucked as many fruits as he could, stashing them into his pockets while his legs trembled, the Leviathan''s unwavering gaze fixed on him.


    As Zerin filled his pockets, a sense of urgency gripped him, prompting a quick retreat that triggered an instinctive response from the creature. The Leviathan swiftly unraveled its tail from the tree, inching its head closer to Zerin on the platform.


    The tree branches recoiled, whistling through the air as they returned to their original positions.


    As the colossal creature, larger than two, no, three buses, crept closer to him, Zerin''s terror reached its peak. Trembling uncontrollably, his legs gave out, causing him to collapse to the floor, cowering as he held his head in his hands, fruit scattering and rolling against the ground.


    He glanced down to see the massive Levithan devouring one of the crimson fruits.


    Anticipating his impending demise, he closed his eyes, moments of silence stretching on, leaving Zerin teetering on the edge. Slowly, he raised his head, only to find the Leviathan mysteriously vanished.


    Struggling to regain his composure, Zerin rose unsteadily to his feet, the lingering fear threatening to overwhelm him. Leaning against the pristine white railing for support, he mustered the strength to stand upright, peering over the edge.


    Several hundred feet below, just beneath the crimson surface of the bloody waters, the Leviathan slithered gracefully before vanishing into the depths.

 Chapter 5: Reasoning of the Flesh

    Zerin''s heart thundered in his chest as he watched the Leviathan vanish into the crimson-stained waters below. His hand trembles against the railing, attempting to silence the deafening rush of blood in his ears.


    "I will not go through that again..."


    Zerin exhales heavily, his breath fleeting as he steps away from the railing eventually evening himself out.


    A cold gust of wind would blow through, and that metallic scented tang of iron would surely follow as it should in this god forsaken realm. His gaze fixed on the dark castle, it seemed undisturbed to the environment around it.


    Did he truly believe it would be a simple task, just plucking fruits from a tree?


    ¡°What a joke¡­¡±


    But today served as a reminder; brief moments of respite never quell the horrors that plague one''s mind. He was foolish to believe his torment would never return to attempt to seize him.


    [You have been granted a new attribute]


    As soon as the faint voice reached his ears, a droplet of crimson splashed onto his head. The cursed blood rain was returning. He sensed the ominous approach of the deep red clouds, yet he remained ensnared in his thoughts.


    He needed explanations, what the hell is actually going on? And how would he return?


    Taking determined steps forward, he pondered,


    ¡®Return?¡¯


    Where would he return? This forsaken land, seeped in blood, was all he knew. His beginning and his end seemed to be entwined with the very lands he dwelt in now.


    Glancing up to the sky, he noticed the deep red clouds began to hang overhead, casting a great shadow upon him. Not wishing to be drenched in its downpour, he hastened back into the safety of the castle.


    Remembering the faint voice before, he decided to delve into the runes. Delving into the runes, a couple attributes drew his attention specifically.


    ¡®When did I get this one?¡¯


    [Blood Ties]


    Attribute Description: [The blood of the fallen may hold untold tales to be told]


    ¡®Useless¡­¡¯


    As Zerin read it aloud, he couldn''t quite understand if this was literal or figurative, maybe both? He couldn''t care to ponder these things as of now, so he cast it aside, reading the next set of runes.


    [Been There, Done That]


    Attribute Description: [Having undergone the process of your mind being shattered and pieced back together, you now have greater resistance to memory-altering attacks.]


    ¡®Memory - Altering attacks? When have I?¡¯


    The more he dwelled on it, the more it seemed to undermine its own purpose. If he were to undergo a memory-altering attack, assuming he could recall when it happened would be foolish. Nonetheless, he persisted in his theorizing.


    Was it when he awoke in that circular clearing, surrounded by the dense, blood-soaked forest, the air thick with the metallic scent of iron? The more he contemplated, that seemed to be the last clear memory etched in his mind. It occurred when the rain poured down. It was then that he encountered that damned Serpent, its sinister voice echoing through the trees, shredding his mind with its voice tearing apart his consciousness.


    To confirm his suspicions, Zerin needed to replicate the experience, yet this time, the serpent remained ominously silent. Dismissing his runes with a sigh of frustration, he couldn''t shake the feeling of stagnation, as if he had made no progress in placing his origins. Why, of all moments, did he begin questioning his origins now? Just yesterday, he lived his life without a care, never considering the loss of his memory. Perhaps it was the [Been There, Done That] Attribute, that seemed to snap him out of his trance.


    Trying to dredge up memories he probably would never gain access to did more than just confuse him; his head was starting to hurt. Perhaps the best solution was to ask someone else, so that''s what he set off to do.


    Walking into the castle, he ascended the massive winding stone staircase, which brought him to the familiar hallway leading to those double doors that he seemed to know all too well. Pushing the double doors open, he stepped into the expansive room. Within, an ongoing conversation was taking place between the Entity and one of the elders of the human group.


    The Entity spoke, in his slimmer form, he definitely seemed to be able to articulate himself better.


    ¡°You are to leave tomorrow. I have already arranged places for all of you in the guest homes just south of the castle.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The old man¡¯s face seemed to contort as he placed a hand on his own heart.


    ¡°Thank you so much, Honored Priest. May the goddess bless you.¡±


    The Entity stood in a statuesque pose, suspended in the air, commanding the attention of those around it. With a solemn nod to the old man, it began to glide away before turning abruptly towards Zerin, coming to a sudden stop.


    ¡°You wouldn''t mind explaining why the hell there¡¯s a damn serpent lurking around?¡±


    Zerin said with a hint of anger in his voice as he fished a fruit out of his pocket.


    ¡°I thought I dealt with him...¡±


    Zerin swiftly cut the Entity off with a sharp look as his eyes widened in anger.


    "Well, you didn''t, your damn pet called him over!"


    ¡°He did what?¡±


    The Entity¡¯s rage was palpable as it turned its gaze towards the Lizard, looking down upon it.


    The Lizard seemed unfazed, its calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the Entity''s rage. Zerin, sensing the tension, intervened by creating a barrier between them, his hand outstretched in a protective gesture.


    ¡°It wasn''t as if it was for no reason; the serpent helped,"


    Zerin explained, his tone attempting to diffuse the rising tension.


    The Entity, still seething, redirected its gaze towards Zerin, noting the crimson fruit filling his pockets.


    ¡°Fascinating¡­¡± It muttered, a hint of curiosity lacing its words, despite the underlying anger.


    The Entity then drifted, its form appearing as if it were held up by strings, its flesh looking almost stitched together, with evident differentiation in shades. As it swayed, facing Zerin, it continued, ¡°He has been acting strange as of late, I apologize. I thought it was temporary, but it seems I have lost complete control of this one.¡±


    Zerin averted his gaze from the Lizard to the Entity, intrigued.


    ¡°It seems he has made up his mind.¡±


    ¡®Made up its mind?¡¯


    The Entity spoke again, interrupting Zerin''s brief train of thought.


    ¡°I believe it''s not a coincidence¡­ He was with me from the beginning, or at least as far back as I can remember, and now that you''ve arrived, he has changed...¡±


    ¡°Tell me what you know.¡±


    The Entity then assured in a more somber tone.


    ¡°We can discuss this further in a more private place, away from prying eyes, if you don''t mind¡­¡±


    With that, Zerin followed the Entity down the winding stone stairs to its lowest floor. The dampness of the stone hallways emitted humidity, and a dim torch illuminated the long, stony hallway where he followed the entity, arriving at metal doors with visible condensation.


    As Zerin entered the cellar, he centered himself. Barrels lined the walls, while empty shelves ascended above. Despite the generous spread of torchlight, long shadows still danced across the room. Zerin settled at a table, surprised to see the Entity taking a seat across from him.


    ¡°I am certain you have questions¡­ here would be the best place to ask.¡±


    ¡°Why did we have to come all the way down here?¡±


    Zerin inquired.


    ¡°The people of these lands are very... zealous about our goddess, even more than me. So, it wouldn''t be very smart to even speak her name around them, as they would not spare your na?ve words.¡±


    "Who is this goddess?"


    "The goddess of the cycle of birth and death."


    ''The cycle of life and death?''


    Zerin began to question the Entity further.


    ¡°Why do you look like this?¡±


    "It''s a curse from the Shadow god."


    ¡®The Shadow god? Well, if there''s a Sun god, it would only follow that there is a Shadow god,¡¯


    "Good explanation as any, I guess¡­"


    "Why don¡¯t I remember anything after being caught in the forest?"


    "I''m not too sure either, as I suffer from memory loss as well,"


    The Entity admitted its lack of memory.


    Zerin sighed, scratching the side of his head.


    "And how are you so certain about any of this?"


    "I have seen it myself, or at least fragments of it in my shattered mind."


    ''Memory - Alteration¡­''


    That¡¯s all he needed to hear, and it seemed to line up similarly with his attribute [Be There, Done That], if the priest of flesh could have its own very memory altered then who¡¯s to say that the people themselves couldn''t suffer the same?


    "Those born of that blood are particularly favored¡­ What does this mean?"


    The Entity arises from its chair.


    "Where did you hear that?!"


    Its tone seemed almost ambiguous, as if carrying a blend of surprise and anger.


    "In a vision!"


    The Entity halted, before resting back into the chair.


    "A vision? My suspicions were true¡­ That¡¯s why he didn''t attack¡­ That''s why you are able to wield the staff¡­"


    Zerin looked at the Entity after several moments of lingering silence, feeling the weight of its dark, hollow eyes piercing into his soul.


    ¡®What the hell is he even talking about?¡¯


    The Entity responded almost as if it were reading his mind.


    ¡°You are the rightful heir to the throne¡­¡±


    A smile of disbelief spread across Zerin¡¯s face.


    ¡°So, because I survived the serpent and can hold a staff, I''m suddenly the heir to a throne I know nothing about?¡±


    ¡°It''s not just about carrying the staff... Anyone can do that. But to wield it, you must be highly favored by the goddess. It''s in your blood,¡± the Entity explained.


    ¡°Sure... I might be favored by the goddess, but that doesn''t necessarily make me a rightful heir. Rightful heirs are typically determined by bloodlines, aren''t they?¡±


    ¡°You are my offspring¡­ As I am the only surviving relative of the royal bloodline.¡±


    Who would have thought that such a line of words could hit someone so hard? Zerin felt as if just from those words alone, he was being submerged underwater, forced to withstand its currents.


    ¡°Ridiculous¡­¡±


    Was Zerin truly the offspring of this flesh monster? Just from the sound of that sentence alone, it rang with a lie; it was definitely something he should have remembered. After all, he was capable of remembering his own name, so why would anything else of similar significance be any different?


    The Entity arose from the chair and began to drift in the air with what Zerin would assume was authority.


    ¡°That would be the only explanation, since I am the current lord of the kingdom. I was entrusted with that staff long ago, though my memories are fleeting. But you, donning that staff with that power is evidence in itself.¡±


    The Entity continued,


    "I''m not asking you to be my son. In my current state, I couldn''t even fulfill the role of a father to you. I don''t recall your name, nor my own, as I''ve become a shadow of my former self. But I at least ask you to assist us in contacting our goddess as you are the only one with that capability."


    There it was laid out, Zerin got all the questions he seemed to desire from this Entity and more. He felt relieved in a way, he felt as if he wasn''t alone in this blood forsaken world as someone has seemed to have gone a similar path as him, though it was not a path that Zerin would want to venture, he would rather keep his own skin.


    ¡°My name is Zerin¡­¡±


    The entity seemed to float with great elegance, which before Zerin seemed to have confused it with dominion or authority.


    ¡°Zerin?... I''ll remember that.¡±


    And with that, a form of silence replaced words. It didn''t bother Zerin too much; in fact, it was quite the opposite. He felt as if he had found something lost in another lifetime.

 Chapter 6: Opposing the Harvest

    He had evaded this moment for as long as possible, the idea of returning to that tree was the furthest thing from his desires. Yet, deep down, he understood the importance of the tree, without those fruits he wouldn''t make as much progress as he already has. With a reluctant determination, he set out towards the tree, accompanied by the ever-watchful lizard at his side. Despite the Entity''s assurance that the serpent would remain dormant for a while, Zerin couldn''t shake off his lingering doubts.


    Passing the line of imposing pillars, he traversed the skybridge crafted from solid stone, its weight supported by the pillars beneath, ascending towards the platform above. Peering over the edge, he glimpsed the vast expanse below, there lying a crimson sea, the suspected home of the Serpent.


    The lizard paused at the bridge''s edge, settling down as Zerin surveyed the mysterious waters beneath. It waited patiently, a silent companion in the face of uncertainty. Zerin tore his gaze away from the depths and directed his attention towards the towering white tree ahead. The lizard approached the tree, retracing its actions from days past, sniffing the ground with familiarity. Nervously scanning his surroundings, Zerin followed closely behind, only to bump into the lizard as it abruptly halted, almost causing him to topple over the beast.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Zerin looked and he saw in front of the lizard laid several fruits scattered across the floor, he looked back up at the tree and back down at the ground.


    ¡®Are they still good?¡¯


    He stepped closer as the lizard shifted out of his way, he knelt down and picked up the fruit, it was surprisingly intact, not a single scar or blemish shown on the fruit itself.


    ¡°Well, that saves us some trouble¡±


    The Lizard just cocked its head to the side in response.


    Feeling the chilly wind blow against him caused a chill to run up his spine, so he hastily picked up the fruits and tossed them into his basket. With a sense of urgency, he made his way back to the castle.


    Upon his return to the castle, a peculiar noise echoed from the lower levels, drawing him down the winding staircase. As he descended, the sound intensified, growing more distinct with each step. Traversing the narrow hallway, he was met with unsettling squelches and the jarring clash of metal against an unknown force. The eerie cacophony suggested a struggle of some kind, its grotesque nature sending a shiver down Zerin''s spine. Unable to discern the source of the sounds, he tentatively knocked on the cellar doors, hoping for a response from the Entity. Yet, amidst his streak of good fortune, silence prevailed.


    Maybe he was giving himself a trim or something. Just the thought of a fleshly monster trimming his own flesh seemed to send a disgusting chill down his bones.


    ¡°Why do I even think of these things?¡±


    With a dismissive sight, he ascended the spiraling staircase, the unsettling sounds from below accompanied him until he reached the staircase''s apex, where they dwindled into what seemed like a mere heavy thud against a surface.


    In recent days, Zerin had engaged in several discussions with the Priest in the cellar¡ªconversations ranging from guidance on intricate matters to establishing mutual boundaries. While the Priest''s sole requirements were for Zerin to help him reach the goddess and to refrain from entering the cellar without his consent, Zerin had provided a much longer list that he entrusted the Priest to adhere to, a pact the Priest had willingly accepted.


    Growing increasingly close with the Priest, Zerin found himself forming a bond that bordered paternal, despite the Entity''s reluctance to assume a fatherly role¡ªa notion contradicted by its actions in recent days. While Zerin had no issue with this unexpected dynamic, a lingering sense of secrecy kept him on edge, prompting him to maintain a cautious demeanor. He recognized the importance of privacy, acknowledging that everyone, including himself, required personal boundaries.


    In a deliberate shift of pace, Zerin had eased off on his practice of the threads, deeming a much-needed break necessary. The previous day, his intention to visit the guest homes had been derailed by a lengthy conversation with the Priest that spanned hours. Determined to follow through on his plan, Zerin resolved to visit the guest homes today, seeking a change of scenery.


    Pushing open a pair of grand double doors, Zerin exited the castle and entered a meticulously tended garden, where a sea of crimson flowers bloomed in vibrant display.


    ¡®So instead of just being a priest he is also a gardener?¡¯


    Making his way to the bustling community of guest homes, he was taken aback by the sheer volume of individuals moving about. The crowd appeared to number at least fifty.


    Amidst the group of people adorned with bone necklaces and other intriguing jewelry pieces, Zerin couldn''t shake the feeling of displacement that washed over him. Standing amongst them, he felt alien in their midst.


    Emerging from the cluster of individuals around him, the familiar girl he had encountered previously made her presence known. Her once dirty blonde locks had transformed into a luscious strawberry blonde shade, setting her apart from the surrounding crowd. a stark contrast to the absence of such vivid hues in his own hair. It was almost as if she had infused her strands with the very essence of the crimson fruits, the red tones gleaming brilliantly within her blonde braids. Drawing nearer, her piercing blue eyes, mirroring his own, held intensity.


    "Honored Aspirant..."


    The words echoed in Zerin''s mind, evoking a sense of Deja vu.


    "What?"


    Zerin interjected abruptly, his tone laced with a hint of confusion.


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    "You are an aspirant to the throne, are you not?"


    Her words carrying a weight of expectation.


    Just the notion of ascending to a position of authority stirred within Zerin, the prospect of assuming a leadership role caused his stomach to form a knot.


    "If you''re referring to me becoming the next priest or whatever, that''s not something I care too much about."


    Her features briefly registered disappointment before blossoming into a radiant smile, her pearly teeth gleaming in the red moonlight.


    "I see... You don''t think you would fit as the Lord of these lands?"


    ''Lord?''


    Her words painted a picture of Zerin that he found completely opposed to who he truly was.


    "No... I wouldn''t¡ª"


    "Of course you would!"


    With determination, she closed the distance between them, linking her arm with his.


    "There''s no need for concern... I have every confidence that you will evolve with time, Sir,"


    her voice carried a playful undertone.


    "Just call me Zerin."


    "Everyone appreciates a humble lord... you can address me as Ria,"


    She offered with a mischievous glint in her eye as she clung to him, still using the persistent title ''Lord,'' which seemed to irritate Zerin a bit on the inside.


    In these lands, the roles of lord and priest often intertwined, the priest serving as a conduit to the goddess and thereby assuming the mantle of leadership. However, Zerin found himself at odds with this designation, feeling ill-suited to the responsibilities it entailed, especially since he had never had contact with the goddess.


    Exhaling audibly, he discreetly withdrew his arm from her grasp, seeking to maintain a semblance of composure amidst her playful banter.


    "I notice that you and your people must be setting up some sort of celebration?"


    "Indeed, you''re correct... We are preparing for the festival, and today marks the day of readiness!"


    She threw her hands up in the air and stuck some silly pose, her gestures animated and lively.


    "What the hell was that?"


    Zerin''s puzzled reaction slipped out involuntarily, prompting a burst of laughter at the sight before him.


    "Mocking me now?"


    She placed her hands on her hips as a face of offense raised on her face.


    Wiping tears of laughter away, Zerin struggled to compose himself.


    "That pose was quite... Ridiculous¡ª"


    Positioned behind Ria stood a poised woman exuding an air of authority as she folded her arms, her mere presence commanding attention as she discreetly cleared her throat, her focus not directed towards Zerin.


    Observing Zerin''s sudden pause in conversation, Ria''s expression faltered slightly, her smile fading as she turned, only to startle as the stern gaze fixed upon her from the woman behind.


    "Oh! I¨C I¨C I forgot, sorry, Mom!"


    Ria''s apology tumbled out hurriedly before she redirected her attention back to Zerin.


    "Apologies, Zerin! I must assist with the festival preparations. See you there!"


    With that, she dashed off into one of the nearby guest homes, her voice fading into the distance.


    Left alone in the unsettling presence of the formidable woman, Zerin felt the weight of her disapproving glare bearing down on him.


    "For a lord, you display a remarkable lack of maturity..."


    her words cut through the silence, laden with a tone of disdain.


    ''Childish? What''s her issue?''


    Zerin recoiled internally.


    "You arrive here and distract my daughter from her responsibilities..."


    ''It wasn''t even my fault! She came out to me!''


    the woman''s accusation hung heavy, prompting Zerin to bite back the retort that threatened to surface.


    "I apologize... If I had been aware, I would not have intruded."


    "Apologies won''t reclaim the time we''ve lost... We''ve fallen behind schedule,"


    her voice carried a hint of frustration as she handed Zerin a basket brimming with freshly gathered crimson fruits.


    "Take these to the room where Wisteria went... and make it swift,"


    her directive was clear, leaving Zerin with no room for hesitation as he accepted the basket, propelled by the urgency of the situation.


    ''Wisteria... an oddly fitting name for her.''


    Zerin mused briefly as he entered the guest home, the flickering light of torches casting dancing shadows along the walls. Amidst the bustling activity of individuals moving to and fro, Zerin found an unoccupied table to place the basket of fruits, his gaze sweeping the room.


    A burly man entered the space, his muscular frame emphasized by the sleeveless shirt he wore, exuding an aura of authority as he barked orders at Zerin, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.


    "I specifically instructed all able-bodied men to assist with carrying supplies! You are a man, are you not?"


    The man''s tone left no room for argument, his expectation clear as he directed Zerin to the task at hand.


    ''You''ve got to be kidding me...''


    Zerin pondered wearily as he exited the building, his eyes falling upon a row of sleds awaiting loading. The man''s unwavering gaze spurred Zerin into action, reluctantly attempting to lift two hefty bundles of wood, only to falter under their weight, the twine snapping and the wood scattering across the grass.


    ''Fuck!''


    "Know your limits... Do not take on more than you can manage!"


    The man''s voice echoed behind him, the admonition ringing in Zerin''s ears as he adjusted his approach, opting for a single bundle that still proved challenging to handle.


    ''Is this wood fashioned from solid rock?''


    Zerin grumbled inwardly as he deposited the bundle at the man''s feet, the strain of the task etched on his features.


    "You got some soft hands boy... Just haul a few more bundles, and you''re off the hook... What a sorry sight you are."


    ''Now he is pitying me great...''


    After several exhausting rounds of ferrying the burdensome bundles, barely making a dent in the stack, Zerin''s thoughts echoed his fatigue.


    ''What could possibly require this much wood?''


    Pausing to catch his breath, Zerin brushed the sweat from his brow, only to catch sight of Ria perched on the steps, watching him intently.


    "Seems like my brother put you to work, huh?"


    Ria''s observation hung in the air, her tone a mix of amusement and empathy as she regarded Zerin''s laborious efforts.


    "I apologize, Zerin... I should have intervened with my brute of a brother, but my attention was elsewhere,"


    Ria''s voice carried a hint of regret.


    "It''s alright... He did put in considerable effort bringing all that wood here. I suppose lending a hand won''t hurt,"


    "But you are a lord... Such tasks are beneath you, Zerin,"


    Ria''s words carried a hint of concern.


    "Stop calling me a lord. The lord of these lands resides inside that castle!"


    "The hulking menace pretending to be a lord? Such a creature is unfit to govern us,"


    ''Monster?''


    She wasn''t entirely mistaken; the priest did not make the best first impression. His initial encounter with the Entity revealed a darker, more monstrous side to his behavior. But what could Zerin expect from such lands, corrupted by the damned shadow god? After reaching the pinnacle of their lives, the goddess seemed to lose contact with them as a result.


    "He is not a monster; he is tainted by the Shadow God. He is my guide and ally in reaching out to your goddess. Together, we aim to heal these lands. He is trying to atone for his own sins.


    As the gravity of his words lingered in the air, Zerin walked past her, leaving Ria to ponder the weight of his conviction.

 Chapter 7: Full Plates, Full Hearts

    Zerin''s resolve remained unshaken; this is how he truly saw the Priest. He didn''t view the entity as a heartless monster, from just the days they spoke prior he could see the human side amidst the fleshly form. Zerin felt a sense of loss from the priest rather than pure evil. He wanted to help bring back the lost humanity hidden beneath the darkness.


    As Zerin''s steps echoed on the cold stone floor, a light touch on his arm made him turn around. Facing the unexpected touch, he met Ria''s gaze, her expression a mix of confusion and unspoken feelings.


    "I''m sorry, Zerin..."


    Zerin was taken aback by the unexpected apology,


    ''Well, this is definitely surprising.''


    "It''s understandable to have your doubts,"


    Zerin began, he knew she understood more than anyone that the first impression with the priest wasn''t something that was easy to forgive.


    "But the monster we seen that day... He''s not the same person. I hope you can come to see that."


    With a gentle, but decisive motion, Zerin withdrew from Ria¡¯s grasp.


    As Zerin disentangled from her grasp, a moment of visible vulnerability washed over her, causing her gaze to drift downward, followed by a hushed breath. Her lashes cast delicate shadows against her fair-toned cheeks. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Ria¡¯s eyes fluttered upwards, meeting Zerin¡¯s gaze with a silent plea, laying the tracks for her to speak.


    "Can you stay a while longer, Zerin? There is still so much I haven''t shown you..."


    Ria''s voice infused with fragile hope as it pierced the lingering silence.


    He couldn''t manage to refuse her, despite the weight of his own convictions.


    "I can stay for a while longer..."


    Just as quickly as regret clouded her features, like a flip of a light switch, her previous remorseful expression was soon replaced with joy once again. She skipped ahead of Zerin, leading him to the various events that would take place here on the very next day of the festival.


    ¡®What a change of pace¡­¡¯


    Zerin¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden gasp, the sound cut through the tranquil atmosphere. Wisteria¡¯s sudden appearance jolted him back to awareness, her eyes widening in alarm as she rushed to the side of the frail old man from before, he seemed to pace himself much more slowly than he did before.


    ¡°Father!¡±


    Wisteria¡¯s cry, a note of concern weaved into the sound of her voice as she supported the old man, his skin looked as if they were clinging to his bones for dear life, yet his eyes fixated on Zerin.


    ¡®That dinosaur is your father?¡¯


    ¡°Look who it is¡­The promised lord¡­¡±


    The old man¡¯s voice, a whisper carried on by excitement, his words seem to hold great significance, that even countered his frail form.


    ¡®Again, with this lord nonsense, will I ever live this down?¡¯


    ¡°Yeah, that''s him father.¡±


    ¡®I guess not¡­¡¯


    Zerin fabricated a fake smile as he looked at the man.


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    ¡°People expect a lot from me huh?¡±


    ¡°They do indeed¡­ According to the visions I have had in the past, I have seen the next lord, bringing this world to its conclusion.¡±


    ¡°To its conclusion?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ You are to bring this barren world to an end and usher in a new world for us and lead us as lord!¡±


    Zerin had heard a similar line of words from the Priest himself, restoring everything back to what it was, and the Entity even claimed it would be as easy as him mastering the threads, and designating the altar, deep in the forest, to the goddess, or something along those lines.


    Zerin¡¯s voice bled with uncertainty.


    ¡°I still have a way to go before I could even get there¡­¡±


    The old man, a silent witness to Zerin¡¯s inner turmoil, took a moment to absorb his words, his gaze, that of wisdom and understanding.


    ¡°That is fine¡­ Take as long as you need, even if I don''t see it, I will live through my daughter and see it myself.¡±


    The old man¡¯s words, a quiet resignation and bittersweet acceptance.


    A degree of sadness was found, this man knew nothing but of these bloody lands and he was going to possibly die without seeing the world that would soon come.


    No. The thought echoed resolutely in Zerin¡¯s mind, a defiant spark. He thought it was wrong for this to be the old man''s conclusion, a terrible way for him to have his life diminished.


    ¡°I will try my best¡­ I will contact your goddess soon enough¡­ I just need a few days¡­¡±


    Zerin¡¯s vow, something he saw as impossible to achieve, he hastily said as a fact.


    The old man listened, his weathered features softened by awe and gratitude, the gaze that spoke to Zerin volumes, his expression a canvas of emotions, where reverence and hope were predominant.


    Yet, as this tender moment of warmth was displayed, a sudden chill crept into the air, shadow casted over Zerin. With a start, Zerin turned, his senses on high alert, he jumped back slightly as he was greeted by a foreign smile, it was Wisteria¡¯s mother, much taller than he originally perceived her as, as she eclipsed him in height.


    ¡°Relax¡­ Young lord¡­¡±


    She placed a hand on his shoulder, he felt his legs turn liquid as her voice sounded of an unnatural soothing balm.


    ¡°Mom! You are scaring him!¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡±


    A melodic chuckle escaped her mouth as she glided past Zerin, her presence commanding, as the slender tall woman, walked past Zerin towards her daughter. The strange sight was before him, an amazon of a woman, her hair gray but her beauty never fading from her, and an old feeble man, just strands for hair, along with a blonde girl, in pigtails her hair interwoven with pink-Ish red hues.


    ¡®The only thing missing is the big muscular guy, what a strange family¡­¡¯


    Zerin closed his eyes slightly, feeling himself level out as he rolled his neck in small circles.


    ¡°You want to stay for dinner, Zerin?¡±


    Opening his eyes, Zerin smiled slightly, he honestly was actually pretty hungry and could go for something different to eat.


    ¡°Sure, what are we having?¡±


    -


    -


    -


    Displayed in front of him was a bowl of what they whimsically called ¡°Fleshroot Stew¡±, the name itself threw Zerin off making him recoil slightly off the name alone, conjuring sinister images in his head. But they laughed slightly as they reassured him.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a name that we came up with, Zerin. The ingredients are entirely plant-based,¡±


    Wisteria spoke with a hint of laughter in her voice.


    Hesitating he took a sip of the stew, sitting around him the family of three looked at him intently, Wisteria, struggling to hold in her squeals, the mother, looking at him with a killer gaze and the old man seemingly staring into space.


    As the first spoonful of stew touched his palate, the hearty broth enveloped his taste buds, the crisp stalks, gave it a satisfying crunch, and the roots, when cut, released a crimson hue that gave off an earthy sweetness. Despite the name, Zerin found himself pleasantly surprised by the combination of flavors and textures.


    He nodded a faint smile played on his lips, Zerin met the expectant gazes of the hosts, his words simple but they spoke of genuine appreciation.


    ¡°It''s pretty good¡­¡±


    ¡°I knew you would like it!¡±


    Wisteria cheered, her eyes sparkling with delight as she basked in the glow of his approval of the dish.


    ¡°I knew you would like it!¡±


    ¡°Of course he¡¯d liked it¡­¡±


    The mother¡¯s voice held a tone of certainty as she lifted her head with pride, a soft smile gracing her lips.


    Meanwhile the old man the personification of calm, observed the scene in silence.


    As the meal drew to a close, the group savored the hearty stew set out on the table for four. Amidst the clinking of utensils and the hum of conversation, Zerin learned a lot about the unique culture that seems to thrive in this desolate hell.


    The words of a tight-knit community more akin to a family surprised him. He was relayed that every ingredient in the meal had been sourced from the neighboring families. The openness and the lack of insincerity among the locals provided a sense of belonging for Zerin, dispelling any of his previous notions.


    ¡°You are coming to the festival of the goddess.¡±


    The mother stated sounding like a mere statement of fact rather than a question. It seemed everyone had their eyes on him once again, drawing him further into the fold of this close-knit family.


    ¡°I have to practice weaving, but I should be able to squeeze some time in, I guess¡­¡±


    Zerin pondered the invitation, contemplating whether it was feasible to set aside a portion of his upcoming day for the festival, even though he should be spending that time training.


    An impish grin played on Wisteria''s face; she didn''t even have to say a word he could already tell her reaction.


    After bidding his farewells, Zerin departed from the cozy home, the sturdy oak door closing behind him with a soft thud. Laughter wafted through the air from the neighboring houses, their windows adorned with softly glowing lanterns, signaling the winding down of another day in the community. Laughter wafted through the air from the neighboring houses, their windows adorned with softly glowing lanterns, signaling the winding down of another day in the community. The cool evening air embraced him like an old friend.

 Chapter 8: Each End Forges a Beginning

    As Zerin rounded the corner, the dim moonlight barely illuminating the cobbled path, stepping forward, he nearly collided with a broad figure stumbling through the shadows. The pungent odor of alcohol was unmistakable. It was the man barking orders just earlier this evening, his steps unsteady, and his expression contorted to anger.


    ¡°Watch where you''re going!¡±


    The man slurred his words together, his bloodshot narrowed onto Zerin¡¯s startled face.


    His features contorted with a mix of fury and drunkenness as he lunged forward, his hand closing around Zerin¡¯s neck with a vice-like grip. With an unexpected display of his strength, seemingly fueled by drunken rage.


    ¡°It''s you! You think you¡¯re so special, but there''s nothing special about you!¡±


    Bashir¡¯s words slurred out, his breath heavy with the stench of alcohol, mingling with the musk of a long day¡¯s labor that clung to his body. With a firm grip around Zerin¡¯s throat, his hold tightened.


    ¡°What the hell are you talking abo¡ª¡±


    Zerin winced as he was being slowly lifted into the air, his world spun as he felt the crushing pressure on his neck intensify, each heartbeat echoing in his ears like a drumbeat. Panic consumed him, his lungs burning for air as he thrashed against Bashir¡¯s hold. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he teetered on the edge of consciousness, the edges of his vision darkening with each passing moment.


    With a grand final effort fueled solely by his survival instinct, Zerin scoured within summoning the [Crimson Needle]. Scarlet runes shimmered into existence, as they weaved into the staff''s true form. With a deft flick of his wrist, the staff whistled in the air, the razor-sharp tip of the staff sliced through the air, leaving a crimson trail as it found its mark on Bashir''s eye.


    The crimson spray illuminated in the red moonlight, painting the ground in a grotesque display of violence. The man was caught off guard, his grip faltered as pain and shock struck him. With a guttural roar, he involuntarily released Zerin, sending him through the air like a ragdoll. The impact was gruesome to the ears as his knee grinded against the cobble path, with a sickening crunch.


    Gasping for breath, Zerin¡¯s throat was raw and his mouth, he could only taste iron, he fought to regain his bearings as he stumbled back onto his knee. Despite the haze clouding his vision, he was able to assess the aftermath. The towering figure of wrath, staggered back in agony, his hands instinctively rising to his wounded eye, as blood could be heard audibly spilling to the ground. Stumbling, the man knocked over several crates that were prepared for the festival.


    As the man hesitantly removed his blood-smeared hand from his injured eye, the realization of his own blood staining his palm caused him to froth in anger.


    ¡°YOU BASTARD!¡±


    The brute roared like some ogre, each ragged inhalation and exhalation, proved his rage further, his massive frame heaved dramatically as he prepared to charge forth. Yet, amidst the pinnacle of his rage, a fleeting shadow of doubt flickered across his face, a moment of hesitation that betrayed what he truly desired to accomplish. Zerin¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as his eyes locked with the man¡¯s, he couldn''t get up even if he wanted to, he used all his energy just to escape his grasp.


    The commotion summoned the members of the community, forming a silent circle around the confrontation. A hand found its way to Zerin, as he felt himself being lifted up slightly. Startled by the unexpected touch, Zerin whirled around in a defensive stance, dragging his knee across the cobblestones below, he turned to his target, painting the cobblestones below in a stroke of crimson.


    A split second of confusion and adrenaline-fueled fear, Zerin¡¯s gaze met Wisteria, her face offering a type of solace, a flicker of recognition and vulnerability passing between them, in that moment, the darkened staff slipped out of his hands, as it clattered against the cobblestones below.


    ¡°Are you okay Zerin?¡±


    Her concerned voice filled his ears, reverberating through his very being. She placed her cool hand on his neck, touching the red mark slightly, pulling back when he winced.


    ¡°Bashir!¡±


    A voice of unrecognizable anger lashed out.


    ¡°You dare strike our lord?¡±


    The old man¡¯s voice, worn and weathered, reverberated with a deep-seated anger, it was a tone of fury never before witnessed by Zerin, hatred in its purest form that sent shivers down Zerin¡¯s spine.


    "That was the last straw!"


    The old man''s words spat forth with increased malice.


    His voice unforgiving continued, as he delivered scalding words to Bashir.


    ¡°This is precisely why you are unworthy of guiding our people. You are a slave to your vices¡­ Your lack of restraint is a blight! You are nothing but a wasted existence! I despise you!¡±


    Each work was condemning, each syllable like a sharpened blade aimed to carve out Bashir¡¯s very heart.


    Bashir¡¯s usually steady frame trembled under the weight of the old man¡¯s words, the words striking at his very core. Zerin, witnessing the scene unfold, couldn¡¯t even stomach the words that were being said.


    "It''s alright... I accidentally ran into him, and I messed him up pretty badly already"


    Zerin interjected, his voice strained and raspy, the words scraping against his raw throat as he tried to ease the escalating tension


    "No, it''s far from alright! I''ve had discussions with him before! Unlike you, Zerin, he is devoid of worth... A pitiful soul consumed by envy of what he can never become!"


    The old man spat with venom.


    As the old man continued, Zerin found himself adrift at sea surrounded by the words of hatred the old man had for his very own son, a chilling and unnatural sight to witness. Despite his prior interactions with the family, he discovered he had only just begun to catch glimpses of their true family dynamic.


    Suddenly, the old man¡¯s gaze turned towards Zerin, snapping him out of his momentary trace, the old man spoke.


    "Zerin... You may leave, rest assured. Bashir will face the consequences within his community."


    The old man''s final decree rang through the tense air.


    How could he protest? He felt as If the old man words were far to harsh considering that Zerin was only roughed up a bit. With the help of Wisteria, he limped his way to the castle leaning on her as she held him up, their steps faltered slightly but they succeed in making it past the red garden, Its flowers shining vibrantly in the dim red moon light as they made their way to castle, pushing upon the double doors of the castle, the heavy wood creaking before sealing them from the outside world behind them.


    "I''m so sorry Zerin..."


    Wisteria''s voice filled with sorrow.


    "No... It''s fine."


    ''I would rather go through what I went through a hundred times than what he went through.''


    Wisteria''s expression flicked with uncertainty as she helped him scale the dusty stone spiraling staircase.


    Crossing the stone hallway with measured steps, Zerin and Wisteria finally made it to his bedroom, the warm fire that never seemed to cease invited them in graciously.


    A calm voice spoke.


    "I couldn''t find you, so I decided to wait for you at your quarters."


    Turning towards the calm voice that sounded in the dimly lit room, Zerin and Wisteria saw the discernible silhouette of the priest. Suspended in the air outside on the balcony, its form was shrouded in shadows, its hands clasped behind its back in a calm posture as it overlooked the land below.


    Zerin placed a comforting hand on Wisteria¡¯s shoulder, before limping forward, creating distance between him and Wisteria as they separated.


    His voice came out harshly due to the pain in his throat.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ I just came back from visiting the people.¡±


    The priest, turned to face Zerin, it glided forward, being propelled by an unseen force with unsettling grace. The unnatural contortion of its form as it floated stationary in the air, left a tension in the air.


    ¡°Your knee¡­ What befell you?¡±


    The Priest¡¯s voice, sounding almost like a haunting whisper, its gaze fixated on Zerin¡¯s injured knee. Zerin¡¯s gaze fell upon the torn fabric of his black pants, stained with his blood that trickled to the ground below. He met the Priest¡¯s unwavering gaze, Zerin hesitated.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing, just a scratch I¡¯ll manage.¡±


    The Priest seemed to not buy this excuse and with a voice that demanded attention, he shifted his focus to Wisteria, she stood there quiet with visible fear on her face.


    ¡°Who is responsible for this?¡±


    The Priest''s question rang almost like an accusation.


    "Leave her be,"


    Zerin''s voice was quiet, but it was a firm interjection.


    "Why do you defend them, knowing they allowed this to happen?"


    The entity''s gaze fell upon Zerin''s batter body before Zerin spoke.


    "It wasn''t their fault... It was out of their control..."


    The entity snapped back swiftly, bitterness lacing its tone as it hissed.


    "They wouldn''t give me the same luxury... They all thank me, but I can see the truth on their wretched faces..."


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    Wisteria, a witness to this intense exchange, her eyes betrayed her as she trembled slightly.


    "I''m sorry!"


    She whispered slightly her voice barely audible amidst the charged atmosphere and would have gone unnoticed if it wasn''t for the Priest''s keen ear.


    The entity loomed over Wisteria, casting a menacing shadow, his gaze piercing her as he began to dissect her with his words.


    ¡°So, it was you, how dare his wretched spawn do this?! After I gave that old sack of bones a dwelling for his own!¡±


    Zerin¡¯s voice crackled with barely contained anger as his voice nearly went hoarse as he bravely stepped forward, his injured leg causing a slight limp as he positioned himself between Wisteria and the imposing figure of the Priest.


    ¡°I said leave her out of it! It was her brother, not her!¡±


    He further continued after the room was greeted with silence.


    ¡°The old man said they would deal with it as a community¡±


    The entity''s voice thundered, reverberating through the space with an air of authority.


    "As a community? They protect their own and we shall do the same!"


    "We are no different from them."


    The Priest, consumed by simmering anger that radiated.


    "We will talk about this later tomorrow during your training..."


    The entity''s words hung in the air, and with that being said the entity drifted past Zerin and Wisteria, leaving the room as the door closed with a click.


    "You alright?"


    She let out a small scoff, her annoyance evident in the subtle curl of her lip.


    "Worry about yourself! You''re the one hurt."


    "I am fine..."


    Though the slight wince that accompanied his movement betrayed what came out of his mouth.


    Settling onto the edge of his bed, Zerin winced once more as he gently lowered himself, sinking into the luxurious bed.


    "And you call that fine..."


    She remarked her voice tinged with gentle concerned voice as she observed his discomfort.


    Sighing softly, she sank into the bed next to Zerin, her restless feet swinging as her feet couldn''t reach the foot of the bed, her gaze wandered around the room.


    Zerin, his attention focused on the growing stain of blood seeping through his pant leg, shifted uncomfortably.


    "Damn it! Can you get a towel or something? There should be a couple in the bathroom there..."


    His voice held urgency as he gestured towards the room. Springing out of her seat behind him she leapt into action. She swiftly made her way to the bathroom. Her eyes located the stack of folded towels, and she retrieved it before returning to Zerin''s side.


    "Here..."


    Zerin accepted the towel as she found her spot sitting next to him again.


    "Thanks..."


    "Mhmm..."


    They sat in silence for several moments as Zerin rolled up his pant leg, revealing the angry gash on his knee. With care he pressed one of the white towels against the wound, the fabric darkening as it absorbed his blood.


    ¡°What if it gets infected?¡±


    Her voice laced with concern as she leaned over slightly watching him intently.


    ¡°Shut up¡­ Don¡¯t say that¡­¡±


    He continued pressing on his wound. Refusing to even consider something like that could happen.


    Hearing his response drove her to action as she delivered a light but firm slap to his knee.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to shut up!¡±


    The unexpected sting of her touch elicited a sharp intake of breath from Zerin, a mixture of surprise and pain contorting his features.


    ¡°AHH! What the hell!¡±


    A soft laugh escaped her lips as she gracefully rose from the bed, a sense of mischief twinkling in those blue eyes of hers as she skipped over to the fireplace. her gaze landed on a wooden crate housing several long forgotten bottles, she fished one out of the crate and held it up in a pose. The bottles surface was coated in a thin layer of dust, her fingers delicately brushing away the dust off the label.


    Her voice, light and playful, danced through the air as she brandished the bottle, a mischievous glint sparking in her gaze.


    "Look what I got here..."


    Zerin''s voice spoke with a hint of concern.


    "Put that down..."


    "Why? We can use it to clean your wound"


    She suggested as if it was some easy hurdle to go over.


    "Like hell! It''s going to hurt!"


    Zerin''s immediate rejection was swift, a grimace crossed his features at the mere thought of the stinging pain that would occur.


    "I also heard that losing your leg hurts a lot too!"


    Her teasing counter, delivered with a playful smirk, held a hint of mock severity.


    ''What kind of devil did I invite into my room?''


    Her words carried a playful flow, a teasing giggle escaping her as she playfully jabbed at his shoulder with her elbow.


    "Stop being such a baby... I''ll help"


    "I am not a baby..."


    Zerin''s protest could have been taken as half-hearted; a faint blush of embarrassment colored his features due to her teasing.


    "Oh... Stop your pouting... Now, how do I open this?"


    With her brow furrowing, she wrestled with the unyielding cork, her nails digging into its surface in a futile attempt to free its grasp. Frustration crept into her expression, and in a last-ditch effort she bit into the cork.


    "Hey! What the hell are you doing?!"


    Zerin placed his hand on her forehead stopping her from pulling back on the cork.


    "Are you insane?"


    She sighed as she finally relented, casting a sheepish glance towards him


    "I can''t open it,"


    She admitted with a sheepish grin, her pride momentarily set aside as she handed him the sealed bottle.


    ''I am really contributing to my own doom...''


    With a sigh he took the bottle from her hands, his other hand reached out into the air, a faint shimmer of red runes began to form as the staff materialized from thin air.


    "What? How did you? That''s cheating..."


    "Do you want me to open the bottle or not?"


    "It wasn''t for me anyways... It was for your leg."


    She countered, a touch of sass colored her words.


    As Zerin raised the tip of his staff, she tensed slightly. with a deft motion, he drove the tip of the staff into the cork. Observing her reaction, Zerin shook his head slightly as he expertly maneuvered the cork, allowing a controlled release of pressure as the gas hissed out before he fully uncorked the bottle with ease.


    A soft smile tugged at her lips,


    "Look who is a professional,"


    She teased, her hands finding her hips as she playfully looked down at him.


    Grabbing a fresh clean towel, Zerin tipped the bottle, allowing the clear liquid to saturate a portion of the cloth as he prepared to tend to his injuries. Hesitation flickered briefly in his movements as his heart thumped against his chest.


    Seizing the opportunity, she snatched the bottle from the nightstand, her actions speedy as she took a bold swig straight from the bottle. The sharp bite of alcohol soon greeted her, elicited a shudder and a slight gag, causing her eyes to water slightly.


    "Aw... That''s horrible..."


    Zerin couldn''t help but chuckled at her reaction, a light-hearted laugh broke free. In his amusement, was a moment of carelessness that led him to accidentally dabbing his injured knee with the alcohol-soaked cloth. A searing wave of pain shot through his leg, causing him to wince and grit his teeth as he tried to endure the fiery sensation.


    Amused by his mistake, she couldn''t contain her laughter, a playful grin on her face as she pointed at him.


    "That''s what you get!"


    Zerin''s expression turned to slight anger.


    She spoke trying to diffuse his moment of anger.


    "I was just messing with you."


    She sat herself next to him, she held the bottle in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she passed the unholy object of corruption towards him.


    "Come on, give it a taste"


    ''You damn devil!''


    "No, you said it was horrible, and besides, aren''t you underage just like me?"


    "Underage? What do you mean? I already went through puberty..."


    ''You got to be messing with me...''


    "Never mind... Just get that damn bottle away from my face."


    He grumbled slightly as he focused back on his knee.


    "Fine... Jeez,"


    She took another sip of the alcohol; the sharp taste caused her to shudder and groan again.


    "If you don''t like it, stop forcing yourself to drink it!"


    "I do like it... It''s just different,


    She explained, defiance in her voice as she defended her precious elixir of corruption.


    After a painstaking effort, Zerin managed to clean and disinfect his injured knee, the process proving to be a test of endurance, even amongst the searing pain he persisted.


    Meanwhile, Wisteria teetered on the brink of drunkenness, her movements becoming increasingly unsteady. Sitting beside Zerin, she swayed slightly an obvious sign of her drunken state as she struggled to maintain her balance.


    "You alright, Ria?"


    "Hmm? Me?... I am perfectly fine..."


    As Wisteria responded with a dreamy smile and slightly slurred words, it became evident that her claim of being ''perfectly fine'' was far from the truth. With a carefree demeanor, she leaned back, resting her head on Zerin''s lap, her blue eyes gazing up at him with a mischievous glint.


    A sudden fit of giggles overtook her, her laughter echoing in the room as she reached out with her hands, her fingertips brushing against Zerin''s face in a playful gesture. Zerin, caught off guard by her playful advance, attempted to dodge her playful tendrils, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he tried to evade her touch.


    "My lord..."


    Her voice wavered slightly as she gazed up at him.


    ''No... Don''t try to pull this on me...''


    "I think I am going to puke"


    She a hint of distress filling her features.


    Zerin was taken by complete surprise, blushing at himself as he couldn''t believe he thought it would be anything important.


    He urged her urgently as he began to push her off of him slightly, his tone was mixed with concern as he attempted to create further distance from her.


    "Then go do it off the balcony or in the trash!"


    She held closer to him stopping him from pushing her away as she gazed up at him.


    "You won''t get mad if I throw up on you?"


    Her question tinged with stupidity and whimsy as she looked up at him her eyes looked as if she was staring off into space.


    "What kind of question is that?! Of course, I will!"


    His response was instant, his tone bewildered by the sheer absurdity of the situation. Despite his protest, another laughs bubbled form her lips, the sound light and carefree as she hammered her fist against his chest, her eyes dancing in further mischief.


    "That face!"


    As she sighed, her face contorted with tears of laughter, Wisteria found herself on the brink of hysterics, the mirth bubbling within her threatening to spill over. Amidst the peals of laughter, a sudden scratching noise echoed at the door, causing Wisteria to startle, her playful demeanor giving way to a flicker of fear. In a reflexive move, she jumped slightly, seeking refuge behind Zerin on the bed, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and apprehension.


    "What was that?" Her voice trembled slightly, a note of uncertainty conveyed her words as she clung to Zerin for reassurance, the earlier amusement overshadowed by a sense of unease.


    "You are never drinking around me again..."


    Zerin''s his concern evident as he rose from the bed, intent on investigating the source of the mysterious scratching sound. Feeling Wisteria''s tug on his arm, he paused.


    Her voice held a hint of urgency, a plea for him to remain close as the sense of foreboding lingered in the air.


    "Where are you going?"


    "I am going to open the door,"


    Zerin''s response was firm, he pulled his arm back causing her to stumble and tumble back onto the bed.


    Approaching the door, Zerin''s suspicions grew as the scratching persisted, a sense of recognition dawning upon him. With a hint of assurance in his voice, he turned to Wisteria, offering a cryptic reassurance.


    "Oh... Don''t worry... I am certain you know this little guy very well..."


    "Huh?"


    Wisteria''s confusion was evident, her gaze shifting between Zerin and the door, a sense of curiosity mingling with apprehension as the mystery unfolded before them.


    Upon opening the door, Zerin was greeted by the sight of the peculiar, slug-like creature, rolling into the room with an almost comical clumsiness. Bumping into Zerin''s leg, the creature paused before unfurling itself, its gaze meeting Zerin''s with an almost childlike innocence. A soft, playful giggle escaped its tiny form, which even surprised Zerin as he never heard such a noise coming from this creature before.


    "Hello, you little fat rascal..."


    Zerin muttered greeting the little bundle of fleshly joy.


    The little creature, resembling slug, began to skitter across the floor, drawn to the drops of blood scattered from Zerin''s knee. It mopped the floor clean with its face, lapping up the crimson droplets before its attention was captured by the bloodied rag resting on the nightstand. Stretching up its nubby hands towards the rag in a futile attempt, it made almost baby-like coo''s as it seemed determined to reach the bloodied cloth.


    "Fine..."


    Zerin gave in, stepping close to the creature and offering the bloodied cloth, untouched by alcohol. The creature''s reaction was on of unbridled delight, expressing it joy by curling into a fleshly ball and gumming on the darkened white cloth, with satisfaction.


    From beneath the covers, Wisteria''s voice slurred out as she peered out, her expression a mix of surprise and disgust.


    "Ew... It''s eating your¡ª"


    The words hung in the air, abruptly cut off by a disturbing sound¡ªa sharp, retching gag followed by a wet splatter that echoed against the floor. Wisteria, unable to contain her revulsion, succumbed to a bout of nausea, emptying the contents of her stomach at the foot of the bed, the remnants from the recent dinner now scatter before her in a grim display.


    ''You got to be kidding me...''


    In a nervous attempt to diffuse the tension, Wisteria offered a sheepish chuckle, her apology tinged with embarrassment.


    "Sorry..."


    Without hesitation, Zerin disposed of the bloodied towel used to clean up the mess, turning his attention back to the peculiar, gorging little slug that seemed unfazed by the chaos unfolding around it. To the creature, the scene was a banquet, a feast fit for royally, and it wasted no time in scurrying onto its chunky legs, moving with surprising speed and determination.


    "Oh no you don''t"


    Zerin lunged to the ground, attempting to apprehend the voracious little creature. However, the slug proved to be formidable adversary, slipping effortlessly us of Zerin''s grasp with a squirming determination triumphed by no other.


    "Damn it!"


    Zerin''s frustration was palpable as he finally managed to secure the wriggling creature in his hands, its soft body twisting like a worm in his grip.


    "Stop! I''ll get you food, okay?


    His tone softened as he placed the little guy into the basket full of the blood fruits.


    "Stay..."


    The slug, now nestled among the pile of vibrant crimson fruits, finally shifting its attention from the unsavory pile of throw up on the rug, to the tempting crimson fruits.


    With a sense of relief, Zerin watched as the slug eagerly seized one of the fruits in its pudgy hands, it began to gum at the crimson fruit, the succulent juice spilling over its pudgy form as it reclined int he basket, content in its food.


    "What a pig..."


    Zerin shook his head with a slight smile, as he averted his gaze to the pile of vomit, that turned his face sour. Turning towards Wisteria, Zerin observed her groan as she gingerly wiped her face with a towel.


    "Look at you... Are you planning on drowning yourself in alcohol like that again?"


    Shaking her head in response, she admitted.


    "No..."


    "At least you learned your lesson. It appears that alcohol and your family don''t quite see eye to eye"


    Zerin remarked with a wry smile, a teasing glint in his eyes as he attempted in lightening up the mood.


    "Shut up..."


    Wisteria groaned as her face blushed, turning away from him, covering up laying on her side.


    "You are going to make me clean up your mess?!"


    ''No response... You damn demon!''


    With a resigned sigh, he decided on a course of action, lifting up the soiled rug and making his way to the balcony. Stepping out into the cool night air, a gentle breeze carried the mingled scents of Wisteria''s unfortunate expulsions and the faint metallic tang of blood in the air, creating a combination that threatened the contents of his very own stomach. Steeling himself against the unpleasant combination, he swiftly disposed of the evidence, emptying the contents over the balcony railing, the debris disappearing into the foliage below with a hushed rustle.


    After laying the soiled rug out on the railing, his gaze drifted back towards the little slug, engrossed in its feast of fruits, its tiny form a picture of contentment. His attention then shifted to Wisteria, who lay sound asleep in his bed, her breathing steady and peaceful in the dimly lit room.


    With a weary sigh escaping his lips, Zerin acknowledged the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion tugging at his eyelids.


    "I should probably get some sleep..."

 Chapter 9: Center of Anticipation

    As the moon rebounded off the horizon, its glow painted the realm in a brighter shade of red, defying the natural order of day and night. The moon stood alone in the sky, its light shifting from its dimmer light, "Night" and its brighter light "Day".


    Within the confines of a lavish chamber, Zerin slowly roused from his slumber, the unusual daylight of the moon filtering through the glass panes of the balcony and bathing the room in its hue.


    Zerin mechanically repeated his usual morning routine, his hand instinctively reaching for the basket. Without a second thought, he seized the first object his fingers grazed, raising it towards his mouth for a refreshing bite. He was greeted with a surprise.


    A soft coo of delight, Zerin felt the unexpected touch of tiny, nubby hands pressing against his lips.


    "I forgot about you,"


    His voice was muffled by the slug, and it held his mouth shut.


    Struggling to separate himself from the persistent creature, Zerin''s fingers fumbled as he attempted to pry the little slimy devil away from his face. To his surprise, the little bastard had hands of a sailor as it let out a mischievous giggle before leaping from his grasp, launching itself at him.


    As the slug made contact with him, Zerin''s breath caught in his chest, the sensation of tiny jaws closing on his neck sent shivers of discomfort down his spine.


    "HEY quit it!"


    In a frenzied panic to free his neck from the jaws of the hungry slug, Zerin thrashed about, his movements desperate and erratic. Despite his overwhelming efforts, the creature seemed to enjoy the chaos, its grip tightening with strength that defied its very own size. With a final burst of strength, he finally managed to break free from its hold, the creature catapulted into the air before vanishing beneath the layers of covers on the bed.


    Exhausted and breathless, Zerin leaned heavily against the dresser, using it for support as he watched the rustling movements of the slug beneath the covers. Beneath the fabric, muffled rustling displayed the little guy''s curious nature. Peering cautiously out from under the blanket, the little slug peeked its small head out.


    "Bastard was trying to eat me!"


    The slug drawn to his voice looked at him, the mischievous glint in its eyes seemed almost taunting.


    "You ass..."


    Zerin swiftly grabbed a towel from the nightstand. As he gently wiped away the slimy residue left by the slug off his neck.


    "Disgusting..."


    Looking at the clock he released a sigh,


    "Well, I am late of course... I shouldn''t keep him waiting."


    Zerin walked toward the door but paused briefly before turning back at the slug and pointing at it.


    "Don''t tear my room to shreds."


    -


    -


    -


    Arriving to the designated spot for his training, Zerin ascended the imposing spiraling staircase that led to the courtyard on the sixth floor. Passing through a massive archway, he stepped onto the courtyard.


    There in the middle of the courtyard stood the entity, standing serenely with its arms folded behind its back.


    "Sorry I am late..."


    The Entity''s voice was calm, as its gaze fixed upon the sky.


    "You are here, that''s all that matters."


    Zerin stepped closer, with a sense of purpose, Zerin summoned the [Crimson Needle]. Crimson runes swirling in the air before coalescing into its full form. Gripping the weapon firmly, he could feel the ridges and cracks in the darkened bone staff.


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    Nearby, that human-like lizard sat to the side, holding a empty sheathe in its mouth, the sight caught Zerin off guard.


    "Where did he get that?"


    "I am not sure... but he is persistent on dragging it around,


    The Entity replied in a nonchalant manner as he lowered his gaze towards Zerin.


    "Did you two get to know each other over the night?"


    Confusion clouded Zerin''s expression as he responded,


    "What?"


    "The girl... She stayed in your quarters."


    A protesting voice let out as he blushed profusely.


    "No! Of course not, I am too young for any of that!"


    "Wise choice..."


    The Priest remarked, his gaze lifting back up to the vast sky above.


    "She isn''t worth your time. This world doesn''t care for your happiness."


    The Entity declared.


    As the Priest''s words stuck with him uncomfortably, Zerin grappled with the conflicting thoughts. He understood his goal, but a part of him resisted the Entity''s singular focus on duty and obligation.


    "You are the lord of the land, you are supposed to be bringing your people together,"


    Zerin countered, a challenge he spoke against the Entity''s perspective.


    "They are not mine... I do not give a sliver for them, you are the only focus as you are my descendant,"


    The Priest stated firmly.


    "You said this before... And I am not sure I even believe it myself."


    The Entity looked at Zerin with a serious stare,


    "It will be revealed in due time. Now, please start..."


    The Priest''s words demanded action.


    With a nod, Zerin extended his staff forth, focusing he prepared for the next task ahead. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, allowing the staff to draw from his blood for fuel. The drain was bearable but nevertheless it was substantial.


    At the focal point of the staff, the energy began to swirl, crimson hues collided in a chaotic swirl before following a path of momentum, becoming a swirling vortex of power. With an unexpected burst, the energy erupted in a dazzling display of crimson that arced through the air before gracefully descending to the ground.


    "Damn it..."


    Cursing under his breath at the outcome, Zerin''s frustration was stoked like a fire by the results of his efforts.


    "Again..."


    The Priest''s steady voice demanded once again.


    "Again? I am not sure it''s possible without some of that fruit."


    "You will never know until you try..."


    Zerin''s sigh echoed through the courtyard, a mixture of weariness and determination evident in the sound.


    "You better catch me if I pass out,"


    An almost fake confidence started to arise in his voice.


    "Of course..."


    The Entity''s voice carried a touch of amusement as a hand gestured for Zerin to begin.


    Summoning a mask of confidence, Zerin shifted into a more stable stance, steeling himself for the task at hand. With a deep breath, he channeled his blood through the staff once more, allowing the staff to draw upon his blood with a draining sensation that threatened him to tip over the edge of consciousness. Despite the creeping sensation of dizziness, Zerin maintained his composure, focusing on the swirling energy gathering at the tip of his staff before it dissipated into nothingness.


    It was instantaneous, the draining effects took their toll, Zerin''s balance wavered, his vision blurring at the edges as he teetered on the brink of consciousness.


    "Ugh..."


    He let out a groan of frustration as he was about to fall to the hardened ground beneath him.


    Just as his body was going to succumb to the stone beneath him, and invisible force intervened, catching him before he would crumple to the stone below. Startled yet grateful, Zerin found himself suspended in mid-air, his body supported by this invisible force.


    Drawing closer, the Priest glided towards Zerin, a basket floating effortlessly at its side. With a silent gesture, the entity offered Zerin a fruit. Weakly grasping at the fruit, Zerin bit into it, the sweet taste invigorating him and revitalizing his waning energy.


    "Good work, Zerin..."


    "Uh... Thanks."


    Descending to meet Zerin''s gaze was a slender thread, its ethereal presence captivating as it hovered in the air. Despite its delicate appearance, the thread exuded a faint crimson glow, proving that this power was close to being harnessed.


    "I did it?"


    "Yes... Though in a crude form, you have managed to achieve it, but in order for this thread to be any useful it needs to weave into a sigil upon creation."


    The Entity raised a book and dropped it into Zerin''s hands.


    "The sigils necessary is in this book along with any additional information."


    "Why didn''t you give me this book sooner?"


    "It only covers the weaving of the sigils, drawing the threads out seems to be learned naturally."


    ''Still could have helped!''


    Zerin brushed the thought away. He was happy to at least get this far in just one training session, maybe training with the guidance is what he should have done earlier.


    "When you have mastered this, we will venture into the forest, to where her desecrated altar is, and you will reassign her sigil marking to it."


    As the Priest drifted to the courtyard''s edge, a sense of purpose guiding its movements, Zerin followed, his curiosity piqued by the entity''s focused gaze. Peering over the railing alongside the priest he had hoped to see where this so called ''Altar'' took place, but his eyes widened as the sight of the monstrous serpent coiling around the marred pillar, its massive form, causing it to crumble slightly. Fixating on the white tree adorned with the blood fruits, the serpent''s sinuous movements seemed purposeful as it, wrapped its tail around one of the massive branches, the branch groaned against the force of the leviathan before it gave way, breaking apart from the tree.


    Witnessing the serpent''s actions, the Priest''s expression, if there were any prominent facial features, would convey a blend of concern and irritation.


    "What is it doing?"


    Zerin spoke with confusion as he watched the serpent take the massive branch and descend, over the edge disappearing out the line of sight.


    "I am not sure... But it needs to be dealt with."


    The Entity turned towards Zerin.


    "This ends today''s training..."


    As Zerin departed, a subtle but noticeable shift happened in the atmosphere, which did not go unnoticed by the Priest. In the distant horizon, dark clouds began to gather ominously, standing out against the already clear red skies.


    "A storm is coming..."


    As if in response to the Priest''s words, the winds swirled around the courtyard, carrying with them a sense of unease. Crimson leaves rustled and danced in a waltz, nature itself seemingly aligning with the somber warning that hung in the air like a dark cloud.

 Chapter 10: Invitations from a Myth

    Descending the winding stone staircase, Zerin''s footsteps echoed down the dusty stairs as he deviated from his usual path. He chose to explore the third floor.


    As he arrived at the third floor, he was greeted with and expanse of the cold marble flooring, filling the long wide hallways, the crimson hues of the long rug, a scarlet river winding throughout the expansive space. Coupled with the ethereal glow of the red moonlight streaming through the ornate windows at the hallway''s end. The air felt heavy as the quiet hallway echoed his steps


    Venturing into the vacant chambers that aligned the hallway, Zerin''s gaze swept over the chaos that greeted him. Beds were overturned, curtains hung in tatters as if they were hacked with daggers, chaos filled the cluttered space of the rooms. Yet besides the disarray he noticed another peculiar sight.


    In each chamber he explored, the moon imagery was a constant, especially the room filled with portraits filled with depictions of the goddess.


    In this gallery, each depiction of the mysterious goddess had a visage that shifted and transformed, leaving no clear, consistent image. Some portrayals captured her essence as a paragon of beauty, shown with her embodying all the conventional, traits of allure and grace. While others delved into the realm of abstraction, portraying her in a complex assimilation of shapes and symbols.


    Amidst the expansive catalog of representations, one particular image stood out, a nightmarish image. Her form was twisted into a grotesque mosaic of mismatched limbs. Legs contorted into arms, arms morphed into twisted horns, her body more akin to a monstrosity. Its vile nudity laid before him, that churned his stomach with a primal sense of revulsion.


    ''Disgusting...''


    Amidst the chaotic imagery, Zerin stumbled upon symbols on the canvas, which color was that of blood, the symbols being the seven phases of the moon.


    Searching further Zerin stumbled upon a dusty book, that drew him in, upon opening the book and sifting through some of the pages he had a brief understanding of the story the book told.


    The book spoke of the goddess in vagueness, never fully siting a name, or specific features to her, instead she was described by her actions, as a guardian of the lands, a revered figure believed to hold the key to the people''s extended lifespans.


    Delving further into the history surrounding the goddess, Zerin uncovered a tale of ancient peril that befell the people, a cataclysmic event, that almost completely destroyed the kingdom. But due to the goddess''s swift intervention, this event was avoided. The narrative became almost nonsensical, before it picked up again, where it spoke about her selfless sacrifice, offering herself to shield the people from impending doom and bestowing upon them a relic¡ªThe [Crimson Needle], which the people received it as a symbol of protection.


    As Zerin pieced together the fragments of this depicted past, a troubling realization took root in his mind, lingering like a shadow.


    This revelation left him stumped, what would be his course of action now? If their goddess is dead, then what the hell is the point of all of this?


    Leaving the room, Zerin took both the book of sigils and the book of the goddess''s history and bolted up the grand spiraling staircase back to the courtyard, where he saw the darkened red hue of the sky, the Priest was nowhere in sight.


    ''It''s already evening?''


    Zerin felt like he had only been down in third floor for maybe an hour or so, but in reality, he had spent most of the day on that floor.


    With a heavy sigh escaping his lips, Zerin pivoted on his heel, his footsteps echoing softly against the ancient stone floors as he made his way towards the cellar. The dim torchlight at the cellar door flickered ominously.


    As Zerin''s knuckles knocked against the heavy door, the sound reverberated through the corridor like a drumbeat. Yet despite his persistent knocking, there was no answer from the other side, no creak of the hinges, nothing.


    "Where did he vanish off to?"


    Zerin scratched his head as he retraced his steps back to his quarters. He pushed open the door and was relieved to see his room was still intact. The crackling fireplace, casted a flurry of moving shadows onto the bed where the slug laid, its body shifting as it inhaled and exhaled.


    Settling down on his bed, he opened the book of sigils and began reading the first few pages, as the methodical breaths of the slug filled the room alongside the ceaseless fire brewing in the fireplace.


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    Upon opening the book, his eyes immediately were drawn to the title that said, ''Seven Sigils Of The Goddess''. From the waxing crescent back to the waning crescent, but the sigils were much more than just the phases of the moon, there were much more intricate symbols in play, symbols Zerin has never seen before were grafted into the phases of the moon to complete a sigil.


    ''These are the same symbols that were etched on that painting... Are you telling me I have to learn all seven of these?!''


    The loud snoring of the slug interrupted Zerin¡¯s thoughts as he threw a blanket over it as its muffled snores blended with the sounds of the crackling fire.


    Moving away from the slumbering slug, Zerin crossed the room to the crackling fireplace. He carefully placed the new book beside his expansive collection of artifacts gathered from the castle: a tome engraved with the face of the king, a portrait of the latest royal family, and a bloodied envelope.


    Zerin¡¯s hand grazed over the books before he saw a bloodied envelope, avoiding the crimson blotches that sprinkled the envelope he opened it.


    Dear Alden,


    You understand my current state better than anyone. Remember the love our family once shared. Dark times lie ahead for you, and you''ve already sensed their approach. Your older brother has concealed his feelings; once expected to be the next king, he now knows it won''t happen. Perhaps he resents me for it. But you, my love, could never accept this fate, could you? You resemble your father the most, but do not follow his path. He obsesses over preserving me as my time draws near. He was fortunate to have me for ten more years, and I gave him Jayden. He knows the truth but keeps it buried in his heart.


    I am dying, and by the time you read this, I may already be gone. Please care for our child. Protect him, my knight. He is special, destined to be king¡ªI can feel it. As a token of my love, ______. I know you won''t value this gift; you were never one for materialistic things. For what it''s worth, I made it myself, so perhaps you could hold onto it when you are near your new baby brother, so I can be with him.


    With all my love,


    Mother


    (The gift in question was blotted out by blood, seeping through the envelope and corrupting the darkened ink of the letter.)


    Zerin delicately slid the blood-stained letter back into its envelope, his fingers lingering, on the corners of the bloodied envelope before placing it atop the stack of books. A sense of unease gripped his heart, a sensation of trespassing into personal matters of others made him uncomfortable.


    Stepping away from the fireplace, he sunk into the comfort of his bed, the luxurious mattress, dipped slightly with his weight as the velvety sheets accepted him.


    A sudden knock on his door caused him to jump slightly.


    He sat there and waited for the priest to invite himself in like he always did, but to his surprise it was followed up by another knock.


    ¡®Now he has manners all of a sudden?¡¯


    Zerin stood up from the bed.


    ¡°Alright¡­ Alright¡­ I''m coming.¡±


    Zerin walked towards the door and opened it, and on the other side was a face he didn¡¯t expect. It was Wisteria.


    "Look who it is... The girl who drank herself sick and left me to clean up the mess! And she didn''t even say thank you."


    Zerin teased slightly immediately causing her to blush.


    "Oh, so you''re going to hold that over my head forever? I was having a rough night, okay?"


    She stuttered, while blushing profusely out of embarrassment.


    "Oh... I forgive you then..."


    Zerin spoke in a sarcastic voice.


    "Wow, forgive me? How gracious of you,"


    She replied quickly with and exaggerated roll of her eyes.


    "I''ll try to remember to grovel properly next time. Maybe even write you a thank-you card for all your heroic efforts, ~My Lord."


    Her tone was playful, matching Zerin''s teasing, though her eyes sparkled with amusement as she invited herself into his room.


    Zerin''s face ticked as he tensed up.


    ''She is getting too damn comfortable!''


    She walked calmly across the room and sat on his bed, her hand petting the slug tenderly as it slept. Her eyes then drifted off to the books that were placed on the nightstand.


    "Heavy reader huh?"


    "Those books are for training..."


    "Oh really?"


    She picked up on of the books, which was the sigils for the goddess, her eyes lit up in intrigue as she opened to the first page.


    "Is this real?"


    Zerin shifted over sitting next to her on the bed,


    "Yes, those are the sigils I have to perform"


    Zerin pulled out a crimson string from his pocket that emanated a red hue.


    "I have to weave this into sigils"


    "What is that?"


    "My blood..."


    "So, you really are the Lord..."


    "Can we stop this already?"


    "Sorry... My father used to always tell me as a kid that the Lord''s blood would shine, with luminescence it''s just fascinating to see it in real life, outside of his crazy stories..."


    She laughed slightly.


    "What else does he know?"


    "I personally I don''t care to listen to all his other stories... but if you want to speak to him, you can, I bet he would love to ramble for hours with you."


    She smiled brightly as she set the book down back on the table.


    "Maybe you could get him to talk if you come to the festival."


    ''I completely forgot!''


    "Is that why you are here?"


    She nodded slightly, a faint blush filling her face.


    "I was told... I mean... I want you to come."


    Her face became more red.


    "Sure, I''ll go then, I would like to know more anyways about your goddess."


    She nodded as her blush faded,


    "Are you going like that?"


    "Like what?"


    "I mean it''s fine if you want to dress simple... The goddess doesn''t judge."


    "I don''t even know a thing about fashion."


    She smiled slightly as she stood up from the bed holding his hand, pulling him out of the bed.


    "I can show you."


    He led her towards his closet, and she seemed to light up like a kid at a candy store as she picked out a bunch of outfits, but all of them seemed way to fancy for Zerin as he declined all of them.


    "Can I wear something a bit simpler? I don''t want to stand out."


    "But you are the--"


    Zerin''s gaze slightly angered stopped her from finishing her sentence as she sighed.


    "Fine..."


    She turned back to the closet and quickly whipped up and outfit that Zerin found way more suitable, it wasn''t too fancy, but it wasn''t anything to scoff at it.


    The outfit she managed to assemble consists of a tunic-like top in a shade of grey. The fabric seems light, with long sleeves that are slightly lighter in grey, providing a subtle contrast. Around the waist, there is a black sash adorned with white moons shifting through their phases.


    Zerin got dressed into the bathroom and came out, though he didn''t properly fix the sash.


    "The sash is the most important part, Zerin."


    Zerin smiled nervously.


    "I told you I had zero experience with this..."


    She sighed slightly as she helped him, fixing the sash, tying it allowing the rest of the cloth hang down on once side.


    She backs up as she examines him, a smile slowly unfurled on her lips.


    "Much better..."


    The echoes of rumbling drums clashed with the air, causing her smile to falter. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face as the rhythmic beats ramped up to their crescendo.


    "The festival has started!"

 Chapter 11: Festivals Dawn

    "If we don''t hurry up,"


    She called out,


    "We will be late and won''t be able to attend the festival!"


    "Why didn''t you tell me sooner?"


    Zerin questioned, a hint of frustration in his voice.


    She took quick strides to the door and swung it open.


    "Just come on!"


    She urged, tugging on his arm pulling him out the door.


    His own heavy breathing was drowned out by the persistent rumbling, as he followed her down the stairs. She moved with surprising speed, almost gliding down the winding staircase. The rumbling they chased was none other than the drums of the start of The Festival.


    Passing through the southern doors that led to the grounds, Zerin was once more swarmed by the familiar scent of iron. He instinctively raised the collar of his shirt over his nose. The air hung heavy, with a definite increase in humidity than the previous days.


    They followed the stone path, drawing closer to the wall of torches. A figure blocked them from entering into the festival grounds. The hefty man stood, clad in intricately designed half-skirt that brushed just below his knees. Shirtless and adorned with splatters of red paint that glistened wetly on his bloated stomach, he loomed over them.


    The hefty man rumbled in deep voice.


    "Just barely made it by..."


    Zerin''s expression of surprise by his stature swiftly twisted into disgust as the man casually wiped a smear of paint off his belly with his thumb, then smear it onto Wisteria''s face.


    ''Fucking gross!''


    Zerin thought, recoiling at the act.


    "Come... You need to get marked to be granted passage."


    Wisteria insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.


    He recoiled in revulsion as the pot-bellied man waddled closer, his movements unsettling. A grotesque sight, the man pressed both of his fat thumbs into the wet blobs of paint splattered on his belly, then proceeded to smear the sticky, warm pain on each side of Zerin''s face.


    ''I want to die!''


    Zerin''s inner voice screamed in horror.


    The hefty man, satisfied with his handiwork, stepped aside, granting them passage to the festival. As he walked alongside Wisteria, Zerin''s face was filled with repulsion. Every fiber of his being urged him to wipe the warm paint off his face, he fought his impulse, swallowing his discomfort.


    "Are you seriously making a face about a little paint?"


    Wisteria lectured, oblivious to his inner turmoil.


    "What the hell is this even for?"


    Zerin demanded.


    "It''s for the goddess; she can see those who are marked... Or so the tradition says,"


    Wisteria explained softly.


    ''Bullshit...''


    Following behind her, Zerin was guided through the wooden barricades, the lively sounds of laughter and drums growing louder as they approached. When they breached the barrier, a vast expanse was revealed, people reveling in the festivities, dancing, drinking, and engaging in games.


    But Zerin''s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the massive conglomerate of people clustered together, their movements synchronized to the rhythmic beat of drums. The women, they flaunted their bodies in a dangerous dance. The men, equally captivated by the pulsating beat of the drums, joined in with seamless coordination.


    A few people sported a hoop made of intricately woven linen. As they danced a partner would skillfully navigate through the hoop, intertwining with their movements.


    "What are they doing?"


    Zerin asked, taking in this active scene.


    Wisteria blushed slightly, as she averted her gaze.


    "Dancing, what else could it be?"


    She replied softly.


    "I personally am not too fond of dancing, are you?"


    Zerin confessed, his gaze lingering on the swirling dancers.


    She turned to respond,


    "Never danced in my life,"


    She admitted with a hint of amusement.


    She then turned her gaze again.


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    "Are you hungry?"


    She asked, shifting the conversation.


    "I can have a bite or two,"


    He replied nonchalantly, his attention peeling away from the crowd.


    "A bite? Who says that?"


    She teased, a smile played on her lips.


    She laughed as she made her way towards the herd of dancers.


    "Wait, didn''t we say we are going to get something to eat?"


    Zerin called after her, with a confused voice.


    "Well, it''s faster through the crowd,"


    She explained, her voice barely audible over the festive commotion.


    She effortlessly navigated through the crowd. The dance ground, a sea of bodies, ebbing and flowing to the rhythm of the drums. The shifting mass of people made it challenging for Zerin to maintain a clear view of her, until he found himself lost in the swirling crowd.


    ''Wait... Where did she go?''


    Panic flickered in Zerin''s mind as he stood amidst the crowd, feeling disoriented and unsure of his surroundings. The sea of bodies seemed to blend together¡ªjust bodies shuffling through like a deck of cards before his eyes.


    A wave of relief washed over him as a hand suddenly reached out, pulling him from his moment of confusion.


    To his surprise, it was not Wisteria who had grasped his hand, but an unfamiliar beautiful woman. As he turned to face his rescuer, he was stuck by her stunning appearance.


    Every movement of the woman''s body projected a harmonious blend of grace and control that mesmerized those around her.


    "I''m sorry, I¡ª"


    Zerin began, his voice trailing off as he found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The beat of the drums seemed to fade as the pulse of his heart filled his ears.


    Ignoring him, she initiated a mesmerizing dance, her hips swaying gently in a hypnotic rhythm. Each movement of her abdomen was a display of control, her toned abdomen undulating with practiced precision. In a sudden twist, she spun around, her long, dark hair cascading like a darkened halo around her.


    Zerin found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her, a weakness he couldn''t quite comprehend in that moment. But it didn''t matter, for all eyes in the crowd were fixated on her, transforming her into the undeniable star.


    As she pressed against Zerin, two unexpected revelations dawned on him. Firstly, her sudden proximity caught him off guard, the heat of her body searing against his. Secondly, her height surpassed his expectations, her stature slightly taller than he had anticipated.


    "Can we just¡ª"


    Zerin attempted to interject, his words faltering in the face of her presence.


    Before he could finish his sentence, she deftly raised her thigh alongside his waist, a subtle yet deliberate gesture that left him speechless. A faint smile graced her lips as she lifted his chin, compelling him to meet her gaze, the intensity of her emerald eyes drawing him in with an irresistible pull.


    His cheeks flushed with a warmth he couldn''t ignore as he found himself ensnared by her captivating gaze. Try as he might, he couldn''t tear his eyes away from the depths of her emerald irises, each glance like a magnetic force.


    Just as the spell seemed unbreakable, an unexpected interruption shattered the moment. A third party intervened, grabbing his arm and forcibly pulling him away from the enigmatic woman with the piercing emerald eyes. It was as though he had been yanked from the clutches of a consuming addiction, leaving him disoriented and strangely resistant.


    "I take my eye off you for one second, and you''re dancing with her of all people?"


    Wisteria''s voice sliced through the pulse of the drums, laced with a mixture of disbelief and simmering anger.


    The Dancer cast a fleeting glance at Wisteria before lifting her head defiantly, a silent challenge in her expression as she averted her gaze.


    Wisteria let out a frustrated huff before seizing his hand and carving a path through the crowd.


    "She approached me..."


    Zerin began, attempting to explain, only to be met with her dismissive scoff.


    "Whatever. Are you hungry, or do you intend to continue dancing with her?"


    Wisteria''s arms folded across her chest, her stance expectant as she awaited his response.


    "You must have noticed how she captivated every young man in the area. It was inevitable she''d set her sights on you next... like fresh meat,"


    Wisteria''s words dripped with a hint of disdain, her tone sharp.


    "Fresh meat?"


    His voice echoed.


    "Yeah! Her next target. And you seemed to enjoy the attention, a real perv..."


    Wisteria''s accusation hung in the air.


    Zerin felt the urge to defend himself, to say his truth. But the more he thought the more he questioned.


    ''Why the hell do I have to explain myself?''


    "I am not a pervert,"


    His words spoke with a slight frustration, a firm declaration.


    "Yeah, right..."


    Wisteria''s response dripped with skepticism, as she gave him a side eyed.


    "I am hungry. Let''s get something to eat,"


    Wisteria declared; her tone brisk as she secured Zerin''s hand pulling him along.


    "Let go of me..."


    He protested weakly.


    "Why? so, you can disappear again?"


    Wisteria''s comeback was sharp, her grip unyielding as she tugged him along.


    ''It''s impossible to reason with this kind of person I swear!''


    Zerin thought internally as he reluctantly yielded to her unwavering determination, allowing himself to be led towards the bustling food area of the festival.


    -


    -


    -


    The festival''s food area buzzed as people traveled in and out of the food area. The tantalizing aromas that enveloped the air captured Wisteria in a whirlwind of excitement. Colorful stalls adorned with an assortment of delectable treats beckoned to her.


    ''And I was called childish...''


    Zerin thought to himself as he followed closely behind her.


    Without hesitation, Wisteria seized a plate, handing it to Zerin. Her eyes darted back scanning the diverse selection of offerings with keen interest. From sizzling vegetable kebabs to fragrant salads and steaming bowls of red noodles, no delicacy escaped her discerning gaze before finally landing on the grand delicacy.


    "Behold, the blood loaf!"


    She announced with a hint of amusement, gesturing towards the mysterious bread with a mischievous glint in her eye.


    Zerin arched an eyebrow,


    "Is everything named after blood or body parts around here?"


    Wisteria chuckled softly, a playful light dancing in her eyes as she explained,


    "Most of it... It''s all part of the theme."


    "Theme?"


    Zerin questioned.


    "Yeah, it''s a nod to our goddess."


    Wisteria elaborated, smiling almost proudly.


    Offering Zerin a slice of the enigmatic bread, Wisteria''s gesture was accompanied by a warm smile as she added it to the already overflowing plate of food. As the weight of the plate shifted in his hands, he attempted to find a balance, adjusting his grip to accommodate the generous feast before him.


    "Why so much?"


    He questioned, his gaze flickering between Wisteria and the towering mound of food on the plate.


    Turning to meet his gaze, Wisteria''s braided pigtails swayed with her movement as she flashed him a playful grin.


    "We''re sharing,"


    she declared with a wink.


    Wisteria''s attention was so easily captured as she spotted the sight of another enticing treat, Zerin couldn''t help but shake his head as he turned away to survey the bustling food area and the animated chatter happening throughout the area.


    Turning back from his observation, he found himself suddenly startled by the presence of Wisteria''s mother standing in close proximity, causing him to jump.


    "You''re quite jumpy, aren''t you?"


    Wisteria''s mother remarked with a lighthearted chuckle, her laughter muffled by the gentle press of her hand against her lips.


    Wisteria turned around slightly in response to hearing her mother''s voice.


    "Come with me, dear. Your father wishes to have a word with you."


    Exhaling softly, Wisteria relaxed her shoulders,


    "Oh... Okay."


    Wisteria responded with a trace of reluctance, her gaze briefly meeting Zerin''s before tenderly added a cookie to the already towering mound of food on the plate in his hands.


    "I''ll be back soon, so don''t you eat all of it,"


    She issued a playful warning to him.


    "You just find a table and wait for me,"


    She added before swiftly departing with her mother.


    Zerin''s eyes descended upon the plate of food.


    ''As if finishing all this is even possible for a human!''


    Zerin''s gaze wandered about the festive surroundings, a soft murmur of contemplation falling from his lips as he navigated through the lively crowd, eventually finding a vacant table to settle at.


    Taking a seat, his attention shifted to the overflowing plate before him, a confusing assortment. His hand reached for the gleaming silverware. The polished utensils had intricate engravings upon its shiny surface.


    As his eyes briefly trailed the graceful movements of a group of dancers dancing to the drums, he focused on his meal, plunging the fork decisively into the mound of food before deftly transferring a generous bite to his awaiting mouth.


    Just as he was about to savor the next mouthful, this solitary moment, he was joined by the arrival of two boys, roughly his age, who sat at his table across from him.


    "Did you speak to Vani?"


    One of the boys ask, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity as he leaned in slightly, his gaze fixed intently on Zerin.


    Intrigued by the unexpected question, Zerin responded with a tone of curiosity lacing his words,


    "Vani?"

 Chapter 12: Impending Darkness

    "Don''t you lie to me!"


    The young man''s voice cracked like a whip. The force of his fist slamming against the table sent tremors that rattled the dinnerware.


    Feeling a surge of agitation at the sudden display of aggression, Zerin responded.


    "What the hell are you talking about?"


    "Vani, the damn chick that you were dancing with earlier, dipshit!"


    He pointed at Zerin sharply and his words were accusing.


    The other young man that sat alongside him seemed surprised by his outburst.


    "Arron calm down¡­"


    Arron turned his head towards his friend, Arron''s visible anger caused the young man to falter, before he turned back to Zerin.


    It became apparent to Zerin that this girl, Vani, was Arron''s girlfriend, and seeing her dance with him had led to this sudden confrontation. It was clear to Zerin that Arron wasn''t here for a mere conversation; he had brought his friend as backup.


    ''Poor bastards''


    Grateful for Wisteria''s intervention, the mere thought of being entangled in that girl''s web like Arron made his stomach knot. Swallowing his pride, he decided to diffuse the escalating tension.


    "You''re right, I apologize. I didn''t know you two were a couple,"


    He forced his features into a mask of false sincerity, the act almost unbearable. Finally, he noticed Arron beginning to relax.


    Arron let out a scoff, his palm rubbing into the edge of his brow, he groaned.


    "I don''t need an apology. This was a warning,"


    To his surprise, Arron stood up from the table and walked away. Zerin had expected a bit more of a fight from him.


    The young man remained in his seat, he hesitated briefly, his eyes briefly met Zerin''s, guilt evident in his sheepish apology that slipped from his lips. Zerin, however, brushed off the gesture with a nonchalant shake of his head and a dismissive wave of his hand.


    Zerin''s response was calm,


    "It''s fine¡­"


    Arron spoke out annoyed,


    "Let''s go¡­"


    The young man left the table, turning away from Zerin as he met Arron.


    "Why are we in a rush?"


    The young man questioned.


    "Going to go talk to Vani¡­ She hasn''t spoken to me in a whole week."


    Arron''s words hinted at a deeper turmoil. His determination to find Vani was clear in his resolve.


    The atmosphere shifted abruptly as his friend must have said something that brought back Arron''s demeanor. His head snapped back, his expression transforming into anger as he glared at him, his features etched with returning fury.


    Arron''s voice carried raw emotion, crackling with intensity.


    "Shut up! She said she loved me; did she say that to you?"


    The young man''s response was feeble, barely audible over the weight of Arron''s outburst.


    "No¡ª"


    "Of course not! So shut up!"


    Arron''s words sliced through the charged air, cutting off any further protest from him.


    Meanwhile, Zerin observed the exchange, shaking his head slightly as he absentmindedly poked at the food on his plate, the clatter of the fork against the plate.


    Lost in his own thoughts, he mechanically continued to eat.


    "Well, at least he had a reason for his outburst at me¡­ Even if it was stupid."


    Brushing his hand over his neck absentmindedly, his neck was still bruised from the encounter with Bashir.


    "My lord¡­"


    The Old man greeted him, there was an innate wisdom that emanated from him, his voice carried a tinge of concern as he spoke.


    "I heard a commotion over here, I had to come check up on you¡­"


    Zerin''s smile wavered, a flicker of unease crossing his features as he responded,


    "Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding."


    A knowing look flashed in The Old man''s eyes as he questioned further.


    "Another one of those misunderstandings?"


    The intensity of The Old man''s gaze seemed to pierce through Zerin, prompting a nervous response from him.


    "No... No... Not like that,"


    He let out a soft chuckle, he waved his hands dismissively. Clearing his throat, he shifted the conversation, with a casual adjustment in his seat.


    "I didn''t get your name¡­"


    The Old man responded with a hint of humor, his voice carrying a gentle chuckle as he settled comfortably onto the bench across from Zerin.


    "Oh, my name? Just call me old man¡­"


    His demeanor relaxed, before he continued to add,


    "My name doesn''t matter, I am ancient."


    Self-awareness coloring his laughter, eliciting a soft laugh from Zerin.


    Leaning back slightly, The Old man raised an eyebrow playfully, his hand indicating the spread of food before them.


    "So, let me guess, this was my daughter''s doing?"


    Zerin nodded in affirmation, acknowledging his guess.


    "Uh... yeah, that was her."


    A solemn expression crossed The Old man''s features as he commented,


    "That girl¡­ She is talented¡­ But still very naive¡­"


    He shook his head, a mix of pride and concern evident in his demeanor.


    "She is getting to the age where she should be concerned of marriage,"


    He finished, his words carrying tradition and expectation.


    Lost in his own thoughts, Zerin listened to The Old man''s words with little focus, his mind drifting momentarily before he felt the same piercing gaze of bring him back to the present.


    ''What are you looking at me for?''


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    Zerin''s inner voice spoke out, contrasting the words that would soon follow.


    With a shrug, his response came forth in a nonchalant tone.


    "Uh... If that''s what she wants, I guess¡­"


    Zerin¡¯s eyes fell to the plate before him, the clatter of the fork against the food punctuating the uneasy atmosphere.


    "It''s what our people need..."


    The Old man''s statement hung heavy in the air, each word landing with calculated weight, as if imprinting themselves forcefully onto Zerin''s consciousness.


    A flicker of resistance sparked within him at the suspected underlying meaning within The Old man''s words, a silent protest simmering beneath the surface.


    He spoke calmly as his hand released its grip on the fork.


    "I hope she finds someone then¡­"


    The Old man''s question sliced through the tension; his penetrating gaze unwavering.


    "What about you?"


    This question was well placed, and Zerin could easily read his invitation for him to peel back his guard.


    His voice faltered as he struggled to form a coherent response, the weight of man''s question pressing down on him.


    "W-What about me? That doesn''t matter¡­"


    Seeking for the right words to say, he clung to the words the Priest spoke as a shield.


    "It''s a waste of time."


    Undeterred, The Old man locked eyes with Zerin, a steely determination shining through the depths of his gaze.


    "Is Wisteria, my daughter, a waste of time to you?"


    The accusation hung in the air,


    I never said that¡­"


    Zerin''s words rushed out, almost instinctively.


    A subtle smile graced his features, the curve of his lips at his response.


    "Good¡­"


    The single word lingered, leaving Zerin to ponder its implications.


    ''Good?''


    With a sigh, the man rose from the bench, his gaze unwavering as he extended an invitation.


    "Come... Walk with me¡­"


    Confusion etched across Zerin''s features as he rose to his feet, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he voiced the question that lingered on his mind,


    "Where are we going?"


    "Let''s find out, shall we?"


    The Old man''s words carried a sense of purpose as he set forth on his path, spurring a moment of hesitation in him before he fell in step behind.


    He glanced over his shoulder,


    "I forgot to ask, how is the festival, boy?"


    Zerin caught up, walking alongside the man.


    "People seem to be having fun, so it must be good."


    "Not much of a social person?"


    The Old man''s question was gentle.


    A casual shrug accompanied Zerin''s confession.


    "Not really¡­"


    The Old man''s words held a nostalgic warmth, his posture exuding a sense of wisdom and experience as he strolled with purpose, he held his hands behind his back.


    "Nervousness is learned, my boy..."


    Observing the familiar gesture, Zerin''s mind flashed back to memories of the Priest adopting a similar stance, drawing a parallel between the two figures in his mind.


    They continued walking as Zerin contemplated the words of The Old man. He lifted his gaze momentarily noticing a sign.


    "Art gallery?"


    Zerin spoke curiously as they were arriving closer to the sign.


    "Yes... I just want to speak with you briefly as we survey the art... this side of the festival is much tamer,"


    As they entered the art gallery, the scent of paint filled the air, mingling with quiet whispers as people analyzed the art pieces.


    Zerin followed behind The Old man, his eyes dancing over the intricate art pieces adorning the walls, each stroke and color, dedicated to their goddess, just like the gallery in the castle they maintained familiarity with each other.


    "I also wanted to mention that I am very sorry for Bashir. I assure you he won''t be bothering you again."


    His words rang with a seriousness that etched them into the walls.


    Zerin''s gaze darted towards The Old man,


    "It''s not a big deal¡­"


    "But it is..."


    He continued to add,


    "If you are to lead the people, then we can''t have your image ruined... Your noble blood must not be spilled without heavy consequences, boy¡­"


    The Old man''s tone shifted, his words, donned Zerin with an invisible crown.


    He shook his head,


    "I am not a leader."


    "Oh, no worries... I know you are nervous... but all it takes is a catalyst to form you into the perfect lord I know you can be."


    The Old man''s words cut through his hesitance, each syllable a gentle nudge.


    He placed his palm on Zerin''s shoulder,


    "Your efforts will bring the goddess back into this realm."


    Zerin''s response was tinged with reluctance, a desire to veer away from the weight of expectation pressing down on him.


    "If you say so¡­"


    "I know so¡­"


    The Old man''s conviction resonated in the air, unwavering in its belief as he beckoned Zerin to pause, drawing his gaze towards a specific painting.


    "Look at that¡­"


    Zerin''s gaze locked onto the painting, its allure drawing him into a world of crimson splendor. The canvas, awash in hues of red, radiated a quiet intensity, each brushstroke adding layers of depth and character to the divine figure at its center. The goddess loomed large, her presence commanding as her horned form evoked celestial echoes in the minds of onlookers. One horn arched like a waxing moon, while its counterpart cradled the gentle curve of a waning crescent.


    Reluctantly tearing his gaze from the captivating artwork, Zerin turned towards The Old man, seeking confirmation as his eyes began to be lured back by painting''s magnetic pull.


    "This is the goddess, right?"


    The Old man''s nod followed by his words,


    "That''s right."


    "She looks different¡­"


    Zerin''s eyes scanned over the painting, his eyes grazing over the red hues, his mind recollecting the paintings from before.


    The Old man''s voice trailed off with curiosity.


    "You''ve seen her also?"


    Zerin shook his head dismissively,


    "No, I haven''t seen her¡­ I was referring to the paintings I''ve seen in the Castle."


    The Old man relaxed, processed his words then nodded with understanding.


    Zerin swifty questioned,


    "Wait, have you seen her?"


    "Plenty of times, boy."


    Zerin''s curiosity unfurled like a scroll, he was intrigued, interested in finding out the true identity of this goddess.


    "What does she look like then?"


    "She looks different to those that behold her, some find her beautiful, while others may not."


    ''She looks different to each person?''


    Zerin never considered this to be an outcome, but it does explain why there are so many different depictions of this goddess.


    The Old man further added,


    "The goddess appeared to me in a dream as a beautiful woman, her form barely covered by a long thin cloth she clutched close to her body, her horns adorned with hanging ornaments, her voice smooth like oil."


    The Old man''s reminiscence painted a vivid portrait of the goddess.


    Zerin had more questions he was eager to ask, and why not get it from a follower of herself?


    "I was also curious about her name, is it just goddess?"


    "Those that have received a dream were given her name, but it is unspeakable by man, impossible even."


    Disappointment seeped into Zerin''s features.


    ''Well, isn''t that a mood-killer¡­''


    Zerin thought as he pried his eyes off of the painting, as The Old man took a breath preparing to speak again.


    "But do not worry, the goddess is still in contact with us today."


    The Old man spoke with conviction.


    Hesitating to respond, he knew that the goddess was very much dead, because if that wasn¡¯t the case he wouldn¡¯t have her [Crimson Needle] in his possession.


    Zerin decided to humor The Old man.


    "What has she told you?"


    The Old man''s words drifted like leaves on a gentle breeze.


    "Told? She gave us a gift, a celebratory gift for her people¡­ Including you, Zerin¡­"


    He grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between skepticism and curiosity.


    "What is this ''gift'' then?"


    Zerin''s question poked at The Old man''s claim.


    "I''ll go get it and send it your way¡­ Wait right here."


    The Old man''s smile carried a cryptic message as he turned and departed, his parting words like a lingering promise.


    ''Again? Hopefully he returns and doesn¡¯t forget about me.¡¯


    Zerin stood in the stillness of the gallery, everyone that was present before vanished, leaving him the sole spectator of the artistry.


    He suddenly felt arms capturing him like a net, arms strung over his shoulders, a sudden touch both intimate and unsettling. Before he could even react, teeth sank into his shoulder, causing him to jolt slightly as he whirled his head around in response.


    "Ria?"


    His exclamation mingled with surprise as the perpetrator revealed herself - Wisteria, embodying a new level of drunkenness that surpassed any prior encounters, her unsteady form a display of her intoxicated state. Her giggles danced in the air, laced with a hint of madness that flickered in her eyes like wild flames.


    "Surprise!"


    Wisteria''s voice gave off chaotic energy, as she swayed her way towards him, her crazy eyes staring into his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck she leaned up her lips almost touching his, causing Zerin to fall back into the masterfully crafted canvas.


    The canvas tore from their collective weight as Wisteria came crashing down with him.


    ''Shit... Shit... Shit..."


    Zerin''s internal lament echoed, his attempts to push Wisteria off of him failed as her limp body weighed far more than he expected.


    Finally, he managed to push Wisteria off him, her body rolled off the canvas. As he stood, he brushed the remnants of the chaotic encounter off of him.


    Looking around, Zerin''s gaze shifted about the gallery, not a soul in sight, which eased his fear. Turning towards Wisteria, he reached for her hand, pulling her up. As Wisteria rose unsteadily to her feet, her expression was a blend of confusion and pain.


    "Ow... Ow... Ow..."


    ''What the hell is her problem?!"


    Zerin''s frustration simmered beneath the surface, his gaze flickering between her and the ruined masterpiece laid torn and desecrated.


    "That took me forever to make!"


    Wisteria''s anguished filled the empty space in the air, tears tracing the paths down her cheeks like fragile rivers.


    Zerin''s inertia shattered like glass as his gaze met her tear-streaked face, the sight itself caused internal pain to him.


    "You made this?"


    Fumbling with the painting, his attempts to restore its once pristine appearance met with resistance, the canvas rebelled against his efforts.


    Wisteria''s tear-streaked face gradually transitioned as she began to wipe her tears as she saw Zerin standing the painting up, in an attempt to restore it to its original state, albeit there was a great tear down the middle of the canvas.


    "Yeah..."


    She sniffled as she wiped her tears, a red ring formed around her eyes, as her voice weakly escaped her lips.


    Zerin tried to uplift her in some sort of way.


    "It was really good..."


    Turning away from the canvas, his gaze shifted towards Wisteria.


    "I wanted to show you it myself... Though..."


    That massive tear was a result of his carelessness, something he would have previously considered insignificant became something that caused someone he cared about great distress. Zerin tried to find the right words to say but came to no conclusion.


    As a saving grace, The Old man returned with urgency woven into his stride.


    His jaw dropped as he saw the beautifully crafted painting being torn apart.


    "What happened?"


    The Old man walked towards the painting as his hands grazed across the Canva''s surface. Wisteria explained everything that happened, Zerin decided himself to shut up, he had already added enough.


    "Maybe calm down on the drinks, dear..."


    His words were gentle, yet advising as he held his arms behind his back.


    Wisteria, nodding in silence, lowered her gaze in a gesture of sincere regret. Her demeanor is something Zerin himself couldn''t bear to see anymore.


    "Lighten up, dear... You have Zerin here... and I also have a gift from the goddess with me..."


    With a smile, The Old man stepped aside, ushering forth a figure cloaked in flowing black fabric.


    Veiled in a darkened cloth, the woman''s eyes, the only visible feature behind the netted veil, glinted within the darkened confines.


    In her hand, she cradled a silver platter adorned with a gleaming dome, the tantalizing aroma wafting from within. With a deliberate flourish, she lifted the lid.


    Thin slivers of meat lay nestled on the platter, raw and bloody, its savory scent a sensory contradiction.


    A mixture of wariness and intrigue coloring Zerin''s expression.


    "What is this?"


    "It''s a gift from the goddess... A festive food..."


    The Old man continued,


    "Give it a try..."


    He spoke with gentle encouragement, urging Zerin to partake in the divine offering.


    His gaze flickered from the questionable feast to Wisteria, her presence still and silent.


    "I''ll have one if you have one..."


    The Old man''s generous gesture, coupled with a smile bestowed Zerin this sacred bounty.


    "You can take the whole platter."


    "A gift from the goddess to you..."


    With a gliding gesture, the shrouded woman passed the platter to Zerin''s hands. The enshrouded woman executed a graceful bow before she drifted off with The Old man.


    "The official dance has almost started... So, you are just in time to watch, while indulging in the delights of the goddess."


    His words redirected Zerin''s attention towards the spectacle that awaited them, a convergence of tradition. As the crowd congregated around the dance grounds, an aura of anticipation filled the festive air. Though he could not quite place its significance.


    "You want to watch the dance?"


    The question hung in the air, he noticed a look of pain in Wisteria''s face, before she quickly masked it.


    "I''m sorry..."


    Zerin blurted out as he looked at her.


    She looked up at him, her face seemed to be filled with even more sorrow as she shook her head.


    "No... Stop... You don''t get to..."


    She seemed to break even further before she turned herself away from him, running away leaving Zerin with the platter in his hand.


    He felt the urge to chase her. He found himself entangled in a different feeling he had not felt previously, but he refused.


    ''I should leave her alone... I caused her enough trouble already.''


    Zerin thought as he carried the platter, gently placing it on the table as he turned to interlink with the people forming the massive circle.


    Voices intertwined with the heartbeat of the drums as dancers twirled within the confines of linen hoops.


    He raised a piece of bloodied meat to his mouth, savoring its unexpected richness as he took a bite. The taste surpassed his expectations, leaving him with a feeling that Wisteria would appreciate it as well.


    "What''s so special about this? Isn''t this just the dance from before?"


    His words caught the attention of a nearby man, whose enthusiasm bubbled forth upon hearing Zerin.


    "That was the practice; this is the real deal! My daughter is getting married!"


    Elation danced in the man''s eyes, reflecting a collective joy that ignited a spark of understanding within Zerin.


    As his attention returned to the dance, he pondered,


    ''Why would she say it was just a dance then?''


    A sudden silence descended over the dancing circle, the beat of the drums abruptly halting, drawing Zerin''s attention. Initially, he wondered if this was planned, but the dancers stood frozen in time, their movements arrested like statues caught mid-pose.


    A cracking thunder rent the air, heralding a crimson streak of lighting that cleaved the darkened heavens above, splitting the darkened clouds, it revealed what was in its heart. An ominous silhouette writhed, the air filling with its malevolent appearance, casting a fear that gripped Zerin''s heart in a vice of dread.


    Instinctively, he tried to summon his staff, but nothing happened. His world began to spiral out of control. Stumbling slightly, he reached for his head, a splitting headache ringing through his skull before everything instantly went black..


    -


    -


    -


    The sound of metal chains clanging together echoed in the darkness.


    Weakness washed over him as he opened his eyes, the shine of the red moon casting a radiant glow.


    "Where am I?"


    Instinctively trying to sit up, he felt resistance¡ªa heavy weight pressing down on him. Heavy metal chains held him firmly in place.


    Scanning the room, he spotted the culprit: The Old man, calmly holding a crude knife.


    "Hey, son..."

 Chapter 13: Ripped Apart

    The wooden chair, now weathered and worn, protested against the weight it bore, emitting a tired creak as the Old man settled into a more dignified posture.


    Chains fastened tightly around his limbs suspended Zerin in the air.


    "Hey, son..."


    Zerin hesitated just before speaking, his gaze fixated on the crude knife gripped in his hand.


    "Do you have anything to say for yourself, you wretched child?"


    The feeble frame of the Old man rose, eliciting a relieved groan from the chair. He approached, the tip of the rough knife pressed against Zerin''s throat.


    "I misjudged you. How could you ever lead our people? How could you ever usher in a new era?"


    Zerin held his breath, the sharp blade''s edge grazing his skin, his face filled with confusion.


    As the blade slowly retreated, Zerin''s eyes trailed its path, only to confront an unexpected reflection¡ªnot of his own.


    A scarred face stared back at him. As the sudden realization dawned on him, a sudden change occurred. He felt a force pushing him back into a corner of his mind, reducing him to a spectator.


    "Bashir, do you recall what I despise the most?"


    Zerin pondered, but then the scarred face returned, and he realized he was not experiencing this event but witnessing it through Bashir''s perspective.


    "Incompetence..."


    Bashir''s voice resonated.


    "Correct..."


    The Old man passed the crude knife to a figure emerging from the shadows, its presence nearly blending into the darkened room.


    The figure accepted the knife, positioning itself before Bashir.


    Behind the figure the Old man paced, hands clasped behind his back.


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    "Don''t you think a price must be paid for your incompetence?"


    The Old man shifted his focus towards the figure.


    "Take his knee..."


    Without an ounce of hesitation or remorse, the figure drove the blade into Bashir''s knee, delving deep as it withdrew its grip.


    The knife was left deep in Bashir''s knee as he stomached the surging pain.


    "As enduring as ever¡­ Remove it..."


    The Old man''s command spurred the figure into action as it twisted the blade. With a brief moment of struggle the blade found way, eliciting a sickening pop as the knee succumbed.


    Bashir stifled a cry, wrestling with agony as he clenched his jaw.


    Observing the perverse delight in the Old man''s demeanor, Zerin recoiled at the cruelty.


    "I might have spared you with just that punishment... Yet, your transgressions surpassed just mere incompetence... Is that not so?"


    The Old man disappeared behind Bashir.


    "You committed the unforgivable sin, you laid your vile hands on the goddess prophet!"


    The Old man''s voice whipped the air.


    Bashir face filled with pure anger as he looked at this covered figure.


    "He must not understand how serious I am¡­ give him more."


    With a nod, the figure forcefully shoved, the knife back into the exposed knee, silencing Bashir with torment.


    "Agh!"


    Through gritted teeth, Bashir strained against the chains that suspended him in the air. He frothed, his anger driving him through the pain.


    "I''ll fucking kill you!"


    As the man returned, he wielded an unholy instrument of torment.


    "Bashir, such a great name wasted on a pitiful soul."


    Despite enduring the torture, Bashir''s defiance boldly flared, venom lacing his words.


    "Born to a worthless father..."


    Enraged, the Old man demanded,


    "Remove his other leg!"


    The Old man passed the crude saw blade, fixed to a handle, to the figure, permitting the act.


    Anticipation hung heavy as the figure poised himself, the serrated blade meeting Bashir''s unscathed leg.


    The room echoed with gory sounds as the blade hacked at his leg, leaving splinters of bone and pieces of flesh. Eventually the serrated saw hacked its way through his leg, leaving behind a gory stump and a torrent of blood.


    A deep voice finally burst from within him as he screamed in pain. Struggling against the pooling crimson below, Bashir''s strength waned, his gaze drifting downward.


    With a composed sigh, the Old man stepped into the bloody puddle, seizing Bashir''s hair to face him.


    "Forced by your actions... I could not spare you. Blame yourself for you own careless actions¡­"


    In a final plea, Bashir rasped,


    "You promised me..."


    Disgust contorted the Old man''s features.


    "Still dwelling on that? You proved yourself unworthy of the burden!"


    Turning to the figure, the Old man made another demand.


    "Put an end to him... Hopefully the goddess will forgive him when he returns to her."


    As the Old man receded into darkness, leaving Bashir and the figure, Zerin remained a powerless spectator as he witnessed all the horrors prior.


    A rhythmic clack heralded the arrival of the cloaked woman, the same figure from the festival, brandishing a sack over her shoulder.


    The crimson pool rippled as she stepped into it. Standing amidst the crimson pool, she collected Bashir''s severed leg, placing it into the sack.


    "Through your sacrifice, the goddess grants our prophet a divine gift."


    Zerin grappled with horror and disgust as the woman''s words gave him a revelation that chilled his core.


    "How can our prophet be sustained by such a meager gift?"


    "Sister...


    Passing the weapon to the woman, the figure issued a directive.


    "Pick an arm and sever it."


    Zerin witnessed the woman''s fleeting hesitation before she steeled herself to carry out the gruesome task.


    As Bashir cries pierced the air, Zerin bore witness to a soul succumbing to torment that was going to end in death. Zerin wanted nothing to do with this, but as the scene further unfolded, his cries becoming more pronounced expected his position.


    His arm hung onto a thread of his flesh, before the weight eventually tore the muscular limb off his shoulders.


    A mantra was uttered,


    "This fate befalls those who stray from the path he carved."


    The figure spoke, afterword the woman scooped up the muscular arm and stashed it into the sack.


    In Bashir''s dying breaths, Zerin experienced true helplessness, his heart heavy with despair as the moon light filtered through the cracks of the stone walls. The light shining brighter and brighter, before Bashir gave up, closing his eyes.


    Drenched in darkness, all of his senses subsided, but Zerin''s anger and disgust resided.

 Chapter 14: Cradled Memories

    He tried his best to shake himself from this sick dream he was a part of. In Zerin¡¯s current state he was limited, as once again he became an observer.


    The light returning to the darkness announced Bashir¡¯s awakening. Laying in a crude makeshift bed that was crammed into the tent, there he laid. Sitting up shielding his head from the looming lantern that hung low just above his bed, he relinquished a groan.


    Bashir swiftly ventured out of his tiny tent that he had to crunch himself down in order to fit.


    To Zerin, this whole thing was starting to get on his nerves, he wasn¡¯t sure if this was a dream or vision from the goddess. So, he decided to stop his inner monologue and pay attention, allowing the scene to play out as intended.


    As Zerin was arguing with himself, Bashir readied the three sleds lined up next to his tent. When his preparations were finished, he tugged the sleds towards the outside of the camp.


    ¡°You need to earn his trust. This is our first step, get close as possible, lie, seduce, coerce anything! We must figure out the truth¡­¡±


    A voice that was all too familiar to him, spoke out before he turned his head. Wisteria nodded in agreement as she accepted the words from that Old man. Bashir¡¯s careless demeanor contrasted sharply with the heavily suppressed emotions within Zerin.


    ¡®How could she¡ª¡¯


    ¡°Bashir!¡±


    He continued walking forth pretending like Wisteria didn¡¯t even exist. But, it would seem that you would need to do far more than just ignore her as Wisteria clearly didn¡¯t get Bashir¡¯s body language. Prancing up to him she hugged his arm.


    Bashir¡¯s annoyance spilled out onto his tone, as he turned his head to look at her.


    ¡°Can you let go?¡±


    Her usual careless smile filled her face, while she clung desperately to his arm.


    ¡°Why would I do that brother?¡±


    He peeled her arms off of him as he continued his stride, dragging along the train of sleds.


    ¡°You are not my real sister.¡±


    Bashir said coldly as he continued walking ahead of her, creating some distance.


    Wisteria spoke with a fragile voice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about that Bashir¡­¡±


    Bashir stopped suddenly after hearing Wisteria, his weight snapped the twigs beneath him. As he turned around Zerin could sense the welling anger that he kept at bay.


    ¡°You know what father says about me, playing your little games isn¡¯t going to change any of it.¡±


    Bashir turned before he stopped again,


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you hang out with your boyfriend, or whatever the hell his name is.¡±


    Wisteria looked down at the ground as she kicked her feet against the earth, her foot swaying in the air.


    ¡°His name is Zerin¡­¡±


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    Her face then flushed.


    ¡°And he is not my boyfriend¡­¡±


    Bashir shook his head in disbelief.


    ¡°Sure¡­ Go spend time with your boyfriend¡­ I wouldn¡¯t want to intrude on your love.¡±


    Wisteria audibly scoffed as she stomped her foot against the earth.


    ¡°You are so stupid!¡±


    Bashir smiled as he turned from her, his facade of a smile died down quickly as he muttered to himself.


    ¡°Smiling is a sign of weakness. Weakness is incompetence, I have no weaknesses.¡±


    Zerin witnessed as Bashir went through his entire day. He made sure to free his mind from any unnecessary distractions for the moment and paid close attention to everything. From what he could read so far is that Bashir used labor as an outlet, everything he did was purposely difficult.


    Bashir finished his workday pulling heavy sleds stacked with wood by his lonesome. Arriving at camp, Zerin saw through Bashir¡¯s perspective, something that chilled his very core.


    Zerin saw himself sitting by the fire, in crude clothes, his face seemed worn, weak, afraid. He was in utter shock, to see himself like this felt odd, disturbing even.


    In a desperate useless attempt, he tried to will Bashir towards the campfire but of course nothing went as planned. The massive oaf just unloaded all of the wood from the sleds, and after a long day of work he sought refuge in his tent shortly after.


    As Bashir closed his eyes once again, Zerin was captured by the darkness. But, soon after the light shone again, and his eyes opened. The tent was mostly empty, lacking any tools and even the old lantern that was present previously.


    Zerin immediately could tell that this was a younger Bashir, as he was able to stand up in the tent without any obstruction. He suppressed his own thoughts, and he was able to read the remnants of Bashir¡¯s, curiosity filled Bashir¡¯s mind as he ventured out of his tent.


    He tiptoed across the campsite, in the early morning of the first snow, white snow fell and sprinkled the crimson grass. Bashir inched closer to another tent. He deftly unclasped the tent flap, peering into the tent, a mysterious girl sat calmly, her back illuminated by the lantern beside her.


    Young Bashir was enthralled by her blonde hair, a hair color he has never seen but has heard before in stories. The hero¡¯s blonde hair and blue eyes, symbolizing their purity, their goodness.


    He looked at her with awe, ignoring the bitter cold nipping at his skin. He wanted to be a hero too, he wanted to own up to his very name, the name his father gave him.


    In his rambling thoughts that Zerin could discern, Bashir slipped and fell into the tent abruptly.


    ¡°Ahh-ack¡­ Ow¡­¡±


    Bashir fell on his face as he held his head in his hands. At least the earth was a bit forgiving, as it was still soft; the bitter cold hadn''t frozen it yet. For a brief moment Bashir withheld the urge to scream out in pain as he rubbed his forehead.


    A tender voice called out.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Bashir froze slightly as he held his head in his hands. Slowly raising his head, he was greeted by the face of a beautiful girl. She bore a deep resemblance to the heroes he saw in his dreams. He sat there stunned, unable to tear his gaze away from her aquamarine eyes.


    He snapped back to reality as her hand rested on his forehead, her hand grazing over his bruise. Suddenly to his own surprise, his eyes welled up with tears.


    ¡°It hurts, huh?¡±


    The voice was comforting, but for Bashir it wasn¡¯t the pain, it was the gesture, a gesture he was starved from for the longest time.


    She wiped his tears with her dirty hands, yet his eyes never peeled from hers.


    ¡°My name is Wisteria¡­ What is yours?¡±


    The girl asked as she pulled her hand back.


    Bashir closed his eyes, wiping his own tears that continued to stream forth.


    ¡°Bashir¡­¡±


    Opening his eyes once again, Zerin was greeted with a blinding brightness, but he had to bear it. Hearing the cries of an infant in his ears, Zerin waited for Bashir¡¯s vision to adjust to the sudden bright light.


    But to his surprise Zerin saw Bashir get hoisted up into his mothers arms, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bashir turned his head and Zerin could see the Old man, though he was substantially younger. Bashir¡¯s arrival was greeted by the smile of his parents, Zerin could only guess that this was the first and last time Bashir would ever see his parents smile so brightly at his presence.


    ¡°Bashir¡­ A name fit for the boy who will bring our people back to glory¡­¡±


    The cries abruptly ceased as Bashir locked eyes with his father. One blink from Bashir brought an end to the vision.


    Zerin watched as the collected visions or memories gathered together and played back in chronological order: from Bashir¡¯s birth, to when he met Wisteria, to his very death authorized by his own father.


    His eyes fluttered open again, the room was darkened with shadows, he sat in silence for several moments. Checking to summon his runes the red runes summoned in the darkness, he was back to reality. Throughout the entire experience he underwent, nothing was as bad as his current feeling, complete indifference.


    Dismissing the runes, Zerin weakly hoisted himself in his bed, his body resisting his movements. The fatigue was akin to weaving the threads until his very blood ran dry. But, he managed to prop his body upright on the headboard of the bed. His head was spinning as his eyes surveyed the room.


    The ceaseless fire finally went out, the room felt dead, almost a lack of presence. Any attempt to inspect the room in the darkness, would amount to nothing.


    Zerin reached out feebly to the lamp beside his bed, turning on the lantern in the room. The shadows fled from the light, retreating to the outer edges of its range. Now illuminated by the light was the Priest, levitating in stasis, its head slumped as it seemed to drift up and down in the air.


    A sigh escaped Zerin''s lips as he relaxed.


    ¡®How long have I been out?¡¯


    After an indiscernible amount of time, crimson rays filtered through the balcony. Zerin watched as the Priest remained in stasis until the rays hit its form, causing its patchwork flesh to ripple before it awoke.


    ¡°You could have woken me up.¡±


    The Priest said calmly as it drifted to Zerin¡¯s side of the bed.


    ¡°I was thinking about it¡­¡±

 Chapter 15: A Way Through Wounds

    Kneeling before the hideous lizard, Zerin grappled with the creature, his hands locked in a tug-of-war with the sheathe clutched tightly in its formidable jaws. Each pull only caused the beast to react with an even deeper growl, its menacing eyes fixed on him with unwavering intensity. With each attempt to shake Zerin''s grip on the sheathe, the lizard''s movements grew erratic, leaving a glistening trail of its saliva to coat the sheathe in its slick film of mucus.


    Zerin''s nostrils curled up in disgust.


    "Fine, you can have it¡­"


    He flicked away the lizard''s viscous saliva off his hand with a shudder. The creature''s relentless determination to cling to the sheath struck him as peculiar¡ªthe creature''s strange attachment to the item, raised questions about the mysterious significance of the item in its possession.


    ''What is so special about an empty sheathe anyways?''


    He scratched his head as the lizard curled itself back into a ball in front of him, shielding its precious item.


    He stood up shortly after with a sigh, his strength finally began to come back to him. A few hours ago, he was greeted by the Priest when he awoke, he was also questioned, which Zerin told everything that transpired, even the visions. To his surprise the Priest listened without any issue or questions. Zerin looked for answers in the only way he knew how, he searched through the runes. The red runes shined before they aligned themselves, finally becoming legible.


    Name: Zerin.


    True Name: ¡ª


    Rank: Aspirant


    Soul Core: Dormant


    Memories: [Crimson Needle]


    Echoes: ¡ª


    Attributes: [Guided will], [Acolyte], [Blood Ties], [Been There, Done That]


    A specific attribute stood out,


    [Blood Ties] (Dormant)


    "The blood of the fallen may hold tales to be told."


    The attribute he previously discarded as useless, provided all the evidence he needed to prove himself that what he experienced was real. He also noticed some text he glossed over carelessly the first time, hovering right beside the attribute, it read: (Dormant).


    Swiping his hand through the shimmering runes, Zerin watched as they dissipated into fading wisps of light. Settling onto the edge of his bed, a perplexed furrow creased his brow as he sat thinking of the current dormant attribute and its implications. His initial focus was centered on the dormant element of the attribute itself, but a troubling realization began to form¡ªthe absence of an emotional response to everything he experienced. Expecting a surge of visceral reactions¡ªperhaps disgust, hate, or even fear¡ªBut Zerin was greeted with a disquieting void instead.


    After fruitlessly scouring for answers, Zerin was satisfied with believing this was some sort of side effect that would eventually disappear with time. But what also helped him get over this mental barrier was the sudden intrusion into his room as he heard his doorknob being turned and opened.


    Wisteria stood in the doorway, stopping suddenly as she saw that Zerin was awake.


    "Uh¡­ Sorry to bother you Sir¡­"


    ''Sir?''


    Perched on the edge of his bed, his features etched with a subtle hint of confusion at the formal title she had bestowed upon him. As she advanced into the room, a graceful stride marking her entrance.


    "My name is Wisteria."


    She engaged in a graceful bow, she lowered her gaze in a gesture of respect before gradually rising to meet his eyes once more. As she straightened, a shimmer of unshed tears pooled in her gaze.


    A wave of utter confusion washed over Zerin.


    "What?"


    Her voice trembled with emotion, she repeated her words once more. Tears continued to well in her eyes before they gave way, tracing a silent path down her cheeks. With a soft sigh, she brushed the tears away before she spoke.


    "My name is¡­ Wisteria¡­"


    With a voice filled with detached indifference, Zerin posed the question that lingered in the air like a heavy mist.


    "Why are you crying?"


    His words, though laced with detachment, held a thread of concern that wavered beneath the surface. Before she could respond, he interjected with a firm yet gentle reminder.


    "And we talked about this, just call me Zerin¡­"


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    Pausing mid-motion, her delicate hand frozen in the act of wiping away tears, she cast a gaze upon Zerin, her eyes widening as if she saw a ghost.


    "You remember?"


    Her hand fell to her side as she took a step forward.


    A flicker of frustration crossed Zerin''s features, his brows furrowing in confusion as he struggled to make sense of what she was saying.


    "Why wouldn''t I?"


    Drawing closer with a tentative step, she hesitated briefly before a sudden impulsive motion propelled her towards Zerin, the force of her movement catching him off guard. Startled, he instinctively recoiled, a faint reaction of surprise crossed his features as she landed in his lap. Her arms enveloped his neck in a tight embrace, her body felt like a furnace, contrasting her cold tears that fell on the back of his neck.


    Retreating slightly, her trembling hands sought out his face, fingers delicately tracing his features with a tenderness. A bittersweet smile graced her lips, a flicker of happiness dancing in her tear-filled eyes.


    "You remember? You remember everything?"


    Zerin responded hesitantly, he had no clue what she was talking about, but he nodded his head anyways.


    Her hands cradled the back of his head as she pressed a tender kiss upon his lips, a moment that unleashed a torrent of emotions within Zerin. It felt akin to a reversal of the classic fairy tale trope, where the prince''s kiss breaks the princess''s slumber, yet here, the roles were inverted, stirring a whirlwind of feelings in Zerin''s heart.


    "I thought you were gone¡­ I couldn''t bare losing you again."


    "Lose me? What are you talking about?"


    She swiftly hopped back to her feet as she pulled him by his hand.


    Dragged out of the darkened castle, she led him towards the guest lodgings.


    The once-vibrant homes, bustling with laughter of families and the echoes of daily life, now stood as hollow as shells of their former selves. By the words of Wisteria herself, the people were taken into the air, but what he pictured in his mind was completely different from what she truly meant.


    With a tug at his hand, she guided him to the site where the departed found their rest, a sea of bodies stretching the entire expanse of the tent that was set up for their shelter. In eerie symmetry, the slumbering figures rested in a similar pose, hands gently placed on their chests.


    "I thought you said they were taken?"


    "The creature in the skies took their souls for harvest."


    Wisteria paused her words carrying otherworldly weight, before she went on,


    "Their vacant souls will return back to their bodies, allowing the vacant soul to form new memories to continue the cycle"


    "How long have you known? Why keep me into the dark until now?"


    His eyes narrowed with a mix of confusion and apprehension.


    "I couldn''t, I wanted to¡­ believe me¡­"


    "No¡­"


    Zerin''s disbelief rang clearly, he could not believe the things he was hearing. This revelation struck a dissonant chord within him, questioning the very fabric of their existence. How could she so easily accept this? The realization of this world as a relentless mechanism, devouring souls only to recycle them for an endless loop, to him it was almost unforgivable.


    "I am going to tell the priest everything you just said, but you must at least give me an explanation for why you held this from me."


    -


    -


    -


    Zerin''s footsteps echoed through the silent corridors of the castle as he made his way to meet with the Priest, leaving Wisteria behind. He couldn''t look at her the same way after what she had just said.


    Raising his hand, Zerin''s trembling fingers brushed lightly over his lips, a flush of color blooming across his cheeks.


    ''What a stupid reason...''


    Descending the winding stone staircase, he navigated to the lowest floor where the air grew colder, a chill seeping into his bones as he continued down the narrow, clammy stone hallway.


    Before the sturdy cellar door, muffled murmurs seeped through. Zerin knelt on the damp floor; his ear pressed against the weathered door. The faint sounds confirmed his suspicions. He summoned his staff and slowly pushed the door open. This time, luck was on his side as the door managed not to make the slightest noise.


    Aware of a boundary he was about to cross, Zerin continued anyway. Peering cautiously from the doorway, the metallic coppery tang of blood assaulted his senses. In the center of the room, the Priest stood as straight as a needle, floating effortlessly above the ground, his gaze fixed.


    Stealthily navigating the colossal tables that lined the out edges of the cellar, Zerin approached with caution. Gazing over the tables, he was greeted with an unexpecting sight: the Old man ensnared by sinewy tendrils of flesh, his voice silenced by a gag that stifled his cries, the source of the


    murmuring sounds that had echoed the damp chamber.


    From the anguish etched on the Old man''s features, Zerin observed his suffering. His gaze traveled downward finding the reason behind the man''s torment. The void where his left arm once existed, severed at the elbow, was now replaced with a writhing mass of flesh, a grotesque manifestation that pulsed inflicting an unrelenting agony to the man.


    Zerin watched the scene with complete indifference.


    ''It''s what he deserves¡­''


    The sinewy piece of flesh that bound the Old man''s voice was abruptly lifted, defying gravity as it hovered in the air, peeling from his face with eerie fluidity.


    "I think I''ve been very lenient, now provide me with answers to my questions."


    The Priest''s commanding voice spoke out.


    The Old man''s words tumbled out in a flurry, a messy torrent of desperation and fear.


    "I-I shared everything with you! And leniency?! What concept of mercy do you grasp, you abomination!"


    The Priest''s response cut through the air like a blade, his voice ringing out with sharp intensity.


    "Abomination?!"


    The piece of flesh that was removed then was transformed into a spear within an instant.


    "You fed my kin the flesh of your pitiful offspring... And yet, I am the abomination!?"


    The Priest''s voice dripped with venomous loathing, each word laced with a seething contempt that reverberated through the chamber.


    "I should carve your organs from your feeble frame and offer them to the serpent, you wretched soul!"


    The Priest''s condemnation bore down with a weight that stirred tremors in the cellar, each syllable made Zerin''s heart lurch.


    Fear etched itself visibly on the Old man''s face, he attempted to retreat from the menacing spear. Bound by the sinewy tendrils that pinned him against the wall, his struggle was futile. With a swift motion, the Priest drew the spear back, poised to deliver a fatal blow to the man''s skull. Zerin stood unwavering, accepting the outcome with a sense of grim satisfaction. In his eyes, it was a fitting end for an old bastard.


    "How about I do the same?"


    The Priests halted, his words dripping with twisted enthusiasm.


    "How about I offer your flesh to your beloved foster daughter, the one you hold even more dear than your very son?"


    The Priest''s words carried delight, relishing in the fear and desperation that formed on the Old man''s face.


    "Better yet, I''ll do it while you can still draw breath, so you can watch¡­"


    After hearing all of this, Zerin reached his limit, he has heard enough.


    "That won''t be necessary, this old bastard doesn''t care about anyone but himself¡­"


    Zerin didn''t really care for the fate of the Old man. As long as his death was as gruesome as humanly possible, but he drew the line at unnecessary suffering of others, shocker¡­


    The Priest''s voice cut through the tense air without a glance towards Zerin, his question hanging ominously in the dimly lit cellar.


    "Then, what do you believe is the fitting punishment?"


    As the Old man''s voice broke out in a desperate plea.


    "My lord¡­"


    Zerin''s gaze bore into him with a mixture of disdain and the deepest scorn before he pivoted back to face the Priest.


    The spear then morphed into a grotesque mass of flesh, as the Priest sent it forth swiftly covering the Old man''s mouth, silencing him.


    "We will escort him and the people that were ''taken'' into the woods and we will find the goddess and she will settle our issues herself."


    The Priest''s head shook in disapproval, a gesture showing his rejection and skepticism.


    "That notion is preposterous."


    The Priest scoffed, his tone laced with an air of authority.


    "You have yet to harness the intricate art of weaving the blood threads, and what misguided belief would make you think the goddess would help us solve any of our mortal affairs?"


    "Do you believe she is incapable?"


    "Absolutely not! The goddess is beyond such mundane matters. Bringing the people out in the wilderness would only pave the way for catastrophic loss of life"


    His demeanor unwavering as he emphasized the danger of this course of action.


    "I thought you held no regard for the people?"


    Zerin confronted the Priest with a pointed question, challenging him.


    "That''s correct, I harbor no care for them. However, I refuse to witness your demise. The serpent will not grant you another chance."


    "You claimed you could handle him, did you not? Why don''t you follow through on that promise? I have faith in your capabilities."


    His words cut through the tension, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone as he entrusted the Priest with the task at hand. Zerin''s unsettling calmness added another layer of madness into the mix.


    "Are you sane, boy?"


    The Priest questioned as it turned its full body towards him.


    Zerin nodded at his question.


    With a resounding exhale, the Priest then spoke.


    "Very well then¡­ But you must step up and claim your rightful title as Lord, the people will not willingly follow me for obvious reasons.


    A faint smile tugged at Zerin''s lips, his gaze drifting to the dusty floor beneath him. Zerin murmured to himself.


    "No matter how much I detested this, I had a feeling it was going to come to this eventually."


    A soft whisper brushed against his ear.


    [An attribute has been altered]

 Chapter 16: Straying from Home

    In the shadow of such an imposing, darkened castle, their sense of security was slowly being stripped from them as they ventured from its onyx confines.


    The crimson light of dawn cast a gentle glow upon the weary people. Though they were a vast multitude, very few awoke as mere echoes of their former selves. The journey ahead was crucial, and even amidst their confusion, it was necessary. Despite a few days of grace to prepare, none of them were truly ready, and this burden weighed heavily on his shoulders.


    Though the task ahead was daunting, Zerin''s unwavering commitment shone through. He felt as if events were unfolding around him beyond his control, and once he realized this, he wanted to rebel against it. Finally, he felt as if he had some agency over his life.


    Name: Zerin


    True Name: ¡ª


    Rank: Aspirant


    Soul Core: Dormant


    Memories: [Crimson Needle]


    Echoes: ¡ª


    Attributes: [Iron Will], [Acolyte], [Blood Ties], [Been There, Done That]


    Aspect: [Born Of The Blood]


    Aspect Description: [Those Born From That Blood Are Particularly Favored.]


    Zerin became even more familiarized with these runes, for an instance, he began to realize the progressive change in the rune pertaining to his will, which further proved his assumptions. The first instance of this rune that he could recall was [Guided Will], which was when he was brought under the Priest''s wing during his capture. But now the Attribute has been altered, to what it is now [Iron Will]. The attribute''s description reads: [Your will has been tempered by the influence of the Priest of Flesh]


    Casting away his runes, Zerin could tell that the path ahead would be dangerous. However, the unwavering effects of the attribute numbed the crippling effects of fear, allowing him to combat the unknown.


    He strode to the forefront, a hushed exhale escaped his lips. By his side the transfigured lizard, casted an eerie atmosphere over the people, both of awe and fear. Close behind, a weathered figure of old, once esteemed but now fallen as his true self has been revealed, a murderer, a liar. The man''s arms both crudely cleaved as a grim reminder of the great sins he has committed, onlookers looked at him with pity and revulsion.


    The lizard glided sinuously over the blood-smeared onyx stones ahead. A collar of flesh encircled its neck, an adornment that almost blended with its fleshly hide. Trailing behind the creature against his will, the aged man stumbled. His weary steps were accompanied by a tethered band of flesh, constricting him and connecting him to the lizard.


    As the group followed Zerin, the wind brushed gently across the vast bridge that was before them. It''s wide and shadowed span extended for miles before vanishing into a scarlet mist. Beneath their very steps, plunging several hundred feet below laid the crimson-stained waters. The bridge itself, a precarious lifeline that was suspended in the air, relying on the support of weathered onyx pillars that rose like monolithic sentinels from the depths of the crimson sea.


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    Zerin''s thoughts drifted like wisps of fog, the weight of the news he knew he had to deliver to Wisteria about Bashir, felt like a millstone around his neck, he almost couldn''t even think. Witnessing her shattering grief just from her mother''s drastic shift, left him even more hesitant to deliver the news. But even amongst this, for her, he needed to veil his emotions to prepare himself for what is to come.


    As the group traversed the vast onyx stone bridge, the stretch of time furthered the people''s weariness. Zerin''s surgical gaze swept their immediate surroundings. It was only a matter of time before an alarming sight showed itself, a yawning chasm laid ahead, a gaping wound in the heart of the bridge stretching from its center to the far-left side. The hazardous crevice cleaved through the bridge''s sturdy surface, leaving a narrow pathway to the far-right, merely four feet in width as the only way of passage.


    Coming to a sudden standstill, Zerin''s footsteps faltered, he casted a brief glance over his shoulder to the people trailing behind him, a sizable amount that seemed to number close to a hundred. With a commanding gesture, Zerin raised his hand, a silent signal for their never-ending march to cease.


    His eyes sifted through the crowd briefly, before he spoke.


    "Boris!"


    The name hung in the air, as the briskly cold, coppery scented air brushed through the crowd. From in the crowd the hefty man came forth, Boris, the gatekeeper of the festival, a fortunate soul, one of the very few that retained his memories from the encounter with the ''behemoth of the air''. Despite his massive size, that seemed to suggest he was an intimidating individual, Boris was quite the opposite, Boris emitted a gentle warmth that counter acted his own appearance.


    "Yes, Zerin?"


    Boris replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.


    "What is the matter?"


    "I need you to send a message to the Priest. Let him know that our path is obstructed, with only a narrow path for us to cross to the other side."


    Boris nodded in understanding before he swiftly maneuvered through the clustered crowd.


    After a period of time, Boris reemerged from the crowd, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, his breath coming out in short, labored gasps.


    "He said,"


    Boris''s words came out between breaths, punctuated by pauses as he took much needed breaths.


    "That we are to proceed... In small contingents..."


    Summoning the lizard to his side, Zerin whistled. Reaching forward Zerin grasped the fleshly collar secured around the beast''s neck, tugging at it, before it elicited a shudder as the bind was loosened, sinewy strands of flesh danced and writhed.


    Zerin took hold of the leash and maneuvered the aged man alongside him with steady hands. Securing the elder to the bridge''s railing the tendrils intertwined, constricting tightly around the onyx railing. The properties of this leash or bind were mysterious as it seemed only accessible to the Priest and Zerin exclusively, allowing them to bind and unbind the sinewy tendrils.


    "Don''t move..."


    Zerin''s voice spoke with directive force as he addressed the elderly man, his words demanding his compliance.


    With a final lingering gaze upon the bound individual, he turned his attention towards the lizard that silently sat, awaiting command.


    "Go..."


    A whispered command, barely audible, released the lizard from its stationary stance, setting it in motion along the hazardous edge of the bridge. The creature moved with graceful fluidity, its movements deliberate and cautious, showing its instinctual awareness to danger. Slithering along the side of the gaping void that marred the bridge''s width, the lizard navigated the path with precision, inching closer to the safety of the opposite side. Once the creature managed to make it over to the other side Zerin turned and spoke to the people with confidence.


    "Three at a time!"


    His voice cut through the unease as he raised his three fingers skyward, a visual cue set against the backdrop of the distant crimson cascades plummeting to the red waters below.


    With each trio cautiously navigating the narrow path, the long process continued gradually, like a slow burn of a candle. A period of time passed as the majority of the group successfully and safely traversed the bridge.


    As Boris approached the narrow pathway, the sheer magnitude of his form seemed to rival the very weight of the lizard itself. Zerin observed with a bated breath, to his surprise he managed to cross the passage. A tangible weight was seen lifting off of Boris''s shoulders as he sighed, taking his first steps to join the multitude.


    Beside Zerin, the lizard maintained its calm presence, completely silent. As Boris began to distance himself from the massive hole marring the bridge, a sudden hush fell over him as he hesitated briefly. Picking up on the change of atmosphere, Zerin lifted his sights onto Boris. The onyx bridge beneath the hefty man began to audibly crack and crumble and swiftly after that it succumbed to the man''s weight, Boris along with the fractured onyx remnants began to plummet into the crimson seas below.

 Chapter 17: Everlasting March

    As the man''s weight bore down on the fragile onyx stones beneath him, they began to shatter with a deafening crack, causing him to fall beneath the surface. In a moment of sheer desperation, he extended his hands, frantically searching for any semblance of support amidst the crumbling remnants of the once-solid structure.


    Dashing forward with a lack of self-preservation Zerin closed in on Boris. His veins flooded with adrenaline, just as the stones began to crumble further. Panic surged, but he forced himself to focus. He outstretched his hand to Boris while the hefty man clung to the stones for dear life.


    Rushing to aid, the lizard approached the edge, shot its neck forward, securing its powerful jaws tightly around the hefty man¡¯s shoulder. With fierce growling intensity, the creature sank its teeth into the flesh, gathering a tight hold as it struggled with Boris¡¯s weight.


    The creature clenched harder around his shoulder, with the aid of Zerin at the peak of his adrenaline high, they began to make way. Boris¡¯s grimace against the jaws tearing at his shoulder mirrored the gut-wrenching sensation of nails scraping against a chalkboard, each moment filled with excruciating torment. Yet, undeterred by his suffering, the lizard persisted in its efforts, as it yanked and jerked Boris away from the brink of disaster.


    Zerin stumbled falling to one knee for just a moment, the brief crash of adrenaline hit him unexpectedly. He fought against the overwhelming tide, willing his body to regain its composure once more.


    He pushed himself up from the brief descent, managing to endure the crash of adrenaline. Standing up straight, he looked at Boris, who lay sprawled out on his back upon the onyx bridge, his wound dripping with blood.


    "Are you alright?"


    Now looking back at it, Zerin felt that this was the one of the dumbest questions you could possibly ask.


    "Let me take a look..."''


    Complying Boris peeled his trembling hand away from his injured shoulder, revealing grim fractures and dislocated bones buried beneath his torn flesh. The visceral assault on Zerin''s senses, sent a chill down his spine, compelling him to look away.


    "Hold on, I''ll find help.


    Zerin turned his head from Boris. Facing the gathering crowd on the other side of the gaping hole, his eyes fell upon the figure of the Priest amidst the group, a stoic presence amidst the chaos, reminiscent of driftwood standing firm against the relentless tide. With a sense of otherworldly grace, the Priest ascended into the air, effortlessly defying gravity. By the Priest''s side Wisteria panicked at the sudden ascension into the air. She clutched the frill of her white dress, preparing to descend to the other side of the chasm with the Priest.


    As the he lowered Wisteria to the other side of the chasm, he spoke calmly while observing Boris, who lay on the ground with his wound bleeding profusely and cursing the onyx stones beneath him.


    "I''ll handle this from here..."


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    From its patchwork flesh emerged the minuscule slug, the embodiment of perverse fascination. With a twisted kind of curiosity, the creature extended its head, its beady eyes aglow with sinister glee at the fresh crimson stains on the floor.


    In perverse delight, the slimy slug leaped forth from the Priest, its bulging abdomen filled with feasts from before bouncing awkwardly against the onyx surface. Oblivious to the sheer grotesqueness that was its existence, the slug skittered across the cold stones with unnatural speed, driven by its gluttony for the spilled blood that now tainted the onyx stones.


    As it greedily lapped up the glistening pool of blood, the creature''s movements filled with sickening voracity, satisfaction amidst the grim aftermath.


    Interrupting the little creatures delight, the slug was lifted by its fatty scruff, by none other than the lizard itself, causing the little slug to whine as it was separated by its favorite crimson nectar.


    Following behind the lizard as it glided past in a noble fashion, the Priest stood erect like a pillar, looking down at the man¡¯s shoulder.


    As the Priest glided past them, their eyes found each other. He could read exactly what she wanted to say, he could see it etched on her very face. She wanted to apologize for keeping things secret, perhaps even apologize for the kiss itself, but that wasn¡¯t really what forged the rift in between them. What caused this rift, was the mask she wore the whole time, he felt uncomfortable, and he wanted to forget it, but his conscious kept addressing it every time his eyes beheld her.


    Zerin lifted his gaze from her after a few seconds, her face longed for his as she scampered to speak.


    ¡°W¨CWait!¡±


    She blurted out, Zerin stopped and turned back to her. He wasn¡¯t entirely prepared to face her at this moment.


    "Yes?"


    "I''m sorry¡ªI¡­"


    He hit the nail on its head, he realized after several times, she is heavily apologetic, which isn''t particularly a bad thing, but it is definitely something that would get under your skin after a while.


    "It''s fine¡­ Stop apologizing¡ª"


    The sound of groans of pain caught Zerin''s attention as the Priest loomed over Boris, calmly assessing the pain.


    ¡°Remove your hand.¡±


    The Priest¡¯s voice, a calm demand.


    Boris obliged; a chilling transformation unfolded. From the depths of the Priest¡¯s flesh, a cluster of sinewy tendrils emerged. With a malevolent grace, the tendrils snaked their way towards Boris.


    The moment the tendrils connected with his skin, delving deep into his torn flesh. Anguish erupted; groans of unbearable pain clawed its way from deep within him. The Priest continued its surgical treatment throughout the torment, its tendrils shifting under his flesh, the was a horror to anyone who witnessed it.


    A tense silence descended as the Priest''s tendrils retreated. Parting a piece of flesh from its own body the Priest then formed a sling for his arm from its flesh, securing it tightly around Boris''s shoulder


    Raising his gaze with his usual nature, he shifted towards Zerin and Wisteria. In a calm voice he addressed their concerns.


    ¡°I have realigned his fractured shoulder, melding the pieces together with bits of flesh. Though, it will demand time to fully mend.¡±


    Fixing his penetrating gaze on Zerin, the Priest¡¯s eyeless face bore into him.


    ¡°I shall guide the path for now¡­¡±


    Acknowledging the Priest¡¯s words, he nodded subtly. In the periphery of his vision, a tender smile bloomed on Wisteria¡¯s lips, a fleeting moment as the Priest¡¯s attention turned to her.


    As the Priest drifted away, Zerin turned briefly to glance at Wisteria, her eyes found his also and a period of silence was between them.


    -


    -


    -


    Several moments later, the people began their journey once again, the Priest and Zerin switching places, the Priest carefully guiding the people while Zerin trailed behind as Wisteria remained glued to his side.


    ¡°How is your mother doing?¡±


    Zerin said as he walked alongside her, ignoring her consistent proximity of her brushing up against him every step she took.


    Wisteria¡¯s aquamarine eyes fell upon the onyx stones, before she exhaled heavily.


    ¡°She is doing fine physically¡­ But she forgot who I was entirely¡­ She doesn¡¯t even believe I am her daughter.¡±


    Wisteria turned towards Zerin slightly, her face that usually would have been washed with tears had a slight smile instead that made him a bit uncomfortable.


    "I look nothing like her anyways...¡±


    ¡®Why would you say that?¡¯


    Even though she wasn''t necessarily wrong, the people in these lands looked vastly different. Zerin had yet to see anyone like him or Wisteria, with blonde hair or blue eyes. But the way she framed her words to overcome this obstacle left him feeling disturbed, even sad.


    "I will restore everyone''s memories, including your mother''s. That''s the whole point of this journey."


    She smiled slightly as she tilted her head leaning forward to search his faltering gaze, her braided blonde pinkish woven pigtails fell forward as her aquamarine eyes bore into his.


    ¡°I believe in you¡­¡±


    Zerin stared at her in utter shock, unable to find his voice. He managed only a strained, insincere smile before turning, and continuing to walk beside her.


    Those words alone captivated his soul. What does it truly mean to believe in someone? Where is the limit? Why does he seem more trustworthy than anyone else? He knew he wasn''t deserving of such trust¡ªhe had kept secrets from her, secrets far graver than she could imagine. He was hiding the truth about her brother''s death, a death tainted by the communion of flesh he had partaken in. Such a revelation could never escape his lips... never.

 Chapter 18: Nights rest, Into the Mist

    After Boris''s shoulder was hung in a sling, the people were expecting a short rest, but that couldn¡¯t be further from the case. The Priest insisted that they travel as far as they could before sunset, so that¡¯s what they did.


    The moon began to wane, casting its dim light on the travelers. They continued to press on relentlessly, each step bringing them closer to the end of the onyx bridge that was just a few hundred feet away. Exhaustion, a sickness that sapped their strength with every step, spread through the people like wildfire.


    As the weary travelers gazed up in awe, bathed in the dim glow of the waning moon, the Priest rose into the air. The Priest called for a rest, and the travelers, their bodies weak with exhaustion, gratefully accepted this invitation. They scattered across the bridge and began to settle.


    Small pods of people settled after their long day of traveling across this almost never-ending bridge. They nestled near numerous small fires that they scattered across the area sectioned off by Zerin and the priest. The Priest monitored the ominous entrance into the crimson forest, while Zerin watched the path they came from.


    The transfigured lizard returned to his side once again, this time carrying it sheathe in its mouth. Zerin reached forth and tugged at the sheathe, of course it didn¡¯t like its precious treasure being threatened so it growled once again. He let go of the sheathe as he watched the lizard curl up into a ball next to him near the fire.


    The number of fires and conversations that bloomed left Zerin wondering how exactly the Priest managed to transfer so many people over such a distance. Now that Zerin looked back at it, it all felt like such a long time ago, even though it had only been a couple of weeks.


    Sitting in front of the fire, staring into the kindling flames, he lifted his eyes from its heat, seeing Wisteria meandering her way towards him. Navigating through the pods of people settled around the numerous fires, Wisteria held two bowls of piping hot stew in her hand.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Wisteria said softly, passing Zerin a bowl of stew that seemed to be cooked with several roots and herbs gathered around the castle.


    ¡°Nothing, just thinking¡­¡±


    He exhaled softly, taking the bowl from her, blowing over the scorching stew. Tantalizing aromas blew in the air, the warm savory flavor filled his senses, promising to satisfy both his growing hunger and his need for hydration.


    Wisteria sat across from him on the other side of the small fire.


    ¡°Just thinking, huh?¡±


    She lifted her spoon to her mouth, blowing on it gently.


    Zerin nodded and followed suit, lifting his spoon he scooped up some roots, lifting it to his mouth tasting it. As he enjoyed his crude meal, a piece of wood in the fire busted into sparks drawing his attention back to Wisteria.


    The white dress she wore obscured her form, drawing his gaze up to her face as she blew over the piping hot stew. Her nose and ears were tinged red from the cold night air, but her hair and dress remained pristine. Her pigtails, perfectly braided and interwoven with vermillion hues, and her dress, a clean white despite her sitting on a tattered rug, were untouched by any debris. He couldn''t tear his eyes away from her; it was utterly impossible.


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    She hesitated to take a bite, even after generously blowing the stew for a long while. She lifted her eyelids, her aquamarine eyes meeting his blue ones. The reflections of the orange crackling fire danced in her eyes.


    "Hmm?"


    Zerin looked away from her, the crackling and popping of the firewood snapping him out of his trance.


    She set her bowl down, rising to her feet dusting off the invisible dirt off of her unblemished dress. She took a daring stride towards him causing his heart to stumble slightly.


    "What are you doing?"


    His heart began to race slightly as he set his bowl aside, looking up at her as she closed the distance.


    "Tell me what''s wrong..."


    She stood over him, demanding an answer as she folded her arms just under her cloak that ended just right at the midsection of her chest.


    He looked at her with a hint of confusion, only to be startled as her icy, delicate hand gently touched his forehead, sending a chill down his spine.


    "Stop moving."


    She demanded, and Zerin ceased resisting as his eyes locked onto hers. Her gaze flitted around, never quite meeting his, while he remained entirely focused on her shifting eyes. Only when her gaze finally settled on his did he find himself unable to contain his inner thoughts.


    "You are beautiful..."


    He didn''t even give it a second thought, his words just spilled out from him.


    Her face flushed red as she pursed her lips slightly.


    "Was this the ''nothing'' you were talking about?"


    She spoke almost coldly, her voice barely a whisper. Yet her hands told a different story as she cradled his face in her palms, gazing down at him.


    "Are you seriously thinking about that during all this?"


    He averted his eyes from hers.


    "Well, you brought this on yourself. You kissed me out of nowhere and then said you¨C"


    A tinge of annoyance filled her face as she stopped his lips with her chilled index finger silencing him. She then leaned closer and kissed his forehead.


    "And it might be your last if you keep that up..."


    She said teasingly with a slight smile before she released her hold on him, retreating back to her seat. She grasped her bowl and began eating, leaving Zerin in awe.


    -


    -


    -


    The people rose at dawn, ready to embark on the journey into the crimson forest that loomed just ahead of them. In just an hour of their wake everyone was up and ready to move, ready to delve into the forest.


    They approached the wall of mist, which had a scarlet hue and seemed almost alive with its eerie, shifting appearance. The miasma glided a few feet onto the bridge before halting abruptly, as if it feared or was forbidden from crossing an invisible line drawn upon the onyx stones. Zerin could see the people boldly follow the Priest into the scarlet mist as their silhouettes disappeared into its confines the deeper, they went.


    He trailed behind the group, with Wisteria close by his side. As they stepped into the scarlet mist, it clung to him as he moved further. Wisteria grasped his hand, startling him slightly. He relaxed when he saw it was her and continued through the mist.


    Emerging from the scarlet mist, the forest looked entirely different from how he had remembered it. Perhaps he was in a different part of the forest, as his last memory was of dead trees reaching for the sky and blood-soaked grass. Now, however, the environment was vibrant and full of life. The tree bark was a reddish hue, and their leaves shone with pinkish tones. Mushrooms of warm colors¡ªred, orange, and yellow¡ªdotted the trees.


    Wisteria rushed ahead of Zerin to the foot of the tree, where she picked a few of the mushrooms. Smiling she lifted them up three mushrooms of different colors in the palm of her hand as she presented them to him.


    "Are they edible?"


    Zerin questioned as he looked at the brightly colored mushrooms.


    "Mhmm..."


    She pushed her hands further, offering them to him.


    He plucked the orange mushroom from her hand, exhaling nervously before placing it into his mouth. Upon biting into this vibrant orange mushroom, his tastebuds were pushed with its sudden citrusy flavor that came unexpectedly, inadvertently causing him to close his eyes in response as he made as sour face.


    "Oh no... Are they bad?"


    Wisteria dropped the mushrooms as she panicked.


    Zerin coughed as he shook his head.


    "No, I just didn''t expect it to be sour."


    "Oh! Really? I like sour."


    Wisteria picked up the red and yellow mushrooms from the floor, clutching them close to her.


    Zerin turned his head back to the group that was distancing themselves from them slowly.


    "We should probably catch up."


    "Okay."


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    As Zerin walked, Wisteria stayed close by his side, matching his stride.


    Once they caught up with the group, Zerin''s eyes searched the environment, the mist created its own atmosphere and its own scent also, instead of the usual scent of blood the air was filled with sweet scents and the mist completely obscured the wind from passing through it, the forest was quiet and serene as only their footsteps could be heard in the scarlet mist.


    What also drew his attention were the silhouettes of distant structures deep within the forest, each with its own mysterious allure. These structures reminded Zerin of the building where Bashir was held during his execution. The executioners, along with the rest of the people, had conveniently lost their memories, leaving only the Old Man to bear the punishment.


    Zerin¡¯s mind filled with guilt as he thought about withholding the truth of her brother¡¯s death from her, but Bashir¡¯s disappearance over the past few days, left Zerin to reason that she knew he was dead. Though he wanted to bring it up, he feared that doing so would only reopen an old wound for her.


    As Zerin walked ahead, lost in thought, he was unaware that the crowd had stopped, and he was about to collide with them. At the last moment, Wisteria grabbed his hand, pulling him back just in time.


    "Pay attention!"


    Wisteria looked at him with a scolding face.


    "Yeah... I''m sorry."


    Zerin scratched the side of his head and chuckled nervously as he pulled his hand away from hers. He looked past the massive crowd of bickering people, who seemed puzzled by the sudden halt. His attention was drawn to what lay ahead: a towering statue of none other than the goddess herself. They had arrived at their destination.

 Chapter 19: Into The Holy Grounds

    The crimson forest harbored a statue of the goddess, leading Zerin to guess that this was where the goddess''s altar was held. The statue towered over the people and the nearby structures, reaching an impressive fifty feet. It stood with confidence, her body draped in minimal clothing that accentuated her depicted graceful form. Delicate, fabric clung to her figure, skillfully carved to suggest motion, as if caught in a gentle breeze.


    Her face, though defaced, had an aura that was unmistakable. This blank visage invited the onlookers to bow before the statue; they knew it was their god. Its craftmanship was perfect in every instance of the word.


    The goddess''s hands are prominently displayed, each adorned with six elegant digits instead of the usual five, setting herself apart from man. Her fingers are intricately carved, with each nail and joint defined. A spare hand was raised to the sky, coincidentally resting just under the crimson moon, as if the goddess were bearing the very weight of the moon. Her hair flowed down her back, stopping just at her waist, as she tilted her head up to the sky, almost as if she was ignoring her people below.


    Zerin felt Wisteria let go of his hand. As her hand slipped from his grasp, he continued to step forth.


    "Zerin..."


    She looked up at the towering statue. Her eyes darted back down quickly to Zerin; she was visibly shaken.


    "I''ll be right back..."


    He spoke calmly as he walked further into the holy grounds.


    Wisteria''s voice trailed off in the distance as Zerin continued walking forward. He finally arrived at his destination, he finally could finally fulfill his role, it all led up to this moment.


    "But..."


    He drifted past the people who had fallen to their knees, paying their respects to their god. Even the Old man as well as Boris, managed to pay their respects, despite their substained injuries.


    The Priest stood calmly as usual, next to the statue surveying the people.


    "Pay your own respects in your own way, boy."


    He nodded, his eyes settling on the Priest. Zerin was never the type of person to bow before anyone, so the only way he thought he could pay his respects was by bringing the goddess back to the land and its people.


    "Is that where the altar is held?"


    Zerin questioned the Priest, clarifying the importance of his sudden allure to the structure.


    "Indeed... That structure harbors the altar. Do you need me to assist you?"


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    "I''ll take him with me..."


    The plump slug wriggled out of the Priest''s flesh. Its tiny eyes gleamed with an almost mischievous glint, while its tail wagged like a dog.


    "Not you..."


    Zerin said dismissively.


    The slug whimpered slightly before it fled back into the Priest''s flesh.


    "I''ll have him guard the entrance of the temple..."


    "Very well... Take your time, we will be expecting your return."


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    The temple was forged from white marble, now weathered and stained by the crimson rain. It bore resemblance with the other structures surrounding it, standing out due to its sheer size and its peculiar placement aligning it with the moon.


    Following Zerin as he climbed to the top of the temple was the lizard. Trailing behind every step. Finally reaching the entrance of the temple. He turned around and felt a gust of wind brush against him, bringing a refreshing air that had been lacking during his time spent in the castle. It was fresh, devoid of the coppery-metallic scent that was so common in this land. Casting a gaze down to the people below, he exhaled deeply; his burden was soon to be lifted from his shoulders.


    He turned away from the people towards the lizard, which had now nestled beside the entrance of the temple. The lizard has been by his side for a long time know, would it be messed up for him to say that he is sad that this creature would return to its normal self? Zerin looked down at the eerie creature. Its hair has grown much longer, reaching well past its chin.


    "Where is your treasure?"


    He commented on the creature''s peculiar behavior. After wrestling for control over the sheathe Zerin was surprised the creature was able to part ways with it. But the lizard cared very little for discussion, the slug would give better conversation than the lizard. The lizard seemed more like a drone most of the time, having very little personality.


    "Alright then..."


    Walking past the creature he stepped into the temple. Shockingly he wasn''t greeted with utter darkness, within the temple there was moss that illuminated the temple interior dimly. Once he was surrounded by the darkness of the temple, he could see the shining moss taking a scarlet color, with pinkish purple undertones.


    As he explored the inner workings of the temple, he avoided the still water resting a few steps down as it pooled about knee length. Zerin chose to navigate along the drier path, being drawn by the glowing moss pathing towards a hallway where it dominated. The bioluminescent moss casted a warm glow onto him as moisture drips from the ceiling periodically.


    Underneath the moss the walls that wept moisture held hieroglyphs. Examining further, he shifted the glowing moss aside. The moss seemingly came to life, shining in a brighter vibrance, the sudden brightness assaulted his eyes.


    "Damn it!"


    He shielded his eyes as afterimages of bright colors imprinted itself into his very mind. He wiped his eyes that watered from the sudden exposure to bright light, looking back at the wall it revealed a hieroglyph.


    It was the goddess, the pictograph showed her tearing a piece of herself then she placed it upon the soil, like a seed. Intrigued, shifted the moss further as it reacted to his touch shining a warmer crimson glow, but this time he closed his eyes shielding himself from its brightness. The next pictured showed a man with a head of a wolf tending to the planted seed, watering it and caring for it. Right beside this image it showed the death of the goddess. The notion of a clash was certain, but what she clashed with was impossible to perceive as it was scratched off the marble walls.


    Closing his eyes he grabbed the moss and tore it completely off the wall. Opening his eyes, it confirmed his suspicions these hieroglyphs depicted the history of these lands.


    It showed how man seized the [Crimson Needle] from the goddess''s dead body. Her size was massive compared to the people. Zerin now understood why it was called a needle, because the goddess must have wielded it as such, a tool to weave the threads of blood, just like how Zerin is responsible for such a task. But the people did what humans were good at, they used the needle to as a token of power, forming a monarchy. The monarchy passed on the needle, down the generations until a sudden darkness, a shadow that descended upon the people.


    Whisking through the remnants of the lands, the man with the head of a wolf returned back to the soil after a long period, for the harvest. The depicted ''harvest'' caused Zerin to stumble back in surprise.


    ''What?''


    He couldn''t accept this, he continued down the path, skimming through the hieroglyphs at a much quicker pace. The hieroglyphs predicted everything that happened until now, from Zerin arriving at the castle to him claiming a ''serpent crown''. It continued further showing the wolf man, much older and maimed, forced to depart from the castle. Zerin spared no time to consider the implications as he glanced at the next picture. The next picture instilled fear into his heart, showing the Leviathan standing tall over the temple, looking down at the people. They were playing into the hands of fate the entire time, not straying from the path one bit.


    He turned from the altar but halted as he felt a rumbling occur from the depths of the structure. The structures crumbled as if it was enduring an earth-shattering seismic event. Stumbling to gain his balance Zerin knew what was occurring and the deafening voice that chilled the air confirmed it, making it much more real.


    "Fatherrr..."

 Chapter 20: Varnished in Blood

    The hieroglyphs spoke of the fate of the land, tracing its journey from its origins to its inevitable end: utter and complete destruction.


    From the goddess tearing a piece of herself¡ªher very heart¡ªand planting it upon the soil, to her subsequent death and the rise of a dominant monarchy that exploited her snuffed will for their own ends, to the darkness that consumed the world in her absence.


    This kingdom sprang from destruction, so it is not farfetched that its remnants were on the path obliteration by the same force that created it.


    But to think that he could have been so wrong on so many levels wounded Zerin to his core. She was the harvest, the reincarnation of the goddess; if that was true, why then is the place in such a state?


    Zerin stepped away from the pillar, seeing the depiction of the harvest. It was unmistakable¡ªhe could lie to himself all day, but those braids, those pigtails, that dress were hers. She was the fragment that had sprung from the goddess.


    Was this the root of his fascination with her? He wondered, unable to pinpoint a single moment when he wasn¡¯t drawn to her. Was he drawn to her innate divinity? Was she abusing her influence over him?


    A rumbling from within the depths of the structure made him stumble slightly, grabbing onto the pillar for stability. Once the rumbling ceased, he heard a hushed whisper that triggered his fight-or-flight response.


    "Fatherrr..."


    Turning from the wall of hieroglyphs, fear etched on his face, he realized the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.


    ''Is that?''


    Turning back to the wall, he was reminded of the serpent that loomed over the temple, gazing down upon the people. But Zerin also recognized there was more to this story, a piece left out.


    As he tore away more moss, a bright glow emerged, revealing an image of complete annihilation. Atop a mountain of corpses stood one adorned with the serpent crown.


    Zerin knew this wasn¡¯t true. He would never kill any of them; he cared for them, and he loved her, even despite her hiding who she truly was.


    Why did this have to happen?


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    The Leviathan coiled around the massive temple. Each segment of its elongated body tightened with a palpable force, creating a series of undulating waves that cascaded down its length. The edges of the stones crumbled as it snaked its way to the top of the structure. Its human head emerged from behind the temple.


    The vile abomination claimed dominion over the holy building.


    Spitting from its lips, an accusing, ghastly whisper hushed the air.


    "Fatherrr..."


    Its serpentine speech trailed in the air, its eyes then bearing down upon the Priest.


    The beast raised its head to the sky, blotting out the red moonlight and casting a great shadow over the people.


    For a brief moment, the Priest and the Leviathan stared at each other.


    In an abrupt, snappy movement, the serpent lunged from the temple, diving at the Priest. Screams from the people filled the air, anticipating an inevitable strike.


    In a flash, the Priest drew flesh from his body, forming three spears that whisked through the air, piercing the Leviathan¡¯s face and narrowly derailing it from colliding with the majority.


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    As an unavoidable consequence, there were definite casualties; the Leviathan collided with a group of people, wiping them out, their blood staining the crimson grass even more.


    With steady hands, the Priest delicately lowered the slug that had burrowed within his flesh to the damp soil.


    ¡°If you desire to live, go...¡± the Priest declared before turning back towards the Leviathan.


    The serpent rose with an annoyed hiss as it shook off the spears from its face. Turning back to the Priest, its voice spat out again.


    ¡°Monsterrr¡­¡±


    The Priest drew back the spears; they snapped to his side.


    ¡°We have that in common, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°You never seem to tire of this dance. My son has returned to me, and I tire of these games.¡±


    The serpent hissed; its long hair danced in the air as it lifted its head.


    ¡°Do you tire, Father? I am restless, forever restless¡­ I shall not stop until everything is taken from you, just as you have taken from me.¡±


    The Priest slowly raised himself into the air.


    ¡°I would never beget such pitiful offspring..."


    The Priest aimed the spears at the Leviathan with steeled resolve.


    "I do not know, and I do not care for your suffering.¡±


    The serpent lunged at the Priest, with anger. Avoiding the strike, the Priest flickered above the serpent a few hundred feet in the air.


    The people screamed as they scattered, but it was for naught, as the massive serpent collided with the people heading for the only exit into the forest, killing them. The screaming died as quickly as it began, leaving only the squelch of flesh against the earth.


    His flesh writhed chaotically as he suppressed his inner anger. Turning towards the still-standing temple, he found himself tempering his anger while standing and basking in the crimson moonlight. The Priest slipped; it only took a moment, but his anger tipped over the edge once again.


    The serpent craned its neck up to the crimson-blessed sky. Seeing the Priest slowly descend to the earth, it began to rise to meet him.


    The Leviathan swiped its bony tail downward through the air. The Priest was hurled like a bolt of lightning into the forest, crashing into several trees that shattered into splinters.


    The Leviathan''s gaze tracked the path of the Priest as he was hurled through the crimson forest. It then shifted its terrible focus to the statue, which seemed insignificant beside its immense form. With a swipe of its bony tail, the Leviathan sent the statue crashing through the heart of the temple. Stones tumbled and piled upon each other as the temple collapsed further in on itself.


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    He awoke to the echoes of screams¡ªthose he swore he had heard before, perhaps in a dream. He coughed up dust as he opened his eyes, realizing he was trapped beneath debris. A small head injury had left him lying in a pool of his own blood. A stroke of luck had kept him alive: a felled pillar was the only thing between him and certain death.


    Zerin had very little wiggle room beneath the debris. Shifting onto his back, he shuffled toward the crack of light. He coughed up the dust that had settled in his lungs, stirred up by his movements, and his throat felt raw with the taste of iron.


    Drawn to the persistent coughing, the Lizard found Zerin pinned beneath the rubble. It lowered its head to peek through the crack.


    He flinched as the creature began chipping away at the stones, which flew in his direction. When the creature finally stopped, there was an opening large enough for him to squeeze through.


    Placing a hand on the Lizard¡¯s back, he stood up from the debris and was greeted by a bloody mess. Bodies were scattered across the holy grounds, and the statue of the goddess was completely gone. As Zerin stumbled away from the Lizard, he looked back at the temple and saw the statue of the goddess displaced, with crumbling rubble cascading into the destroyed temple.


    A roar echoed through the air, followed by the screech of the Leviathan. Just outside the holy grounds, the Priest and the Leviathan were locked in a bloody battle, warm crimson splashes spraying from the Leviathan as the Priest struck the creature with increasing ferocity. The Priest gave in to his anger, his roars reverberating through the crimson forest as he waged war against the beast.


    Zerin walked down the temple steps, his eyes searching the holy grounds for any survivors. The grounds were stained with the blood of the goddess''s people. From where the statue of the goddess once stood, all the way to just outside the gate, there were dead bodies. Their blood was smeared over the crimson grass, giving it an even more sinister hue.


    He wanted to throw up.


    ¡°She¡¯s okay¡­ She needs to be okay¡­¡±


    He repeated this mantra in his head, clinging to hope more than certainty. What else could he do?


    Reaching the foot of the stairs, he stepped into a crimson puddle. At its edge lay Wisteria¡¯s mother. He averted his eyes and stepped past her body, searching through the sea of the dead.


    A roar thundered through the air as the Priest flew erratically around the Leviathan, attacking from above while the Leviathan struck back.


    ''Where is she? My god, where is she!?''


    Desperation settled in as half of the bodies were unrecognizable, brutally mutilated with their organs and entrails strewn about the grass; the scent was vile.


    ''What if she...''


    Zerin began to have conflicting thoughts about her survival. He was lost as he searched and searched until...


    ''The gods are bastards.''


    He glanced around the blood-soaked holy grounds, his eyes widening in disbelief. As he took a second look, his gaze locked onto the figure of the Old Man, scrambling away from the scene like a wounded animal. The injustice of this aftermath enveloped Zerin, the only movement coming from the solitary survivor fleeing the disaster he had created. He was the wolf depicted in the hieroglyphs; he shouldn''t be allowed to live.


    He turned back to the Priest, his heart pounding in his chest, as another inhuman roar pierced the air. The Priest''s movements were swift and chaotic, his blade slicing through the beast, crimson droplets painting the ground in a macabre dance.


    In the spray of blood, the Priest appeared utterly transformed¡ªa darkened figure against the backdrop of chaos, his features obscured by the mask of battle. Bathed in the creature''s blood, he seemed like a distorted reflection of his former self, a haunting silhouette of the being he once was.


    Zerin fought a momentarily internal battle where he settled upon his decision. He longed to convince himself that he had arrived at this conclusion through careful reasoning, but deep down, he could feel the simmering anger in his veins. The question gnawed at his soul¡ªhow could a goddess sworn to protect her people leave them in such a state? The bitter truth stung him to the core.


    The worst and most despicable among her followers had escaped unscathed, while scores of innocents lay slain.


    Turning back to the Priest, a tumultuous storm of emotions raged within him, a savage conflict tearing at his very being. The dark whispers of his desires clawed at his conscience¡ªa thirst for vengeance so intense that he was willing to watch the world crumble in flames without a second thought. This primal urge, however, felt foreign, an unwelcome invader planted in his soul by the Priest''s influence.


    Yet, despite the internal turmoil, he sensed an inexplicable connection, a twisted bond that bound him to the Priest''s wrath. In a moment of unsettling clarity, he found himself embracing the Priest''s seething anger as if it were his own.


    Zerin''s fists clenched tightly at his sides, the tension coiling within him like a spring ready to snap.


    Ignoring the daunting presence of the Leviathan and the Priest looming in the distance, he broke into a sprint, urgency propelling him forward.

 Chapter 21: Insanitary Denizens

    The squelching soil clung stubbornly to every step Zerin took, resisting his progress with each arduous footfall. His heart pounded in his chest with an unfamiliar malevolence, matching the unbridled rage of the Priest earlier. As he struggled against the muddy decline, he slipped leaving a trail of disrupted earth down the slope. He pushed himself from the earthly mud, his hands mixed with the wet earth, as mud trickled down his clothes and clung around his boots. Rising to his feet, Zerin¡¯s gaze locked onto the figure of the elderly man ahead.


    The Old Man turned away from the sheer cliffside, his eyes widening with the realization that he was cornered, with nowhere to escape. The crimson grass around him was displaced further as it climbed up his knees. Below the cliffside, the sea roiled in a blood-soaked hue, waves crashing with a violent, unsettling rhythm against the jagged rocks. As he faced Zerin, he opened his mouth to speak, though zero care or empathy was shone on his weathered face.


    "Are you going to kill me?"


    What an asinine question.


    Zerin¡¯s exhale summoned the needle; rapidly, the scarlet runes materialized, leaving behind fading sparks of light that vanished as soon as they appeared, until the tool was fully formed.


    "Everything has gone to hell. I¡¯m just making sure you get what you deserve and don¡¯t slip through the cracks"


    Zerin tightened his grip on the needle, his tension mirrored by the distant rumble in the sky. Soon, the roar of seething crimson waves would drown out the sound, bringing with them the familiar, iron-rich scent of blood.


    The Old Man''s eyes flickered at the hostility before he spoke.


    "My daughter is alive..."


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    Though the news was briefly reassuring, ultimately, if the prophecies maintained its accuracy, it wouldn''t matter¡ªshe would be as good as dead.


    "If we don''t contact the goddess, we will all die."


    A partial truth, Zerin''s fate was the only one seemed to be undetermined.


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    "Do you even know the offering that is needed? because if you did you wouldn''t consider something so foolish!"


    The Old Man appeared genuinely agitated¡ªa rare display of real emotion from someone Zerin had only seen as a cold, unfeeling figure. The sadness on his face was unexpected, and Zerin found a certain satisfaction in it.


    "So what? We will give whatever is necessary."


    Zerin found himself on the verge of grinning, but he quickly reined in the strange discomfort stirring within him.


    "Would you offer Wisteria?"


    "Don''t think you can weaponize her against me."


    Zerin stepped forth grasping the staff firmly in his hands as he approached The Old Man.


    Zerin recalled seeing the depiction of the boy crowned with serpents¡ªsymbols often associated with betrayal and deceit. To avoid being swayed by his emotions, he knew he had to focus on higher ideals, setting aside his personal desires for the greater good of those he had already failed, hoping to restore some way. He was not that boy; he was not the deceiver or the betrayer.


    "I only care about my goal, the restoration of the lands and the lives of those that were lost, one person could never be worth that many, that is my place as lord of these lands."


    The Old Man''s eyes blazed with anger as he clenched his fists at his sides.


    "You are heartless! She loves you!"


    "Heartless? You have no room to talk, you killed your own son!"


    The Old Man pointed a crooked finger at him, his weathered face contorted with a look of entitled anger.


    "What the hell do you know? You don''t even know yourself!"


    What? Am I supposed to believe that you had a reasonable explanation?


    The Old Man stepped forward gesturing with his hands out.


    "It was to bring you two together¡­ do you not understand?"


    "You senile bastard!"


    The sky crackled behind Zerin, causing him to reflexively cast a glance at the sky where shortly after another streak of red lightning lit the sky across the darkened clouds.


    "I will fulfill my purpose; it''s selfish actions that brought us to this point..."


    He casted a brief glance at The Old Man before turning away and starting to climb the slippery, mud-streaked hill.


    At last, he clawed his way up the muddy hill, struggling to hoist himself over the steep incline. A jagged streak of red lightning burst across the sky, momentarily illuminating the ground below and slicing through the distant clouds, which began to spiral in a menacing dance, drawing Zerin¡¯s gaze. The deafening roar of thunder drowned out all other sounds, creating a relentless white noise that seemed to drain the life from everything it touched, muting the grim vibrancy of his surroundings.


    A persistent sound of ripping and stabbing reemerged from the fading crackling thunder that emanated from the swirling anomaly. Beyond the gate, within the sacred grounds, the leviathan''s enormous carcass lay gruesomely cleaved in half, its severed halves resting atop a heap of the deceased. A grotesque, flesh-covered spear was relentlessly driven into the creature''s head, its monstrous face marred by an expression of sheer brutality and deep-seated hatred. With a final, savage thrust, the spear was plunged into the leviathan¡¯s eye.


    Zerin''s gaze tracked the sharp tip of the spear, climbing up its length to where a shadowy hand gripped it with a vice-like hold. His eyes raced up the shadowy arm, taking in the dense, dark opacity of its form.


    The shadow was an abyss, refusing any entry of light. It turned its head slightly, casting a penetrating gaze over its shoulder, its attention fixed entirely on Zerin. Each second stretched into an eternity as he found himself trapped in the unblinking stare of the entity


    His fight-or-flight response surged to life as he summoned the [Crimson Needle], adrenaline coursing through him. The shadow reacted with a bone-chilling shriek that echoed through the air, its entire form abruptly swiveling to face Zerin.


    Suddenly, from behind the shadow, fragments of flesh were being violently ripped from the scattered cadavers on the floor. An unseen force began to draw these pieces together, accumulating into a growing mass. The flesh coalesced into a grotesque, pulsing sphere that swelled larger and larger, eventually becoming colossal in size.

 Chapter 22: Distinct Silhouette

    ''What the hell is that thing?''


    The instant the first spear whizzed past him, icy fingers of fear gripped his spine, sparking a primal instinct to survive. He ducked and dove behind a weathered stone wall for cover. Even in those fleeting moments of disbelief, he knew¡ªthis wasn¡¯t just a trick of the mind. This entity was real.


    Flinching, he instinctively raised his arms to shield his head as The Entity unleashed a torrent of jagged spears that pierced through the stone wall, erupting massive, gaping holes in the ancient structure. The air around him was thick with the acrid scent of stone dust and the explosion of the stones, reverberated in his ears.


    It became overwhelmingly clear who this entity was or once was; it''s very essence pulsated with an unmistakable familiarity. The choice of weaponry¡ªdarting spears born from flesh.


    It mimicked the Priest''s mannerisms in its own twisted and grotesque way. There was no grace in its movement, no hint of the nobility that once defined it. What stood before Zerin was a shattered parody, driven solely by a primal urge for total annihilation. A mere shadow of what it once was, now full of unbridled rage. The horror of it all weighed heavily upon him, and as he stared into the void where a noble soul should reside. The Priest was lost.


    He ducked his head yet again, bringing his arm up to shield himself from the next incoming spear, feeling the whoosh of the projectile slice through the air just above him. The Entity¡¯s precision was erratic, like a wild beast thrashing in its fury, each attack fueled by rage rather than skill.


    Gritting his teeth, Zerin summoned the [Crimson Needle]¡ªglistening with ominous energy. Its deep red hue flickered like embers, casting an eerie glow. As he cautiously peeked through the jagged holes carved into the stone wall, his heart raced. The scene before him stirred a mix of dread and panic.


    Several feet away, on the other side of the wall, the Entity was horror incarnate. It began to gather copious amounts of flesh from the sphere of flesh, merging the grotesque offerings onto its opaque body.


    Zerin''s breath hitched as the realization struck him, this was not just a mindless being. This entity possessed a warped, unsettling form of intelligence.


    Briefly, the Entity bore a haunting resemblance to the Priest, a flicker of the familiar wrapped within the horror of the transformation. However, as the grotesque metamorphosis continued, the mass of flesh accumulated relentlessly, becoming an abominable amalgamation of sinew and tissue.


    The Entity''s shadowy hands twisted into claws of flesh, hardened and sharpened like blades of steel, glinting ominously in the dim crimson rays. Strange, dissonant voices erupted from the grotesque mass as it shifted and gurgled, echoing with agonized cries that intermingled unsettlingly¡ªa chorus of the lost woven into its very being. Tendrils of flesh coiled around its form, pulsating as it strangled the voices within. The stench that wafted from it was putrid, that it turned Zerin¡¯s stomach.


    With a spine-chilling roar, the Entity silenced the agonized voices that clamored from the flesh draped over its form, the sound reverberating through the holy grounds like rolling thunder. It was a proclamation of dominance, a declaration that the abomination had fully embraced its new identity.


    Watching the transformation, Zerin seized the opportunity to slip out of the abomination¡¯s sight during the chaos. Once the Entity stabilized itself, it thrust its form through the stone wall with violent force, the remnants exploding outward in a shower of debris and dust.


    As the flesh erupted into retractable spikes, sending shards of stone and dust careening through the air, it effectively created a suffocating smokescreen that shrouded the tainted holy grounds in a smoky darkness.


    The Entity thrashed violently in the dense smoke, its massive form cleaving through the haze. The air sizzled with rage as it howled, a guttural wail that echoed through the ruins, piercing the suffocating veil of gray. With its eyes hungry for vengeance and no sight of its prey, it elevated itself skyward, looming ominously over the remnants.


    Meanwhile, Zerin remained low to the ground, his heart pounding in his chest, breathing shallowly in a futile attempt to remain undetected. He laid flat, taking refuge behind a stone half wall, its jagged edges offering scant protection against the horror that sought him. The stones felt cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the rising heat of his anxiety.


    "Damn prophecies, they didn¡¯t say anything about this!"


    He cursed quietly to himself, frustration mingling with fear as he contemplated the absurdity of the situation.


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    With a rush of determination, he pushed himself off the cold ground just enough to steal a glance at the soaring entity that overshadowed the area, its grotesque form, a menace against the backdrop of the swirling smoke. But the moment he lifted his head, the Entity''s gaze snapped in his direction. Caught in the electric moment of realization, Zerin ducked just in time, narrowly escaping its hellish focus.


    ''How am I supposed to survive that thing?''


    He thought, a grim contemplation swirling in his mind.


    The very notion felt ludicrous. Deep down, he knew he stood no chance. How could he ever hope to engage a creature that could seemingly manipulate flesh at will? The more he pondered this, the more insurmountable the task appeared. The thought of facing such a being felt only as a death sentence.


    After what felt like an eternity spent cowering behind the stone wall, blending into the rugged landscape as if he were part of it, Zerin was suddenly jolted by a piercing scream that cut through the oppressive silence of the holy grounds. It was unmistakably Wisteria''s voice¡ªa shrill cry of pure terror. Peeking cautiously from his refuge through the dissipating smoke, he discerned her figure on the other side of the gate, wide-eyed and helpless, her panic evident as she took in the gruesome sight of the dead littering the ground, remnants of the carnage brought by the conflict between the Priest and the Leviathan.


    Zerin''s heart raced as he watched her, feeling a surge of desperation rise within him. And, Of course, the Entity was drawn to such signs of distress as if it were a moth to a flame. With an unsettling grace, it glided through the air, its massive form cutting a terrifying silhouette against the haze, focused entirely on Wisteria¡¯s screams that echoed hauntingly around the sacred grounds. The malevolent energy pulsed around it, thickening the air with impending doom, and Zerin felt his stomach drop as he realized, the Entity was no longer merely a threat to him; it was now fixated on her, motivated by the sweet allure of fear.


    ''To hell with this!''


    He screamed internally, throwing caution to the wind.


    Zerin understood the grim reality that victory was beyond his reach¡ªthat much was painfully clear. Yet, in the depths of his heart, he resolved to do the only thing he could: distract the Entity long enough. If he couldn''t do that, then what the hell was his worth.


    He steadied himself, gripping the staff tightly, the cool texture of the cracked bone staff grounded him. A sense of focus enveloped him as he aimed the focal point of the staff at the encroaching shadow donning flesh, which was gradually drawing closer to Wisteria. The vile Entity floated closer with unnerving calm, drawn in by the disturbance and the scent of fear that clung to the air like a fog.


    As he gathered his energy, the staff trembled in his hands, a vibration that felt as though it might shatter the [Crimson Needle]. It felt as if the cursed land around him held its breath, waiting in the tense silence as he prepared to unleash the energy.


    With an explosive rush of determination, Zerin released the energy from the staff. The air split with a frantic whistle as the crimson beam shot forth, startlingly bright.


    The beam zipped through the murky air, cutting through the haze with an intensity that illuminated the darkness. It connected with the Entity, but due to the sheer amount of energy he had infused, precision slipped through his fingers. Instead of striking its center, the crimson light collided with one of the floating Entity''s legs, the energy erupting upon impact with a shower of sparks that illuminated the abomination momentarily.


    Zerin had braced himself for disappointment, expecting nothing to come from the blast. When he had first achieved that same surge of energy back in the castle, it couldn''t even make a dent on the darkened stone walls. However, to his astonishment, the crimson beam elicited an immediate and visceral response.


    Shortly after the blast hit, the flesh wrapped around the Shadow began to erode, peeling away until its leg burst into a dark mist that dissipated into the air. Zerin watched in shock, mouth agape¡ªhe had never imagined such a thing was possible. Its anguished cry shook the earth beneath him, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of hope igniting in his chest.


    ''It worked!''


    His moment of accomplishment was abruptly overturned. The Entity''s chilling gaze snapped toward him.


    Oh sh¡ª¡±


    The breath was sucked from his lungs as he registered the murderous intent radiating from the beast. It was as if the very shadows around him grew darker.


    In an instant, the Entity lunged forward, propelled by a rage-fueled speed. Its grotesque form hurtled through the air like a force of nature, aiming straight for him. Adrenaline igniting his senses, Zerin sprang to his feet and bolted, his heart pounding in synchronization with his frantic footsteps as he darted into the worn structure that stood beside the temple.


    He could hear the rumbling of stone and the creaking of the aged beams behind him, the monstrous Entity pursuing him with relentless determination.


    With each thundering crash, the Entity drove itself through several pillars within the structure, tearing it down in its ruthless pursuit. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, and debris rained down as wood splintered and stone crumbled.


    His adrenaline surged as he raced through the crumbling structure, feet pounding against the uneven stone floor. But his frantic escape came to an abrupt halt when he found himself at a dead end. He stared into the dim space, where fragments of sunlight filtered through slivers between the ancient stones, casting flickering shadows.


    Before he could even gather his wits, the Entity caught up with him, its twisted form materializing from the shadows like a nightmare made flesh. Zerin''s heart sank as he stood once again in direct confrontation with the monster.


    In a sudden motion, the Entity unleashed a tendril from its arm. It shot out with blinding speed, a sinuous mass of flesh that wrapped around Zerin¡¯s body, constricting him like a serpent coiling around its prey. Panic surged within him as the force tightened, squeezing the air from his lungs as though it intended to suffocate him.


    He summoned his staff in his hand in a desperate attempt to free himself. But once the staff was summoned, he felt his grip weaken, and his staff clattered to the ground, rolling away into the shadows.


    His heart pounded loudly in his ears, the rhythm of fear drowning out everything else as he struggled against the overwhelming pressure. He felt the blood rush from his torso to his head and limbs, the oppressive grip squeezing tighter and tighter, causing his ribcage to ache dangerously close to breaking under the strain. Each heartbeat felt like a countdown, the relentless force threatening to crush him beneath its weight.


    As his vision blurred, the darkened visage of the Entity loomed closer, a suffocating darkness that enveloped him completely. In that moment, despair washed over him like a cold tide. His consciousness began to slip away, the world around him fading.


    As the Entity lifted a spear into the air, its grotesque form poised to strike Zerin with deadly intent, a sudden movement in the shadows brought an unexpected intervention. The air crackled with tension as the sound of a fierce struggle erupted around them, muffled yet defined, resonating powerfully in the dimly lit ruins.


    Gasping as he found himself laid out on the cold stone floor, choking out the precious breath he had almost lost forever. With a surge of determination, Zerin finally managed to push himself upright, using the rough texture of the stone wall for support, his heart racing.


    As he lifted his gaze, he caught sight of the lizard clinging tenaciously to the Entity. The Transfigured Lizard, pinned down the Entity, viciously tearing at the flesh that encased the monstrous shadow, ripping off a sizable chunk.


    The Entity roared in outrage, a sound that reverberated through the space like a cry of pure fury. It reacted instantly, flinging the lizard off with a violent gesture, the force sending it hurtling through the air towards Zerin. With instinct, the lizard dug its claws into the stone below as it landed, carving deep gashes into the ancient surface, slowing its momentum until it came to a stop just in front of Zerin.

 Chapter 23: A Death for Two

    Zerin''s eyes widened at the lizard''s defiance as its claws carved deep gashes into the stones beneath it. Relief washed over him as he struggled to fully regain his bearings after the force that had gripped his chest moments before. Together, he and the lizard might just have a chance.


    The Entity seethed with fury at the sight of the defiant gaze emanating from the transfigured lizard, its rage palpable as it tore a piece of flesh that was wrapped around its shadowy form, forming a spear. The air was thick with tension, crackling like a storm about to break. But before it could even fully grasp the weapon, the lizard sprang into action. With fierce determination, it leaped at the Entity, latching onto its grotesque flesh and furiously shredding the protective layer that masked its true form beneath.


    As this fierce struggle unfolded, Zerin scanned the chaos, heart pounding with urgency. He reached for his staff, the only weapon, the only confidence he had in taking this monster down. He lifted the staff while supporting his side with the other, which ached painfully at his side. Every second felt critical, and yet, as he steadied himself, his hand trembled weakly.


    He struggled to get a clear shot at the Entity; the massive lizard completely obstructed his view. The lizard snapped forward fiercely, aiming to crush the Entity''s opaque head, now stripped of its fleshly armor. But as its jaws clamped down with unyielding force, they met only emptiness¡ªthe Entity''s head was completely intangible.


    Without warning, a spear of living flesh erupted from its wicked form, piercing through the lizard''s defenses. The impact was both brutal and swift, ripping through the creature''s body with a sickening force. Accompanying the sounds of flesh being torn apart were guttural groans, punctuated by streams of crimson blood that spilled forth, darkening the pale stone floor beneath them.


    Zerin''s heart sank as he watched the creatures powerful form be tossed violently aside, crashing into weathered wall, where its stones crumbled over the creature.


    Gritting his teeth, he summoned every ounce of energy he could muster and channeled it into the staff. Before the Entity could turn its attention towards him, he swiftly unleashed a powerful blast, the crimson energy zipping through the air.


    The beam of energy struck the shadow, penetrating its dark exterior and leaving a gaping hole in its opaque chest. The impact resonated through the air with a violent crack, shaking the foundations of the ancient structure around them. An unearthly bellow escaped from the Entity¡ªa sound that mingled pain and bewilderment. It hesitated, frozen in place for a brief moment, caught in the throes of its defeat.


    Zerin watched, heart pounding, as the Entity''s form began to tremble. The shadowy essence that composed its body shivered violently, and for a heart-stopping second, Zerin thought it might fight back. But then, with a final agonized breath, the Entity sank to the ground, its shape dispersing into a dark mist that evaporated into the air.


    As the last remnants of the Fallen demon dissipated, a voice echoed, breaking through the silence like a tolling bell:


    [You have slain a Fallen devil, Condemned King of the Lost]


    The weight of victory washed over him, mingled with disbelief as he watched the darkness dissipate. He had done it; he had won against the monster, though Zerin narrowly evaded death. Yet, beyond the thrill of achievement, he realized that it had come at a cost.


    For unknown reasons, the Priest had transformed into a monster. If this was truly the Priest he knew, Zerin wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance in a direct confrontation. Zerin reflected on the Priest''s situation and concluded that this was the outcome the Priest had desired¡ªhe would rather die than become the monster he had sworn never to be.


    Zerin gathered his remaining strength and approached the lizard, slowly, he began to remove the stones. As the final stone tumbled away, he caught his breath, his pulse quickening at the sight before him. The lizard was still alive, its sides rising and falling with labored breaths, but it was clear that it was gravely wounded. Its underbelly was a gruesome sight¡ªgutted and exposed, the entrails spilling forth in a horrific display of violence. Zerin¡¯s stomach churned at the sight, bile rising in his throat as he fought against the urge to turn away.


    He grasped the needle in his hand. There were only two options: leave it here or show it mercy.


    Moments later, he finally rose, his movements slow and deliberate as if each second stretched out. An eerie calmness had settled into his fingertips, betraying none of the turmoil within. As he exhaled, the breath that escaped was shaky, a fragile thread of composure threatening to unravel. Then, a voice broke the silence, sudden and stark, causing his heart to skip and his breath to catch in his throat.


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    [You have slain an Awakened Transfigured human, Alden.]


    The words hung in the air, filling the space around him with an ominous weight. Zerin¡¯s breath caught in his throat, his heart plummeting as the realization struck him.


    The needle forged from a darkened elongated bone slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground as he struggled to make sense of it all.


    Shortly after, the same voice returned.


    [You have received a Memory.]


    That voice¡ªit sounded familiar, a haunting echo of something he had come to despise. He hated its indifference, the way it whispered in his ear with a chilling detachment.


    In the corners of his mind was the fact that he was not so different from the voice. Two lives have been extinguished, and yet he was only disturbed by the eerie calmness. How could he stand there, unshaken and seemingly fine, as there are so many dead? It was a thought that began to gnaw at him as he stood in silence.


    Perhaps this was the origin of self-hatred: failing to meet your own expectations. The fact that he could overcome such harrowing trials with almost no strain on his sanity should have filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. Instead, he felt only embers of something else. This strange detachment made him view the world in a dim light; he was merely an actor on the grand stage of the world''s destruction. Each thought, word, and action seemed to float away in indifference, and deep inside, he felt a painful certainty that he would end up alone in all of this.


    Zerin searched through his runes, and as he found what he sought, he read the memory immediately.


    Memory: [Curtained Carcass]


    Memory Rank: Awakened, Tier II


    Memory Description: Alden, a true knight and a brother to the very end, now carries blades sheathed within his own skin.


    Memory Enchantments


    [Conform] - "Just like a knight in battle, this sheath can conform to any blade."


    [Life''s Partake] - "Life doesn''t cease with death; it transforms."


    Summoning the memory, it was a sheath, it bore similar resemblance to the sheathe the lizard would protect as its treasure. Instead, it was entirely crafted from flesh¡ªpulsing, raw, and undeniably alive. The surface glistened, as if coated in a very thin layer of sweat or perhaps a viscous substance that hinted at its organic composition. Striations of muscle and sinew twisted around its form, creating a grotesque pattern that seemed to writhe under the dim light. Noting the way the flesh shimmered in hues of deep crimson, interspersed with patches of sickly yellow and mottled green. Veins pulsed visibly beneath the surface, a network of life coursing through the sheath as if it were a living entity.


    Stepping forward, a shadow was casted over Zerin, compelling him to look up. There, framed in the shattered entrance of the dilapidated building, stood Wisteria. The once-vibrant girl burned by the loss of countless lives, her face was a mask, devoid of any trace of despair. The harsh light streaming in behind her of the morning crimson rays casted a stark outline around her figure, highlighting her contour and the deep-set intensity of her gaze. It was as if the devastation they had witnessed had scorched her heart, leaving only a hardened exterior behind.


    "The gods could never touch me... They are all dead."


    Her declaration rang out with an unsettling cheerfulness that felt jarringly out of place amidst the ruins.


    Zerin felt a chill crawl up his spine as the dissonance between her words and the grim atmosphere wrapped around him like a vice. Her tone was foreign, almost unnervingly upbeat. In a moment steeped in chaos, she stood there as if untouched by the carnage, her dress pristine and unblemished, nor a speck of dirt or drop of blood tainting her attire.


    Zerin opened his mouth to respond to the myriad questions swirling in his mind, but before he could utter a sound, she spoke.


    "But then I realized it wasn''t about me. It was about you."


    Zerin''s eyes darted around, processing the implications of her statement. Confusion washed over him as he struggled to grasp what she meant. A slight smile graced her lips after she spoke, her expression was wrong entirely.


    His gaze flickered down to her hands, which were tightly gripping a knife that resembled a sickle, its curved edge reminiscent of a crescent moon. The blade glinted ominously in the light. The was she held it with tenderness, sent another shiver through him.


    Without warning, she turned away from him, her silhouette framed by the crumbling doorway as she began to descend the staircase out of view. Zerin felt an urge in his feet to follow. He took careful steps forward.


    As he moved cautiously, his eyes were glued to the back of her head. He watched her walk slowly, her hands still clasped behind her back holding the blade.


    The serenity of the scene was surreal, the calmness seemed almost mocking in the face of the brutality that transpired.


    Zerin followed her at a safe distance, he stepped among the brutalized bodies that littered the ground.


    Wisteria ascended to the podium where the statue of the goddess had once stood. The entirety of the statue had been obliterated; its once-majestic form now lodged deep within the temple''s ruins.


    As she turned back to him, her pigtails swung gracefully through the air. The motion seemed almost whimsical.


    "The people, the temple, and the altar are all destroyed."


    She said matter-of-factly, her tone devoid of emotion, yet there was a hint of finality in her words.


    Once again, a faint smile crept across her lips as she cast her gaze down to the worn podium she stood upon.


    "I got greedy... I was a fool to think I could have both."


    Her voice let out with a mixture of sadness and acceptance.


    "But I am at least somewhat happy that this is the overall outcome."


    ''Happy?''


    The words echoed violently in Zerin''s mind, disbelief and anger swirling within him. He longed to shout, but the realization that he felt the same held him back. It was incomprehensible to him that he could feel a strange sense of happiness, regardless of the outcome, as long as she was alive.

 Chapter 24: A Life for a Life

    "Come here..."


    The command hung in the air, heavy with expectation, and for Zerin, he wasn¡¯t so willing to accept the invitation


    ''Like hell!''


    The thought blazed through his mind as his eyes instinctively darted back down at the crescent blade she held with a steady hand, its silver edge glinting ominously in the dim light.


    "I won''t hurt you. I could never hurt you..."


    Her voice was a soft murmur, each syllable laced with an unsettling sincerity. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips, but it was a smile that did little to reassure him; instead, it sent an icy shiver down his spine. Despite these warning bells going off in his head he found himself stepping forward onto the podium with her.


    He swallowed briefly, grappling with the conflicting emotions that rolled in his gut. So far, trust has only proven to be a fragile thing.


    "This blade is a holy crescent knife. Its purpose is to properly offer a sacrifice to the goddess."


    She held the weapon aloft, allowing the soft glow of the crimson rays to dance along its intricately engraved surface, the silver gleaming beautifully.


    Zerin raised his brow as he looked at the blade.


    "What the hell are you going to do?"


    She then responded in a downcast manner.


    "Something that should have been done a while ago."


    He felt an indescribable feeling clawing at his chest. He could feel as if the current moment was slowly slipping through his fingers like sand.


    "Wisteria, everyone is already dead."


    Her response was a quick and quiet acknowledgement, tinged with sorrow.


    "I know..."


    Zerin''s voice rose, laced with panic. The thought of surrendering to fate after he already ''won'' was unbearable, something he could never accept.


    "Then what are you doing? Do you want to die?!"


    "No..."


    Her voice came out as a fragile whisper as she turned her head away from him. Her grip trembled as she lowered the knife slightly.


    "Then throw the knife away..."


    Zerin urged, his voice firm, yet underneath it was nothing but desperation.


    She took a step back, creating an imperceivable chasm between them.


    "I caused this," she murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.


    "If I had just¡ª"


    Her voice was sharply interrupted as his frustration boiled over.


    "It doesn''t matter now!"


    He interjected sharply, the weight of the current circumstance pressed down on him. He closed his eyes and sighed to gather his focus.


    "Just hand me the knife..."


    He extended a hand to her, a lifeline to her. He hoped desperately that she would just listen.


    "No! You will die, I don''t want you to die like them!"


    She shook her head as she exclaimed, her voice rising in a pitch, trembling with emotion. The fear etched on her face was unmistakable, if anything he truly saw how she felt just from this reaction alone.


    A heavy silence enveloped them. The world outside their intimate conflict suddenly erupted, as a crack of lightning split the sky. The blinding flash illuminated their faces, starkly contrasting the shadows that clung to them. The thunder that followed roared like a behemoth, shaking the earth beneath their feet.


    The ground trembled violently, as if the very world was being torn apart. A massive gash carved itself into the visibly distant landscape, splitting the earth wide open like a wound.


    Zerin¡¯s gaze was averted from her, fixated instead on the devastation unfolding before him. In that moment, it struck him: the end of the lands was not merely a tragedy that spelled doom for its people; it was an entire cataclysm.


    The heart of the world crackled and grumbled beneath their feet and over the world''s cry of despair Wisteria spoke out drawing back Zerin''s attention.


    "I was a mistake."


    She said quietly, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.


    "I am just a failed vessel for the goddess, so I cannot complain, right?"


    There was a haunting resignation in her tone.


    She wiped her flowing tears with the back of her hands while she still held onto the crescent knife.


    "But you... I won''t let it happen to you too... I deserve to pay for my negligence, for my selfish decision to want a life I didn''t deserve to have."


    Zerin''s very being shattered at her words, each syllable striking him like a dagger. This was not the lighthearted, teasing spirit he had once come to know; she was entirely now consumed by guilt.


    Her face contorted with emotion, a sudden resolve rose on her face mingling with a sheen of tears that glistened as it fell from her eyes. Time seemed to slow as she raised the blade, the crescent edge shimmering in the crimson light. Zerin''s breath caught into his throat, a visceral panic flooding his being.


    He shouted, but the word fell away as she plunged the blade into her side. The act was swift, the sound, agonizing.


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    Her white, pristine dress slowly began to transform into a vivid crimson tapestry, the fabric soaking up the blood that flowed from the wound. Zerin''s heart raced as he watched her stumble, her balance faltering. He rushed to reach out to her, his fingers brushing against her arm, pulling her close, lowering her gently onto the podium beneath them.


    Wisteria¡¯s blue eyes, usually so vibrant and filled with life, now shimmered with unshed tears. Disarray surged within Zerin. He grasped the blade and with a swift trembling motion, he removed it from her side, tossing the silver blade aside.


    As he did, a fresh torrent of blood spilled forth, pouring out in vivid streams that painted the ground beneath them. Zerin knelt by her side, his hand pressed against the gaping wound, trying desperately to staunch the flow. but the blood continued to seep through his fingers, relentlessly. The wound was far too deep, too severe to be mended by his frantic efforts.


    Her blood seemed to flow endlessly, pooling around them on the podium. Her breathing grew increasingly weak, each inhalation a struggle as her gaze shifted skyward. Zerin felt his knees sink into the warm, sticky pool, the reality of her condition rapidly crashing into him.


    The words that were to spill out of her mouth were the kind that should have blossomed in a moment of joy and connection, but now, as her life flickered before his very eyes, it was nothing more than a curse.


    "I love you..."


    Those three words lingered in the air, heavy with bittersweet finality. A fragile breath escaped her lips, a whisper of life that faded into the void. In that moment, she vanished, her body growing still and lifeless beneath his hands.


    A shuddering breath escaped him, leaving his lungs feeling barren and hollow. He searched her eyes, desperately seeking the familiar spark of the girl he once knew. But that essence was gone, completely extinguished.


    With a detached gaze, he gently laid her head upon the podium. He brushed her blonde hair back away from her face, her hair cascaded into the crimson pool that surrounded her. As he lifted his hands away, the calmness he felt in his fingertips was replaced with an unbearable shake.


    Zerin stood up abruptly, his movements driven by a simple truth: he didn''t know what to do.


    He stepped back from the podium as if reality could somehow be erased by the short distance.


    His hands trembled uncontrollably. And, once he raised his hands to his face, the stark reality struck him like a cold wave: they were stained with her blood.


    Zerin¡¯s breath quickened, becoming shallow and erratic as he hyperventilated, struggling to draw in the required breath to quell the rising panic. The world around him began to blur, the edges of his vision softening.


    His heart raced, pounding like a war drum in his chest. He could feel the warmth of the blood on his hands. The string of words she said before she passed taunted his mind brutally as he turned away to expelled out the nausea from his stomach.


    What came forth next was true despair¡ªa mournful cry that clawed its way from the depths of his soul. It echoed through the desolate landscape, reverberating against the ruins that surrounded him. The world around him faded into an indistinct blur.


    While Zerin was in this state, he caught a glimpse of a brilliant light refracting around him, its dazzling presence drawing him out of his agony. Curiosity compelled him to turn and face the source of the illumination. Before him loomed a massive sphere of energy, a mesmerizing orb that shimmered with a mesmerizing spectrum of colors. Hues of violet, azure, and gold swirled and danced within its depths. He stood entranced, feeling the warmth radiate from it, its comforting heat enveloping his face and momentarily soothing his despair.


    But the beauty of the energy was momentary, as it abruptly advanced toward him, it began to show its nature. It glided across the ground, effortlessly sucking up the lifeless bodies strewn about in its wake, and Zerin''s heart lurched as he watched it consume Wisteria, her form drawn into the orb disappearing in its light.


    Instinct kicked in, overriding the fog of grief that clouded his mind. He summoned his staff, its familiar weight grounding him. He raised it just in time to brace against the energy''s relentless approach. The resolve surged within him, although he couldn¡¯t quite comprehend why he was fighting for the remainder of his life. Perhaps it was the flicker of hope that remained, or to hold onto life that she cared so much about.


    The pressure exerted by the light was immense, causing the staff to vibrate violently in his hands. He could feel the vibrations traveling up to his arms. After countless times of misusing the staff, it became apparent at that very moment that the staff''s durability had been compromised.


    As the energy continued to surge forward bearing down on the focal point of the staff, it gave way under its relentless force. Cracks increased upon its already cracked surface, and with a deafening crack, it exploded into a flurry of shrapnel, sending shards flying back towards Zerin with a speed he couldn''t even react to due to the recoil of the staff''s destruction.


    [Your memory has been destroyed.]


    The unexpected explosion of the staff caught him off guard, and he felt the breath leave his lungs as pain laced through him. Shrapnel tore into his chest, the sharp edges biting into his flesh, and he gasped, collapsing to one knee. The searing pain from the fragments embedded into his body was brutal, but it paled in comparison to the all-consuming heat of the energy sphere that drew closer to engulf him completely.


    His body felt as if it were being disintegrated, each cell unraveling and fading into nothingness. It felt as if his very essence was being set ablaze.


    There was no distinction between reality and the overwhelming brightness; everything around him merged into a singular, deafening brilliance.


    Was this death?


    Questions swirled around him, unanswered and unanswerable. What was happening?


    In a frantic and desperate attempt to flee the relentless brightness that engulfed him, Zerin squeezed his eyes shut with all his might, yearning for even a moment of solace away from the blinding light. Despite his efforts, the searing luminosity penetrated through his closed eyelids, branding itself onto his very retinas.


    He held his eyes tightly shut, the muscles straining with the effort, a futile gesture. And, as the intensity grew, he felt pathetically powerless to resist against the force. Zerin finally relented, giving into the overwhelming light, opening his eyes once more.


    The shift was jarring, like a sudden plunge into an abyss. The glaring light that had consumed him was instantly gone, now replaced by a darkness that enveloped the space around him.


    As his eyes gradually adjusted, Zerin began to discern two distinct types of darkness that surrounded him. The first was a familiar darkness, the kind that enveloped everything in an all-consuming embrace, an absence of light. The second, however, was something altogether different¡ªa vast, impenetrable darkness that felt thicker, it appeared physically tangible.


    What was unexpectedly comforting was the coolness of this dark expanse. He preferred it to the scorching heat he had endured earlier. He took a tentative breath, the stillness amplifying the sound in the enveloping darkness.


    ''This is it...''


    Or so he thought. Upon closer inspection, he realized he was not in utter darkness, nor was he alone. Above him, suspended in the vast, inky blackness, loomed the crimson moon, casting its familiar glow. Yet its light could not penetrate the profound depth of the true darkness that enclosed this space.


    Without the crimson moon''s presence, he would have been adrift in a shadowy void, unable to discern anything. Up, down, left, and right¡ªeverything looked the same. Nothing held meaning; time and space were irrelevant.


    An inexplicable sensation prickled the hairs on the back of his neck, a sudden jolt of awareness that sent a shiver down his spine. There was a presence¡ªunfamiliar and unsettling.


    He pivoted slowly, each movement deliberate as his heart raced wildly in his chest. He imagined a set of red eyes glowing from the thick darkness, watching him with a predatory gaze. But when he finally focused on the source of his unease, what he saw was not a monster. Instead, it was a grotesque hand, peaking out of the thick wall of darkness, weakly grasping onto a small, oval object.


    A wave of curiosity washed over him, mingled with an unsettling feeling that prickled his senses. Yet, in this dark realm that he had come to regard as his grave, his curiosity proved too potent to resist.


    As he cautiously approached the hand, he could make out more of its unsettling details. The hand extended outward of the wall of darkness in a languid manner, as if it were lazily draped over the edge of a bed. The flesh was grotesque, marred by disfigurements and decay. The fingers were long and skeletal, ending in sharp, claw-like nails that glinted in the faint light.


    Nestled within the palm of that hideous hand was an object that stirred something deep within him. He recalled the hieroglyphs in the temple, and he has seen that seed, this was the very seed the sprung the growth that had birthed Wisteria, the failed vessel of the goddess. Without hesitation, he reached into the palm of the grotesque hand to grasp the seed nestled there.


    Suddenly, a voice echoed, clear and resonant:


    [You have received a memory].


    The moment his fingers closed around the seed, he felt the contours of its surface¡ªsmooth yet cool to the touch. However, just as he pulled his hand back, the grotesque hand twitched reflexively.


    Though the cut was small, it quickly began to bleed, the warmth of the blood trickled down his wrist. As Zerin glanced down at the back of his hand, his attention was momentarily drawn away from the pain radiating through his forearm. It was only when he felt a sharp throb emanating from his closed palm that he realized something was wrong. Panic surged through him as he instinctively dropped the seed onto the ground.


    Looking at his palm, he noticed a bright red rune he had never seen before, fading away quickly offering him very little time to truly observe it.


    His heart sank as he focused on the ground. The realization struck him like a cold wave: the seed was just as dark as the very shadows that cloaked the area, blending seamlessly into darkness. A sense of dread settled as he began to search frantically as he lowered himself to the ground.


    Zerin felt around with trembling fingers, straining his eyes to detect the dark seed amongst the dark backdrops. He could feel the weight of despair returning to press down on him. He needed that seed; it was the only hope he had left.


    As Zerin continued to search for the lost seed, a voice emerged. But he was too consumed by his quest to pay it any attention.


    [Prepare for appraisal¡­]


    [Aspirant! Your trial is over.]


    Then, the voice took on a darker tone, weaving a twisted narrative.


    [Adorned with a crown of serpents, a boy of favored blood ascended to the throne. The blood of hundreds stained his hands, a tapestry of sacrifice woven in his ascent. Consumed by selfish ambition, he claimed divinity, his soul ignited with divine energy. Yet, in the final act of his ascent, he bore the weight of a new curse, forever marked.]


    [You have defeated a dormant human, name unknown.]


    [You have defeated an awakened transfigured human: Alden¡­]


    [You have defeated a fallen devil: Condemned King of the Lost.]


    [You have achieved the inconceivable!]


    The voice echoed through the darkness, each proclamation felt as if it was urging to steer away his attention, but he persisted as he searched for the seed.


    [Final appraisal: Magnificent! The blood upon your hands stains everything you touch.]


    [Dreamer Zerin, receive your gift!]


    [You have been bestowed a True name: The Twin God.]


    [Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]


    Again, the voice repeated itself, unwavering in its insistence.


    [Evolve Aspect?]


    Zerin clenched his jaw, irritation bubbling to the surface. All he wanted was for the voice to fade away, to grant him peace.


    He shouted into the darkness.


    ¡°Yes! I accept it! Just go away already!¡±


    [Dormant Aspect, Born of that Blood is evolving...]


    [New Aspect acquired.]


    [Aspect Rank: Divine.]


    [Aspect Name: Lord of Veins]


    Aspect Description: [In the eerie glow of a blood-red moon, he emerged from the shadows of the dying lands¡ªThe Lord of Veins. Once a mere boy, he had been irrevocably transformed by stolen divinity into the Lord of Blood, a deity forged in the relentless crucible of suffering.]


    It would be a gross understatement to say that Zerin hadn''t have had any inkling of a clue of what was happening.


    [The First Seal is broken.]


    [Awakening dormant powers...]


    Suddenly, that searing pain surged back, more intense than before, striking him with a vengeance that took his breath away. Zerin¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he collapsed into a ball on the ground. The pain radiated through him, unbearable and relentless as if fire itself coursed through his veins. He could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin.


    Sweat beaded on his forehead as he was forced to endure. Zerin¡¯s body trembled as he rested the back of his hand against his brow, trying to stave off the fading sensation. Each heavy breath felt like a battle.


    After his turmoil died down, Zerin noticed something peculiar. It was as if his vision had sharpened or perhaps, he simply hadn¡¯t realized it before. Orbiting the crimson moon above were two orbs, swirly softly in the darkness. For that moment he was captivated by the scene.


    [Awakening Aspect abilities¡­]


    [Innate Ability acquired.]


    Innate Ability: [Blood Fee]


    Ability description: [You lack the standard soul essence; instead you possess blood essence, as your soul has been seared into your very blood.]


    [Aspect Ability acquired.]


    Aspect Ability: [Sanguine Surge]


    Ability description: [Revitalize and sustain yourself on blood. Gain a boost to your physical abilities once a threshold of blood is consumed.]


    As the new abilities settled into his subconscious, he continued his search for the seed. Just when the fatigue of despair was threatening to return once again his hand abruptly bumped into something solid. His heart leaped in his chest as he grasped the object tight, a rush of exhilaration washing over him¡ªhe found it!


    ¡®The seed!¡¯


    He felt a spark of hope, as if the universe had conspired to restore his faith just when he needs it the most. But before he could fully revel in his newfound success, that damned voice returned slicing through his moment of happiness with a warning.


    [Caution! The power you possess comes at a great cost!]


    [You have received a Flaw.]


    Flaw: [Bastardized]


    Flaw Description: [The Gods have marked you as a target.]


    ¡°A target?¡±


    His voice echoed barely above a whisper, laden with the pure insanity of it all.


    He hadn¡¯t paid much attention to his evaluation until now. But this revelation was something entirely unexpected. Being marked as a target by the gods was not just a minor inconvenience; it was a declaration of war.


    His heart raced as he pondered the implications of such a mark.


    Before he could delve deeper into his spiraling thoughts the voice returned with an authoritative command.


    [Awaken, Twin God!]

 Chapter 25: - Dreamer Runes - (Zerin)

    (Runes after The First Nightmare)


    Name: Zerin


    True Name: Twin God


    Rank: Dreamer


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    Blood Core: Dormant


    Blood Shards: 1/7


    Soul Fragments: 15/1000


    Memories: [Curtained Carcass], [Cursed Seed of the Goddess]


    Echoes: ---


    Veinborne: ---


    Attributes: [Mark of the Beast]


    (All of his previous attributes were lost after The First Nightmare.)


    Aspect: [Lord of Veins]


    Aspect Rank: Divine


    Innate Ability: [Blood Fee]


    Aspect Ability: [Sanguine Surge]


    Flaw: [Bastardized]

 Chapter 26: Opening Eyes to Reality

    ¡°Put your gun down!¡±


    She pressed her hand down on the barrel of the rifle. The muzzle pointed to the floor of the vehicle.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t see that?! His hair changed¡ªI swear it was blonde just a moment ago!¡±


    Even to the most charitable witness, it was clear this man was teetering on the edge of insanity.


    The officer shot a skeptical glare at her colleague. Her attention then returned to the black-haired boy, whose head hung at an awkward angle as he was resting along the wall of the vehicle.


    ¡°I am not crazy!¡±


    The man¡¯s voice erupted with fear. He raised his rifle again, the weapon rattling in his shaky hands. The metal caught the faint flicker of light within the cramped confines of the armored vehicle.


    "What is wrong with you? His hair was always black!"


    The woman¡¯s tried to anchor him in reality, but her attempts were futile; the man was beguiled by his own irrationality.


    "I know what happens next! One of those Nightmares will burst out of that boy¡¯s skin¡ªI''ve seen it before! And our bullets won¡¯t even scratch it. We''re going to die!¡±


    A chuckle escaped the lips of the man that sat silently across from the officers the entire ride. The man in question was definitely an awakened of one of the most prestigious ranks.


    For those afflicted by the spell, beauty was soon to become a standard. Even the notable scar trailing down his face and his distinct white hair, he was still undeniably beautiful.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± The Master smirked, ruffling up the unconscious boy''s hair.


    ¡°You¡¯re overreacting! This is just a clueless brat who has no idea of the trouble he¡¯s caused. I almost feel sorry for him, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The man gradually calmed from his panic. Master Cael was right; it was merely a foolish kid, and if it came down to it, Master Cael would swiftly handle the Nightmare creature.


    ¡°I guess you are right¡­¡±


    The man chuckled slightly, laughing at the absurdity of his behavior. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for freaking out¡ª¡±


    As his laughter faded, Zerin slowly blinked his heavy-lidded eyes open. His vision sharpened, revealing two individuals sitting in front of him, wearing an alternate variation of body armor.


    The two officers looked as though they had seen a ghost rise from the dead. They froze, speechless.


    Zerin gaze dropped to his lap, revealing his hands tightly bound by steel cuffs. He tugged at the restraints, feeling the sharp bite of the metal against his wrists.


    Where was he? Who were these people? As if the cuffs weren''t enough to prove he had no power, suddenly, the cold edge of a blade pressed against his neck.


    ¡°Stop moving¡­¡±


    Zerin¡¯s eyes glanced towards the source of the commanding voice and landed on a man with striking features: long white hair pulled into a ponytail and a prominent scar trailing beneath his right eye, vanishing beneath the collar of his shirt. Zerin¡¯s gaze then shifted to the blade, which appeared completely transparent, like glass.


    Cael took precautions, as this had happened to him before. Just when you think they have completed The First Nightmare and you are all relaxed, that''s when they tend to emerge. He wasn''t taking that chance, but once he saw Zerin''s reaction, he smiled.


    ¡°Looks like you¡¯re still in there. Good¡­¡±


    Cael withdrew the sword from Zerin¡¯s neck, and it swiftly vanished into a white mist.


    Cael looked at the boy''s face; it intrigued him. Usually, they would awaken with varying emotions¡ªfear, happiness, gratefulness, etc.¡ªbut this boy¡¯s emotions seemed almost vacant.


    ¡°Tell me your name, kid.¡± Cael said, breaking the silence.


    ¡°My name is Zer¡ª¡±


    Zerin was abruptly cut off by a sharp pain radiating through his shoulder. He looked down, eyes widening in shock, and felt his strength drain as he slumped against Cael.


    With a clatter, the man dropped the rifle onto the floor of the vehicle.


    ¡°You idiot!¡± Cael yelled, twisting Zerin¡¯s unconscious body to locate where the shot had landed. His eyes fell upon a tranquilizer dart embedded in Zerin¡¯s shoulder, eliciting a sigh of relief from the Master. At least it was just a tranquilizer.


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    The officer¡¯s eyes widened, his hands raised defensively as he stammered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir!¡±


    He gently lowered Zerin¡¯s body with caution, resting the boy¡¯s head softly on the other side of the bench. He glanced down at the boy''s rising and falling chest before pulling the tranquilizer from his shoulder and tossing it aside on the floor.


    Cael then brought a hand to his forehead in a face-palm and, with a soft sigh, he spoke.


    ¡°I should have just taken the kid myself.¡±


    Hours later, Zerin¡¯s eyes opened once again, instantly met with a harsh, sterile brightness. The fluorescent lights above him buzzed incessantly, making his head throb. He blinked rapidly, to adjust to the blinding light, only to then realize he was restrained once again.


    In front of him, a man sat across the metal table. just to simply say that he looked upset was an understatement.


    The bald man¡¯s prominent brow jutted out sharply, amplifying his already intimidating presence. As the man¡¯s jaw tightened, Zerin could see the muscles in his face ripple.


    ¡°Finally awake? Did you enjoy your sleep? Because I certainly didn¡¯t!¡±


    The man barked, his voice booming as he abruptly stood from the desk.


    The absurdity of the series of statements and questions was almost comical. He didn''t know the man at all, so why was this man¡¯s sleeplessness his problem? Zerin looked up at the man for some sort of explanation.


    ¡°What the hell are you looking at, you brat?¡±


    He slammed his fist against the metal table, creating a deafening crash that sounded like thunder. Zerin winced slightly as the sound rattled his ears.


    A calm, measured voice crackled to life from the speakers in the corners of the room.


    ¡°Go easy, Isaac¡­ he is still under protection as an adolescent,¡± the disembodied voice stated.


    The man¡¯s face grew more furious as he set his sights on the camera nestled in the corner of the room, his anger etching even deeper lines into his features.


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you deal with this yourself? I¡¯ve had enough of this shit!¡±


    Isaac pointed his finger at the camera, as if he were singling out the disembodied voice through the circuitry.


    "Isaac then continued, ''And this isn¡¯t just a simple mistake! This could have resulted in hundreds, if not thousands, of lives being lost in our busiest districts. We have a zero-tolerance policy for a reason!''¡±


    The speakers crackled back to life with a sharp squelch. After a brief, charged pause, the disembodied voice spoke again.


    ¡°Understood. We will send her in¡­ Take the week off, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Oh! So now you want to bring in your fucking pony? Fine by me!¡± Issac shot back, his words spilling over with over-the-top sarcasm. The veins in his neck bulged as his anger flared.


    ¡°I barely got a single wink of fucking sleep in this hellish week! And you woke me up for this when she was already here?!¡±


    The voice on the speaker responded, ¡°She was busy¡­ Just never mind. Have a good week off, Isaac.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s brows knitted together in a tight furrow, shooting one final glare at Zerin. With a sharp exhale, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the interrogation room, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang that echoed off the bleached walls.


    Zerin sat there, still bound to the cold metal chair, confusion swirling in his mind.


    After what felt like an eternity of the constant humming from the fluorescent lights above, the interrogation doors swung open with a creak. In stepped a woman clad in a crisp office dress that hugged her figure with an air of professionalism. She exuded a polished demeanor, her hair neatly twisted into a tight bun that elegantly framed her delicate features. Her glasses perched stylishly on her nose. The makeup she wore was subtle yet effective, enhancing her natural beauty without overwhelming it and highlighting her high cheekbones and soft smile.


    Each step was purposeful, accompanied by the sharp click of her heels against the cold, hard tile floor in a rhythmic cadence that drew Zerin¡¯s attention. A clipboard was tucked securely under one arm, and as she approached, a warm smile spread across her face.


    ¡°Hello, Zerin¡­¡± she greeted him with a smooth and inviting voice.


    Zerin blinked, searching her face for answers.


    ¡°How do you know my name?¡± He asked, the question tumbling from his lips.


    Her smile widened slightly, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow playfully, clearly amused by his reaction, the corners of her mouth lifted up, somehow softening the seriousness of the moment.


    ¡°Oh, I just browsed your file,¡± she said casually, her tone light and conversational.


    ¡°There was very little information, but I see you currently live in an orphanage in the Ninth District, right?


    ¡°Ninth District?¡± Zerin echoed. the term felt foreign on his tongue, as if it belonged to another world.


    ¡°Yes, that''s what it says in your file,¡± she replied, glancing down as she turned over the single page on her clipboard.


    The mention of the Ninth District held no significance for him; it was just a random name.


    ¡°Do you serve the gods?¡± he asked suddenly.


    ¡°...Serve the gods? Uh, I would like to think so¡­¡± A slight, puzzled smile played at the corner of her lips. She found the question intriguing but nevertheless absurd.


    ¡°I mean¡­ they are dead, right?¡± she added.


    Zerin''s eyes widened at those words.


    ''Dead?''


    Zerin knew very well that Goddess was dead. But hearing that all the gods were dead, including the Shadow God¡ªwhom he believed was responsible for what happened in the lands of the Goddess¡ªwas a shock to him.


    The speakers returned with a squelch.


    The woman''s ears perked up as she prepared to listen.


    ¡°Jerika, stay on topic,¡± the voice commanded.


    ¡°Right¡­ Stay on topic¡­¡± Jerika murmured with a nod, her voice barely above a whisper.


    She narrowed her focus back on Zerin.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s start from the beginning. What happened in The First Nightmare?¡±


    She studied his face briefly, wondering why he had that clueless expression.


    ¡°What is the first thing you recall?¡± she asked, approaching it from a different angle.


    ¡°I remember waking up in the land of the goddess,¡± he said plainly.


    Zerin glanced around the room before speaking.


    "Where am I now?"


    Jerika¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at his face. The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning: Zerin didn¡¯t know about the real world. Something happened within the First Nightmare, which rendered him completely void of any recollection of his life before it.


    She clicked her pen against the clipboard repeatedly as her mind scrambled. The sharp, jarring sound echoed through the sterile room.


    Her unwavering gaze locked onto him. ¡°Tell me what you remember.¡±


    Zerin¡¯s gaze shifted up to the speakers mounted in the corner.


    ¡°Are they going to listen?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± Jerika replied, her face softening slightly. She understood the weight of the scrutiny he would be under.


    ¡°It''s unavoidable, I¡¯m sorry. But if you answer truthfully, we will do our best to help you restore your memory to the best of our ability. Hopefully, this will lead to a full recovery. Deal?¡±


    With that, she extended her hand across the cold metal table. Zerin hesitated for a moment, but he accepted.


    With his hands cuffed, he reached over and shook her hand. As their hands connected, an electric spark traveled up his arm.


    "First, let''s get those off of you, then we can get to it, okay?"

 Chapter 27: Bringing It All To LIght.

    How much time was truly spent in those lands? How could he ever know? He had arrived as swiftly as he had departed, and now, looking back, it felt all too distant, even though it seemed like just yesterday.


    Everything seemed to rest in the hands of forces beyond his control. Every action, predetermined, dictated by someone else''s will. Even when he donned the guise of authority, the truth that it was merely a facade lingered in the air.


    He recounted every detail, sparing no nuance. And, when he reached the end of his tale, he found himself staring blankly at an imaginary tome that was his time in that realm. Universally it could be seen as a story tainted with sickness¡ªcrafted by a creator who must have been a profoundly lonely individual, intent on spreading the plague of their own existence.


    By the weight of his own life, he loathed fate.


    Jerika lifted her eyes from her clipboard, where her pen had been rapidly taking notes from their discussion. She paused, allowing herself to gather her thoughts.


    "You''re saying that she was the vessel for this goddess? Who exactly was this goddess?"


    She asked, her voice was steady, but her tone hinted at a deep-seated interest.


    As he processed the question, his foot tapped rapidly against the cold tiles beneath him. He picked his fingers, eyes fixed on the surface of the metal table.


    "Her name was never spoken."


    His words came out in a rush, leaving an odd silence behind. Jerika uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, propping herself on the table with her elbow. She tilted her head slightly, her fingers tapping against the side of her temple, as if she were dissecting each and every word.


    "Was there anything in particular about this goddess that stood out to you?"


    "The moon and blood..."


    "The moon and blood," she echoed, quickly jotting it down on her clipboard.


    "And you said this goddess is dead?"


    "Yes."


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    Jerika continued to scribble for a few moments. When she finally finished, she looked up to find his head bowed, he was fixed on the surface of the table, avoiding her eyes entirely.


    "I''m sorry for drilling you with questions," her voice softened.


    She lifted her clipboard, flipping through the pages.


    "Let''s just make sure I¡¯ve covered everything."


    "We went over your Aspect and your flaw¡ªboth of which will require further evaluation. You also passed the cognitive test I provided¡­¡±


    She inhaled, lifting her eyes off the paper.


    ¡°I believe that¡¯s everything for now.¡±


    "I am here to help you with anything. You just need to ask." She added.


    He remained silent. He didn¡¯t know how to ask for her help, or what to even ask for.


    "Do you need anything in particular?" She spoke again, pressing more.


    Zerin shook his head. He was fine. Or so he convinced himself.


    Jerika stretched her arms above her head and yawned, breaking the overbearing silence.


    ¡°How about this: tomorrow, I¡¯ll take you out to breakfast. You¡¯ll be staying here for a while, anyway, up until you finally get sent into the dream world, at least.


    She drummed her fingers on the glinting surface of the metal table with a playful tempo. ¡°Okay?¡±


    Zerin nodded, his eyes following her reluctantly as she stood.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m going to go fetch the idiot who¡¯s supposed to be here already to escort you to your room,¡± She stated with a playful annoyance in her tone.


    She grabbed the cuffs resting on the table, twirling them around her index finger as she jutted her hip to the side, clipboard and pen were held in her other hand.


    Zerin nodded in response. The cuffs continued to spin around her finger while the click of her heels echoed against the sterile floor, fading into the distance as the door clicked shut behind her.


    Left alone in the room, Zerin slumped over the cold metal table, resting his head against its surface. He gazed up at the blinking red light of the surveillance camera watching him.


    A few mind-numbing moments passed by before the door swung open once again.


    Standing in the doorway was a face Zerin recognized¡ªthe man with white hair.


    Master Cael wore civilian clothes¡ªa simple grey t-shirt with jeans that fit well. Though the shirt was plain, it clung to his frame in a way that displayed his toned physique. The jeans are stylish yet practical, but what truly set Cael apart was a quality that transcended his wardrobe. His posture and the energy he gave off was that of a quiet confidence, commanding attention without the need for a single word.


    "How did the little chat go, Jerika?" He asked, his tone held casual.


    It went well. He didn''t lie once." She replied with a steady voice.


    "You used your aspect ability on him?! What if he lied?" Cael¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°Relax!¡± Jerika scoffed, playfully slapping his shoulder. ¡°I lowered its potency so he wouldn¡¯t get too hurt.¡±


    Jerika pinched Cael on the neck, causing him to jump reflexively.


    ¡°Ow, what the hell?¡±


    Cael turned and stepped back from her, only to let his shoulders drop as he noticed her holding a badge in her hand.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. You know the rules¡ªYou need to wear it, or your precious paychecks will be heavily deducted as a fee,¡± she said, wagging a finger at him. Then, with a rising playful smile, she added, ¡°Plus, you look good with it on.


    Never has there been a more desperate man. Immediately, Master Cael clipped the badge onto his shirt, to only have the door slam shut in his face a moment later.


    ¡°What a charmer¡­¡± Cael muttered.


    From the other side of the door, Jerika¡¯s voice floated back to him.


    He spun around, kicking his leg out in frustration as he turned to Zerin.


    Master Cael sighed and faced Zerin. ¡°Can you believe that chick?¡±


    Zerin simply looked at Cael, saying nothing in response.

 Chapter 28: Master Cael

    The corridors stretched out before them. Each of their steps echoing softly against the marble flooring. The walls, painted a pale grey, warded off the harsh fluorescence that hung overhead. The hallways were separated by thick steel doors. Every single one of these doors were fixed with an advanced electronic lock that would only grant access to those that had a high security clearance card.


    Once they crossed the final steel door, the atmosphere shifted. The monotonous corridors gave way to an expansive opening that revealed an atrium.


    The atrium was marvelous.


    The atrium featured soaring ceilings and floor to ceiling glass pane windows that allowed the space to be filled with natural light. Sunlight poured in, casting long shadows that stretched across the polished marble floor. Numerous potted plants were strategically placed to add to the modern design.


    The people present resembled a well-organized colony of ants, moving in cluster that merged and diverged. The crowd was dressed in sharp suits and various forms of formal attire.


    But Zerin''s focus was more fixed on the world outside, specifically the snow-covered landscape and the crisp, pale sky. Here, the colors were muted yet striking.


    The scent of food wafted through the air. Suddenly, a deep hunger stirred within him. His stomach growled audibly through the bustling crowd even drawing the attention of Cael.


    "Hungry?" Cael laughed.


    "We are almost there, hang on."


    They traveled through the chaotic crowd. Unlike the last time, Zerin paid close attention, making sure that he stayed close to Cael to avoid getting lost in the masses.


    Once they cleared the shifting crowd, they got in line in front of the elevator. The small line outside of the elevator grew shorter as groups of people in front of them gathered inside the car.


    The elevator was constructed from transparent glass panels, with interior lights, reflecting off the metal framing and the polished stone floor. Zerin watched as the glass doors shut and the elevator car rose smoothly to the higher floors.


    Eventually, the elevator car descended, signaling it was their turn to board the car. Stepping inside, Zerin was greeted by the fresh air in the compartment and a pleasant tune playing softly in the background.


    The elevator reached its stop, and they exited. The smell of food grew stronger on the second floor, causing Zerin to momentarily stray from Cael.


    Cael called out to him.


    "It''s over here. Once we get you situated, we can get something to eat."


    Zerin would have to hold out, though it was becoming increasingly difficult.


    Eventually they arrived in front of Zerin''s new residence. Cael pulled something from his pocket and, with a flick of his wrist, slid a keycard into the digital lock. The mechanism responded with a beep and whirred softly as it disengaged.


    Cael pushed the door open and stepped aside, mocking Zerin with a grand bow.


    "Welcome to your new abode, my lord," He declared.


    Others would have considered this funny, but to Zerin, the remark was uncanny, striking much deeper than mere humor. The words lingered in his mind unwelcomed.


    With a deep breath, he shook off the lingering feeling and stepped into his new room.


    The room was small, at least by his standards. Perhaps, living in a castle had raised his expectations exponentially.


    The bed was a narrow twin sized bed, pressed tightly against a wall, its mattress appeared to be much less comfortable than the large, luxurious bed, he slept in previously. In another corner there stood a narrow desk, positioned beneath a tiny window that framed a bleak view of the outside world.


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    And in corner beside the bathroom, a small closet took up the space, its doors were opened slightly, revealing a few articles of clothing hanging on the racks.


    The walls were practically bare, devoid of any personal touches or warmth, expect for a single motivational poster that seemed out of place. The poster read: ''Save the Children!


    For some unknown reason, he felt drawn to tear the poster down, but was distracted by the light that filtered through the tiny window. Even though the room wasn''t exactly to his liking, the window allowed him to gaze out at the world beyond. Through the pane, he could see the treetops swaying in the breeze, their bare branches dusted with snow, moving in a rhythm that seemed almost inviting.


    For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a different scenario.


    Cael spoke out, taking him out of the scene.


    "Well, while you are stargazing over there, I''m going to get something to eat. What do you want?"


    "Stew..." Zerin muttered without peeling his eyes from the small window.


    "Stew? What are you, a peasant?"


    Zerin turned back his eyes furrowing at his comment.


    "Oh, right! You don''t have your memory," Cael added with a sigh, palm against his forehead.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll get something you''ll enjoy for sure!"


    Instantly without warning, Cael disappeared in a mist, bolting out the door at an incredible speed, causing papers to flutter and small items to topple over within the room.


    Zerin was astonished by how fast he moved; in the blink of an eye, Master Cael was gone.


    He went to shut the door he had left open, "He could have at least closed the door.


    Zerin sighed as he picked up the mess.


    Standing up, he brushed his knees. Glancing around the room to see the fruits of his efforts, he was drawn to the window once again. Leaning closer, he peered through, observing the gray sky and the flurries of snow. The cold light of the winter sun was unexpectedly intense, causing him to shield his eyes. As he did, a shadow casted over the window, and he noticed a heavy snow cloud had momentarily obscured the sun.


    Turning his eyes from the sky, Zerin saw the dim reflection of himself in the window. His hair and eyes were darker, and to confirm his suspicions, he fled from the window and looked in the bathroom window.


    The sunlight streaming in from the outside illuminated the open bathroom, highlighting his new appearance. He lifted his hand to his head, feeling each strand of his hair¡ªthat were now tainted black. His eyes had also changed to a dark black, replacing his former blond hair and blue eyes. Unsettled by his new look, he felt more like a mere imitation of himself.


    In a state of foolishness, he turned on the facet, testing the water with his fingers. The icy chill made him pull them back quickly. He waited impatiently for the cold water to eventually turn warm, hoping for a different result. He dunked his head into the sink and began scrubbing in a futile attempt to wash away the inky blackness from his hair.


    The feeling of foolishness only truly settled once he looked at himself in the mirror. With a brief sigh, he grabbed the towel from the rack and began drying his hair before walking out of the bathroom.


    HIs hunger soon reminded him of its presence as his stomach growled again. He wondered when Cael would arrive.


    A knock sounded at the door.


    Speak of the devil.


    Cael''s voice called through the door, "Hungry?"


    Zerin quickly opened the door, and Cael was met with the sight of Zerin with a towel on his head. Zerin, in turn, was surprised to see Cael carrying a mountainous number of bags, to the point it was inhuman.


    "Can I come in?"


    Zerin stepped aside, allowing Cael to enter the room.


    Cael set the bags of food aside.


    "Don''t you think that''s a bit too much?" Zerin asked, puzzled.


    "There were too many options, so I just got a little of everything," Cael replied.


    "Plus, we are sharing." He added.


    Zerin felt almost sick to his stomach hearing those words.


    Cael continued, carelessly digging through the bags, searching for which meal to sink his teeth into first.


    "Well, let''s get eating. I''m almost certain that since I''m in town, I''ll be ordered around like a dog."


    Zerin''s sudden queasiness finally settled, and he spoke.


    "Did you get in trouble too?"


    "In trouble? How cute," Cael taunted.


    "To answer your question, no, I didn''t get in trouble. I chose to work for the government, but taking orders bothers me." Cael added with a more serious tone.


    "But you have five years, right?"


    Zerin nodded.


    "Damn, they are strict over here, huh?" Cael said surprised.


    Cael fished a piece of fried chicken out of a bag and took a bite.


    "I guess it''s because this continent is currently a bit short on spell carriers in general, so there is no one to protect the districts."


    Zerin reached into the bag Cael was holding and grabbed a piece of chicken, taking his first bite.


    "Oh, how I would love to experience eating chicken for the first time again," Cael said with almost a hint of nostalgia.


    The chicken was good, but Zerin found that regaining his memory felt far more important. Without it, he felt out of place.


    They continued eating together, engaging in casual conversation as they did. Zerin even opened up a bit about his experience in what they called the "First Nightmare," Though he glossed over the details this around and skipped some parts.


    In the middle of their meal, a distinct tune began playing in the room, coming from Cael''s pocket.


    Cael pulled out a device that lit up briefly before he stuffed it away again.


    "What''s that?" Zerin asked, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.


    "Oh, nothing... They can wait a bit, " Cael replied.


    Cael deftly changed the subject


    "I''m planning to stick around here a little longer and endure being ordered around like a dog, just to train you. I''ve read your file¡ªyou have a divine aspect.¡±


    Cael shoveled more food into his mouth. "Only a few of those exist, you know? You could be something special, so I won''t miss this opportunity." He pointed at Zerin as he spoke.


    As soon as he finished speaking, a sudden knock sounded at the door. Cael set down the bowl of macaroni, jumping to his feet.


    He swung open the door, and on the other side there was a gentleman in a suit and tie.


    "Cael, we have another."


    "You''re kidding..." Cael replied.


    "Nope, we just got a call."


    "They are awake?"


    "Yes."


    "Oh, so I can take my time?" Cael said with a slight smile.


    "We don''t need you being late."


    "I am never late." Cael said in a colder tone.


    "I''m never late..." He repeated.


    "Just get it over with, Cael."


    Fine..." Cael grumbled, turning back after shutting the door.


    "Well, kid, it looks like there''s another brat like you who''s been hit with the spell, so I need to head out."


    Zerin continued eating, his face stuffed. The sheer variety of food was a luxury he''d never experienced before, and he wasn''t about to a waste a single bit of it.


    "Not going to say goodbye? Anything? Thank you for the food?"


    Zerin waved without lifting his head from his plate, his focus entirely on the food.


    "Ungrateful kids..." Cael said with a chuckle as he shut the door behind him.


    Left all alone with such an abundance of food, Zerin dug in with gusto.

 Chapter 29: In the Face of the Beast

    Two figures made their way through the vast highlands, an expanse where the land rolled in heaps of verdant green. Each step they took sank slightly into the lush grass, which swayed with the afternoon breeze. Scattered across were wildflowers, each one a splash of color against the greenery.


    The hills stretched far into the horizon, blending seamlessly with the sky above, where faint clouds drifted lazily. The air was rich with the scent of the flowers that flooded the landscape, mixing with the earthy scent of the highland soil. Small birds flitted between the wildflowers, their chirps harmonizing with the rustling grass.


    Yet, despite this beauty surrounding them, both figures remained transfixed on a monumental sight ahead. Rising majestically above the rolling hills was a colossal mountain. The mountain¡¯s rugged glory pierced the sky, a monstrous manifestation of stone. Its peaks, jagged and sharp, scraped against the heavens, while the lower slopes were of darker stone and patches of green.


    One of the figures was Dex. He had been The First Nightmare for a year, but in reality, he had only been gone for about half a day. Dressed in pants crafted from hemp, his upper body remained bare, revealing a lean physique that attested to his rigorous training under The Sage. On his feet were a pair of traditional geta. He hated these wooden sandals desperately, but they were a requirement enforced by the sage, and even though he couldn''t fathom the reason behind it, he complied.


    "What happens when I reach the top?"


    Dex turned to the Mountain Sage, only to find that she had vanished without uttering a single word.


    He blinked, confused, and turned around. All that surrounded him were the hills of the highlands. He smirked and nodded his head slightly.


    Dex turned back to where they had come from, and in the distance, he could see a silhouette watching him from afar.


    "Too cowardly to say goodbye?"


    The blind sage always moved effectively, her steps unhurried and graceful, as if she could see where she was going. It baffled him how she never stumbled, not even once under his eye. He had asked her once how she managed to always find her way.


    "The land dictates where I go," she had replied.


    But now, as he watched her silhouette in the distance, he felt an urge for revenge¡ªnothing too crazy, just something casual.


    He raised a hand and waved.


    "I''m going to hell," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned away laughing and set off toward the daunting mountain.


    As he approached the mountain, the once lush, green terrain began to morph into a rugged rocky landscape. At the base of the mountain, the land spread wide and expansive, revealing a view of cracks and deep gorges.


    Peering upward, one could hardly comprehend the harshness of the mountain¡¯s ascent. The incline jutted abruptly, a near absolute vertical rise that seemed to defy logic. Clusters of trees grew on the sides of the mountain, their roots securing them on the rock. It was an amazing sight, as if the earth had been drawn up into the sky.


    He maneuvered through the jagged terrain. Climbing over massive boulders and scattered debris¡ªremnants of rock that had tumbled down from the daunting mountain. The ground was uneven, littered with sharp edges and loose stones, that would pierce anyone who was careless. After some time, he finally made it to the base of the mountain and placed his hand upon its cool surface.


    He kicked off his geta, the wooden sandals clattering against the stone floor.


    He began to climb, his fingers digging into the rugged surface of the mountain, grasping and clinging to the coarse rock. He meticulously shifted his holds with each upward movement. Even without the help of any gear, the first hundred feet felt like child''s play to him, a warm-up that paled in comparison to the grueling training the sage had put him through.


    The woman had pushed his body to its limits, subjecting him to a relentless regimen that felt like pure torment at times. Now, as he scaled the mountain, he could appreciate the hard work she had put him through and was grateful for every second of it.


    After climbing a few more feet, fatigue began to settle in, his limbs feeling as if they were made of lead. He looked upward for a place to rest¡ªmaybe a ledge he could perch on for a moment or an opening where he could rest. To his luck, just a short distance to his left, he saw a cave nestled into the side of the mountain.


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    The cave''s mouth was jagged with rugged stone, and although the interior was shadowy, it appeared spacious enough for him to rest.


    When Dex finally reached the maw of the cave, he collapsed on the cave floor. He groaned as he rolled onto his back to look up at the cave ceiling, his muscles aching from the constant climb of several hundred feet without rest.


    He summoned the [Traveler''s Gourd]. This memory was one he had received from the earlier days in this Nightmare.


    The gourd itself was an elegantly crafted vessel with a smooth, rounded body and a simple cork-like stopper. However, it wasn¡¯t just a standard gourd; one of its benefits was its capacity, which was deceptively larger than its size.


    He managed to rise to his feet, his movements echoing off the walls of the cave as he sloshed the contents of the gourd around. He peered outside the entrance of the cave, and the view was breathtaking. The green and brown colors stretched far into the distance.


    It was empowering to see how far he had come, but he was fully aware that this was only the beginning.


    He took a seat at the cave''s edge, his feet dangling carelessly several hundred feet above the ground on the side of the mountain.


    After resting, he dismissed the gourd, watching it vanish into sparks that dissipated in the air. The cool mountain breeze against his shirtless body gave him a sudden boost of determination. He raised his arms high above his head, stretching out his muscles.


    "Back to it!" he declared with a shout, trying to summon more strength.


    Dex found a stable grip as he peered over the heart-stopping drop below him. For most people, this would be a fear, but for Dex, it was a thrill.


    He shifted his weight onto a new handhold and stepped out of the cave and glanced back into its dark recesses, for reasons he couldn¡¯t quite explain, but he was glad he did. What he saw were gleaming red eyes reflecting back at him from the shadows. They numbered eight, unblinking and predatory.


    He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him as he squinted.


    Suddenly, a massive spider lunged from the darkness with unnerving speed. However, his position outside the cave, combined with his reflexes, allowed him to swiftly leap to another handhold as the creature slammed its head against the side of the cave, emitting a screech of frustration.


    Dangling from the handhold with one hand, he turned to his right. With his other hand, he had already summoned his memory¡ªa tiny blade that barely reflected the orange light of the afternoon.


    The spider¡¯s front legs grasped the side of the mountain, and Dex felt a chill run down his spine. The monstrous creature emerged from the cave''s maw.


    As the creature fully revealed itself, the spider set its eight eyes on him¡ªrather, its seven eyes¡ªas the creature squinted one eye that it had damaged by colliding with the rugged cave opening. Its body was a deep obsidian black with the front part covered in fine, dark purple hairs. Its legs were long and thin, alternating dark bands with lighter ones.


    Its fangs were gruesome, easily the length of Dex''s torso. With a single bite, this creature could sever him in half.


    "That damned sage!" Dex shouted. "I''ve spent several months training under you, and this is what you throw at me?!"


    Dex gripped the blade tightly, ready to face the beast as he hung from the handhold.


    As if accepting the challenge, the massive spider, a grotesque creature of chitin and horror, skittered swiftly along the mountain''s side, its long legs navigating the terrain with practiced efficiency.


    Startled by its sudden speed, Dex attempted to further the distance from the creature. He leaped and scrambled for another handhold in the jagged rock. But it was all in vain; the creature had adapted perfectly to this environment and closed the short distance in a second.


    The sound of its legs skittering alongside the mountainside echoed in Dex''s ears. Just as the spider''s fangs descended to crush him. He narrowly avoided the deadly strike. He swung his tiny blade with every ounce of strength. The metal connected with one of the spider''s fangs, halting them a few inches form his face. The impacted reverberated through his arm, yet he held strong, resisting death.


    The massive spider, furious at this resistance, attempted to clamp down further, but Dex braced himself further, struggling against the beast. It shrieked in anger, the sound the caused his adrenaline to peak allowing him to hold on longer.


    Its breath wafting over him with a putrid stench that smelled of decay and death.


    "Your breath stinks!" Dex shouted wrinkling his nose.


    He felt his grip slipping as the creature bore down on him with relentless force, its massive form pressing closer. Its movements are further punctuated by the sound of its legs scraping against the rock. Saliva dripped from its mouth, spattering onto his arm in a warm, viscous stream that could have taken him out from the smell alone. The increasing pain in his arm was the only thing that helped him maintain his focus.


    In a heart-stopping moment, he felt the blade shatter under the force of the creature''s jaws, the metal splintering glaze leaving him disarmed.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Dex shouted, he quickly pulled back his arm. Just in time, he evaded the jaws that snapped down with a hiss. The rush of air from the creature''s bite whipped past him.


    With his hand now free, Dex frantically grabbed another hold, his fingers quickly found purchase. Once he found a resemblance of stability he began to fight back the only way he could. He began kicking wildly, targeting any part of the creature he could reach¡ªIts long, spindly legs, its face, its beady eyes. It didn¡¯t matter where he struck. Each kick felt futile, like battering a solid tree trunk, its chitin was just too strong.


    Yet, against these odds, he managed to land a lucky kick that sent one of the spider''s legs detaching it from the mountainside, the creature momentarily thrown off balance. It shifted its weight to another leg, but Dex was quicker and retaliated, his foot connecting with that one too forcing the creature to stagger once again.


    Finally, Dex delivered a kick that bore the weight of his entire body, driving his foot squarely into the spider¡¯s grotesque face. The impact sent the creature tumbling backwards, its limbs flailing as it lost its grip and began to roll down the mountain.


    ¡°Damned beast!¡± Dex spat, his words bursting forth in anger.


    Peering down, Dex watched as the spider collided with a jagged rock, its immense body crumpling against the stone. A gory spray of guts and dark, viscous blood erupted from the shattered chitin. The creature writhed in agony, impaled upon the sharp stone pike, its legs thrashing violently, each movement only worsened its wounds.


    Eventually, the massive spider succumbed to its injuries, its body going still with a final shudder.


    He stood there for a moment, his heart racing, the taste of victory, a metallic tang in his mouth as he waited for the spell to congratulate his kill.


    [You have slain a Dormant beast, Infantile Dark-laced Weaver]


    "Infantile? That was a baby?!" He spoke with a voice of disbelief; his ego has just been shut down heavily, struggling with an Infantile spider.


    [You have received a memory]


    It felt almost like an undeserved reward, but he rifled through his collection of runes anyway. His gaze sharpened and settled upon the new memory.


    [Sycophant''s Enshroudment]

 Chapter 30: Looking Ahead

    "Sycophant?"


    He found a comfortable ledge to sit on to examine his runes more in-depth.


    Memory: [Sycophant''s Enshroudment]


    Memory Rank: [Dormant, Tier VII]


    Memory Description: [A crude imitation of the sycophant''s garments.]


    "Weaker than that blade the Sage gave me."


    He summoned the memory. Silk strips began to materialize, gliding gracefully through the air and gently grazing his skin. It was an intriguing sight¡ªthe threads quickly wrapped around his body, first circling his wrists, then coiling up his arms. Another set of silk strips threaded around his ankles and traveled up his legs until eventually, his entire body, from head to toe, was covered in silk.


    The strips began to tighten. Dex felt the pressure intensify, almost taking his breath away. Though the memory left a slit for him to see through, that part of the silken armor was less restrictive.


    As the silken cloth settled around him, Dex immediately noticed a remarkable difference. The weight of fatigue that had been clinging to his muscles began to dissipate. It was as if the cloth had melded with his very skin. Every movement felt fluid and unhindered.


    "What the hell is this?" he muttered in astonishment.


    His eyes drifted back to his runes, searching for answers. What was he feeling?


    Memory Enchantments


    [Veil of Kin] ¨C "As long as one is draped in this garment, crafted from the richest spider silk, you are part of its kin."


    [Efficient Silk] ¨C "This silk is of the highest quality, allowing it to carry heavy weight without issue¡ªeven your burdens! Tread lightly"


    [Delicate] ¨C "Though crafted from premium silk, this garment was woven poorly, being the first of its kind. Such an outcome is to be expected."


    So far, this memory was fairly weak in rank compared to his last, but it offered one, maybe two useful enchantments. However, he discovered a mysterious enchantment that remained obscured.


    Enchantment: [???]


    [Prerequisite]: "Through hollow eyes, no soul can see; in the shadows, I reign supreme. What am I, feared and seldom shown, a demon''s face, yet not my own?"


    Enchantment Description: [???]


    [Prerequisite]: "I wear a visage of ancient dread; in lacquered black, my form is spread. With fangs that pierce the shrouded night, and no one around to withstand my might. I stand forgotten for no one to see, but for the fallen, they remember me."


    "A pair of stupid riddles just to learn the description and even the name of an enchantment?"


    Dex didn''t remember learning anything about this, though school never really deep dived into the possibilities, it mostly just zeroed in on the basics pertaining to the spell.


    "Screw this! I wasn''t interested anyways!"


    Dex waved away his runes and returned to the climb. The climb only increased in difficulty, yet the memory covering him allowed him to ascend with surprising ease, as if the silk was siphoning away his fatigue, granting him the strength to continue.


    The harsh winds roared around him relentlessly, attempting to peel him off the mountainside. Sheets of heavy rain battered against him, drenching him as he clung desperately to the mountain, praying he would not fall. Crashing thunder and lightning left the atmosphere cracking with energy.


    His lungs burned as if they were on fire, threatening to collapse under the strain of the thin air. After what felt like forever, he took a brief rest, clutching the rocky surface as he gasped for air. Without the aid of this memory, he knew he would never have been able to tackle such a challenge.


    When he finally looked down, he was met with clouds swirling beneath him, wrapping around the mountain. He had reached a magnificent height.


    With one final, determined effort, he managed to clear the distance. Though he just barely made it by, his silk armor allowed him to only get away with so much. He had done it.


    He collapsed on his stomach and laughed to himself, with his face plastered against the rough stone of the mountain kissing it.


    "I did it!"


    He pushed himself off the ground, looking up at his surroundings, and it became blatantly clear that this was not the time nor the place for him to be celebrating.


    The summit was flattened, as though its peak was cleaved off, leaving behind a plateau. Dark, oily webs clung to the stone in front of him like veins, returning back to its origin which was a temple.


    The temple was corrupted by these oily, vile webs that strung about the structure; the temple appeared ancient, but that could have just been because of the corruption of the webbing that had taken place. But atop the temple was a shadowy figure.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The Dark-Laced Weavemother loomed atop the temple. Her massive form was monstrously elegant¡ªher body a deep dark, inky black comparable to the webs she wove. Her head, like that of her young, was covered in faint threads of purple, but hers glowed iridescently. Each of her long, slender legs spread across the massive temple, spanning the full distance. Her abdomen was swollen and shimmered as she breathed.


    Her eyes numbered eight, gleaming purple. They shifted subtly as she set her gaze upon Dex. Her two eyes that nestled in the center were larger and seemed to focus on him with an eerie intelligence, observing him from afar.


    She rose up from the temple softly and delicately; her long, slender legs tapped audibly across the top of the temple as she moved down to the temple''s entrance, standing several feet from Dex.


    Dex froze; there was no way in hell he would be able to take on such a creature like this and come out on top. Its size and the energy this creature gave off were something he could not beat, and the fact he didn''t have a proper weapon memory made it worse¡ªhe was completely at this creature''s mercy.


    His eyes fixed upon the creature''s fangs as they glistened with a dark, oily substance; the substance began pooling beneath her as she stared at him.


    The wind was blowing lightly, and once it went stale, the Weavemother began to approach him.


    Its long, slender legs moved across the tainted stone, with light tapping sounds. His heart sank in his chest at the sight as the creature was eye to eye with him; its purple eyes bore into his. Its fang dripped that dark, viscous venom near his feet, but he did not peel his eyes from it; he simply couldn''t.


    A sickening beauty was within its eyes; it reflected himself in a new light. For the first time, he saw himself as he always saw himself¡ªstrong, brave, and enduring.


    Short chirps escaped the Weavemother''s mandibles before it stepped aside.


    Dex was left stunned; his reflection was gone, and all that was left for him to do was to walk forward into the spiderwebbed temple before him, and so he did.


    [Prepare for appraisal...]


    [Aspirant! Your trial is over.]


    Within darkness, the spell spun a narrative.


    [From humble beginnings, a young man trained under a sage who tested his mettle and true worth. His sweat demonstrated his effort, but the fruits of his labor had yet to be revealed. In a final bid to prove himself, he scaled Weaver Mountain, a towering peak pulled from the earth. Battling the elements and slaying a beast along the way, he persevered. Awaiting him there was his final test: acceptance. He was welcomed into the temple by the Black-Laced Weavemother, who recognized remnants of her own within him.]


    [You have defeated a Dormant Beast, Highland Boar.]


    [You have defeated a Dormant Beast, Infantile Black-Laced Weaver.]


    [You have been accepted!]


    [Final appraisal: Expected. Fate has always favored you.]


    "Oh, is that right?" he scoffed.


    [Your Aspect is ready to evolve. Evolve Aspect?]


    "Yes, change the damn name while you''re at it."


    [Dormant Aspect, Whisper of Luck evolving...]


    "Please be divine!"


    [New Aspect acquired.]


    He waited in desperation for his results and fell silent as soon as the voice returned.


    [Aspect Rank: Ascended.]


    "Come on!" He shouted in the darkness.


    Aspect Name: [Fate''s Favor]


    Aspect Description: [Fate has found sudden favor with you.]


    "What the hell is this aspect?"


    Innate Ability: [One of many]


    "Finally! Something good!"


    Ability Description: [???]


    Prerequisite: "No mortal touch, no earthly frame, yet all paths pass beneath its flame."


    "Another damn prerequisite? It doesn''t seem like I am in Fate''s favor!"


    The voice ignored him and continued.


    [The First Seal is broken.]


    [Awakening dormant powers...]


    Energy surged from Dex''s heart, spreading outward, spider webbing through every fiber of his being. The sensation was not painful at all; it was a warmth that created a rush that he had never felt before.


    As the energy spread throughout his body, he could feel it igniting his muscles, enhancing his senses.


    In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of grounding within himself; he was more aware of his body and its autonomy.


    He lifted his eyes, and what he saw was enchanting. Above him, way high, delicate threads of vibrant green illuminated the darkness overhead, suspended in the air. Spread within the verdant strands were strands of gold, their brilliance even outshining the green. These gold fibers were slightly longer. They hung like shining golden ornaments against the faint glowing green. The sight was odd and mesmerizing; it was as if he had stepped into another realm.


    It was his soul sea, and it was amazing.


    A light breeze swept through the air, nudging the strands above, causing them to sway gracefully, creating rustling sounds as the strands brushed against each other. The wind carried a distant tinkling, a sound reminding him of the chimes his grandparents used to have outside their home.


    The scene managed to make him smile; this time it was true and genuine.


    [Aspect Ability acquired.]


    Aspect Ability Name: [Friction Control.]


    "Friction control? What does that have to do with fate?"


    Aspect Ability Description: [Just as friction opposes motion, battling against Fate creates resistance. The more one tries to war against Fate, the harsher the wound he carves into their heart.]


    "A little harsh, don¡¯t you think, Fate?"


    The voice came back again.


    [The price has been paid!]


    [You seem to have already been flawed from conception!]


    Those words lingered in his mind, what the hell did the spell even know?!


    The voice erupted, interrupting his thoughts.


    [Good Luck! Dexter!]


    His soul sea suddenly spun into a swirl of green and gold, and then he awoke.


    Master Cael rested against the cool wall, his body relaxed and his breathing steady. He had learned how to sleep standing up with his job of making sure sleepers didn''t turn into nightmare creatures. The faint light of dawn filtered through the cracks of the window. His brow furrowed slightly as the radiating light attempted to peel his eyes open.


    As the first rays of sunlight crept further into the room, Dex awoke.


    Instantly, as if he could sense the shift in the atmosphere, Master Cael''s eyes opened. He turned toward Dex, who was not fully awake, and they stared at each other.


    "Good morning... Are you hungry?"


    <hr>


    As the sun began to ascend, bathing the districts in a warm golden hue, the Solmnus Diner was as alive as ever. The windows, still shrouded in the remnants of night¡¯s chill, offered a closed-in atmosphere to those that dwelled inside. The neon sign within buzzed and flickered, proclaiming in bold, bright letters:


    "Open 24 Hours."


    Inside, the diner was a cozy environment, rich with the tantalizing aroma of breakfast. The booths, already populated by a slew of familiar faces and curious newcomers, buzzed with the bicker of conversation and the clatter of dishes.


    Among the new arrivals was Zerin, a newcomer to the Solmnus diner, sitting across from Jerika, a regular whose presence in the space was as comforting as the diner¡¯s signature coffee.


    "I''m so sorry..."


    Jerika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as her elbow was firmly planted on the table. Across from her, Zerin sat calmly. He had completely forgotten about her promise to take him out to breakfast. Jerika apologized for her colleague''s behavior; she had just gotten news of when she reviewed the interrogation tape, but her method of expressing this was to indulge in spending, and oh, how she was indulging¡ªmore than he had anticipated.


    Zerin gazed at the sprawling buffet of food before him, his eyes widened at the sheer amount. Platters of fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon that glistened with grease, and golden-brown pancakes that were stacked high, each drizzled with syrup. Fresh fruit and pastries, warm and flaky, filled the air with their aroma.


    As he surveyed the feast laid out before him, he felt the opposite of delighted; a wave of nausea washed over him. He had practically had a feast by himself last night once Master Cael left, and now he was going to eat again. How could she expect him to eat any of this?


    "Are you going to eat?" Jerika looked at him.


    ''You''re kidding!''


    "You want some?" He looked at her, hoping she would accept his offer and help him chip away at the meal.


    But before she could answer, the bell above the entrance of the diner chimed, announcing the arrival of new customers. In walked a boy with tousled blonde hair that caught the morning light, his carefree demeanor matching perfectly with the lively atmosphere of the diner. Trailing closely behind him was Master Cael; his familiar presence was warm. He glanced around the bustling diner, and his eyes settled upon Jerika and Zerin with a smile.


    The two of them approached the table, and Cael''s eyes sparkled with mischief.


    "Do you mind if we join you two?" Cael asked as he gestured toward the empty seats.


    Zerin sighed in relief. The thought of tackling a table full of food alone was impossible, but with two others joining them, the task seemed far more manageable.


    "Hey, this is for Zer¡ª¡± Jerika began, her voice firm as she gestured toward the overflowing plates, but her words were swiftly cut short.


    "Sure, I don''t mind," Zerin interjected without hesitation.


    With that, Master Cael and Dex joined Zerin and Jerika in the booth. As the four of them settled in, Zerin watched laughter and chatter fill the air, blending with the clatter of the dishes and the scent of freshly brewed coffee that wafted around. They ate together, savoring the early morning sun that streamed through the diner''s windows.

 Chapter 31: Nurturing Toughness

    The soothing gurgle of the fish tank had filled Zerin''s room for the past week. The tank was rectangular and meticulously maintained. Green aquatic plants swayed with the flow of the currents stirred by the filter hidden in the back. The bottom of the tank was covered with a soft bed of pebbles, a blend of gray, blue, and white.


    A single betta fish swam through this peaceful habitat, a flash of deep red against the water. His fins were like silk ribbons trailing behind him as he glided gracefully through the water. Vibrant purple bled into the edges of his fins. Alone in the tank, he had no rival, no need to flare his fins in dominance.


    Zerin shifted under his blanket. The soft creaking bed frame cut through the bubbling hum of the tank. His eyes flickered open, catching sight of the tank for a moment before drifting shut once again.


    Knock knock.


    The firm knock startled Zerin from his sleep.


    "Zerin! Get your ass out here!"


    It was Dex for sure. No matter what, he always swore¡ªit was like it was common tongue for him.


    Zerin groaned, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the sound. The knocking persisted.


    "I''m awake," he croaked, his sleepy voice muffled under his blanket. He sat up slowly. As soon as his feet met the cold wooden floor, he felt an instant chill rise up his spine.


    He glanced at the towering stack of books beside his bed¡ªseveral titles like Nightmare Creatures: The Complete Bestiary, The Spell and its Heroes, and Divine Lineages for Beginners. Jerika had lent him some of her personal research, and the stack had only grown over the past few months, now becoming a monstrous collection that kept him up all night.


    But it was the only thing that truly interested him. Training with Cael was nothing but hard work, but today was sparring day, and this beating was unavoidable.


    He ran a hand through his messy hair and sighed; he could still feel the last bits of sleep clinging to him. His normal routine grounded him¡ªhis first task of the day: fixing his bed. Pulling the covers tight, tucking the edges neatly, etc. After fluffing the pillows, he quickly slid into his slippers to avoid the freezing floors, even though it was spring. Some genius decided to chill the entire building.


    In the bathroom, he flicked the light on, momentarily blinding himself as he stumbled slightly. He reached out for his toothpaste and toothbrush and started scrubbing. March 10th marked today¡¯s date¡ªfour months of training, and today was going to be worse than all the other days combined. To most, being trained by a Master was a dream. For Zerin, it was something he endured, preferring the company of books and Jerika''s notes over his endless drills.


    He rinsed, splashed water on his face, and looked at his reflection. A tired young man stared back at him with messy black hair.


    He sighed. "What a sorry sight¡­"


    Maybe staying up to read wasn''t such a good idea.


    <hr>


    The dojo¡¯s polished wooden floors gleamed in the morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. Minimalistic in design, the space was now bare of equipment, with everything pushed to the sides to make room for today¡¯s sparring session. Zerin stood on the edge, watching.


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    In the center, Cael and Dex faced off. The sound of wooden swords clashing filled the room as their match began. Dex was fast, but Cael was faster¡ªevery swing Dex made was either blocked or dodged, as if Cael could anticipate his every move. The Master¡¯s counters seemed light, almost playful, yet every strike was with the precision of a veteran. His face wore its usual calm grin, while Dex¡¯s features twisted in frustration and fatigue.


    With each exchange, Dex¡¯s breathing grew more ragged. Cael¡¯s strikes came faster, sharper, and Dex struggled to keep up. His parries grew weaker, his stance faltering. Cael¡¯s final strike came with crushing force, sending Dex¡¯s wooden sword flying from his hands. He stumbled back, his legs giving out beneath him.


    Just before Dex could hit the floor, Cael¡¯s hand shot out, catching him by the arm and pulling him upright with an ease that bordered on effortless.


    ¡°You¡¯re not ready to fall just yet,¡± Cael said, that same calm smile on his face as he handed Dex the sword he had been using.


    In a blink of an eye, the Master disappeared from Dex¡¯s sight. Confusion flickered across Dex¡¯s face before Cael¡¯s voice came from behind him.


    ¡°Again,¡± Cael said, his voice as steady as ever, holding a new wooden sword.


    Dex turned, eyes wide, but his face filled with determination. "What was that? Are you holding back on me?" he asked, a grin tugging at his lips as he got into a ready stance.


    "You are just a baby," Cael teased, twirling his sword lazily. "I don''t want to hurt you, kid."


    "I can take anything you throw at me." Dex''s grin widened.


    They clashed again. From the sidelines, Zerin watched, his legs crossed on the wooden floor. Dex was a great fighter, but he in fact could not take it. After just a few seconds, he was on the floor completely laid flat.


    "Come on, you can win one," Cael encouraged, giving Dex''s shoulder a light shake.


    "I can''t¡­" Dex panted, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Cael sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "I thought you were Mr. Tough Guy."


    He turned to Zerin, his eyes glinting as if he had found a new thing to amuse himself with.


    "Come on, Zerin. Let''s see what you''ve got."


    Zerin stood, his hands gripping the wooden sword tightly. His heart beat a little faster. He wasn''t like Dex at all; he knew that much.


    "Not standard practice for a one-handed sword, but¡­" Cael''s smile widened, "¡­it''ll do."


    Zerin lunged forward quickly in an attempt to catch the Master off guard. He swung, and in one smooth motion, Cael sidestepped, his body a blur.


    "Are you trying to snake me, kid?" A smirk rose on his face, more devilish than before, as if that massive scar on his face didn''t make him more intimidating than he was in this moment.


    Zerin pivoted, following up with another strike, but the Master blocked it effortlessly, his grin never faltering.


    ''This bastard''s enjoying this,'' Zerin thought sourly.


    He unleashed a barrage of slashes and strikes, each one sloppier than the last. Cael dodged and blocked them all with ease, then leaped back, creating distance between them.


    "My turn," Cael whispered.


    A swirling mist emanated from the Master, making it appear as if he were steaming. Then suddenly, he vanished. Zerin barely had time to register where he had gone before he reappeared in front of him, closing the gap with incredible speed.


    Zerin raised his sword with both hands just in time to block the attack effectively, but the impact sent a shockwave through his arms, numbing his hands.


    Cael''s eyebrows raised in surprise. "You actually managed to block that? Impressive, but can you do that again?" His grin widened.


    That same mist surrounded him, and before Zerin could steady himself, Cael lunged forward again, the space between them closing in an instant. Zerin lifted his sword to block and braced himself for the impact, closing his eyes.


    Nothing happened¡ªno connection, nothing.


    Zerin opened his eyes a few moments later, confused.


    "Zerin! Behind you!" Dex shouted.


    Spinning around, it was too late for him to react to the Master''s next attack. A kick crashed into his ribcage. The impact was almost bone-crushing and sent him tumbling along the wooden floor.


    It was so fast, but he found himself on the floor, laid out on his back, gasping desperately for air.


    Cael approached calmly, watching Zerin struggle with a slightly smug face as Zerin looked at him, struggling to catch his breath.


    "Deep breaths¡­ You will be fine¡­ Deep breaths¡­"


    But every inhalation felt like a battle. This was a standard for Cael''s training; he would push you to the brink, beat you down until you couldn''t get up again, and then lecture you. To Dex, it might be effective, but for Zerin, it felt like an unapproachable brick wall that he could never overcome.


    "You failed because you expected me to do the same thing; that is weakness," Cael spoke firmly, looking down at Zerin.


    Zerin continued to struggle to breathe, but he heard every word said.


    "Get up¡­ You will be facing Dex next," Cael commanded.


    Dex rushed to Zerin''s side, extending a hand to help him up.


    "Holy shit, man! Are you okay?" he asked with concern as he pulled Zerin upright.


    Zerin exhaled, still struggling with his breathing. "I''m fine."


    "I can''t believe you blocked that! How did you do it?"


    "Lucky guess¡­" Zerin placed a hand on his side, feeling his ribcage for any fractures; luckily, there weren''t any.


    Cael clapped his hands.


    "Three rounds. No Aspect abilities. Go."


    "Wait, what?" Dex''s face twisted with disbelief.


    "No Aspect abilities. What don''t you understand?" Cael repeated.


    "Unless you are willing to donate some of your blood to Zerin and become a test dummy for him."


    Dex groaned. "Fine¡­"


    "If I see you use it even once, you lose," Cael assured.


    "I am not some damn cheater!" Dex took a measured stance as he readied himself.


    Cael chuckled, clearly enjoying Dex getting riled up.


    Zerin squared his shoulders and readied his sword.

 Chapter 32: Inciting Rivalries

    ¡°Okay! Three rounds. No Aspect abilities. Go," Cael announced with the clap of his hands, like some foolish king upon his royal seat forged from mats.


    Zerin readied himself for the match. Under these rules, he would have a chance against Dex. Everything about Dex was unique, to the point that he even held an innate ability. Before Dex, innate abilities were believed to be held by those of a Divine Aspect. But Dex was different, having an aspect that was of Ascended rank, which was four whole ranks below that of Divine. To even top it off, his innate ability was completely unknown, offering prerequisites to unravel the runes from obscurity.


    But what was even more intriguing was how the spell seemed to inappropriately document his rank as Ascended when his Aspect ability, [Friction Control], was expected to be an ability of higher rank according to the researchers gathered around the facility, putting him at around Transcendent minimum according to their collective calculations. His Aspect ability granted him the ability to manipulate the forces of friction on his body, allowing him to do a wide range of things that would be otherwise impossible for an awakened of that rank. But he wasn¡¯t entirely without weaknesses; he had limited control, and the vast strain his ability put on his body was crippling with prolonged use.


    The fact that he held no flaw baffled the researchers further, permitting them to allow him to stay in the facility. In return he was paid, as he was seen as a highly valued asset for research.


    On the other hand, Zerin¡¯s Aspect was Divine and had nothing to show for it. His innate ability, [Blood Fee], only proved itself to be a flaw. Every time he summoned a memory, it required his blood as payment, which was foreign and fascinating to the researchers, but it remained what it was¡ªa flaw. His Aspect ability, [Sanguine Surge], was hardly an Aspect ability; it was more akin to an innate ability, as he needed to consume blood to even gain access to its benefits.


    Although he was mostly open about everything concerning his Aspect, there were things he kept to himself, such as the additional set of runes he received upon his evaluation of the First Nightmare, which were:


    Blood Shards: 1/7


    Veinborne: ¡ª


    But he also had a memory that he never dared to show once he saw its rank. The [Cursed Seed of the Goddess] was a Divine-tier I memory. As incredible as it sounded, it held zero significance¡ªat least for combat. It was displayed as a tool memory, but it seemed to serve only as an item of remembrance. Its description read:


    "An indestructible seed that will never part from you."


    Usually, he would have told Jerika everything, but he just couldn¡¯t with this, even though he knew her heart was in the right place.


    ¡°Zerin, wake up!¡± Cael snapped, his voice shaking him from his momentary daze.


    ¡°You need to mimic my style more closely. The way you fight can¡¯t even be considered a style with how chaotic and jumbled it is! Completely uncoordinated and reckless. If you don¡¯t get it together, Dex will completely obliterate you in this spar.¡±


    He spoke, allowing no argument at all, as if everything he said could never be questioned.


    Turning his attention to Dex, Cael continued,


    ¡°And you, you need to spice it up a little. Your fight pattern hasn¡¯t evolved at all. Zerin has watched you execute the same move so many times, he could predict your every step!¡±


    Cael paused, then spoke. ¡°Adapt, analyze your opponent, and be elusive. Your goal is to sustain the fewest injuries as possible in the Dream World.¡±


    ¡°Are you done? I thought you wanted us to fight,¡± Dex slumped his shoulders in boredom.


    ¡°Hold on just a moment¡­¡±


    Cael replied, settling back against the fortress of mats he had arranged around him, propping his feet up.


    Dramatically, he raised his hands above his head. ¡°Alright, 3¡­ 2¡­ 1¡­ GO!¡± With a sharp clap of his hands, he signaled the start of the match.


    Dex flinched slightly at the sudden countdown.


    ¡°Give us a proper countdown next time!¡± Dex barked, just narrowly raising his sword to deflect Zerin¡¯s swift slash.


    Thwack!


    The clash of their wooden swords echoed.


    ¡°Hey! I was still talking, you damn snake!¡± Dex shouted, a smile on his face.


    Dex launched into a counterattack, his blade arcing through the air toward Zerin, aiming for his head.


    ¡®Yes, with this I can manage.¡¯


    He had spent several hours watching Cael and Dex fight, so he knew how he could combat Dex¡¯s style. But Zerin¡¯s movements were struggling; even though he analyzed Cael¡¯s movements and tried to replicate his style, it wasn¡¯t that simple. Cael¡¯s fighting style was elusive, yet confrontational; it was characterized by fluid movements that required tremendous agility¡ªqualities Zerin didn¡¯t embody.


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    Zerin ducked immediately. Narrowly, but successfully, he avoided the wooden blade that sliced through the air just above his head.


    Feeling the wind rush over his head, Zerin lunged to the side, with an inward slash aimed at Dex¡¯s side. Yet, as he shifted his weight onto his other leg, he lacked the fluidity needed; his legs felt like bricks. The momentum he needed was gone.


    Zerin saw it unfold before his eyes; the very thing Cael told him before¡ªnot to expect your enemies to fight the same way¡ªcame back to him and hit him on the head.


    Dex dropped low, smoothly evading Zerin¡¯s slash. The swift movement that Dex executed proved that Zerin was still outclassed, even with the absence of their Aspects.


    Zerin¡¯s heart raced, as he had already fully committed to the swing, and there was no stopping it now.


    Swoosh!


    Dex swept Zerin¡¯s leg out from under him.


    His whole world flipped upside down, literally, as he hit the ground with a thud. Opening his eyes, Zerin was glaring at the ceiling.


    Zerin had lost the first round.


    ¡®Damn it!¡¯


    Laying in defeat was an embarrassment; he would rather just not fight at all.


    Dex came into view, leaning over him slightly with that devilish smirk, then offered a hand.


    Reluctantly, Zerin took his hand and stood up.


    Cael¡¯s applause erupted, his hands coming together in a flurry as he leaned forward from his makeshift throne, pleasantly entertained.


    ¡°Bravo! Bravo! Victoire fantastique!¡±


    He stopped his applause. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you had it in you to switch it up, young buck!¡±


    ¡°It was easy; I don¡¯t need your praise,¡± Dex pointed his sword at the Master.


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± Cael shouted in disbelief at his pupil''s words.


    ¡°I will be the first sleeper to take down a Master¡­¡± Dex said, adding another layer upon his previous words.


    Cael rose from his lousy throne, ¡°You must really want me to kick your ass¡ª!¡±


    Zerin finished dusting himself off, finally shaking the feeling of defeat away. ¡°Again¡­¡±


    Cael¡¯s bravado paled, abruptly pausing after Zerin¡¯s interruption. Clearing his throat, the Master summoned his instructor persona.


    ¡°Alright then¡­ It¡¯s about time you beat some sense into him, Zerin, my new favorite pupil!¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Well screw you!¡± Dex shouted at the Master.


    Cael only smiled back, loving that he was getting under Dex¡¯s skin.


    Zerin straightened his stance, the feeling of defeat now completely behind him.


    ¡®Why do they always manage to bring me in the middle of this?¡¯


    Cael¡¯s announcer voice reemerged, ¡°Is each contestant ready for round two?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Yes, and then I will fight you, with no Aspect abilities, and I will win!¡± Dex said with a smile on his face as he readied his stance.


    ¡°You son of a¡ª!¡± The childish Master took a moment to exhale, relax, and then motioned with his arm.


    ¡°Begin when you are ready.¡±


    The second clash began with a thundering explosion of their swords.


    This time, Zerin had it thought out. He realized that attempting to mimic Cael¡¯s elusive fighting style was a losing battle. Instead, he focused on what he could manage. As the swords met, Zerin adjusted his stance; his primary objective was to avoid getting hit.


    Dex followed through the clash with a swift upward strike towards Zerin.


    Zerin yanked his head back, allowing the wooden blade to glide through the air.


    He just needed one moment.


    As the battle continued, Zerin evaded the barrage of kicks and slashes that proceeded. Each move felt like he was dancing on the edge, but Zerin¡¯s focus was sharply on Dex, waiting.


    When Dex overextended himself during an aggressive lunge, Zerin wove his body in an attack.


    He stabbed his sword forward in the air, towards his opponent''s chest.


    Dex reacted with shocking quickness; with a flick of his wrist, his blade whizzed by just in time to divert Zerin¡¯s strike as he stepped back.


    While he managed to deflect the blow, he carelessly took a step back without properly distributing his weight, causing him to fall to one knee.


    Zerin was there for the opportunity as he swiftly capitalized on his imbalance. With all the power he could muster, he lunged forward, thrusting his sword.


    A whisper away from glory, Zerin''s sword was a millimeter from Dex¡¯s throat.


    This was his victory.


    Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, Dex, had his sword raised upward, pointed directly at Zerin¡¯s neck as well.


    With both fighters having their blades simultaneously positioned for the killing blow, there was only one outcome of such a match.


    It was a draw.


    Cael, obviously unhappy about the outcome, exploded, throwing his hands in the air.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me!¡±


    ¡°A draw? Are you serious?¡±


    With a heavy sigh, he dragged his palms down his face, his expression appearing like a ghoul as he complained.


    ¡°Damn it, Zerin! You almost had it; you really need to improve at dodging!¡±


    Zerin nodded quickly, but Dex didn¡¯t pay respect to his critique; instead, a massive grin shone on his face before he opened his mouth to speak.


    ¡°Is that why you¡¯ve got that massive scar on your face?¡± His voice questioned, swiftly morphing to a condescending tone. ¡°Because you are sooo good at dodging?¡±


    Cael¡¯s eyes lit up with anger.


    ¡°You damn brat! You know nothing about this scar!¡± He thrust his finger pointing at Dex from his pathetic throne.


    ¡°A pretty woman gave me this scar! What do you know about pretty women, huh? They all run away from you!¡±


    ¡°They do not!¡± Dex yelled back.


    Zerin exhaled, tossing his sword aside while listening to their arguments before a voice rose above their bickering.


    ¡°Boys, boys! Relax¡­¡±


    Cael and Dex both turned to the source of the voice, which was Jerika¡¯s; she stood leaning on the stacked bleachers in the dojo, a smug grin on her face.


    ¡°Why is she here?¡± Dex folded his arms as he looked at her.


    Cael perched atop his throne, looking down at Jerika as if she were stealing a piece of his great presence.


    ¡°Why are you rudely interrupting our training? You wouldn¡¯t like it if I interrupted your lessons!¡±


    Jerika stood with her hand placed on her hip, her other hand swatting the air dismissively. ''Training? What for? King¡¯s Court?


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t possibly call this training¡­¡± She added her face contorting to a mocking pout.


    ¡°We are training! If you can¡¯t see that, then¡ª!¡±


    Zerin walked calmly past Cael''s line of sight and ventured towards Jerika.


    ¡°Hey! Where are you going? Aren¡¯t you going to beat some sense into this brat?¡±


    ¡°No, I think I am fine for now. Thanks for the training, though¡­¡± Zerin said as he continued walking towards Jerika.


    ¡°Looks like I win one of them! Dex, are you coming too?¡±


    ¡°With you?¡± Dex narrowed his eyes. ¡°Like hell¡­ I don¡¯t need any more boring¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ha! Point for me!¡± Cael yelled out as he pointed at her from atop his pitiful throne.


    ¡°How childish are you?¡± Jerika furrowed her brow as she tilted her head, looking up at Cael.


    ¡°I am the least childish! I am a true fighter!¡± Cael stated.


    ¡°Saying that from your little fortress doesn¡¯t seem to be helping you out too much, does it?¡± She puckered her lips slightly to whine, taunting him.


    ¡°You know what? I don¡¯t care! Go ahead and read your books. I¡¯ll go take Dex out somewhere nice, and we will do guy things!¡±


    ¡°Good for you¡­¡± Jerika said with false encouragement, turning towards Zerin, who was standing quietly beside her, observing their verbal sparring match, with a faint sign of amusement.


    ¡°So quiet¡­ No ''hi'' or ''hello''?¡± Her eyebrow arched slightly at him.


    ¡°Hi¡­¡± He said plainly. ¡°Do you have anything for me?¡±


    ¡°Have anything for you? Oh! You mean the research? You read through all that already?¡± Jerika asked, surprised.


    Zerin shook his head.


    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t have anything for you now, but I¡¯ll see what I can do. But maybe you should go over what I already gave you; it took a lot of effort to gather months of notes together¡­¡±


    "Okay," his voice held mild disappointment, but he knew she was right; he already had enough to sift through.


    "But I came to bother you today so we can go see the witch and try to recover more of your memories. I know you''ve regained some of them over the past month, but it wouldn''t hurt to see what else you can uncover." She insisted.


    Zerin, over the past months, has gotten some of his memories back. The memories he received were called ¡°Procedural memories,¡± which are memories formed from repetitive tasks, such as brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, or even riding a bike. And within these memories, he has been able to draw out certain things, such as faces of people he doesn¡¯t remember the names of, or even the familiarity of locations he has been to but couldn¡¯t quite place a finger on.


    She ran a gentle hand through his tousled black hair, shifting the strands with a light touch.


    ¡°You are all sweaty,¡± she said, lifting her hand after feeling the dampness of his hair. Her shined from a face of mock disgust to a warm smile.


    "How about this? You go take a shower to freshen up a bit, and I''ll wash my hands. Then we can head out to the witch together?" She patted his back.


    Zerin agreed; though he wasn¡¯t really a social person, he could never find it in him to turn down the offer to go out to the city.

 Chapter 33: Sudden Downpour

    The heavy patter of rain drummed against the roof of the car as they pulled away from the facility. The headlights lit the road ahead, the asphalt glistening like dark glass. As the vehicle moved forward, the trees lining the road swayed in the darkness, their branches trembling under the weight of the downpour.


    If they left earlier, they wouldn''t have to deal with the rain. Jerika had either misjudged her importance to the facility or neglected her duties to help Zerin with his memory recovery. Either way, it no longer mattered. They were on the road now.


    Strangely, he found solace with the heavy rain. The sound of the rain as it plinked off the car''s roof was calming. But he hated getting wet.


    Resting the side of his head against the passenger window, he gazed through the windshield. The windshield wipers worked tirelessly to keep the windshield clear. Soon, the constant movements became tiring, and with a slight shift of his head he was looking out the passenger window, watching as water droplets race down the passenger window, before connecting with another forming rivers that snaked their way down to the bottom of the window.


    "I didn''t think they would have had so much for me to do," Jerika stated as the wipers screeching against the windshield was the background.


    "Hmm," Zerin replied absently, his gaze still fixed on the trees.


    If he were being brutally honest, he didn''t care about her workload. To anyone else he would have verbally expressed his indifference without hesitation. But Jerika was different. She had always been there for him for the past few months, even when he didn''t ask for it.


    What he truly longed for was to be in his room and sifting through the research. One thing has been prickling at his brain for the past few months and that was his memory the [Cursed Seed of the Goddess]. He found zero use for it no matter what he did. He was going mad, even resorting to esoteric knowledge, hoping to find some hidden meaning. But in the end, it only added to his frustration. He wasn''t a believer in the mystical; he always found it dumb, fantasy. But the more he pondered, the more he found himself questioning his own skepticism. The spell felt and was undeniably magical.


    Zerin shook his head slightly, again he found himself spiraling through another slew of thoughts that once had meaning and then slowly became more obscure as he let his mind wander.


    As the car finally tore through the dense trees. The trees, once tightly packed and towering over the road, began to recede and spread further apart, allowing the urban landscape to emerge. Buildings encroached, their bright shining lights growing and their size ascending higher as they drove deeper into the city.


    Zerin lifted his gaze from the eye-catching billboards. His gaze shifted to Jerika, one of her hands firmly gripped the steering wheel while the other was cradling a steaming mug of coffee. He watched as she carefully raised the mug to her lips and cooled it with her breath, before she took a sip.


    The warm glow of the city lights illuminating her features. In that moment, Zerin had to stop himself from admiring her.


    Zerin''s gaze shifted back to the road, as Jerika maneuvered the car into the parking garage.


    Now, the rain has lessened to a gentle sprinkle, but the air was filled with the scent of damp pavement and earth.


    With a graceful motion, she unbuckled her seatbelt, turning to face Zerin with an expecting look. "you coming?"


    "It''s raining," Zerin replied, not moving an inch.


    Jerika swung her door open and stepped out of the car, unbothered by the light shower. "It''s just sprinkling. Come on."


    Zerin hesitated for a split second, then he stepped out of the car, feeling the cool air surround him.


    "What are you scared of? A little water?" A smirk rose on her lips as they both shut the car doors behind them.


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    He smirked slightly shaking his head. "No, I just prefer being dry."


    Maybe she was right, a little sprinkle wasn''t so bad after all.


    <hr>


    Regret ate away at him; trusting Jerika without any certainty was something he vowed to never repeat. Her nonchalant attitude¡ªinsisting it was just ¡°sprinkling¡±¡ªhad resulted in them being utterly drenched. Water dripped from his hair, and his clothes clung uncomfortably from his skin.


    But at least Jerika paid in full, she had taken her hair out of her bun and let her hair down as it clung to her uniform, but her uniform wasn''t spared either as her entire uniform from her dress down to her stockings were completely drenched. Waiting in line he stood behind her and noticed her fidgeting with uniform that clinging to her body due to the sudden heavy down pour.


    "Thank you very much..." She said cheerfully as she purchased a single umbrella.


    She turned towards Zerin, holding the umbrella loosely in her hand.


    "I got the umbrella."


    Zerin couldn''t help but shake his head. "It''s pointless at this point; we are already soaked," He gestured to himself and his heavily drenched clothes.


    Pretending as if his previous statement didn''t exist, he stood beside Jerika. The droplets pattered against the fabric above them with a soft drumming sound, mixing with the passing by of other vehicles gliding across the soaked roads.


    As they finally approached their final destination, the building had a cheap exterior, black paint seemed to be slowly chipping away from the front entrance and a sign above the doorframe hung on a single hinge displaying the name of the shop:


    "The Willowed Coven"


    To the left of the entrance, a large glass window was present allowing one to peer into the inside of the building. Inside, right up against the glass there were crystals attached to string hanging down shimmering with the eerie light that was placed for atmosphere, while tomes laid underneath, encircled by various little trinkets.


    But his gaze wasn''t fixed upon the shop at all, his gaze was on a man standing outside of the building in front of the glass, his figure was mostly obscured in a long dark coat. The man peered intently into the shop, tilting his head side to side.


    "Wait right here... I''ll see if she is still here." Jerika said handing Zerin the umbrella, he accepted it his eyes still staring at the man as he stepped under the awning joining the man.


    As she darted towards the entrance, Zerin was standing alone. He watched cars pass by on the slick street, their headlights reflecting off the wet asphalt dimly.


    "Hey!"


    Zerin turned around to see the man in the long dark coat, have his head tilted down, he then turned away as he was confused to who was talking.


    "Boyo! Come ''ere!"


    He looked back at the man and was surprised to see that a stand was now placed infront of the man, or maybe it was there the whole time?


    His curiosity was peaked as he approached the stand. The stand was rickety as if it was made of aluminum foil. atop the stand were a selection of items that were nothing but junk being sold for high prices. An empty soda can, dangled from a string listed at twenty dollars, while a tattered hat was listed for a whooping one hundred.


    The man extended a hand toward Zerin, revealing fingers that were filthy, as if he had been digging through dirt with his bare hands. His nails, yellowed and cracked, were unnaturally long, giving him an almost beastly look.


    "You ain''t gotta buy nothin''...


    Just from his hands he could see that the man heavily tan, it looked as if he had been left to boil under the sun for days on end.


    "I can tell you are one of those, soon-to-be awakened, boyo..." The man continued, just from his voice he could feel a wide grin emanating from below his hat.


    "What made you come up with that observation? "Zerin asked, raising his eyes brows.


    His hands gestured whimsically guiding his words.


    "Just... the way you carry yourself... with destined gloom."


    The man then continued after a brief pause, that was a jarring shift from his cryptic tone, becoming lighter.


    "And because of that wonderful lady you have with you. She is yours, I take it?"


    The man tilted the side of his head as he questioned, allowing Zerin to see just a glimpse of his bare chin.


    Zerin found himself momentarily speechless. The notion that he would have any romantic interest in Jerika seemed utterly ridiculous to him¡ªafter all, she was at least seven years older.


    But just as he opened his mouth to speak, the man spoke again, his voice lighthearted.


    "Worry not... I have not come to reap her from you; she is all yours..." The man paused briefly to chuckle, before he added.


    "But all I ask of you is but one chore..." He paused dramatically, "Treat every day like it is your last..." His voice ended in a hush as he paused before picking back up, ''For it will soon come to pass..."


    With a flourish, the man produced a deck of cards and spread them amongst the rickety table, their edges were heavily frayed even some of them were moldy on the edges.


    Zerin furrowed his brow as he looked at the cards placed before him.


    "Pick a curse from the Divine, with the hopes of receiving your aid..."


    Zerin raised his hand slightly hovering over the selection of cards when he pulled back an inch.


    "Hard choice isn''t I¡ª"


    The man''s voice leapt from his usual tone, as a sudden gust of wind swept through, sending one of the cards fluttering away like a leaf.


    "Oh boy! Can you fetch me that card?" The man exclaimed without even turning a head to look at the fluttering card. "It is from my mother!"


    Zerin turned and stepped towards the card that was face down on the wet sidewalk, peeling it off the concrete, he flipped it over and was greeted with the title of the card, etched with faded gold lettering.


    "Divine Abomination"


    The image that was supposed to be depicted upon the surface of the card was completely worn out just leaving a space that had no coloring on the card and just below it at the bottom in small letters there was a text reading:


    "One or the Other"


    When Zerin finally arose from his knelt position, he turned back to the makeshift stand to see that him and the stand was gone, as if he didn''t exist. The street continued on. Zerin glanced around, searching for any sign of the man, but he was only met with the rhythm of the rain.


    Zerin took a step forward in search of the man in a random direction.


    "Where are you going?" Jerika spoke.


    He turned to face her, the card still clutched tightly in his hand. "A man dropped his card. I was going to give it back."


    Jerika reached out and grabbed the card from him. She examined it closely.


    "This is just some kid''s card... You said a man dropped it? Who were you talking to?" Her next question instantly rolled after the last with a more protective nature behind it.


    "The man, he was right there..." Zerin insisted turning to glance at the now empty space.


    "Hmm..." Jerika peeled her still wet collar from her neck, "I must not have seen him." She chuckled lightly.


    ''How could you miss it? He stood out like a sore thumb!''

 Chapter 34: Efforts to Reclaim

    As the heavy oak door creaked open, a rush of cool air from inside chilled Zerin to the bone, his drenched clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin.


    ''Damn it, why is it so damn cold?'' he thought, stepping inside.


    The dim green light within the shop cast an eerie glow, bouncing off the crystals hanging in front of him, refracting faint beams of light across the floor. He squinted, trying to shake off the odd encounter outside with that mysterious man. His words still lingered, but Zerin convinced himself he was just some weirdo killing time.


    Taking a deep breath, he turned to his right. Behind the register stood a young girl, about his age. She stood calmly with her hands clasped at her waist.


    "Can I help you, sir?" the girl asked, her voice unexpectedly deep and steady, more mature.


    Zerin raised an eyebrow. "You don¡¯t look like a witch," he remarked flatly.


    The girl¡¯s lips curled into a small smile. "You would be right. I¡¯m not the Witch. I¡¯m her assistant."


    From somewhere in the back aisles, Jerika called out, "Zerin, come on, she''s back here."


    After a quick glance at the girl behind the counter, Zerin turned and made his way through the narrow aisles. The smell of burning incense hit him immediately, filling the air with a mixture of scents¡ªsandalwood, lavender, and something more pungent he couldn¡¯t quite place. Candles of every size and color lined the shelves.


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    Eventually, he caught up with Jerika, who was standing near a heavy velvet curtain at the back of the shop.


    She turned to him and gave a small nod. "I¡¯ll wait here. Don¡¯t worry, she doesn¡¯t bite."


    He took a deep breath before pushing the curtain aside.


    Inside the booth was a realm unto itself. The booth was crafted with the purpose to draw in visitors. As Zerin stepped through the curtains, the rope lights that lined the interior edges of the small space rose in illumination, flickering rhythmically like warm candles.


    The warm hues of the lights shifted, bathing the booth in a comforting glow. The walls were draped in rich, velvety fabric that absorbed the light, enhancing how enclosed the space truly was.


    The small space was mostly occupied by a single chair in the center. The chair''s fabric was a deep crimson, luxurious to sit upon. The cushions were thick and comfortable, with intricate gold threads embroidered along the edges, forming swirling patterns that traced the dark wood of the chair''s frame.


    Directly in front of the chair stood a large mirror, built into the wall of the booth. The frame was crafted from wood, painted in a radiant gold. Intricate carvings graced the edges of the mirror''s frame, showcasing the woodworker''s skill.


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    As he peered into the mirror, he quickly realized it was more than just a reflective surface. As this realization dawned on him, the lights dimmed further, and the edges of the mirror began to glow. The glass shifted. He saw through to the other side.


    On the other side of the glass, a veiled woman was shown. The darkness of her clothing contrasted with the golden piece of jewelry over her veil. Upon her head was a loose circlet that held a golden piece resting on her forehead.


    "You can take a seat," she said with a smooth voice.


    Zerin moved towards the chair and sat down, looking through the mirror at her.


    "So, you are the boy in question... the one with memory issues. Tell me, how did this occur?" she questioned calmly, her body poised and still.


    "A Nightmare creature, in the First Nightmare," Zerin answered.


    Her response was immediate. "That will not be an issue at all. The First Nightmare is an illusionary experience. The First Nightmare exists solely within the realm of the soul. In due time, I am certain you will receive your memories back."


    She paused briefly before speaking again. "Is that why you came here? Nothing else?"


    ''That''s it?''


    Zerin sat there, dumbfounded by how quickly she had evaluated him based on his words alone.


    "That was the reason, didn¡¯t Jerika tell you?" Zerin asked.


    "I only allow my patients to tell me their issues," she replied unwaveringly. "Who else could possibly know their afflictions better than themselves?"


    "Though, from what I can tell, I am fairly certain that your problems are far deeper than just memory loss," the lady stated plainly. "I sense that your affliction is with your soul¡ªperhaps it was heavily damaged, obstructed, or even sealed in some way."


    "Sealed?" Zerin said, widening his eyes.


    She nodded and leaned closer to the mirror. Her veil shifted slightly, allowing Zerin a glimpse of her features¡ªjust the corner of her lips, subtly curved, and a small mole on the side of her cheek. She adjusted the veil so it fell back into place, obscuring her face once more.


    From what he had read, having a heavily damaged soul could be nearly fatal. However, he felt completely fine. In fact, recently he had felt better than ever, as the realization that the First Nightmare was an illusory realm gave him some sense of ease. He thought he might be able to put everything that happened there behind him.


    She lifted her other hand while adjusting, raising a small green vial. The vial looked antique, with intricate gold designs etched on its surface. Extending her arm, she passed the vial through the mirror, crossing the boundary that separated them.


    "Here."


    Zerin''s eyes widened at the impossible sight. He quickly sat up, reaching for the vial. When his hand closed around it, he overturned the small bottle in his hand.


    "What is this?" he asked, raising his brows ever so slightly.


    "Medicine," she replied with a single word.


    "That medicine will not resolve your issue entirely," she added with a sigh, "But the current state of your soul doesn¡¯t seem to be affecting you in any way right now, so it might not even be an issue down the line."


    "Perhaps once you become an awakened, the issue with your soul will alleviate."


    Zerin nodded slowly, not entirely understanding why, but trusting her words.


    "I didn¡¯t say I was done," the woman spoke sharply as Zerin began to rise from his seat.


    "You must ingest a single drop from the vial every day for the next few months," she instructed more sternly. "And it must be in the morning, not at night. Do you hear me?"


    "What will happen if I make a mistake?"


    "Who knows." She leaned back in her seat. "I''m not responsible for any side effects you experience if you fail to follow these simple instructions."


    "Okay..." Zerin replied, processing her words.


    "If that is all, you may go..." Her tone softened just a fraction.


    "Thanks..." Zerin said, tucking the vial in his pocket.


    "It''s my job. No need to thank me." Her voice trailed off as the mirror began to dim. The rope lights in the booth flickered before igniting into a warm glow.


    Zerin stood from the chair, thinking about what she had said as he pushed past the velvety curtains.


    As he stepped out of the booth, he found Jerika waiting against the wall, her arms folded.


    "How did it go?" she asked, stepping forward.


    Zerin dug into his pockets and held up the green vial. "She gave me this medicine."


    Jerika''s eyes brightened. "Good, we didn¡¯t come here for no reason." A smile spread across her face as she turned, heading toward the main entrance of the shop.


    As they approached the front, Zerin noticed that the young woman was still standing there, calm as before.


    "Don¡¯t we have to pay?" he asked.


    Jerika paused, turning back to him with a smile. "She only charges those who waste her time. Looks like we''re lucky¡ªwe got a solution," she said lightly.


    And with that, she led the way out of ''The Willowed Coven.''

 Chapter 35: Dawning on Familiarity

    Zerin was settled onto a wooden bench. In his hand, he held a snow cone; the shaved ice looked like freshly fallen snow. The dessert was delicately drizzled with red syrup that spilled down the sides. He took a bite; It was more enjoyable than he would have expected. But maybe anything cold would suffice on this hot summer day of July.


    Around him, the city was live. Families strolled by, their laughter mixing with background music. Vendors offered colorful treats, including cotton candy spun in every hue imaginable, children darted about, their faces painted with bright and playful designs.


    Today was a day that felt all too familiar to him, but the cheerful atmosphere staved off his worries. Just twenty years ago on this very day the Western Continent was attacked by the nightmare creatures that arrived through the gates.


    It took everything they had but they didn''t falter, even amongst the countless millions lost. Instead, the people had banded together, overcoming the gates with nothing but sheer determination. They stood tall against the odds, refusing to bow and surrender. It was a victory that would connect the continent forever.


    He finished the last bit of the flavored ice and rose from the bench, tossing the empty container into the nearby trash can. As he turned back towards the bench, a sound caught his attention---a jingle mixed with a series of blips.


    He turned following the sound and was greeted to see two small children, a boy and a girl. The two of them were heavily absorbed in one of the arcade machines set up outside. It struck him odd that they were able to exist like nothing happened. But how could he blame them? It was an event that happened way before they were even born.


    Then his gaze fixated on something that sent a shiver down his spine.


    "Hey there, quiet mouse..."


    Zerin jumped, his heart leapt into his throat as he turned over his shoulder, relieved to see Cael. He then quickly turned back, and it was gone.


    "I thought you were on duty," Zerin replied, wiping the sweat off his brow as he faced Cael.


    "I am," Cael smirked. "What are you sweating to see me for? Trust me, I don''t swing that way." He punched Zerin hard on the shoulder.


    Zerin winced at the blow, even though it lacked momentum, it still carried surprising force.


    "What was that for?" he shouted, grabbing his shoulder.


    "Come on, Dex could take that hit like a champion," Cael whispered, "Mister Divine Aspect."


    There is not a damn thing divine about me!


    Zerin thought, gritting his teeth and sighing.


    "Come on, Twin God, let''s go for a game or two on the arcade machines,"


    Cael said, his voice lighthearted.


    Cael constantly pestered Zerin with his True name and Aspect, finding new ways to get under your skin was something he excelled in.


    Rubbing his shoulder, still feeling the pain, Zerin shot back,


    "Aren''t you supposed to be keeping an eye on the people? You know, doing your job?"


    "I can do both... It''s not that hard, come on!" Cael begged.


    Damn slacker¡­


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    Zerin sighed and shook his head. "No, I''m fine. Isn''t the parade starting soon, anyways?"


    "It''s the same thing every year! You seriously want to see that?" Cael crossed his arms.


    "Well, this will be the first time I''ve seen it."


    "Oh, right..."


    Master Cael replied, his tone was sympathetic, but it lacked even an inch of understanding.


    Although Zerin had gone to the witch and had got examined, over the past few months he had only managed to reclaim bits of his memories. Most revolved around the monotonous daily life at the orphanage¡ªsomething he could have lived without.


    "Well, you better get going... it''s going to start in five minutes,"


    Cael spoke, shooing Zerin off with his hand.


    "What are you going to do?"


    "What do you mean? I''m going to do my job," Cael replied, a sly grin spreading on his face.


    ***


    Zerin made his way through the tightly packed crowd. He could hardly believe his eyes¡ªjust hours earlier, the streets had been relatively empty, but now they were jam-packed. The number of people filling the edges of the wide street, easily numbering in the thousands.


    As he pressed on, he heard the voices of the crowd fade, replaced by the sharp sound of trumpets through the air¡ªno, rather, the speakers.


    The parade was finally beginning.


    Suddenly, a commanding voice came through the mounted speakers, booming over everyone present.


    "I, your mayor, would like to introduce today''s event, marking the twentieth anniversary since our continent was attacked and our people were slain---a day when our allies from the neighboring continents bore witness as we crumbled."


    A moment of silence was held in the crowd.


    "But we held strong and claimed victory! Twenty years ago, this day was one of mourning! But today! Today is a day of VICTORY!"


    The crowd erupted into a deafening roar, a unified shout that held such force it felt like the entire earth trembled in response. Zerin stood there, momentarily breathless, awe-struck by the response of the people. He had never witnessed such a response before; thousands of people, all forged under one spirit of triumph.


    As the voices peaked, the mayor''s voice returned, this time softer, allowing the voices to gradually calm down.


    "Now please..."


    "Would you give it up for our lovely, loyal military!" The mayor''s voice was filled with pride.


    "They fight back the denizens of the realm of nightmares! They fight on, even when they are weary! They wage war, despite being outmatched! They lay down their lives for our people!"


    The words of the mayor echoed through the streets and a wave of unified gratitude and admiration was emitted from the people in a cheer. And borne from that cheer was the tunes of blaring brass.


    The soldiers marched in perfect formation. The crowd clapped in perfect unison with the military band''s drummers. The soldier''s choreography was honed through hours of training. Their faces remained stoic, even as the cheers of the crowd almost begged for a reaction.


    As the marching military band continued down the street the mayor of the voice returned again.


    "Our people, we are fighters! Many of us are blessed, and some are not. I want to give this moment to the blessed, notably the Four that saved our civilization with the leadership they provided!"


    The mayor cleared his voice audibly before he started to name the Four.


    "Sorai of the Empire of the Midnight Sea! Hadrian of The Temple of Nocturne! Dorian, the individual who birthed the Throne of Virtue! And finally, we have the last, the dearly departed Cyrius, who belonged to the Heavenly Flame Order!"


    The crowd began to lightly cheer as each of their respective clans were called out. But the Mayor continued on.


    "Now, my lovely people! Would you please give it up for the four clans of the Western continent?"


    The crowd erupted in applause. But just as quickly as it had risen, they went silent. Zerin was startled by the sudden shift. He lifted his head straining to see further down the street. Just as he did, he caught a brief sight of a clan approaching but he then lost it immediately due to the crowd jumping with cheers.


    Eventually they died down, allowing Zerin to see. Emerging into his view were three women, their blonde hair flowing down over their shoulders as they walked solemnly down the road. Each of them wore a pristine white face covering that concealed their eyes. Their bodies held around them pure white silk cloth, the fabric shifting with each step, providing just enough coverage of their upper and lower regions. They were barefoot along the pavement, their steps were light and purposeful.


    It was unmistakable---the women were representatives of the Heavenly flame Order. Zerin could not only tell by their garments, but he could also tell by the float behind them, where a massive statue was being carried.


    Atop the float, on the elevated platform, stood a woman beside the statue''s head. The statue was draped in a flowing white cloth, masking its face, but its expert craftsmanship was evident; the statue seemed to be made from pristine stone-like material¡ªmost likely marble.


    The woman reached out and pulled the cloth away, unveiling the statue to the crowd. As the sunlight beamed down on the face of the statue, it glimmered like a mirror reflecting the light in all directions.


    The crowd was filled with "ooohs" and aaahs" as they stared at the radiant statue. As the float continued slowly down the woman covered the statue carefully, shielding its blinding brilliance from the crowd.


    And there was¡ª the statue of the Lord of Light, something probably would have scared the naive Zerin, but now understood that the gods were very long dead, which was great for him, because they were the key component to his flaw.


    Hated by the Gods for the simple fact he survived through an outcome he couldn''t even control¡ªhow very fitting for those who called themselves Gods.


    He watched officers stationed along the fenced barricades, open them allowing selected spectators to spill out into the street.


    Soon, at least a hundred people joined in on the march. The sheer number of participants, along with the thousands of spectators yearning to be selected could only signify one thing: this was The Throne of Virtue, the largest and most esteemed clan in the Western continent today. A standing once previously held by the Heavenly Flame Order, but now it seemed that the Lord of Light outshined by the Heart God¡ªhow ironic.


    As people danced with those marching, trailing behind them was an embellished float bearing a single throne, crafted from dark wood with intricate carvings.


    To Zerin''s surprise, there was no deity or honored figure to claim the throne.


    As the music and dancing reached its pinnacle, the musicians and the dancers came to a synchronized halt. They faced both sides of the street and bowed to the audience. Once they straightened, the spectators who joined the dance returned back to the crowd through the fence gates.


    "Well, that was fun! Let''s get out of here; we can come back next year!" One voice called out.


    Zerin was utterly confused, watching as nearly half of the parade crowd began to vanish.


    Is that really why people come to this parade?


    The parade was supposed to honor their clans, and yet it seemed that many had come only because of the presence of the Throne of Virtue.

 Chapter 36: Irreplaceable Time

    A single woman, cloaked entirely in dark fabric, moved steady. Her hood obscured her features as she walked down the street.


    Just as the next clan began to reveal themselves, Jerika maneuvered through the crowd.


    His gaze, previously fixated on the cloaked woman, shifted to Jerika. "You¡¯re late."


    "I told you I would be," she replied, folding her arms as she took her place beside him, both of them facing the street.


    "What is the name of this clan?"


    Zerin smirked, already aware that she knew the answer; she was testing him. "The Temple of Nocturne."


    Jerika nudged him with a smile. "Smarty pants."


    "Well, she¡¯s dressed in black. Not exactly hard to guess."


    She sighed, resting an arm on his shoulder as if it were an armrest. "I guess you have a point."


    Jerika leaned closer, pointing a finger at the cloaked woman walking down the street.


    "But what is the name of the Sisterhood is she a part of?"


    Zerin paused, unsure of the answer.


    "Maidens of Shadow?"


    She laughed. "Did you just come up with that one? Not bad... but their name is The Hand of Shadow."


    "The Hand of Shadow?"


    She nodded. "That¡¯s correct. You see, there are five of them..."


    She guided his gaze with a firm grip on his chin. There they were¡ªfour more women dressed just like the one leading them, each carrying a box of some sort.


    Zerin looked back up at Jerika. "What are they holding?"


    Jerika, who didn¡¯t peel her gaze from the street, replied, "They¡¯re carrying the leader of The Temple of Nocturne."


    The palanquin was shrouded in rich black fabric, shielding all light from entry. At each corner of the palanquin were long bars crafted from darkened steel, and the women silently bore its weight on their shoulders.


    Zerin furrowed his brow and blinked a few times. "Isn¡¯t that heavy?"


    Jerika stood up straight, leaning away from him and waving her hand dismissively as if the answer were obvious. "It¡¯s not a big deal."


    "They are Masters. It¡¯s easy for those girls."


    "Masters like Cael?"


    She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "Like Cael? No, those girls are far stronger."


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    Stronger? Yeah, right!


    He couldn¡¯t believe such a statement. Cael was the strongest person he knew; his speed far exceeded anything Zerin had ever witnessed. That was during a sparring session, and he still hasn''t seen him go all out. How could he possibly be that much weaker?


    He looked back up at Jerika, hoping for a punchline or a joke, but there was nothing.


    "What? Don¡¯t believe me? Go ask him yourself, then."


    She patted his shoulder and stepped away, her meticulously tailored uniform rustling softly as she walked off.


    Zerin turned toward her, confused by her leaving. "Where are you going?"


    She waved her hand dismissively. "I¡¯ll be right back."


    You just got here...


    He stood there, watching her walk away until she eventually disappeared into the crowd. A sigh escaped his lips as he turned to face the final clan that was approaching for the parade.


    ***


    A few hours later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the crowd in the area began to disperse, leaving the district with a much more tranquil atmosphere. With this in mind, Zerin, Dex, and Cael decided it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat.


    They were seated at a food stall, waiting for their order.


    "And you believed her?"


    Dex chimed in, "I would. She¡¯s pretty smart and knows all about that kind of stuff."


    Cael turned to Dex, his expression silencing him, before he turned back to Zerin, clearly expecting an answer.


    Zerin stumbled over his words, shaking his head.


    "Of course not! That sounds ridiculous. I can''t imagine Masters being any stronger."


    "Good," Cael said with a satisfied smile. He shifted his body forward, facing the searing meat that had been placed on the grill.


    Dex, seated between them, watched the food being seared as well, but he couldn''t resist stirring the pot further. A cheeky grin spread across his face. "I don¡¯t know... You don¡¯t seem too strong."


    Cael''s hand shot out, smacking Dex on the back of the head.


    "Ow! What was that for?" Dex rubbed the back of his head. "I was just joking¡ª"


    He paused as he saw Jerika take a seat beside Cael.


    "Hey, Jerika..." Dex leaned forward on his stool, casting a glance past Cael to look at her.


    "Hello, Dex," she smiled, setting down her purse and communicator on the counter.


    Zerin, on the opposite side of them, turned his attention back to the grill, where the meat sizzled and popped. Just as he focused on the food, a figure pulled out a stool. It was an old man in a sleek black kimono.


    "Mind if I join you?"


    "I don''t mind."


    The cook approached the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth. His face was flushed from the heat of the grill, but he continued anyway. "What can I get you, sir?"


    The older man turned from Zerin to the cook. "Miso ramen, and go heavy on the spice..."


    The cook raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, pops?"


    The old man chuckled. "I can cheat today..."


    "Alright, coming right up! And don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you that the heat hits!"


    The cook began his next task, deftly managing four dishes being prepared at once.


    "You are one of Master Cael''s pupils, I presume?"


    Zerin turned back to the old man. "Yes, I am."


    A subtle smile spread across the man¡¯s face as he extended a hand toward him. "The name is Hadrian."


    Cael''s sharp eyes caught the subtle exchange between Zerin and Hadrian as he tilted his head down to the left. "What the hell is the old man doing here?" He grinned widely. "Did Jerika wheel you out here?"


    Hadrian chuckled heartily. "I¡¯m not that old, son."


    Zerin, caught off guard by his bold claim, reflexively turned to look at the old man, confusion the only emotion on his face. Hadrian was bald, his skin weathered with age. He looked to be in his seventies¡ªsixties if one was being generous. He had a pointy beard that was a dirty gray, matching his bushy eyebrows.


    Cael, witnessing Zerin''s reaction, erupted into laughter. "Right? This old geezer is insane!"


    Cael''s laughter was uncontainable, drawing glances from onlookers who were carrying on with their evening.


    "Look at that... a nice sweet reunion," Jerika smiled as she looked down the length of the counter where they were all seated, her elbow propped up as her palm held her chin.


    Cael looked back at Jerika. "So, you did bring the old man all the way out here from the country."


    "I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s survived this long away from the city."


    Jerika smirked. "Well, it''s only possible because he has actual Masters guarding him."


    Before Cael could speak, Hadrian spoke, "Now, now... Cael is a Master in his own right; I trained him just like the other girls."


    "Exactly," Cael said, straightening his posture.


    Jerika shrugged, nonchalantly shifting back to her cup of tea.


    Hadrian continued, "Back then, I was much nimbler than I am now."


    "Yeah, right!" Cael joked in a lighthearted tone. "You were still frail twenty years ago."


    "I guess I was," Hadrian replied, a somewhat sad smile on his face. "I still miss those days, back when I had pupils. Once you get to my age, you realize it¡¯s one of the best moments of your life."


    "Is that so? Well, I don¡¯t plan on living past forty anyway. Guess I won¡¯t need to worry about such luxuries."


    Cael spoke with such lightness that everyone laughed, but for Zerin, that tone offered very little comfort.


    "Forty? You¡¯re selling yourself short. You¡¯ll be hobbling around with a cane, living longer than all of us."


    "No way! I''d prefer going out in a blaze of glory... That¡¯s my style."


    "The apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree, eh?" Hadrian added with a smile on his face. "Your father would be proud to see your progress."


    Cael shrugged. "I¡¯m not sure... Pops has me beat..."


    "You are the spitting image of him, Cael."


    Cael smiled slightly as one of his hands grazed over the other, looking down at the counter.


    Interrupting the moment, the cook came by with their steaming hot dishes. The old man was handed his ramen, while Zerin and Dex received their skewers, and Cael was given loaded nachos. Jerika simply sipped on her tea.


    As they talked and ate, the evening quietly slipped away. Suddenly, the night sky burst into brilliant colors as fireworks exploded overhead, lighting up the darkness. It was Zerin''s first time seeing them, and the sight was nothing short of amazing.

 Chapter 37: Sudden Departure

    He was already awake before his alarm went off. He had a rough time sleeping after the festivities. The lights, the lively music, and the massive gatherings of people made the experience all the more difficult.


    With a reluctant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, feeling the cool wooden floor against his feet. The faint glow of the sun rose filtered through his small window, illuminating floating dust particles in the air. The early morning light only reminded him of the day''s responsibilities.


    His gaze drifted to the bedside table, where the small vial of prescribed medicine sat. Every day he took the prescribed amount, except for yesterday. He realized it when he came back after the festival. Surely, just one day without it wouldn''t cause any issues, right? He tried to convince himself, but he would be lying if he wasn''t an anxious about it.


    The unease settled deeper, so much so that even the comfort from the books he had been reading wasn''t working its usual magic. Maybe it was because he''d already surveyed the majority of what they had to offer. The vast Dream Realm held so many mysteries and undiscovered territories, and it frustrated him to only be scratching the surface of what could be explored. But he would endure the reading anyway.


    Yesterday had been an important day for the continent, but today was vital. With today being the first day of August, Zerin was acutely aware that he only had five months left to hone his skills before he would be sent to the Dream Realm.


    All sleepers needed to be keenly aware of upcoming winter solstice, a time when that irresistible urge to sleep would overcome them. Sleepers were fated to go to the Dream realm, leaving their physical bodies behind.


    The primary objective during this unavoidable journey was to find and pass through a Gateway--- a portal that return them to their physical bodies in the waking world. If they succeeded, they would emerge transformed, becoming Awakened¡ªa new rank that proved their will to survive.


    Abruptly, the sound of knocking jolted him from his thoughts.


    Knock, Knock.


    Zerin shouted, his voice hoarse, "I''m up!"


    He took a moment to clear his throat as he pounded his chest, spitting the residue into the sink and washing it down with a splash of warm water.


    Zerin ran a hand through his hair, making a poor attempt to tame the wild strands that had developed during the night. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror¡ªawake, but with dark circles under his eyes. The last time he remembered looking like this was when it all started, and now it was nearing the end.


    He stepped out of his room, and was greeted by the sight of Dex, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Dex had always been punctual when it came to training; it was as if the prospect of sharpening his skills was the only thing that motivated him to rise in the morning. Zerin admired the dedication, even though it fueled his own frustrations.


    Zerin raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were going to race ahead to be the first one to fight Cael."


    Dex shook his head, a slight smirk rising. "No, I''m not really interested in fighting him anymore."


    Zerin shut his door, lifting a hand to cover his yawn. "What? You actually gave up? I figured you would have continued to be stubborn."


    Dex pushed off the wall and shrugged. "Yeah, well, last night we learned that Cael wasn''t even that strong of a Master after all."


    "That means nothing." Zerin shook his head. "Didn''t you hear Hadrian yesterday? He laid it out plainly, Masters are strong in their own right."


    Dex sighed with frustration, his arms dropping to his sides. "Yeah, but what the hell does that old man know?"


    Zerin looked at him with incredibility, "What? You mean the man that survived the biggest disaster of the Western continent and got his own clan because of his resourcefulness?"


    Dex scoffed as he walked ahead to the dojo. "Yeah, yeah... Were you there?"


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    "You could literally say that for anything!"


    "Blah Blah Blah..." Dex waved his hand dismissively.


    They finally arrived at the dojo, and with that Dex pushed open the heavy doors.


    They expected to find Cael waiting, with his trademark smirk and usual shenanigans. But instead, they were met with a darkened room filled with silence. With shared confusion, they flicked the lights on, but still no Cael. After a moment of hesitation, they decided to warm up instead, hoping for his eventual arrival.


    Dex let out a long sigh, stretching his limbs. "Where the hell is he?"


    "Probably slacking off or something..."


    Dex bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, loosening his muscles. "Isn''t it his thing to never be late or something?"


    "How about we just start without him?"


    Dex shook his head. "Do you not remember the last time we tried something without his permission in this dojo he calls his palace? We got our asses kicked! It''s like he has a radar or a camera in here..."


    Zerin lifted his sword, glancing at Dex and then scanning the dojo for any hidden cameras. "Are you scared? I thought you said he was weak."


    Dex froze momentarily, then turned back to Zerin. "Shut up!"


    Dex scooped his wooden sword off the ground, "I am not taking all the blame this time, you are going to share in the punishment."


    "Huh?" Zerin laughed, "I always followed the rules, you got in trouble on your own."


    "Zip it... Let''s just fight already. You wanted to spar, so let''s spar," Dex said, taking a determined stance.


    They both sprang into motion. The dojo echoed with the sound of clashing wooden blades. The absence of Cael did something unexpected, it seemed to ignite an unnatural competitive spirit, pushing them to train more fiercely than usual.


    After a few spars they found themselves lost in the rhythm. The two of them managed to actually spend more time than usual¡ªroughly five hours of training instead of their standard three.


    However, their training day went as expected. Zerin lost every time to Dex, who swore he wasn''t using his aspect ability, but Zerin didn''t trust him for a second without Cael''s watchful eye.


    Now they were outside the dojo, sitting on the well kempt bench just outside of the heavy doors. In their hands they held their refreshments---Zerin with an energy drink that fizzed when he opened it and Dex with the standard water.


    "Hey, Dex?"


    Dex took a hefty gulp of his water. "Yes?"


    "Do you think we will make it out of the Dream Realm?"


    Dex''s brows furrowed and spoke after he swallowed the water. "Yeah, easily..."


    Zerin''s brows shot up. "Easily? Why the hell do you think it will be that easy?"


    "From what I''ve heard, we''re lucky, right? So, we just walk straight to the Gateway, and we are free."


    Zerin palmed his face so hard it hurt. Was Dex an idiot, or was he just messing with him? It had to be one or the other. He couldn''t believe how stupid those words were.


    For him the upcoming Winter solstice felt like incoming storm while for Dex it appeared like a reckless gamble that he was willing to take.


    ''We are screwed.'' Zerin thought, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.


    The Dream Realm was not a place to be underestimated, that much he knew very well.


    ***


    Cael never showed up; even half a day later, there was no real news of him or Jerika. The disappearance of both of them without a word from either or any of the staff felt so strange. It was odd as they would usually receive updates regularly.


    Knock, knock, knock.


    Zerin stood up to answer the door, but she invited herself in before he could even reach the handle.


    "Sorry for intruding¡­"


    It was Jerika. She looked less organized than usual, with a few strands of hair falling out of her messy bun. She sighed, raising a hand to her head.


    "You alright?"


    She smiled wearily. "Just drowning a bit."


    Zerin felt that was bound to happen; she nearly took zero days off, and on the rare occasions, she did, she spent them with Zerin. She would often take him to places to eat and explore, which he was very thankful for. But he felt guilty most of the time, as if he was sapping too much of her time away from her own life.


    "Take a break," he urged.


    She giggled as she leaned against the fridge. "That''s not how contracts work here. I don''t exactly have much of a choice; there aren''t many people like me with my skills."


    She lazily tilted her head resting it on the fridge. "But in a few years, it might be different if we continue to do well and those who are still in the Dream Realm return."


    The solstice happened every year. That meant the continent was losing a portion of its citizens annually. Though it wasn''t a massive proportion each year to really damage the city, over the years it really began to build up, and there were thousands of people missing each year around the world just from the solstice alone.


    "Have you heard anything about Cael? He didn''t show up for training." Zerin asked.


    She nodded. "I did¡ªthat''s why I was missing as well. Those fireworks yesterday drew out a band of nightmare creatures from the radiation wall, so the clans sent their Masters to ensure that nothing in civilization would be damaged: agriculture, citizens, all that fun stuff..."


    "How long will that take?"


    She sighed with a shrug. "Who knows? The continent is big. It could take months to half a year, as they have to survey the area for periods of time to make sure nothing is coming out."


    He didn''t have months to spare; the solstice was just five months away, so losing even a month or two could be a problem, halting their current progress.


    "Who is going to train us?"


    "No one. You two are well off for Sleepers. No Sleeper except for the clans gets training like you two¡ªespecially by a Master."


    That was very true. She was completely right; not everyone in this world had that luxury. Some people only had half a year, a couple of months, or even just a few days to prepare. Zerin and Dex on the other hand had a little over a half a year under a Master who taught them how to fight, and even the basics of the Dream Realm. Let alone Zerin''s own research outside of all that, he was extremely well off.


    She looked at him, her head resting against the fridge, her gaze softening. "Just don''t die. Got it?"


    "Got it¡­"


    "I am going to tell Dex the same thing, and then I''m going to get as much sleep as I can."


    With a weak smile rising on her lips, she turned away and left the room.


    Zerin collapsed on his bed, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. He honestly wasn''t entirely sure if he was fully ready.

 Chapter 38: Entering The Dream Realm

    The constant beeping of machines filled the room. Zerin and Dex watched as a handful of researchers darted around the Dream Room.


    Zerin felt the weight of exhaustion increasing, every second it was tugging at his eyelids, it was tolerable, but it was still prevalent, nonetheless. He forced himself to straighten his spine as he sat in this unbearable chair. The chair was masterfully made to make the seater suffer.


    Dex on the other hand was losing the war he waged against the call of sleep. A quick glance over at him was a scene that fitted him well.


    Dex was slumped in his chair, fighting off the sleep with the grace of a drunk. Jerika, knelling at his side slapping his face to keep him awake.


    Her voice was panicked as she began to shake him awake. "Dex! It''s not time to sleep yet!"


    Dex groaned in response and pushed her hands away, irritation mixing with the fatigue on his face.


    "Alright, damn it!" he spat.


    It had been an interesting few months---the majority would say distressing. For the first time in a decade, a Nightmare Creature was spotted just outside the city walls. It was quickly disposed of, but the public''s fears were far from settled. And another addition to the surge of concerns was footage released by farmers, of their cattle and fields being ravaged by Nightmare Creatures. And to top it off, today was the first day of the solstice. The news even reported that a handful of people have already succumbed to the call to sleep, meaning that it was only a matter of time that they would surrender to the call as well.


    She extended her hand out to his, her tone was stern. "Give me your hand."


    Dex still fighting the fatigue, slapped his hand onto hers. His face twisted with anger, but held much more weariness.


    "What?" he snapped.


    "I''m giving you a memory..." She spoke gently but firm, "It''s not much, but it''s better than nothing..."


    His face edged with skepticism along with his tired eyes. "Is it a weapon?"


    "Not exactly---"


    He threw his hands in the air. "Then what is the damn point?" he shouted.


    She sighed with anger, "I thought you were the weapon."


    As Dex averted his gaze towards Zerin. He could see that even in his tiredness Dex wouldn''t set apart his pride in his own capabilities. But even though he tried to act strong, he looked so drained that every second seemed like a monumental effort for him to keep his eyes open.


    The day before, in preparation for today, Dex trained harder than ever, which seemed to have contributed to his current fatigue. But Zerin took a different approach¡ªhe took the last three days off, and now he was thankful for it.


    In a kind gesture, Jerika patted a hand on Dex''s head, the touch was aimed to comfort him. However, he quickly slapped her hand away as she stepped away from his side and moved towards Zerin.


    Her heels clicked against the tile floor. She knelt down to meet Zerin''s gaze, her eyes searching his.


    "Alright, the pods are ready, Jerika..." One of the male researchers announced. He stood behind her, his white lab coat slightly crumpled.


    "Just a minute," She turned and said to the man.


    She smiled as she glanced back at Zerin. "You don''t look as tired as Dex over there..."


    Zerin stifled a yawn, "I slept a lot yesterday..." a slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.


    "Didn''t really do much did it?" Jerika teased lightly.


    "Not really," he admitted. The call to sleep wasn''t something you could fight; it would always win in the end.


    She extended her hand out to him, "Well, it''s time to receive your memory."


    "Is it any good?" He asked.


    She smiled weakly as she shook her head. "It''s nothing too special; it should help you in your journey, though. Sorry."


    Over the past few months, the Nightmare Creature scare had caused a frenzy of memory purchases. What had been a stable diverse arsenal of memories had been rapidly diminished due to the clans and other awakened. The people were desperate, and Zerin knew he was fortunate to be getting anything at all.


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    Zerin extended his hand toward her, and she placed her delicate hand upon his.


    [You have received a memory.]


    She tugged his hand getting his attention. "You two need to find each other and stick together. Survive no matter the cost, you got it?"


    Her intensity caught him off guard, and he wondered how they had arrived at this point. Just earlier this year she was just a stranger and now she took the role of the guardian in his life, dare his say mother figure.


    Zerin''s gaze drifted to Dex, who had already surrendered to the battle. His head lolled to one side and his body slumped in the metal foldable chair.


    Zerin blinked a few times, trying to shake off the infectious desire to sleep. "Looks like he beat me to it."


    Jerika followed his gaze, her playful demeanor vanishing upon the very instant she saw his current state. She abruptly stood up and marched over to his slumped figure to shake him awake.


    "Dex!... Dex! Shit!"


    It was pointless; Dex was already in the Dream Realm the minute he closed his eyes to rest.


    Zerin stood up slowly, every muscle in his body, felt as if it gave up before his spirit did. He felt as if he might crumple to the floor at any moment.


    A wry smile tugged at his lips, ''Is this what being old feels like?''


    He shook his head, it was amusing, really. Dex and Cael had rubbed off on him more than he realized, he had now begun to regain an inclination for casual jokes, an old comforting habit.


    With a deep breath, Zerin walked over to his pod, its metallic surface gleamed, under the harsh fluorescence. He reached out and opened it, the mechanism hissed as it opened the sealed door of the capsule.


    Meanwhile, Jerika had ordered three researchers to gather Dex and place him in his pod.


    Zerin stood beside his open pod, watching her move around with purpose.


    No wonder she is tired...


    He yawned as he leaned against the pod, feeling his eyes begin to flutter shut. Just before his eyes were fully closed, he felt a light slap on his face, waking him up.


    She looked at him with worry, "I need you to get into your pod Zerin, can you do that?"


    He smiled slightly, he must have looked something unholy because she didn''t reciprocate the same smile, instead her face held worry. She slowly helped him get into the pod, one foot after the other.


    As he sank into the pod, he felt heavenly, nothing he had ever felt, felt like this before, the cushions in the pod felt otherworldly to him.


    As he lifted his eyes to Jerika to speak, he froze---a single tear glistened on her cheek catching the light momentarily before it fell.


    He was shocked he didn''t expect to see such vulnerability from her. But before he could speak, she sealed the pod shut.


    It was jarring, once again, he was stopped from saying what he truly wanted to say, from The First Nightmare to even now. Even if he wanted to call out to her or offer any words of comfort it would be futile as the pods were completely soundproof. The mechanism locked and that was it, he was completely sealed in the pod until he returned from the Dream Realm.


    The urge to sleep began to grow overpowering. He turned his gaze towards Dex''s pod. Through the transparent glass of the pod, he could see his friend sleeping soundly.


    ''He looks comfortable..." Zerin thought.


    He yawned again, and then he was confused to why he was even fighting the urge to sleep in the first place.


    But as his consciousness slipped away, he remembered, he forgot to say goodbye.


    [Welcome to the Dream Realm, Zerin!]


    He heard the voice of the spell, and the comfort he had previously felt was instantly replaced by the sensation he hated most: A terrible cold.

 Chapter 39: Ridden with Cold

    It felt as if he had been plunged into an icy abyss. A bone-chilling cold seeped into his very bones, and a polar gust of wind whipped over him.


    He opened his eyes instantly. Before him, lying on his side, the sun hung low in the sky, casting a pale light. There was no warmth, no safety. Just cold.


    Propelled to his feet, he hastily brushed the snow off of him, which had clung to him like a second skin.


    But before he could catch his breath, another ferocious gust of wind howled down the mountainside. He exhaled in shock feeling his breath being stripped from his lungs. His heart raced wildly, pounding against his ribcage as his eyes widened in shock by the cold.


    He clutched his body as he stood naked atop the rocky remnants of a great mountain, now fractured and desolate. The biting cold nipped at his skin and the snow rose just halfway up his shins. The land below and all around him was draped in a thick blanket of snow.


    Gazing down the slope, he saw trees that sprawled out from him slowly gathering together to form a sprawling icy pine forest.


    He turned back up the mountainside, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each exhale forming thick plumes of white smoke that lingered and then dissipated. And then he spotted it---up the slope, a small stone structure stood, perhaps a home, but more importantly for him, it was a shelter.


    With that singular thought anchoring him, he began his hike up the mountain side. The harsh cold air bit at his flesh like a hundred daggers, the snow crunched beneath his feet, each step utterly painful. He clenched his teeth and bore through the pain, tossing away the notion of surrendering to the cold.


    The incline wasn''t too harsh, but the danger of slipping still off the mountain filled his mind. He took extra measures to drive his feet deep into the snow, testing the ground beneath him before fully committing his weight.


    With a final, agonizing step, he reached the icy foundation of the stone structure. Glancing down, he saw his feet were covered in numerous cuts, inflicted by the snow and ice.


    They aren''t blue... He thought.


    Such a dim thought, but the Dream Realm didn''t show mercy for those that dreamt. He stepped forth peering cautiously into the interior of the building. The air felt stale, and it appeared to him that no one had been around for ages. he paused, granting his eyes a moment to adjust.


    Once adjusted, he stepped inside, leaving the biting cold behind him. The first thing he noticed was the furniture arranged in a purposeful wall-like formation, as if to keep something---or someone out.


    He stepped closer to the makeshift barricade, his cold fingers fumbled to grab the edge of the heavy table that was tipped on its side. He strained with a grunt, dragging the table across the stone floor. His chilled muscles struggled, but he managed to move the heavy piece of furniture without accidently causing any additional damage to his already battered feet.


    Once the table was finally out of the way, Zerin froze. What he saw sent a shiver down his spin, far colder than the air surrounding him. Leaning back against the corner of the room was a corpse.


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    It was a man, likely in his mid-twenties, his features were distorted to terror, frozen in time as if the icy chill of horror gripped him in his very last moments. His eyes were wide, yet they weren''t focused, while his mouth was displaying a silent scream.


    Zerin struggled to even look at the man, it was disturbing to see such a sight, and he wondered what happened to this man, and how long he has been dead, hoping that whatever it was that got to him was long gone now.


    The wore a heavy jacket, its fabric weathered and worn, but it still seemed capable of withstanding the elements. The legs of his pants were tattered at the bottom. A sturdy pair of boots, still tightly laced, remained firmly secured on his feet.


    As his eyes took in the lifeless figure, a single thought filled his mind: warmth.


    Zerin did what anyone would have done. He knelt beside the body and reached for the heavy jacket. Stripping clothes from the dead would typically be seen as a violation of the dead, but the desire for warmth drowned out any concept of hesitation.


    Slipping the jacket over his shoulders, he felt better, a deluding placebo. The jacket was sturdy and well made, he really felt like he was lucky to get his hands on a coat. He put on the man''s pants the fabric was coarse, a bit uncomfortable but it was protective, and he also found that they hung a bit loosely around his waist. The boots, though slightly large, felt rather comfortable.


    He exhaled, sending a warm stream of air from his lungs into his icy hands, rubbing them together to generate heat. "Thanks for the clothes..." he murmured softly.


    His words felt more like a prayer for forgiveness, but the dead do not answer your prayers.


    He found himself staring at the body he had propped up awkwardly against the wall.


    With the dead man''s clothing stripped away, it revealed the ghostly pale blue hue of his skin. Just beneath the surface, his veins held an azure hue, which stood out starkly.


    He couldn''t leave him like this.


    Zerin grasped the lifeless body, his hands closing around his cold wrists, and began dragging him outside. He wrestled with the body; labored gasps escaped his lips as he pulled the body over the rough stone foundation.


    But when he left the stone foundation, the struggle intensified. The soft white powder resisted, attempting to swallow the lifeless body, turning a merciful task into a fierce battle.


    During this struggle, a dark thought crossed his mind, but he ignored it, deeming the act of tossing a body off the mountainside far too inhumane.


    Breathless and grimacing, he finally managed to pull the body a short distance away from the entrance of the building. He chose a spot up the hill instead of down; it required more effort, but he did this to avoid having to pass the body up and down in the future.


    But as he walked away, he paused and glanced back up the incline. He sighed heavily.


    "Not good enough." He muttered.


    Unsatisfied, he stuffed his chilled hands into the pockets of the heavy jacket and continued back to the stone structure.


    Once inside, his mind was set on a new goal: to build a fire.


    He began reorganizing the room, approaching the wooden table. Being warmer he was able to move much more efficiently and with a grunt of effort, he hoisted the table upright positioning it vertically to block the single opening---the doorway. It stood sturdily, though not perfectly, with only a few inches left at the top for airflow. Though it wasn''t perfect it would shield him from the elements, at least for now.


    He shifted the stacks of chairs and brought them out towards the center of the room. He pulled out the mat that the chairs were placed upon, shaking it vigorously to get rid of the dust that clung to its surface before rolling it up tightly and setting it aside.


    The sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the room, Zerin scanned his surroundings for anything that could aid him in building a fire. His eyes darted to the corners of the building, and then something caught his attention¡ªsomething nestled in the dark corner where the body had once been.


    As he moved closer, disbelief filled his features. There, blending into the shadows of the structure, was a sword. Quickly, he reached out, grasping the hilt.


    [You have received a memory.]


    He lifted the sword above his head to catch a better glimpse of the blade. He raised the blade up and it caught the light. In that moment, the blade transformed from dull black color to the starry night sky, casting a astral light that filled the shadowy space around him.


    The sword was single edged from the looks of it, designed for slashing, its longer and wider back tapering towards its cutting edge. The craftmanship was extraordinary, even an amateur like him could realize that. The hilt featured a minimal cross-guard and was wrapped in a comfortable type of leather. He noted how the pommel allowed just enough space for his fingers to rest comfortably, ensuring he could wield it with ease.


    After examining the memory''s physical appearance, he through its runes.


    Memory Name: [Astral Blade]


    Memory Description: Forged from the fallen fragments of the skies, greatly diminished as a blade.


    Memory Rank: Awakened, Tier IV


    Memory Enchantments:


    [Astral Edge] - "Once, the Skies waged war against the Shadow. This was the moment it all began¡ªthe war that every being testified to, marked by the Astral light heralding the beginning of the end."


    Waged war against the Shadow...


    It seemed to him those shadows, especially the Shadow God, had a bad reputation. Whether or not it was justified, he found this to be consistent. From the First Nightmare to the Temple of Nocturne, shadows were always unpopular. Perhaps those philosophers were right all along¡ªpeople truly do love to hide from their own shadows.


    He dismissed his runes and looked around the room, thinking he should get back to the fire. He sat cross legged and grabbed a chair and began to work.

 Chapter 40: Embers Of Isolation

    He wrapped his fingers around the limbs of the chair. Though it protested, he wrenched it free with a quick motion, tossing the leg of the chair into the growing pile.


    What was he doing? Zerin was gathering chair legs for firewood. After building a decent pile, he would stand up a leg and drive the [Astral Blade] down its center.


    Pounding his fist against the dull edge, the blade was driven even deeper until the wood splintered in half. The two pieces fell apart, and he picked up another leg and continued the process.


    After accumulating a substantial pile of wood, Zerin began building the fire. Following the technical survival teachings Jerika had taught him, he felt well-prepared for most survival situations. He had already prepared a hand drill and shredded dry tinder. It wasn''t perfect, but it should be enough to get the fire started.


    Gently, he positioned the spindle in the shallow groove of the wooden seat, which had now been repurposed as a hearth board.


    Taking a deep breath, he began to twirl the spindle.


    He continued, even whilst being unable to see anything in the darkness of the room, hoping to birth an ember.


    Then he saw it---It was faint, but the unmistakable orange glow was easily seen in the darkness. He carefully dropped the ember into the kindling. Wrapping the dry fibers around it, his cupped hands cradled the ember in the dry fabric, and he blew softly.


    The ember flickered. Leaning in, he blew once more, and it ignited, flames rapidly consuming the kindling. He quickly and carefully set the fiery ball into the firewood, watching as the flames licked the bone-dry wood.


    Once the fire had built itself up sustainably, he grabbed another piece of wood adding to the flames. Everything was in place: he had shelter, a weapon, a fire, and plenty of wood to spare.


    This unfortunate situation outside in the bitter cold had transformed into something rather favorable in just a few hours. A smile spread across his face witnessing the fruits of his handiwork.


    His eyes drifted to the pile of firewood, and he summoned the [Sly Pack]. Summoning dormant memories like this one didn''t strain his blood supply much; he could probably do it a hundred times before any significant strain to his body would occur.


    The [Astral Blade], however, was a different story. As an awakened memory¡ª it was ranked higher than him due to his soul core being dormant¡ªmeaning he could likely summon it only about twenty times in one sitting.


    He opened the pack''s flap, filled it with the firewood, and closed it securely for safekeeping.


    Deciding he should have extra kindling to spare just in case, he grabbed his sword and cut more fabric from the mat he had rolled up earlier.


    That''s a good enough. He leaned to his side and grabbed the once again pack.


    He opened the pack again, only to be surprised to find it empty. Tilting he pack upside down, he shook it, but nothing came out---not even a speck of dust.


    What?


    Zerin was bewildered. Had he just lost an entire stash of firewood, just like that? What on earth was going on?


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    Tossing the pack aside, Zerin raised a hand to his head and began searching through the memory runes.


    Memory Name: [Sly Pack]


    Memory Rank: Dormant, Tier II


    Memory Description: "Treacherous in nature, this pack is an ally you can never trust, it will always deliver, just not at the time you''d expect."


    Memory Enchantments:


    [Day Pack] - "During daylight hours, all items stored in this pack are accessible. When daylight is absent, all items are withheld from you."


    [Instant Retrieval] - "This pack can summon any item stored in it, into the owner''s hands instantly---within a certain range of course."


    Zerin sighed. What type of funny game are they playing on me?


    This sounded like something Cael would do, not Jerika. But the more he thought about it, the more he understood. Things were probably just that bad in the city.


    He closed the flap of his pack and set it aside, to even get access to the contents within it, he would have to wait until daybreak.


    He pulled over the rolled-up mat and unraveled it, he wasn''t particularly tired. But it was probably best for him to set a schedule. He laid down rolling himself up in the mat, oddly it wasn''t all that bad.


    Laying in front of the fire he had brief worries about the smoke filling the room, but the pinnacle of his worries was the potential of a nightmare creature barging into the room as that table was hardly a stable barricade in the slightest.


    He kept his sword nearby and closed his eyes hoping for the best.


    ***


    He awoke to the chill that invited itself back into his new abode.


    Blinking against the darkness. Immediately, he realized that the fire had become nothing but simmering coals.


    Sitting up, he unraveled the mat from his body. Night still reigned and the fire needed to be stoked.


    He grabbed his blade and prepared some additional firewood. All the firewood he had previously gathered was stashed away in that damned treacherous pack, and its contents was completely inaccessible until daylight---Whenever that might be.


    Placing more wood in the hot coals the flames slowly came back to life.


    How long until daybreaks?


    Zerin stood up from the fire. He should just see for himself. He carefully shifted the table away from the doorway.


    Flakes of snow drifted softly down the mountain. Even with this gentle snowfall, he noticed evidence of heavier storms that had come before. The body he had placed on the mountainside was now completely obscured by a thick blanket of snow.


    In addition to that something else also caught his eye. Above the mountain peak, in the sky a fracture glowed iridescently. Its light blending into a stunning aurora that tinted the surrounding snow lightly. Zerin swore he could see grains of dust or debris spilling from the fracture, like the sands of an hourglass.


    But from what he could see outside, it didn''t appear that day was going to arrive quite yet.


    Hearing the howling winds return, Zerin quickly fled back into the confines of his shelter, covering the doorway once more to shield himself from the elements.


    Besides the cold, he was surprised that the dream realm didn''t have as many creatures as he expected, as his short stay on this mountain was rather peaceful.


    Sitting back beside the fire, Zerin added more firewood from the nearby pile---a pile that was made with the intention to not make the same mistake he made before by storing it in that cursed pack.


    He decided it was best to stay ahead of things and made some more tinder, just in case.


    Unbuttoning one of the chest pockets of his heavy jacket, Zerin figured it would be the safest place to store the tinder, away from moisture. But instead, he found something unexpected.


    His fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper. Curiosity piqued, and Zerin pulled the dirty piece of parchment out, raising an eyebrow as he unfolded it.


    The dirty white parchment unfolded into a map of the region. His heart raced as his eyes brushed over the details. The map depicted rugged mountains encircling the entire area, caging it in, with rivers veining their way to frozen lakes. And there, in the upper right corner, he saw it¡ªThe Gateway. It was marked within a massive mountain that was ruined with a huge fracture, labeled as ''Fractured Peaks''.


    Could it really be this easy?


    Zerin chuckled to himself, a hand lifting up brushing against his temple. With this map, they could easily---


    They? Who was they? Zerin was completely alone. Despite having knowledge of the region, it was still extremely vast filled with dense forests, towering mountains, caves, flowing rivers and expansive lakes. How could he possibly find Dex in such a vast wilderness?


    As his mind reeled, trying to figure out where to begin, he absentmindedly flipped the map over and noticed something peculiar: a message written in bold black letters.


    ''FLEE THE STORM. YOU CANNOT HIDE. KEEP MOVING.''


    "Flee the storm?" Zerin parroted, furrowing his brow.


    What storm? The snow outside? Who would go out during the night and abandon their shelter to face the cold?


    Zerin found the message utterly useless and tucked the map back into his jacket pocket alongside the spare kindling.


    ***


    Daylight just couldn''t come any sooner.


    Zerin sat beside his fire, watching the flames. It was like watching paint dry as he waited for day to break.


    The storm outside grew stronger. Zerin was relieved he hadn''t taken the foolish course of action to go out there; he would probably have succumbed to the elements. Zerin trusted his gut more than the warnings from someone who hadn''t made it.


    Knock, knock.


    He flinched suddenly, his eyes darting to the barricade. His heart froze as the crackling of the fire was swallowed by the emptiness. He held his breath, his eyes locking on the heavy table that served as a barricade.


    The knocking returned, louder this time.


    "Who is there?!" Zerin shouted as he reached for his sword, a sense of unease tightening in his chest.


    Who could possibly weather such a storm? Other than a nightmare creature?


    His eyes widened at the realization. That was¡ª


    A familiar voice caused his heart to drop.


    "Can I come in?"

 Chapter 41: Hunted Prey

    Fear took hold, gripping around Zerin''s neck like a vice.


    Warm beads of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, traveling down his spine. The white noise of the crackling fire and howling winds surrounded him.


    That voice was one he had known all too well---A voice of a friend.


    It was this very familiarity that made it unsettling. He knew it was nearly impossible, yet the notion clung to him.


    He was left completely and utterly speechless.


    Dex? His thoughts raged in his mind.


    He found himself instinctively curling his fingers around the hilt of his sword. Slowly he pulled it free from its human leather sheath.


    What were the odds? The mere idea of Dex stumbling upon him in this vast harsh wintery landscape was improbable. It felt like an impossible puzzle piece that forced its way into the wrong picture.


    "Can I come in?" Dex''s voice spoke again, holding the same tone.


    Zerin''s ears burned with the unfamiliarity that hit him. After hearing it a second time, he was certain¡ªthis voice was not Dex.


    Zerin swallowed hard; his heart raced; his eyes widened. What should he do? Should he wait? Or should he respond with his voice or with action?


    He didn''t know his next course of action. This was entirely new territory for him, he couldn''t remember reading anything pertaining to monsters that can be so cunning that they were able to mimic voices, let alone speak.


    A slew of howls interrupted the quietness, proceeding from down the mountainside. Zerin heard a sudden shift outside of his door, and then he heard the massive thuds of the creature''s footsteps as it faded away as it walked down the mountain. It sounded enormous, far too large to be human.


    He exhaled shakily, lowering himself in front of the flickering fire. Its warmth feebly allowing him to keep his composure. Straining his ears, he listened making sure the creature was long gone.


    Once he was certain the creature was long gone, a chilling thought enraptured his mind: How did this creature even know to use Dex''s voice against him?


    He collapsed fully in front of the fire, raising his hands to his head. He definitely just avoided a unfavorable confrontation, but not by chance. No, it was due to sheer arrogance. It had taunted him with the voice of his friend while waiting outside a barricade it could have easily teared down.


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    This creature was nothing short of sickening.


    ***


    He allowed himself a few hours to think about his next course of action. The word outside? Nothing but the howling wind.


    The storm was picking up rather quickly, snow began to fall in heavy flakes tightly knitted together creating a heavy white fog.


    He thought, briefly, that maybe he should have followed what the map suggested earlier¡ªbut he shook his head again.


    Shelter like this was a stroke of pure luck, and abandoning it wasn''t a decision he''d consider under any other circumstances.


    Still, waiting here and hoping to avoid a confrontation with that creature didn''t feel like a reliable plan either.


    He considered fighting, but fighting something without knowing what it was capable of wasn''t just unwise¡ªit was downright reckless.


    A grimace twisted his features as he acted upon his conclusion.


    He began to gather his belongings, making sure to leave the fire crackling behind him. He would surely need it later.


    Pushing the table aside, he peeked cautiously into the snowstorm. His gaze followed the massive trail carved into the snow, stretching as far as the fog would allow.


    His eyes tracked the path up the mountain until it stopped at the disturbance in the snow¡ªthe body he had laid upon the mountain was gone.


    The snow was kicked up, leaving no trace of the corpse.


    Unease settled in his stomach as he peered cautiously in both directions, making sure his path was clear before he would descend down the mountain.


    He dismissed his pack, even though it was empty it would only hinder him. With his sword sheathed, he made his way down, the ice-cold wind biting at him as he continued.


    He was drawn deeper into the forest whilst following the path carved into the snow. The trees, once scattered and spread sparingly, now converged. But even under the safety of the trees, the endless snowfall above found its way. Periodically, clumps of snow would break free from the branches to land softly on the ground, creating mounds of snow.


    But under the canopy of trees, it wasn''t just filled with snow and trees.


    The forest floor ahead was littered with overturned trees, their roots unearthed. Scattered among the debris were the corpses of bipedal, wolf-like creatures, their bones jutting painfully through their skin, and some of their snouts crushed. Their forms lay lifeless and sprawled in grotesque positions.


    Each creature bore powerful claws and teeth. They were powerful creatures, but he couldn''t help but question just what kind of monster could bring down a pack of five of these creatures.


    A roar shattered the silence of the forest, reverberating through the trees. Heavy clumps of snow fell from the branches to the ground due to the sheer power of the roar. Zerin peered deeper into the woods, narrowing his eyes against the falling flakes of snow.


    There, he saw a wolf-like beast, similar to the mutilated remains scattered behind him, but unlike the corpses, this one was alive.


    Emerging from the tree line, its hands, while possessing a semblance of humanity, were tipped with claws of faded onyx, each claw extending about two to three inches long. The creature''s body was lean but still undeniably muscular. Its prominent snout was filled with sharp fangs that gleamed like ivory against its bloodied black fur, and its eyes held an amber glow.


    Zerin knelt down on the cold, blood-stained snow as he steadied his breath. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword, his fingers brushing against the human leather sheath.


    That can''t be the creature that spoke with Dex''s voice...


    Just as his hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, he watched the wolf beast crane its head back, a low growl rumbled from deep within it. Then, with a sudden short burst of movement, another creature emerged from the tree line.


    What emerged was a creature Zerin didn''t expect. The hefty creature stood before the wolf at a staggering size, slightly taller than the wolf but vastly more imposing. Its skin was a pale blue, and its body was grotesquely swollen, making it at least three times as wide as the wolf. Each step sent ripples through its bloated form. Another characteristic stood out vibrantly: veins riddled its body and were an unnatural shade of azure.


    As Zerin saw this creature, the realization struck him then and there: he was staring at the body that had been taken. It had not been removed; rather, it had been reanimated into an abomination, a monster that began to wreak havoc upon everything in this forest.


    And the amber-eyed creature, was now the last remnant of its pack, desperately trying to face off against this pale abomination that threatened to annihilate it.


    A chill crawled up Zerin''s spine. He wondered why the scarred beast wouldn''t run and save its life¡ªwhy would it face this creature alone, knowing it had no chance?


    Then Zerin realized how foolish his situation was¡ªbut he also remembered that he could very well be the next victim of this horror that had claimed dominion in a single night. And he wasn''t just going to sit idly by.

 Chapter 42: Savagery from the Heart

    The clash erupted between the Howler and the Blizzard Beast. The volume of this battle left Zerin surprised; how could he have missed such a disturbance prior? Back when the pale abomination descended upon the Howler pack like storm, tearing them to shreds.


    The veined horror hobbled forward. Each step sending tremors through the blankets of snow. The fanged beast struggled, its claws raking desperately across its opponent''s form.


    Enraged, the brute seized the Howler in its grip. With it''s hands being swollen to grotesque proportions, the abomination dwarfed the Howler. Following its powerful grip was a wail from the fanged beast and the crushing of its shoulders under the overwhelming force of the Blizzard Beast.


    The sound echoed gruesomely in Zerin''s ears. He squinted at the inevitable outcome. It was no surprise that a creature capable of wiping out an entire Howler pack could easily take down a lone member. But, like anyone drawn to a good underdog story, Zerin found himself quietly rooting for the wolf¡ªbecause the last thing he wanted was to face that veined creature himself.


    The Howler''s arms hung limply, but even then, it stood in defiance. The icy horror seemed only be angered further by the Howler. With a guttural groan, the reanimated corpse swiped its massive arm, putting all its weight behind the motion, sending the fanged beast crashing through a nearby pine. The impact was explosive; splinters of wood flew in every direction as the creature''s body rolled, kicking up clouds of snow.


    Zerin then held onto a sliver of hope¡ªthat the Howler would rise again. But as the swirling clouds of snow settled, his heart sank; the wolf lay there lifeless, unmoving.


    Damn it. It''s finished¡­


    Zerin turned toward the abomination, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. It was about to brutalize the corpse of the fallen creature.


    Rising from his kneeling position, Zerin felt his heart pounding audibly in his ears.


    Stupid, Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!


    As the abomination wobbled toward the lifeless body of the fallen wolf, Zerin succumbed to the urge to step forward, taking advantage of the creature''s turned back.


    Screw it!


    Zerin broke into a sprint, unsheathing his sword. Attacking this brute''s body had proven to be a futile attempt, so his plan was to go for the neck. No matter how big or small a creature was, they all bled the same.


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    He huffed as he dashed through the snow. The hefty creature lumbered past the shattered tree stump, drawing closer to the wolf. In a bold move, Zerin leapt of the stump, descending onto the abomination''s back from above.


    His blade shimmered with an astral glow as he raised it above his head, the starry hue illuminating everything around him. He steeled himself, channeling every ounce of his weight and strength into the impending strike.


    The blade plunged into the brute''s thick, mottled neck. It sank deep into its dense flesh with satisfying resistance. Blood trickled wound, oozing out an azure color as the blade tore through layers of flesh and sinew.


    The Blizzard Beast groaned, its bellowing voice reverberating through the air causing the trees to tremble. It stumbled as it began to shake its attacker from its back. Zerin clung tightly to his blade, feeling it twist and churn deeper into the brute''s wound.


    As the blade twisted and churned deeper into the wound, an icy, pressurized stream of azure blood erupted forth, spraying all directions. The vile torrent splattered across Zerin, some of the foul liquid spilling into his mouth, forcing him to inadvertently swallow a considerable portion.


    He gagged and coughed, the rancid, acidic taste instantly coating his tongue. Just then, the world momentarily began to blur. He felt an exhilarating rush of [Sanguine Surge]¡ªhis aspect ability¡ªactivate for the first time, burning through him like wildfire.


    The high was indescribable¡ªa feeling he had never experienced before. He didn''t just feel stronger; he was stronger. His focus was sharper, and a surge of power coursed through him. He felt truly inhuman.


    Zerin hoisted himself up quickly onto the shoulders of the Blizzard Beast. Pulling out his blade from its fatty flesh didn''t even feel like a chore, rather it felt exciting. He found his heart racing with an intense desire to kill.


    Upon the Brutes shoulders he lodged his blade into its fatty neck with ease. Zerin grasped his sword tighter. He began to carve a graver wound around the brute''s neck, bathing in the pressurized streams that were birthed from its neck. This time the resistance of its flesh was nothing to him as he attempted to completely sever the head off this hefty creature.


    Splattered in the grotesque rain, it felt euphoric, he almost didn''t want it to end. He found himself smiling as he continued to bask in the agony that was coming from this creature.


    But Zerin''s carelessness swiftly turned into a weakness. Finally, the abomination managed to react despite the pain it was experiencing. It grasped Zerin''s ankle and crushed it in its grip with a loud crack. Before he could even process the searing pain in his ankle, the abomination hurled him off its back, sending him tumbling through the air like a ragdoll.


    He crashed into the ground with a series of rolling thuds, soft blankets of snow kicked up around him. As the strength from his aspect ability began to fade, he soon felt the full brunt of the pain he had just endured and the chilling cold of cobalt blood that stained him.


    A deep, guttural roar of rage erupted from the Blizzard Beast. It was the only motivation that urged him to try to stand. He was dazed and disoriented, but he stood up anyways.


    Pushing himself off the snow, his body felt like it was made of bricks. He stabbed his sword into the earth beneath him to steady himself. He lifted his head at the sound of rain pattering against the snow. Streams of the abomination''s cobalt blood stained the landscape, spreading across the pure white snow and darkening the surrounding trees.


    The brute trudged forward, its nearly severed head danged unnaturally from its massive body, yet it continued to move with a mindless determination. Blood poured from its wound with relentless pressure, as if it would never cease. Each heavy step thudded against the ground, sending tremors rippling through the snow.


    This bastard shouldn''t be able to endure that wound and still be moving!


    Zerin shifted his weight, and a sudden jolt of pain shot through his injured ankle. He winced, the sharp sensation forcing him to lean more heavily on his sword, which was firmly planted in the earth.


    I had it! I almost had it!


    The thought raged through his mind. The creature''s body wasn''t immune¡ªit could feel and suffer from injuries inflicted on it. So how the hell was it still standing?


    Then Zerin saw it: something began to sprout from the massive gash in the creature''s neck. Its veins shifted like living vines, stitching the head back onto its body. Slowly, he realized that the abomination was regaining its strength; its steps grew more frequent until it broke into a full sprint.

 Chapter 43: Veinborne

    Veins sprouted from the brute''s neck, a striking azure hue that glowed vibrantly, standing out amongst the vile blue blood that sprayed from its massive form. But these veins were not just vessels to carry this vile blood; they bore thorns like a sinister flower. Zerin eyes watched as the thorny tendrils wove together the creature''s torn flesh, knitting the abominations head back into place. The pressurized streams slowed to a trickle, allowing the brute to regain its strength.


    You are kidding!


    All his work, his struggle was for nothing. Zerin took a step back with a limp, as the slow walk of this creature, shifted into a full sprint.


    The ground rumbled beneath Zerin''s feet as the brute stampeded toward him. Quickly, Zerin leapt aside, sinking into the disturbed snow. As he rolled, he glanced back to see the Blizzard Beast, barreling onward its momentum unstoppable. The abomination crashed through a line of trees, like it was a mere obstacle in its way.


    Pushing himself off the cold snow, Zerin struggled to rise. That brute had regained all its strength, newly invigorated, while he felt as if he were running on fumes. His muscles resisted, and his body could hardly bear to take another step.


    He glanced back, heart racing, to witness the creature rage and unleash another roar. Another reminder that this creature is nothing but mindless.


    If I could just reclaim that strength...


    He knew he had a chance. But to do so, he needed one thing: blood. If he could tap into his aspect ability once again, he could do it. But even with this being his plan, it was still a gamble.


    Zerin turned toward the lifeless body of the Howler. He knew where he could get the blood he needed. With a hurried limp, he barely slipped past the Blizzard Beast''s peripheral as it searched for him.


    Reaching the corpse of the creature, he saw its injuries in detail. The wolf''s shoulders were crushed, the jagged bones jutting through its torn flesh and matted fur. Its snout was mangled, the prominent fangs it held were shattered and missing from its maw, most likely obliterated by the force of the brute''s final swing. The devastation left upon this creature mirrored the fate of its kin, all felled by the hands of that veined abomination.


    Zerin drew his sword, the dull darkened blade glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the trees. He steadied himself beside the lifeless body as he knelt. Placing his palm on the creature''s forearm, he raised his sword in his other hand above his head.


    A limb should be enough...


    Zerin noticed that severing its arm might not be as easy as he previously thought as its muscles even in death held firm. Just as he braced himself to hack into the creature''s arm, a soft whisper from The Spell wove itself into the scene like a gentle breeze.


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    [Transform Adolescent Howler into a Veinborne?]


    Veinborne...


    A swirl of confusion halted his sword. The term "Veinborne" echoed, he had speculated prior that it was related to his Aspect, and now he knew the answer. He wasn''t sure if he should rely on something that wasn''t practiced, as it would be only a risk, but the idea of facing that creature again in his injured state was even more of a risk.


    His previous plan of fighting this creature or even fleeing with his Aspect ability seemed improbable, as [Sanguine Surge] has only proven to be a finite ability that would wear out after a short burst.


    With both these uncertainties swirling in his mind, Zerin exhaled. He had to make a choice.


    "Yes." He answered the spell with a whisper as he lowered his sword.


    Zerin felt a significant portion of his blood being drawn from his body. His Divine memory---The Cursed Seed of the Goddess, materialized. Unease washed over him as the seed, bound to him, began to drift away from his side.


    The seed hovered ominously above the lifeless chest of the Howler. Suddenly, a glowing set of red runes materialized as well, the symbols converged into a shard of crimson. A hum filled the air, and the shard began to vibrate. Then, with a burst, the shard cracked and shattered, the sound was like the shattering of glass.


    As the shard exploded into a fine dust, its transformed into a swirling sand that appeared like fresh blood. The particles swirled around the seed as the glowing individual specks could be seen being drawn onto the seeds surface.


    the palm-sized seed, now flicked in a faint red glow, now with intricate runes of crimson displayed on its surface pulsing with life. It then spun, before sinking slowly, drilling itself into the wolf''s chest.


    Then, silence... It stretched to what felt like an eternity---until The Spell returned once more.


    [Insufficient amount of Blood Shards... Extracting blood to complete Veinborne.]


    Zerin''s eye widened as he felt the gorging pull, his blood was being drawn forcefully from his body. It felt as if his very life force was being drained from him as if the spell was trying to sap him dry. All he could hear was the faint beat of his own heart as his eyes rolled back.


    Zerin collapsed, his body falling forward, his chin striking the Howler''s body with a dull thud. The coldness of the creature''s fur met him as he his head felt like a dead weight upon it. The world around him was blurry but he was able to maintain consciousness.


    As Zerin head sank onto the beast, the disturbance that happened prior, drew in the attention of the brute searching nearby.


    [You have created a Veinborne: Vengeful Howler]


    He felt a silence envelop him, only to be shattered by the thunderous footsteps of the Blizzard Beast approaching. But then, he became aware of another sound: a thumping heartbeat, not his own, but that of the corpse beneath him. It pulsed steadily at first, then began to quicken.


    The Blizzard Beast locked its mindless gaze on Zerin and with a deafening roar, it announced itself. The abominations roar triggered a reaction from the being beneath Zerin. The Howler''s chest rose and fell with each labored intake.


    Zerin screamed internally; he couldn''t fight this heaviness. The consequences of his blood being drained to this extent was his body being left limp and unresponsive; he was nothing but a marionette with severed strings.


    The Veinborne stood up and Zerin was pushed off landing hard on his back. Snowflakes drifted down from the sky landing softly on his face. He watched as the Howler arose from the earth.


    The fur on its back was matted and bloodied, dark red streaks intermingling with the white speckles that was the falling snow. Outside of its monstrous silhouette and its deep husky breathing, it stood silent.


    "Help... I can''t move..."


    Utter helplessness washed over Zerin. All he could do was fixate on the Howler''s back, pleading for assistance.


    The Veinborne stood motionless before him, the cold wind whipping around it ruffling its fur.


    "What is your use? Damn it!" Zerin cried out, his frustration bubbling over as he struggled against the weight of his own body.


    Then, a sudden realization struck him. The Veinborne was not looking at him, not did it seem to acknowledge his presence at all. Its entire focus was locked onto the threat: the Blizzard Beast. Zerin could feel an energy emanating from the creature, a familiar sensation that he couldn''t mistake anywhere. It was Bloodlust, the same energy he felt when he consumed the vile blood of the abomination.


    On the surface, the Veinborne appeared tame, composed, indifferent, but underneath, Zerin could tell that it was screaming to move, aching to kill. It just needed the command.


    "Get me the hell out of here, then you can fight it!" Zerin shouted, urging it to heed his call.

 Chapter 44: Borne for Vengeance

    The Vengeful Howler grasped Zerin by the collar of his heavy jacket. The world around him morphed into a chaotic blur of snowflakes as the Howler sprinted, carrying him along with it. The Howler carried him as if he were a feather.


    In a jarring motion, the Howler hurled Zerin into a deep clump of snow. The snow surrounded him, and the frigid cold drew the breath out of his lungs immediately.


    The snow surrounded him.


    Is this how you repay me?


    Zerin fought against the snow, his limbs failing to move effectively as he struggled to escape the pile. Just how much blood had to be drawn for him to be rendered completely useless like this?


    He finally managed to surface, gasping for the crisp air. He was astonished by the behavior of the creature he had created. How could a creature he had created have the audacity to treat him so carelessly?


    It was a thought that left a bitter taste in his mouth. The Howler acted like a wild beast. Zerin had created it for protection, but here it was, treating him as nothing but an inconvenience. The closest reference to creatures like this were echoes, but echoes behaved completely differently from what he had read. They were said to be obedient creatures that had no will of their own in almost every instance, despite a few. But even the ones that had somewhat of a will always obeyed, while this creature did not.


    Zerin took a moment to reflect and realized his analysis wasn''t exactly truthful. The creature had, in its own chaotic way, obeyed his command. It acted on his command to be carried to safety, even if that meant being tossed aside like a discarded ragdoll. The Howler did exactly what it was told to do¡ªjust not in the manner he had envisioned.


    Leaving his analysis behind, he weakly sat up in the pile of snow and saw the remnant of a previous clash just a distance away from him.


    The Blizzard Beast stood strong as always, its massive body marred with deep scratches and gashes. Zerin knew from experience that cuts alone wouldn''t fell such a creature, as it was a brute of resilience. It was the kind of monster that was heard of in stories, the kind that could only be killed with the severing of its head.


    Contrasting the pale abomination, the Veinborne stood defiant in the face of an old foe. Its lean, powerful form hunched as it set its red eyes on its target. Not a single new wound graced its already bloodied, darkened pelt; it was as if the violence was not a cause of two parties, but it was birthed from this creature. Its claws dripped with blue blood, each icy cold droplet falling into the snow. The creature''s demeanor was one of revelry in the carnage; it was savoring every moment.


    "Get it over with!" Zerin shouted; his voice cracked pathetically under his current state of exhaustion. He was tired¡ªunbelievably so.


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    The Veinborne turned its red gaze towards him, its glowing eyes locking onto Zerin. In a moment of stillness, with a huff full of disdain, it released a plume of white smoke into the cold air. Its action was a message to Zerin that the creature was stating it would do as it pleased, and the act of defiance stung more than Zerin would care to admit.


    "Damn dog!" he cursed under his breath.


    If Zerin had possessed even a fraction of his strength now, he would have summoned the Veinborne back into his soul sea. Maybe then the damned beast would see who the boss was. But this again was nothing more than a dream as the fatigue still weighed on him. He couldn''t do anything but allow the Veinborne to get its fill.


    The Blizzard Beast erupted into a mindless fury once more. Its actions were the defining characteristics of the Monster class. It didn''t care what it was; it was easily distracted and only existed to spark violence and devastation. And now, the shout of Zerin''s voice seemed to make him its new target.


    Disregarding its current threat in front of it without reason, it roared and began its charge towards Zerin, its massive form seeming almost unstoppable.


    Zerin''s heart raced as he saw the brute barreling towards him once again. Its eyes were hollow as it charged nonsensically towards him. Zerin stabbed his sword into the earth and stood to his feet. Time seemed to slow, and with that, so did his heartbeat. Now, managing the strength to stand, he couldn''t move.


    Curse this body!


    Just as the abomination was seconds from flattening him, the Veinborne intervened. It lunged onto the brute''s back, its claws sinking deep into the creature''s thick, pale skin. The additive force of the Howler sent the Blizzard Beast careening off its desired course.


    Zerin turned his head as they stampeded by; he watched as the mindless abomination thrashed and bucked under the Howler. Its desperation to shake the Howler off was for naught, as the Veinborne clung tenaciously to its back, its claws like daggers.


    In a new desperate attempt that displaced a faint semblance of intelligence, the abomination resorted to brute force. It slammed itself against the nearby pines, the trees shuddering with each collision, splintering under the impact. The sound of shattering wood and falling branches accompanied its rampage. One tree after another fell, showering the forest floor along with the heavy flurries of snow.


    The Howler had reached its breaking point.


    With a primal growl, the Veinborne twisted around, its claws carving a devastating arc across the pale abomination''s throat. A violent spray of cobalt blood erupted. The Veinborne dug its powerful claws into the neck of the Blizzard Beast as it secured itself on its back. Zerin watched, breathless, as the jugular veins of the abomination attempted to resist, until one of the cable-like veins exploded, spraying the already tainted snowy forest further. The vein writhed like its own living entity as if it were separated from its lifeline¡ªthe corpse it inhabited¡ªbut yet the brute still stood.


    The Howler snapped its jaws forward with lethal precision. Zerin''s heart raced as he witnessed the Howler securing its jaws around the proportionally small-sized head of the abomination.


    The final attempts of the Blizzard Beast were pitiful. But what truly haunted Zerin was the horrifying sound of teeth scraping against the bone of the creature''s skull. And even with that horrifying sound, he couldn''t look away.


    The brute''s massive limbs flailed as it tried to get a hold of the wolf creature. But the Veinborne was vengeful, relentless, and channeled its strength to a singular focus: the kill.


    A sickening crunch of bone echoed. Blood erupted forth in a torrent of deep blue, cascading down like a waterfall. Chunks of fragmented skull shattered and fell away, mingling with what Zerin could only assume were the remnants of the abomination''s brain.


    With a powerful kick back off the dead Blizzard Beast, the Vengeful Howler was victorious. Its jaws dripped with the creature''s blood. Bits of pale flesh and shards of bone clung to its fur around its snout.


    The Veinborne turned away from the felled foe, shifting its gaze to Zerin. Shock and awe filled his features as he looked back at the creature. Was this creature really something he created?


    With a heavy exhalation, the Veinborne began to stride towards Zerin. He felt the urge to step back. Its red, piercing eyes stared at him intensely, leaving him with uncertainty even after it defended him. It held a sentience that he couldn''t possibly expect; it was honestly terrifying.


    Just as Zerin began to process the sight before him, the Howler faltered. With a sudden abruptness, it collapsed to its knees, its muscles immediately giving way. The Veinborne''s eyes, once a piercing crimson, now dimmed.

 Chapter 45: Winters Repose

    With each gust of wind, clumps of snow tumbled from the trees above, landing softly on the forest floor with a mellow thud. Above, past the trees, the sky was completely blotted out by the dense clouds that spread heavy flakes of snow down to the forest.


    As the snow continued to fall relentlessly, the Howler''s breath drifted into the air like an apparition. Its eyes dim and its presence faint. It had triumphed in battle, but now was held to its consequences.


    Zerin stumbled as he arose from the bank of snow, trembling as if he were learning to walk on stilts; each step was filled with caution.


    Never again...


    It was a more hopeful vow than anything. Zerin hated the fact that his innate ability was nothing more than a liability. In order to survive in the Dream Realm, Zerin knew he needed some way to get around it.


    After what felt like an eternity, stood right over the Veinborne. It was breathing, but its body was lifeless, as if it had been seized by something unseen. Zerin noticed its eyes, how they almost pulsed like a heartbeat.


    "What is this? Get up, we don''t have time for this."


    Zerin feeling a bit brave, kicked the creature and stumbled back losing his balance.


    He looked at the creature for a reaction. It was breathing, but its body was lifeless, as if it had been seized by something unseen. Zerin noticed its eyes, how they almost pulsed like a heartbeat.


    Zerin examined the creature¡¯s body from a safe distance, searching for any signs of injury. The result? Nothing. Not a single wound¡ªat least, nothing new, besides the injuries it sustained before it became a Veinborne.


    What could have possibly happened?


    Confusion gnawed at his mind as he scratched the back of his head.


    Suddenly without warning, the Howler''s body erupted into a violent convulsion. The creature''s muscles twitched and spasmed, jerking as if rejecting some foul poison.


    The Howler began to claw at its own chest. Chunks of its own hide were ripped away, falling to the ground like discarded garments.


    Zerin''s stomach churned at the sight¡ªa display of torment that rendered him unable to look away. Then, through this chaos, the Spell voice came forth.


    [Veinborne Undergoing Advancement...]


    It was utterly terrifying¡ªa transformation, a shift unfolding before Zerin''s very eyes.


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    Advancements¡ªor rather, transformations¡ªwere phenomena exclusive to Nightmare creatures, beings that spiral down the path of profanity. These shifts were usually slow, taking days, weeks, or even months to fully complete. But this here, what Zerin was witnessing, was something extraordinary¡ªan instant transformation.


    Such rare occurrences were true anomalies. Instant transformations were inherently visceral, due to nightmare creatures needing to violently shed their form to transition into the next rank.


    The Howler knelt in agonizing torment, its skin flayed and raw. The chilled air around it shimmered, steam rising from its body as if it were being burned from the inside out. Each breath was laced with pain as its muscles rippled.


    Then the real changes began to unfold. The Howler''s piercing red eyes shifted to an icy blue, like the heart of a glacier. Its claws of dull onyx withered away as its fingers contorted. Filling in their place, new claws sprouted; they were sharper, longer, and resembled bloodied ice.


    What followed was the final stage of the transformation: a new pelt erupted forth almost instantaneously. The fur was a pristine white, glistening like freshly fallen snow, flawless and without blemish.


    The creature was no longer in agony; it was as if the snow-white cloak had enveloped it in perfect tranquility.


    [...Veinborne Advancement Complete]


    ***


    With the Howler now up and running, they began the walk back to the shelter together


    As they emerged from the forest, the blizzard subsided significantly, nearing a standstill. Only the crunch of snow beneath their feet and their faint breathing could be heard as they ventured the mountainside.


    But, of course, trudging through the freshly fallen snow was a difficult task. Zerin paused, panting slightly with his hands on his knees as the icy wind blew past him, numbing his fingers and freezing his face.


    Zerin raised a chilled finger and pointed towards the shelter nestled further up the mountain and spoke a command to the Howler.


    "Go ahead... Lead the way." He cleared his throat.


    To his surprise, the Veinborne obeyed without any resistance, unlike before. It moved ahead of him, its massive body effortlessly traversing the snow and carving a path for Zerin.


    It was truly a blessing¡ªnot only having a worthy companion but just not being alone. Even though it wasn''t too long, Zerin felt the creature was much-needed company. And, with this creature by his side, he wouldn''t have to work as hard to survive.


    Upon arriving at the shelter, relief washed over him when he saw that the fire was still alive, albeit weakly flickering. If he had taken another hour to get there, it likely would have been snuffed out by the cold, forcing him to reignite it from scratch. He quickly grabbed a piece of wood and added it to the fire, watching as the flames slowly began to consume it.


    The Howler, on the other hand, with its broad shoulders and powerful frame, struggled to squeeze through the entrance of the stone shelter. Zerin turned back, hearing the sound of the structure creaking as if it were starting to crumble under the strain.


    Zerin stepped outside, closer to the Howler. This creature was easily over six feet; Zerin guessed it was probably nearing eight feet tall. But not only was its height massive, but it was heavily muscular as well.


    "No... Stay..."


    Zerin pointed to the ground, and the creature sat in the snow obediently. Strangely, its behavior reminded Zerin more of a domesticated dog than the beastly demeanor it had displayed earlier.


    Zerin pointed up at the cloudy sky. ¡°When the sun is up, wake me.¡±


    The Veinborne cocked its head, and Zerin sighed. He didn¡¯t want to rely on this creature too much, but he understood that the Howler¡¯s senses were far sharper than his own, and he needed it to watch over him while he rested. Even now, he could feel his body weakening as time went on; he was most likely still anemic.


    Zerin stepped back into the stone building. He was curious and decided to check his runes, specifically about the Howler itself.


    "The Spell typically contained descriptions of the things it provided to a spell carrier. With this in mind, the Veinborne shouldn''t be an exception.


    [Scourged Howler]


    Rank: Awakened, Tier II


    Class: Beast


    Description: "Likened to its Lord, this howler was scourged and forged in torment. It held one goal: revenge. Once satiated, it devoted itself to its Lord."


    "Sounds about right..."


    In a way, he could agree with the spell that he and the Howler were similar. But how far did that similarity extend? Zerin felt the same bloodlust from the creature that he had experienced himself back there. In search of more answers, he delved into its attributes.


    Attributes:


    [Imperfect] - "Far too imperfect."


    [Winter''s Repose] - "The tranquility of Winter is unparalleled, empowering those that are transformed by her embrace."


    [Faint Nobility] - "This creature is one of the descendants of the Beastkin, one of the many types of beings created by the Beast God."


    The attributes were interesting. The [Imperfect] attribute was something that held very little substance, but he appreciated the [Winter''s Repose] attribute more because it explained the shift within the Veinborne and the new form it now held.


    His mind lingered on the latter attribute longer than he had expected as he lay down on the mat in front of the fire. He questioned.


    "The Beast God¡­" He paused briefly, then shook his head and closed his eyes to sleep.

 Chapter 46: Flame Without Warmth

    Dex awoke in the depths of a ravine. An uncertain sanctuary, shielded from the icy whirlwinds that roared just above the rugged maw of the gorge. Besides the furious winds, there were sounds of trickling water and the growls and noises of creatures that were unseen above.


    A chill wrapped around him as he stood. Quickly, Dex wrapped himself in his memory---the Sycophant''s Enshroudment.


    This memory wrapped around him in individual strands, like a living entity¡ªswift and unyielding. The dark silken ribbons entwined with his body in a suffocating embrace. Around the most notable parts of the body, the fabric was denser, creating a cushion for safety. His face was concealed beneath the interwoven ribbons of silk, making him appear like a living silhouette.


    He enjoyed the sensation; it made him feel weightless, almost free.


    He summoned another memory with high hopes but was disappointed upon doing so. In his hand, Dex gripped a pale staff. It held a flame at its tip, a blue fire that danced like a will o'' wisp. The torch guard surrounding the flame was intricately crafted¡ªa fantastical ornament for something that offered no warmth.


    Memory Name: [Pale Stick]


    Rank: Dormant, Tier I


    Description: ---


    Enchantments:


    [Unquenchable] - "A useless flame that refuses to fade, consuming nothing, yet stubbornly defying every attempt to extinguish it."


    [Doubtful] - "The light doesn''t believe what it''s seeing¡ªand neither should you."


    You are shitting me!


    Dex thoughts shouted as he wrapped his fingers around the [Pale Stick].


    The flame though mesmerizing, was just an imitation of fire, its glow barely illuminating the path ahead, leaving the path in front of him enshrouded in darkness.


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    Dex lifted his gaze up jagged mouth of the ravine. Above, he was only graced with the greyed darkness of the clouds as a snowstorm raged on. It was a unique scene, as he saw flakes of snow descend down into chasm. His focus was to make sure that any creature would not catch sight of him or the light of his blue torch.


    Dex scoffed. "Look at my luck..."


    Driven by the primal instinct to survive, he decided to venture further into the ravine. He couldn''t feel at ease unless he was certain that this ravine was secure.


    ***


    "...so damn stupid."


    He cursed himself as he tossed a piece of wood aside; he should have paid attention to Jerika''s lessons. Fire-making was something she had explained fervently, yet here he was, shivering as a consequence of his inattention.


    Although the armor covered his body, it offered little protection from the elements. The cold was relentless, a frost that sought to consume him and gnaw at his bones.


    Descending further, the faint trickling of water grew louder.


    A smirk raised on his lips.


    A consistent stream flowed down glimmering like liquid silver in the blue light of his torch.


    He summoned his [Traveler''s Gourd], and he set it on the rough stone floor, to catch the icy stream. Perhaps he was doing better than he previously thought. Securing a source of fresh water was one of the most crucial parts of survival.


    Dex continued exploring, leaving his gourd to fill with the crisp, cold water.


    After a few steps, he came across an odd circular tunnel. The yawning opening was perfectly symmetrical, its smooth walls encased in a thick layer of glistening blue ice that shimmered under the cool glow of his torch. The tunnel curved smoothly, then abruptly descended to the left.


    Dex turned away from the peculiar tunnel. Shifting his attention back to the gourd, but something else caught his eye.


    A tablet, blended almost seamlessly with the ravine wall, left unnaturally undisturbed with even a speck of dust on it.


    He stepped closer, raising the torch higher. The blue flame illuminated the runes on the tablet and with the limited translation that the spell offered he read it:


    "Who will be in the inky depths of the sea? Who will be high up alongside the stars? Who will follow a command? Who will be left after a disaster?"


    Dex stepped back from the intricately etched runes and furrowed his brow. "Huh?"


    How else could he possibly react to such a nonsensical string of questions?


    Who dwelled in the deep depths of the sea? Maybe a fish. Who would be high alongside the stars? A bird? Who would follow a command? A dog?


    His thoughts stopped abruptly when his stomach growled.


    Seriously? A man''s best friend? That is what managed to spark your hunger?


    He shook his head and settled down against the rocky wall. The gourd sat in front of him, steadily catching the consistent stream---the gourd itself was capable of holding much more water than one would think.


    Dex closed his eyes, letting the sound of the water lull his mind into a calm state. But soon, a sharp and insistent sensation pulled him back to reality.


    The return of his hunger, a grumble in his belly.


    Damn it...


    Dex took another deep breath, ignoring the growl the best he could. Time was not on his side, but he could only hope that fortune would smile upon him soon.

 Chapter 47: Beneath the Ice

    With the assistance of his Aspect Ability, Dex climbed the jagged steep walls of the ravine. Arising from the depths, he found himself standing on the edge of a rugged valley.


    The landscape was scarred, and serpentine pathways forged into the deep snow by the howling winds. Deep gorges and fissures were scattered about the valley. Their mouths gaped open, as if ruptured from within. A stream meandered through the rugged terrain, continuing its journey along a path toward a dense line of trees. And a small offshoot of the stream split off and trickled down into the ravine from which he had arisen.


    Dex looked around, his sharp gaze sweeping across the rugged valley with purpose. It was not fear; it was hunger. It had only been just over a day or so since he arrived, in The Dream Realm but the thought of sizzling fish over a crackling fire drove him mad. He didn''t quite know how he would manage it, but he was determined to find a way to satiate his hunger.


    Beginning the descent down the valley, he followed the stream''s path. He held a jagged icicle in hand. Raising it to his mouth, he took a bite of the ice. The hard crunch of the icicle momentarily suppressed the hunger raking at his insides


    Following his current path, he occasionally encountered stretches where the stream was frozen solid. The water beneath flowed with a gentle murmur, carving narrow tunnels through the thick ice before emerging once again, rushing downstream. As he pressed on, he could see the line of trees drawing nearer, and faintly, through the trees, an expansive lake came into view.


    "I heard you bastards last night... Where the hell are you hiding now?" Dex murmured.


    Last night, he had heard them just outside the ravine. And now? They were nowhere to be seen or heard¡ªno tracks, not even a single one, remained in the snow.


    Lifting his head, he raised his hand defensively, stumbling back. "What the fuck?"


    As the sun reached its pinnacle, something strange began to occur. His heart sank as he saw it rapidly descend, disappearing behind the distant mountains. The sun fleeing to the horizon, it took its light with it.


    The Dream Realm was a place of unpredictability, but he had been trained by both a Sage and a Master. Their training was far more grueling and punishing than anything he had experienced so far. In this harsh realm, failing to endure mentally was a mark of weakness.


    ***


    After walking through the trees, Dex arrived at the lake. A vast frozen plain of ice stretched before him, its surface blanketed by a faint sheet of snow; each flake in the moonlight''s rays appeared like powdered diamonds. Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, Dex''s gaze left the sparkling snow shifted to dancing lights across the other side of the lake.


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    The delicate flickers reminded him of fireflies, and though he had never been particularly fond of consuming bugs, right now he could make an exception. Stepping onto the frozen over lake, his foot slipped slightly. In that instant, he activated his Aspect Ability¡ª[Friction Control]¡ªand the once slippery ice under his foot became as reliable as the ground.


    But this power had a drawback: a crippling fatigue would begin to seep in after prolonged use. He learned to manage this issue through his experience and a specific enchantment of his armor. By using this ability in short burst, he minimized the strain on his body. Additionally, the enchantment of his memory---[Efficient Silk]---was expected to alleviate the burden further, but he had yet to fully test its limits.


    Suddenly a crisp, sharp noise followed by a grating, grinding noise caught his attention. Dex turned reflectively, taking a defensive stance, quickly summoning the [Pale Stick]. Illuminated by the blue light, was two large metallic blades that began carving through the thick layer of ice. In mere moments, the carved ice was violently pushed aside with such force he didn''t expect.


    From the hole in the ice, three amphibious creatures emerged onto the frozen lake. They carried a scent of their arrival, that was faintly fishy. To Dex, they were nothing more than angler fish that grew legs. Their bulbous eyes were large and inky black, and their massive, toothy jaws were far too large for their humanoid heads. However, among them, one creature stood out as the most fearsome.


    This notable creature drew his attention: it had a deep blue color, and its arms were elongated, ending in sharp, scythe-like appendages. These weapons, made of natural steel, gave the creature lethal capabilities, promising to gut any being caught within its reach. Another feature Dex noticed was its small fins, which the others did not possess.


    Within the guise of his memory, one would have thought that he held an inch of fear, but that was far from the truth. Dex allowed himself to smirk; It seemed that fate had delivered dinner right to his feet. He was not merely prey; he was the hunter.


    Dex waved his torch at them; unexpectedly, they reeled in pain. The creatures squinted their bulbous eyes as they attempted to cover their inky black orbs, stumbling back and gurgling in anger.


    His overconfidence spilled out. "So... not fans of the spotlight?"


    In a frenzy driven by the light, the blue underdweller swung its scythe-like arm downward. Dex swiftly avoided the deadly strike, sidestepping.


    I''ll take that as a yes!


    With a quick shift of his feet, Dex immediately followed up with a powerful kick, slamming into the creature''s arm mid-swing. The force redirected the blade''s vertical arc, sending it into its ally¡ªa green underdweller that was also blinded by the pale light.


    The razor-sharp limb sliced through the creature''s abdomen as though it were paper. Its inky bulbous eyes widened in shock before it stumbled backward, releasing a choking gurgle. Then, with the final remnants of its life, it shuddered and immediately collapsed into its own blood.


    The blue underdweller stood momentarily bewildered, its scythe-like arms pausing as it glanced from its fallen ally to Dex, anger displayed on its horrid face. But Dex didn¡¯t let a single moment slip away. With a swift motion, he drove his fist into the creature''s jaw¡ªa powerful strike fueled by the rotation of his body and enhanced by his Aspect Ability. The impact was so explosive that it unleashed a torrent of vicious saliva from the creature''s mouth.


    The force of the blow caused the creature to stumble back before it fell backward with a thud, completely unconscious.


    With what was left of his adrenaline, Dex turned to confront the white underdweller, raising his torch high to illuminate more of the area. The creature looked at him, and immediately fled, diving back into the circular hole from which it had come.


    "No point in chasing a coward," Dex commented lightly before turning to the creature that had been gutted by its ally.


    Unfortunately for Dex, the creature had succumbed to its ally''s attack, robbing him from a potential reward from the spell. But at least he could obtain the creature''s soul cores from its body; he just needed a way to harvest them.


    Making his way to the unconscious underdweller, he thought of a way extract the soul cores hidden within these creatures'' hides, though he knew he would have to get his hands dirty.


    Standing over the body of the blue creature, he raised his torch in the air. "Trust me, it''s nothing personal. Just business."

 Chapter 48: A Guard and a Guide

    Dex raised the torch, tilting its guard to the ground, then drove it deep into the unconscious lurker''s chest. The creature jolted awake with a violent spasm, releasing pained screeches. It tried to swipe at Dex, but he pinned its lethal appendage under his foot.


    Dex shouted, "Just die! Die! damn it!" Pressing his full weight down, he drove the torch deeper until the creature''s life finally sputtered out.


    Dex held his breath, leaning closer to ensure the depth-dwelling creature was dead. He exhaled heavily after seeing it remain still.


    The creature''s face was frozen in agony. Dex looked down at it, his expression hardening. After a deep breath, he reached for its limb; he needed a weapon.


    Using its own scythe-like arm, Dex hacked the creature''s other arm at the joint where the scythe-appendage meets the rest of its arm.


    Dex tightened his grip around the base of the appendage, feeling the tension at the joint as a trickle of blood joined the pool already spreading beneath him. The grip was uncomfortable¡ªtoo short, and the blade was larger than he preferred. He had always favored the agility of short swords and daggers, but in a survival situation, one couldn''t be too picky.


    "Well..." he exhaled heavily. "Let''s get in there."


    With a brave face, he sliced into the creature''s abdomen. The stench hit him immediately, a mix of rot and rancid fish. From what Dex remembered about harvesting cores, he needed to cut the creature open and¡ª


    Peeling back the flesh, he discovered numerous spherical orbs nestled among the lurker''s innards. One by one, he pulled out the cores, each swirling with faint light mingling within the cloudy darkness, until seven palm-sized cores rested on the ice.


    In nightmare creatures, the number of cores signified their level of maturity within their rank. For example, a Dormant lurker with seven cores is at the apex of its rank, making it more advanced than another Dormant lurker with just a single core.


    Slowly, he absorbed the cores. It felt as if his body warmed slightly with each one. He barely noticed any significant difference. Consuming cores from creatures was supposed to make him stronger, so it was disappointing when the expected surge of power didn''t arrive.


    He lifted his head. To his surprise, the lights he''d seen earlier were gone, but a smile lingered on his face. At least he wouldn''t have to eat bugs---he could have real meat instead.


    With that, he grabbed the larger blue lurker by the ankle and began dragging its body toward the cluster of trees, where he would try, once again, to start a fire.


    Heavy bastard...


    Dex kept his grip firm as he moved. The weight of the lurker''s body dragged behind him, its remaining scythe-like arm scraping against the ice.


    "Run!"


    The word pierced through the air. it was faint, yet it wormed its way into his skull demanding his attention.


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    Dex froze. His pulse skipped. He wasn''t alone.


    "Wha---"


    Before even move or speak to the voice he heard, the ice beneath him erupted.


    Boom!


    The ice burst into slivers, scattering into the air. Dex was thrown off his feet. Landing he hit his head on the ice, his head smacking with a deafening crack on the ice.


    Behind his eyelids was a realm of darkness and exploding stars as pain shot through his skull. He struggled immensely to stand. Dex groaned as he stumbled to his feet. Raising a hand to his head, he winced. pulling his fingers back they were painted in his warm blood.


    Dex eyes widened as a creature emerged from the icy lake. It was unmistakable, it was one of the Lurker species. Dex could just tell from its presence alone that it was a higher rank them himself, easily Awakened, possibly Fallen.


    This lurker had a far more robust build than the others he had encountered. Its teeth and fins were much more pronounced and menacing. However, its most notable feature was a glowing green lure that dangled from its head, bathing its face and upper body in a green light. Unlike the other lurkers, this one wore ornaments on its body: around its neck hung a black gem that looked like a piece of the night sky itself. Beneath it lay another necklace, this one forged from material resembling crystal.


    Dex''s head throbbed, but he raised the scythe-like appendage, readying himself to fight.


    "You can''t fight it!" the female voice shouted.


    Dex groaned, keeping his blade raised as he turned his head. "Who the fuck are you?"


    The mysterious girl was bundled in layers upon layers of clothing. Even her face was covered by a cloth mask.


    "That doesn''t matter! You can''t win against a creature of that rank!"


    Dex glanced back at the creature. Studying its size---along with his current condition, he came to the conclusion that this stranger was probably right.


    "Then what''s your plan?" Dex asked.


    "Lower your weapon and back away. Trust me," she said.


    Trust? Who the hell was she to demand his trust? His head throbbed again; a sharp pulse of pain that made him surrender his thoughts.


    "Alright..." Dex muttered, reluctantly lowering his blade, his eyes never leaving the creature.


    A strange thing occurred: the devil stood still. Instead of attacking, it slipped back into the water, its lure''s glow fading into the depths.


    Huh... she was right.


    Dex raised his hand to his head as it throbbed painfully. A soft whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to push through the pain.


    "Are you okay?" A voice, light with concern came from the mysterious girl as she inched closer


    "My head feels like it is going to explode out of my goddamn head!" Dex replied, each word compounded with frustration and discomfort.


    "Let me see..." she asked.


    With a heavy sigh, Dex began to unravel the [Sycophant''s Enshroudment]. The tension he felt almost complete subsided as the tight dark wrappings slackened, and with it, a sudden warm river of blood began to run down the side of his head.


    She leaned in closer. "Hmm..."


    As she reached out to touch the side of his head, he flinched. Quickly, the girl drew her hand back.


    What the hell do you think you are doing? Dex shouted internally.


    "Sorry..." she spoke lightly, just above a whisper as she turned away from him.


    Then, suddenly a wardrobe materialized before her. She approached it, pausing for a moment.


    "I''ll be right back, shortly," she said.


    ***


    Time stretched, several moments felt like an eternity before she finally came out of the wardrobe. In her hand she clutched a lantern and in the other a medkit.


    "Hold this..." she said, thrusting the lantern toward him.


    Dex held the lantern, turning his head to look at the wardrobe. "What is that?"


    "Don''t move," She replied firmly. Dex complied, keeping his head still while she tended to the wound on his head. "It''s a storage memory."


    "Can you sleep in it?" he asked, half-jokingly, but in reality, he was curious.


    "You could... But it''s not exactly a durable memory," She tilted his head to the side a bit more. "It''s only Dormant. It can''t hold things higher than its rank for too long, or it will break. Who knows what will happen if you were asleep while that happens..."


    Dex chuckled nervously, "Oh shit, never mind then."


    An awkward silence settled between them as she continued working to clean his wound.


    "I didn''t catch your name. I''m Dex," he said, breaking the stillness.


    Ka--Esmeray... You can call me Esmeray," she replied, as she finished dressing his wound, securing a bandage with ease. Just then, a low growl from his stomach followed shortly after.


    "I am hungry too," she murmured subconsciously, her eyes darting away as if embarrassed.


    Dex turned around sharply, "That damned devil took my food with it?"


    "I have food in my wardrobe, " she turned back to him. "But it''s dehydrated... So, we need to find a place to camp."


    "We?" Dex echoed, a pink flush creeping to his cheeks.


    "I''m not a fighter, but you are." She pointed at him, her gaze unfaltering. "I have the food and the tools, and you have the fighting capability."


    Dex knew hardly anything about this mysterious girl---only her name, Esmeray, and allure that her resources had, food, medical supplies, and tools that proved that she was well prepared for the Dream Realm. Her words there, spoke of an agreement, she was willing to share her resources, but only if he assumed the role of her protector---her guard, her war dog.


    He let out a sigh; he couldn¡¯t deny the appeal of guaranteed meals. "Alright..." he conceded.

 Chapter 49: Tracks in the Snow

    Zerin never anticipated leaving the shelter this soon. But after he returned to the corpse of the pale abomination for its cores, he was struck with fear. The corpse was gone, leaving only a deep, winding trail etched into the snow, marked by its azure blood that meandered away from him.


    The previous victory was instantly ripped from him. A sense of dread clawed at his gut. In that moment, he knew he had to leave.


    Now, as he navigated through the winter thickets of the forest---away from the deep azure trail, away from the stone structure that had been his shelter.


    A minty chill seeped through his heavy jacket. He glanced back, frustration spiking within him as the Howler lagged behind.


    "Let''s go!" Zerin shouted.


    They had only just started walking, and this creature seemed to have a vendetta against the idea of marching through the forest for some particular reason. It was unexpected, but then again, he was comparing the recorded behavior of echoes to the unknown nature of Veinborne.


    Another issue for Zerin to grapple with: he hadn''t eaten or drank anything since he arrived in this frozen landscape, aside from the azure blood of pale abomination, of course.


    He pulled out his map, the soft crunch of snow underfoot mixing with the rustle of the snow branches overhead. He couldn''t afford to slow down, not when that brute was still alive. Besides, Zerin couldn''t stay in here forever. He needed to find Dex and head to the gate, and with this map, he could accomplish that goal.


    ***


    His breath caught in his throat as he came to a hurried stop. He avoided disturbing a delicate track pressed lightly into the thick blanket of snow--a single trail of hooves, imprinted on the surface, as if the creature danced atop the snowy surface rather than trudged.


    Seconds later, the Veinborne caught up to him, its hunched form joining his side. The creature''s piercing blue eyes glowed like vibrant twin flames, narrowing as this focused on the prints in the snow.


    "You''re up..." Zerin commanded, glancing at the Howler.


    With a soft rustle of its white fur, the Veinborne stepped forward, its powerful legs sinking into the snow as it began to follow the trail of hooves. Zerin fell in step behind.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    As they pressed onward, the trees in the forest began to constrict, closing in around the Howler, their trunks nearly shoulder to shoulder with the creature. Zerin''s hand rested atop of his sheathed sword as he followed.


    Suddenly, the Howlers, pointy ears shifted along with its head, and it knelt, crouching low in the deep snow. Its gaze fixed, locked onto a target. Zerin crept forward cautiously, peeking over the creature''s hunched back.


    Following the Howler''s line of sight, Zerin''s eyes widened. Before him stood a nightmare creature unlike any he had ever seen. It was a deer, but one that seemed to embody the very essence of the winter forest itself. It wasn''t monstrous, it was elegant, its antlers were immense, rising majestically above its head, an icy blue that mirrored the glowing eyes of the Howler.


    The deer''s pelt was a masterpiece of nature, intricately swirled and shimmering with pulsing glow. Its movement was effortless as it walked atop the snow, seemingly weightless, not sinking into the powdery snow despite its mass. Spellbound, Zerin watched as it bent down to sip from the slow stream of water running between the rocks, the tinkling sound of miniature icicles chimed between the stones, being carried by the water.


    He exhaled shakily, trying to calm the sudden emotions threatening to overwhelm him.


    "Go," he commanded softly, his voice steadying.


    In an instant, the beautiful scene shifted to chaos. The Howler sprang into action, sprinting bipedally, its muscles rippling beneath its fur. The deer, sensing the sudden movement stiffened, its eyes widening before it ran.


    The deer was swift. As it began to gain considerable distance, Zerin''s heart raced at the thought that his next meal might escape.


    Yet, despite its advantage in speed, the deer was unprepared for the Howler''s next move. With a powerful leap, the creature launched itself across the icy stream. It landed with a heavy thud on a fallen log slick with frost, its blood-red claws sinking into the rough bark for purchase. Channeling its momentum, the Howler sprang from the log with precision.


    The Veinborne shot at the deer like a bullet. Landing squarely on the deer''s back, its crimson claws sank into the soft flesh and the deer yelped as they tumbled into the snow.


    Zerin stood frozen for a moment, astonished by the display of power and cunning. But as the Howler began to tear into the deer, Zerin snapped back to reality. If he wanted even a piece of that deer he better get moving quickly.


    He leapt carelessly over the icy stream, but his foot faltered, and he landed clumsily on the other side. The icy water splashed against his boot sending a shock of cold up his leg.


    Zerin drew his sword as he approached the gruesome scene. The Veinborne was completely engrossed in its feast, devouring the warm, steaming innards of the deer.


    His face twisted at the sight, and his voice stumbled out. "Good work..."


    The Howler didn''t respond; it just continued eating. Zerin sighed and opted for a leg of the deer, leaving the rest to the Veinborne--it did all the heavy lifting after all.


    After separating the leg, he took a moment to breathe. The Howler seemed to be in bliss as it devoured its meal as if it hasn''t eaten in days. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, strangely the smell was pleasant.


    Hunger spawned, forcing Zerin to take action. He pulled out the kindling and firewood he''d carefully stowed outside his pack. Soon, the fire crackled to life, flames leaping eagerly as they clawed for the deer leg he held over them.


    After a several minutes, the meat sizzled and crackled over the hungry flames. Zerin twisted the leg, ensuring it cocked evenly. The heat radiated against his face, warm and intense, causing him to squint.


    He leaned back, resting his head against the rough bark of a nearby tree, one foot comfortably propped on a log as he watched the flames hungrily lap at the meat. His gaze drifted momentarily toward the Veinborne, still picking the deer carcass clean even an hour later.


    Zerin had never really considered that the Howler needed sustenance. Yet watching it now, something came to him. The Howler''s clumsy manner led him to see it as childlike, but this perception was flawed. The truth was, the Howler simply wasn''t in its element--as it was a wild creature at its core, it wasn''t used to being tamed.


    As the deer leg continued to sizzle and pop, Zerin carefully pulled it off the fire. After letting it cool briefly, he took a bite. A rich, smoky flavor greeted him. But he knew that, in a survival situation, almost anything could taste good. There was no room for complaints; as long as he was fed, that was what mattered.

 Chapter 50: God of Beasts, Daemon of Preservation

    Once the scraps of flesh and blood were licked off the deer''s bones, they were scattered amidst the crimson-streaked snow. The air was thick, holding the scent of iron, mixing with the crisp scent of the pine and the faint whisper of the wind through the trees. Satisfied with their feast, Zerin and his companion continued forth, and with content settled in their bellies, they dove headfirst into the forest with the goal of escaping its confines.


    Zerin cast a glance over his shoulder at the Veinborne, its sleek, powerful form moving effortlessly through the snow, under the shadows of the towering trees.


    "Just tree after tree..." Zerin said, with a hint of exhaustion.


    The Howler, with its sharp, inquisitive gaze, tilted its head. Its pointy ears always remained alert, defying gravity as if they were antennas deeply tuned to whatever it heard. It was strange to Zerin how he could have one-sided conversations with this creature and actually be heard; he found himself opening up rather quickly and extensively as they ventured. The Veinborne, true to its nature, marched behind him. This continued for about an hour or two of their journey, during which nothing new crossed their paths.


    Nothing new until something stood out from the pines. A tree unlike the others held residence, its branches broad and stretching outward like welcoming arms, not graced with pine needles but with minty white leaves, their capillaries streaked with a cool blue.


    This tree stirred memories within him, reminiscent of the towering tree from his First Nightmare¡ªthe tree that bore those bloodfruits. Yet, this tree was smaller, substantially so, but it was far more graceful, hidden in the embrace of the surrounding pines yet still segregated, as if it held secrets unlike the trees around it. It seemed that this tree had been intentionally placed or perhaps rejected by its surroundings. Drawn inexplicably to its peculiar charm, it captivated his attention, beckoning him closer.


    As he crossed an unknown invisible threshold, a wave of calm washed over him. It was a profound peace.


    Perhaps it was the pale bark of the tree or the way the wintry leaves rustled. Or maybe it was simply the hearty meal he had consumed earlier. But he desperately desired to rest under its beautiful leaves or to even nestle atop its thick branches. After all, a well-fed body deserves a long rest, right?


    He yawned widely. Instinctively, without much thought, he drew the Veinborne back into the dark recesses of his soul sea, assuming it would find comfort underneath the crimson moon within. The Howler erupted into a cascade of red runes, their meanings shifting beyond his perception as they danced and faded into the air.


    Turning his gaze back to the magnificent tree, he felt connected to it as he approached. Scaling its sturdy trunk, Zerin''s hands grasped the gnarled bark. He climbed higher, seeking one of the upper branches covered by the canopy. Laying on his back against the bark, he felt as if he were molding into the white wood. He took a moment for a half-hearted scan around the peaceful vicinity for danger¡ªa lazy assessment.


    Content that the coast was clear, he rested his hand upon the hilt of his darkened sword. With a deep exhale, he finally closed his eyes.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Beneath his eyelids was a perfect sleep. Yet, the howling wind came. Startled, Zerin''s eyes flew open, and he was disoriented by the world around him.


    He was enveloped in a thick blanket of white fog; the icy breath of this blizzard and its winds had to be fatal, but surprisingly, he couldn''t feel any of it at all. All of his senses were hampered, but he spotted a silhouette looming ahead. Its head was disproportionately large, tapering into a crooked point at the top, while the rest of its figure was slimmer in contrast.


    Despite this, that same overwhelming peace began to wash over him. An experience like this was something he had never known, but what he would liken it to be the embrace of a mother, one he had missed for countless years without contact. It was so potent it banished any flicker of fear.


    He took a step closer; the crunch of snow beneath his feet was heard, albeit muffled due to his dull senses. As he moved forward, the fog thinned, and the answers he had long sought began to be revealed.


    Before him stood a woman, her essence unmistakable even from this distance. She faced away, as though hesitating to reveal herself to him. Placed atop her head was an exaggerated hat reminiscent of those worn by witches from olden tales; its wide brim only made her appear more delicate.


    Her garments appeared as if they were forged from winter itself¡ªa cascade of icy white, the fabric shimmering with faint sparkles of blue, reflecting the sparse light that managed to penetrate the swirling fog around her.


    She was the mother of winter; that much he knew well. This feeling came to him instinctively, without question; he could identify her as such.


    Zerin''s gaze shifted to her hands, which hung at her sides. Her fingers were delicately slender, as if untouched by conflict or the harshness of this realm. Her skin tone was a washed-out blue that complemented the environment around her, but thoughts in his head made him think it was the other way around¡ªthe world molded around her.


    A vile hand grasped her delicate hand; the crimson of its flesh was striking in this muted scene. The hand was marred, as if it had suffered a great battle or clawed its way out of the pits of hell, and its nails were like that of men, but obscenely sharp like obsidian shards.


    Zerin was slowly robbed of that feeling of peace as his gaze trailed upward, but the fog concealed the monster''s features. Yet, he knew instinctively it was malevolent. The twisted horns emerged from the haze, curving like sinister crescents against the pale fog.


    What truly pierced through him¡ªthe thing that shattered the peace he had desired¡ªwere the monster''s eyes¡ªfierce and unyielding, like burning coals compacted into scorching red hues. Those eyes bored into him with an intensity that seemed to want to kill. His pulse quickened, and his breath came in rapid bursts as the world around him warped and spun.


    But even in this spinning whirlwind, the beast stepped forward; he saw its crescent horns pierce the spiral, shattering it. Its face was revealed as it snatched his collar and pulled him closer, peering into its eyes. His fear peaked, and the hellspawn enjoyed it for a moment before it spoke, as if drinking in his terror.


    "Heart..." Its mouth moved dramatically, as if forcing the words out rather than simply speaking. "Trusted once, broken now..." Zerin''s eyes widened further as he could almost read what it was going to say next. "Your end is here."


    Zerin reached for his sword, immediately twirling the blade with a flourish and severing the hand. His chest felt heavy with deep breaths as he readied himself to fight his demons. He could have sworn his first nightmare was over, but that was the furthest from the truth.


    "Liar! Thief! Traitor!" the god accused, its severed hand connecting back with its body through its own blood being drawn to it.


    Zerin gripped his sword tighter as he tried to stay calm. His fear lay deep within his chest, but it kept him intensely focused.


    "That foolish girl!" the fallen god spat, its words attempting to scorn and inflict harm. "To place her faith in you, only for you to plunge a knife in her side! And surrender our power to a mongrel like you?" The creature''s voice seethed, every syllable lashing forth. "You¡ªa defilement! An insult to our power. An abomination!"


    This being in front of him had to be that entity¡ªthe former lord of blood, the Beast god, a portion of its dominion robbed from it.


    Zerin felt his composure slip. "It wasn''t my fault," he said, grasping his sword tighter as he accused, "It was yours! Some gods you are!"


    Its fury intensified. But just as it was about to strike him, a sigil blossomed into existence, exploding before them in a blinding flash. Zerin opened his eyes to find the Mother of Winter standing between them, her hand raised, defying the will of the Beast god. A massive sigil sprawled from her fingertips, forging an arcane wall of azure flowers to hold the god back.


    "You''ve rested well. Time to wake up, Zerin¡­" The woman turned her head slightly, casting him a sharp glance. "And you, awaken as well¡­"


    Immediately, Zerin sank into the snow, and he awoke.

 Chapter 51: Led by the Skies

    Zerin clawed at the icy power while he sank deeper, the snow continued slipping through his fingers. Pulled deeper into the flurries of snow, each heap engulfed him as he gasped for air. And, just as the last breath of air was drawn from his lungs, he jolted awake with a series of heaving breaths.


    His eyes widened as his chest heaved. Suddenly blinded by the brightness of the sun, he squinted. Then the sun was obscured by a massive shadow that swallowed it. For a moment, fear tightened in his chest, yet that dread began to unravel once he gazed into two glowing blue sockets. In that instant, he knew he was staring right into the eyes of the Howler.


    He stared at the Howler, confused. He turned his head, looking around to see he was being carried in the creature''s arms.


    "Put me down." He exhaled with a shudder.


    The creature obeyed, allowing him to stand on his own two feet. How disorienting it felt¡ªjust a moment ago, he had been locked in combat for his life, against a god. No, that couldn''t be real; gods were far more powerful, beyond human comprehension. Yet, the notion of it being a dream within the dream realm struck him as absurd as well. It was better just to say he didn''t understand anything.


    Then a thought flickered in his mind.


    It was that bewitching tree!


    He could still feel the vestiges of that unnatural pull he had felt toward it. But he also remembered that he had drawn the Veinborne into his soul sea as well, so why was it carrying him?


    Turning toward the creature, his boots shifted in the snow. Oblivious to Zerin''s introspection, the creature stood calmly. Its snout was tilted up as its blood-ice claws raked at its pristine white fur on its neck.


    "Hey," The Veinborne paused in response to Zerin''s words. "I didn''t order you to carry me!"


    Tilting its head in a gesture of confusion, the creature reminded Zerin that this creature couldn''t communicate nor understand the true meaning of words. It was strange. While the Howler seemed to understand every command given to it, anything beyond that¡ªquestions or statements¡ªleft this being utterly dumbfounded.


    The Howler acted on its own, and he wasn''t certain if he should even trust this creature. But then, he remembered: this creature not born of his own power, but of the power of the Beast god. Trusting it, even if it led him to safety, was out of the question. He could only rely on himself and his own choices.


    "From now on do not act unless I tell you." He pointed at the creature, but once again, it simply tilted its head in response.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Who was he kidding... He was speaking to a damn mutt.


    He sighed, his hand slumping to his side. The sun was setting, though he probably only had a few minutes or so before nightfall. He took a knee and searched through his pack. To his relief, his treacherous pack stood true: during the day, his supplies returned to him. He took a few sticks of dry wood and some tinder, securing them just outside of the pack before it was nightfall.


    Returning to his feet, he slung his pack over his shoulder. They were on their journey once again.


    ***


    Standing on the edge of a cliff, Zerin pulled out his map, unfolding the white parchment. Currently, he stood overlooking a frozen lake that seemed to once be level with the cliff he was on, but a shift in the region must have caused the cliff to rise from the land beneath it. On the map, he was placed in the upper right corner, right near the gateway that was nestled under the fractured peaks. He could easily just go to the gate and leave, perhaps Dex had already escaped, knowing his luck, but he couldn''t take that chance...


    He folded the parchment back up and cast his gaze skyward. He had noticed it earlier, as he trudged through the forest¡ªthe path the Veinborne was led by, the path that led them out of the forest. In the sky, there was a purple streak, proceeding from him, out past the lake, into an unmarked territory on the map.


    He tilted his head over the cliff, spotting a rocky slope angled steeply and covered in a thick blanket of snow. He leapt down the short distance, landing safely in the knee-deep snow that on the slope that was just ten feet below.


    "It''s safe." He spoke up to the Veinborne that peered down at him.


    The Howler obeyed, jumping down and landing harshly on the slanted slope with its weight. Immediately, the snow began to rush down, following the slope''s path. The miniature avalanche took Zerin with it, but the Howler reached forward and grasped him by the collar of his jacket with its blood-ice claws, holding him as the snow rushed down the path.


    After the snow finished its descent, he was placed gently back down on the rocky slope.


    "Thanks..." Zerin fixed his coat.


    Zerin slowly shifted his gaze away from the creature, turning back to the slope.


    If what he had said earlier was true, then why would the Howler save him? Perhaps he had been wrong¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be the first time. But even then, he couldn¡¯t make a judgment without knowing the full picture. This applied to all things.


    Leaving the ramblings of his mind aside, they descended down the rocky slope, approaching a frozen plane of ice. The lake''s surface reflected the cool rays of the moon. Zerin stepped forth, guided by the starry sign in the sky.


    Zerin stepped onto the ice, almost slipping, but he stabilized himself. He stood still, extending his arms out to maintain his balance. There was no way in hell he was going to cross this slick frozen lake''s surface, but seeing the Howler step onto the ice with efficiency gave him an idea. He ordered the Veinborne over, and as it came to his aid, he climbed up onto its shoulders. Then it began to move. Although he looked ridiculous, it was time-efficient. Several minutes later, with long strides from the Howler, they managed to cross the lake.


    He hopped off the creature''s shoulders, sinking into the snow. Hearing a brittle crunch beneath his heel, he lifted his foot and saw a small animal skull, its brittle jaws crushed under foot. But this brief interruption was only for a moment as he quickly followed the starry streak, and from the distance, he could see exactly where it landed.


    He drew nearer to the starry streak''s end. Arriving at where its path landed, as he got closer, he could see the purplish sands leaking down from the sky, cascading into a massive circular chasm below. It was as if it had been pristinely drilled by a mechanical tool, but common knowledge of the Dream world reminded him that it was impossible, as electric machinery couldn''t function in the Dream world.


    Down this perfectly circular chasm was a staircase that hugged its walls tightly, winding all the way down. But what drew his attention even more was a rather fascinating huge statue. Zerin was curious¡ªwho was building all these structures in the Dream world, especially structures of this size?


    The Veinborne joined his side and looked down as well. Audibly, a faint rumble proceeded from its chest as it looked down at the statue below, as if it was cautious of it.


    "You can stay up here... But me, I am going down."


    Zerin said as he began walking down the stairs, carefully hugging the side of the wall as there was no railing. And although the stairs weren''t icy, he wasn''t going to test his luck.


    The Veinborne stayed behind and sneered, baring its fangs, before following Zerin down the stairs.

 Chapter 52: The Pit of Perdition

    The cylindrical pit plunged deep into the earth, perfectly carved. It was definite, that this was by a mysterious hand, rather than nature. A chilling wind breezed down into the pit carrying the scent of the ancient stone with it.


    At the very bottom, a statue stood---a distorted being frozen in time. Stationed upon and old, worn podium it stood. The creature resembled a gargoyle but lacked the attitude of one, and the wings.


    The statue''s shape was warped and unnatural. Long arms dangled past its knees, ending in splayed fingers that scrapped the ground with its nails. Its eyes were bulging and harbored a maddened stare. The mouth was a mere slit, thin and sharp.


    Behind him, the Howler whimpered incessantly, a sound that echoed in the pit. Its growls began as soft and pathetic---like a pup, and then quickly grew insistent. Zerin halted, turning back with frustration etched on his features.


    "Shut it will you?" Zerin commanded.


    The Howler''s growls died, and for a moment, silence was held. But as they pressed further down the stairs, the creature''s anxious sounds returned.


    Zerin exhaled heavily, his breath clouding his vision in front of him. He forced himself to ignore the Veinborne, focusing instead on the descent.


    With his boots scraping against the stone stairs, he finally reached the base of the pit, the air was colder that was for certain.


    He raised his head up to look up at the statue that loomed over him. His eyes then shifted to the stone slab, that was Infront of the podium, that held runes that breathed an icy blue. Zerin knelt, extending a trembling hand, his frost-tipped fingers tracing the unfamiliar symbols.


    The runes, once incomprehensible, slowly resolved themselves into a recognizable script, their true meaning became clear:


    "Lady Repose, take me into your embrace, for it is our final destination after all. WE have forsaken our old gods, who began a war amongst themselves, and chosen you---she who seeks to preserve life in all its forms, against the decay of time, against death that was once our true fate. Blessings be upon those who acknowledge this truth, for it is you who keeps the seas above at bay, those tainted waters that hunger for those who walk beneath the sky."


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Zerin''s fingers lingered over the final words. His breath caught in his throat whilst in his mind he was certain he knew who this ''Lady Repose'' was.


    She was that woman from before in that blizzard, The Mother of Winter. Repose, a watchful rest... Yes, that was the feeling he felt, a peace that was promised from the beginning to all, but was soiled by the introduction of death, a curse spawned by The Shadow God.


    Once again, it led down this path. Death was the inevitable end, and every question seemed to circle back to it. Each person carried their own shadow, a reflection of the fate they couldn''t escape.


    After processing what he just had read, he rose to his feet. Once again, the Howler''s growls turned to low fearful whimpers, and Zerin did not look back. His gaze was fixed upon the statue''s eyes.


    Zerin balled his fists, his icy fingers retreating into the warmth of his coat pockets. Something about this creature felt familiar---a primal dread buried in his gut, an ancient and instinctive recognition of malice. It was the sort of evil that all men know without learning.


    His gaze flicked back to the rune-covered slab, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "Could''ve left a signature," Zerin muttered with a hint of sarcasm. "Hate to see your effort go unnoticed..."


    An excellent craftsman one would have to be to be able to invoke a feeling of dread within art. The Howler''s restless pacing behind him, stated its own opinion of the statue. But the Howler''s behavior was nothing more than nails on glass to Zerin.


    He spun back, irritation sharpening with his tone. "Wait at the top, if you can''t handle a statue!"


    The Howler froze, its eyes wide with uncertainty, then it slunk back up the stairs.


    Zerin watched it retreat, until it reached the top, then his gazed turned back to the statue. His expression filled with frustration. "It''s just a damn statue."


    Yet as he said the words, his own hands trembled. Realizing his own fear, he snarled at himself and quickly drew his sword.


    "Damn it!" With a swift motion, he swung his blade striking the statue''s leg. With a clang, sparks flew off the stone.


    A hollow laugh tore from his throat, harsh and jagged. "See!?" he barked, but the sound only echoed back at him.


    He sheathed his sword and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "Talking to myself again..."


    Then, a faint hum that was barely audible rumbled, making him open his eyes with a jolt. There, just beneath the thin layer of dust on the rune-covered slab, was something he hadn''t noticed before. it shimmered faintly, the ancient power falling away as if stirred by an invisible breath.


    He drew his sword again and used its tip to carefully wedge lose the half-buried stone embedded in the slab''s center. After a few moments, the stone popped free, landing in his palm.


    It was a deep violent crystal, charged with some unknown energy. But as soon as it touched his skin, the light dimmed, and the energy pulsed, reverberating outward to every corner of the pit.


    As a response of this sudden shock way, the pit shook, and the dust that clung to the walls, and he heard the familiar, disembodied voice of the spell.


    [You have received a memory.]


    He drew the stone into his soul sea. Just as the voice of the spell vanished, so did the tremors, leaving a silence afterwards as if it had never begun.


    Zerin''s hand once again, was levitating just above his sword, then he exhaled deeply, his heart pounding in his ears, as he strained to hear any sign of danger. Then, a faint crack, like ice fracturing, echoed above him. He looked up just in time to see a crack zigzag across the statue''s face.


    The statue''s right eye shattered. Beneath the splintered exterior, something gleamed---a massive unblinking eye, as purple as the stone he once held, fixed upon him with a depthless black pupil that seemed to consume everything, and his gaze wasn''t an exception.


    A chill shot up his spine as he realized the truth. The statue wasn''t a monument---it was a prison, and this pit was its cell. Zerin''s breath caught in his throat, his still hovering over his sword hilt, his fingers trembling not from the cold, but from the paralyzing grip of terror.


    Then instinct kicked in, overriding the shock, and he spun on his heel bolting for the stairs. His boots pounded against the ground, his breath ragged and sharp.

 Chapter 53: The Abyss Stares Back

    Those eyes¡ªthose terrible, all-consuming eyes. Their inky blackness spoke of unyielding hunger, utterly devoid of mercy or pity, fixated solely on consumption of all.


    A shrill wail pierced through the stagnant air. The abyssal creature tore through the stone skin that had imprisoned it for centuries. Dust and debris rained down, and the ancient spiraling staircase trembled and cracked. The pit, once it''s prison, couldn''t contain this forbidden entity any longer, and now it was being unleashed into this realm.


    Fleeing from the creature, Zerin could feel it''s gaze burning into the back of his head. The pressure, so powerful it shoved him forward, each step up the crumbling staircase more frantic than the last.


    But as he reached for the surface, seeing freedom within arm''s length, a deep shadow was casted over him. In an instant, its hand stabbed forth, seizing Zerin.


    "No!" Zerin gasped. He outstretched for the edge of the pit but was pulled back.


    The creature''s hand wrapped around him like a vice, its cold, leathery, grey, dead fingers curling around him. Zerin''s ribs creaked under the crushing pressure. His rushed to his head, and he gasped, but his lungs could hardly expand.


    Struggling, he kicked his feet at the air as he was pulled back downward into the pit.


    The abyss embraced him, and he was now forced to confront it head-on.


    Its face¡ªone born from darkness. There was no life in it, no warmth, only the abyss. The creature''s eyes, vast and soulless, pierced deeper than flesh, reaching into the core of his being. Utterly exposed, he felt as though his soul lay bare for its hungering inspection.


    From the very beginning to the bitter end, the creature peered into far deeper than just the physical. Zerin''s first steps, the distorted faces of his parents that his mind refused to acknowledge, and now---his death.


    The creature''s lips twisted into a grim grin¡ªa grotesque parody of joy. It knew.


    Zerin''s heart pounded. The narrow slit that was the creature''s mouth, expanded disproportionally, unveiling a bottomless chasm of darkness that had promised to be his burial. But despite his aversion to it all, he couldn''t do a thing but utter a plea that was ignored.


    "No¡­ not like this¡­" His voice was barely a whisper, the words trembling from his lips.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    A tug¡ªlike an invisible thread¡ªlatched onto something within him. A golden light, faint but unmistakable, began to drift from his chest toward the creature''s mouth. He felt his soul begin to slip away, his body growing numb and limp.


    Yet, just as the creature began its feast, it stopped. Zerin''s body was weak in its grip, but his mind sharpened.


    What?


    The creature''s grin faded, replaced by confusion and disgust. Its gaze narrowed, as if repulsed by the sudden resistance.


    Zerin''s senses returned. Feeling the crushing grip seizing him once more.


    "ACK!" He let out a strangled cry, blood speckling from his lips as the monster drew him even closer.


    Its vast, inky black eye hovered mere inches from his own. Zerin stared into the abyss, and the abyss stared back. In that moment, he was completely drawn into its gaze, as darkness began to claw at the edges of his vision.


    Then, a sound¡ªa wet, horrid rip of flesh¡ªtore through the silence.


    The creature shrieked in agony. Zerin''s head snapped to the side at the sudden shift in movement. Another creature intercepted them, a white blur of motion, claws that render flesh, and fangs that were sharp like steel.


    The Howler.


    Its teeth and claws burrowed into the creature''s massive eye. Black blood gushed from the wound, coating the Howler in its slick, inky ichor. Its ferocity was unmatched¡ªabsolute savage desperation.


    The massive creature staggered, its grip loosening on Zerin as it thrashed to dislodge the Howler.


    As a consequence, Zerin was hurled through the air, sent out of the pit. Landing upon a frozen pile of skeletal remains and snow. The brittle bones shattered beneath him, their dry, jagged edges slicing into his skin.


    Zerin gasped, the impact forcing blood from his mouth. His body ached as he rolled down the pile of bones, landing on his stomach.


    A low, ominous bellow echoed from the pit. The sound made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.


    Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move. "Move," he spoke in a hushed voice to himself. "Just... move..." His hands, trembling and bloodied, clawed at the shards of bone that stabbed at his fingers, shredding them as he struggled to rise.


    His knees wobbled as he stood, every inch of his body resisting movement. His vision blurred with pain, but his gaze lifted to the pit one final time.


    The Howler was now bearing the consequence of Zerin''s actions. Its flesh was being peeled away in strips, sucked into the abyssal maw. It''s bones loudly cracked and disintegrated. Each fragment reduced to dust as it was beginning to be consumed.


    "No¡­ No¡­" Zerin''s voice broke, speaking through the bitter taste of iron in his throat. He could feel the Howler slipping away, fading like an ember.


    He quickly withdrew whatever was left of the Howler. What should have been an effortless task was enough to send him collapsing to one knee.


    "Shit¡­" he whispered, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "I¡­ can''t move¡­"


    But he had to. He had to bring Dex back. He had to survive.


    He rose, only to stumble and collapse once more, but the bitter cold jolted him back to his feet. His breath came in ragged gasps as he turned away and limped across the bone-scattered graveyard toward the frozen lake.


    He didn''t dare look back¡ªnot when the creature''s shrill wail echoed behind him, not when it rose from the pit that had once been its prison, and not even when the earth trembled beneath its weight and the wind fled from its presence.


    Zerin wished he had listened. Because he couldn¡¯t trust the power he was given, he had wasted the life she had sacrificed. Yet even now, he still clung to the desire to live, to avoid becoming as useless as he had been back then.


    Reaching the edge for the bone-laden expanse. Zerin knew, deep down, that it was meaningless. He had seen it himself in that creature''s eyes, bleeding out, and swallowed by darkness. But even knowing this fate, he refused to yield. Stubbornness was all that he had left.


    Its shadow loomed over him, then its claws tore across his back, slicing through flesh and muscle.


    "AGH!" The scream ripped from his throat.


    The force from the blow launched him forward. His hands grasped at the air, but there was nothing to hold onto.


    Just as the ground met him, its jagged maw took him in, before he could even brace for the fall. Zerin plunged into the darkness. A final breath caught in his throat as he was enveloped.

 Chapter 54: The Scent of Blood

    "We should''ve waited a little while longer before deciding to venture out to that village you claim you saw in your visions," Evan muttered.


    "Waited?" Seren shot back, folding her arms across her chest. "Evan, we''ve been waiting for weeks. And, by the way, they haven''t failed us yet."


    He shook his head, his eyes raising past the wall of snowy trees before them as they waited just outside the deep forest.


    "The gate is close. If we head deep into the forest to this village, we''re going in the opposite direction."


    Seren''s lip curved into a smirk, but her eyes locked onto his. "Oh... you are really using that brain of yours¡ªyou know I love it when you try so hard..."


    Evan blushed suddenly as he stuttered. "What?!"


    "Since you are so smart, tell me... do you have any idea how to open the gate, hmm?" She took a step closer, her eyes still fixated on his. "Go on. Tell me your grand plan, Sir."


    Evan clenched his jaw as he sighed, saying nothing. His once flushed face was now filled with annoyance at her sarcastic remarks.


    Calmly waiting behind them was a smaller girl. She hesitantly stepped between them, her blue eyes flickering between Evan and Seren. Her breath clouded the cold air as her hands rubbed together, seeking warmth. The tips of her nose and cheeks were tinged red from the biting wind, and her short, choppy blond hair, cut in a wolfish style, framed her delicate features.


    "She''s right, Evan," she said softly. Her voice was gentle but held conviction. "We don''t know how to open the gate."


    She ended her sentence with uncertainty, not expecting an answer, and only silence followed.


    Seren shifted her weight and placed her hands on her hips, standing taller as she looked up at Evan. "Besides, you promised we''d leave today." Her tone was defiant, as though she was daring him to go against his word.


    Evan opened his mouth to respond, but the smaller girl cut him off with a gentle, knowing smile.


    "A promise is a promise, Evan," she reminded him, stepping to Seren''s side.


    Leaving him behind, the two girls started walking ahead, their footsteps crunching in the frozen snow.


    Evan watched them walk ahead of him, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.


    He closed his eyes and exhaled, a weary sigh escaping his lips.


    Why, gods... why?


    He cursed inwardly. His thoughts swirled with doubt, frustration, and helplessness. He was supposed to be a leader, but without a clear path, how could he lead?If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    But then, he found a smirk rise on his face.


    Dad said it wasn''t going to be easy¡­


    I hate that he''s right.


    Evan jogged forward, his breath visible in the cold air as he caught up with the girls.


    "You know," he called out, falling into step beside them, "if you two freeze to death out here, I''m not carrying you both back. One of you will have to haunt this realm for me."


    The smaller girl with striking blue eyes flashed him a mischievous grin. "Don''t worry. I''ll go first, and I''ll haunt the both of you, but that''s if you two can even survive without me."


    Seren tilted her head back, her long dark hair catching the breeze as she gazed up at the overcast sky. "Unlike you two, I will survive. No haunting necessary."


    Evan tilted his head back for a moment and arched his brow. "Hmm... is that so?"


    "Of course," Seren replied with confidence. "I have the gods on my side now. Their visions guide me." She flicked her hair back and gave him a playful smile. "Naturally, I''ll make it."


    She glanced back over her shoulder and added, "And I''ll extend my gifts only to Ecludia¡ªbecause she is the cutest."


    Evan blinked, his stride faltering for a second. "Oh, shut the hell up. You''re not in contact with any gods. They''re all dead...every single one of them." His frustration was evident in his tone.


    Seren gave a soft, dismissive hum and turned away. "Hmph. Ecludia, remind me to report Evan''s heresy when the gods finally join our side."


    "Yes, ma''am." The blond-haired girl smiled as she leaned her head against Seren''s shoulder. Together, they walked ahead, leaving Evan once again.


    Stunned, confused, and mildly exasperated, he called out and rejoined them once again.


    "Hey! Wait up!"


    ***


    A Few Days Later


    Evan summoned his weapon. "You bastard!" His roar echoed as he swung his warhammer in a wide arc.


    The weapon connected with a sickening crunch against the jaw of a leaping nightmare creature that bore features resembling a lion, but much sleeker.


    The creature''s neck snapped from the sheer blunt force of the strike alone, its lifeless body tumbling and crumpling into the snow.


    [You have slain a Dormant beast, Kaldrmane.]


    Evan barely registered the voice of the spell before a snowy white, icy blue blur attacked him from his peripheral vision.


    Another creature of its likeness lunged from the side, its bone-crushing jaws clamping down on his shoulder, the force sending pain throughout his body.


    "Argh!" Evan snarled, reaching over his shoulder with his free hand. His fingers found the beast''s eye, and he jammed them deep.


    The predator growled, and Evan''s blood spilled from its mouth as its grip tightened on his shoulder. Evan gritted his teeth, feeling bones in his shoulder shift and crack.


    Evan then raged back, digging deeper, his fingers curling into the beast''s eye socket.


    Finally, with a wet, vile pop, the eyeball left its socket.


    The Kaldrmane howled in agony, thrashing violently as it released him, its eye hanging from it''s socket. Blood gushed from the ruined cavity, staining its once pristine bluish-white fur a deep crimson. Its remaining eye fixed on Evan with a murderous glare.


    Evan stumbled back, clutching his limp shoulder. Every shift caused agonizing pain as he felt the jagged edges of broken bones grinding with every movement. Still, he reached for his warhammer with his good hand.


    I can still fight.


    To think that taking my eyes off them for a second could lead to this¡­


    "Just one more..." He tried to motivate himself, but the growl to his left made his heart sink.


    Emerging from the swirling snow was another Kaldrmane. This creature was much larger, vastly more imposing, its body armored with ice, and its tail flicked behind it like a whip tipped with frozen blades.


    Damn it... Now I have to kill two more?!


    Evan''s gaze darted back to Seren and Ecludia. The girls lay behind him, their bodies bleeding in the snow, impaled by the creature''s sharp spikes of ice that had incapacitated them.


    He clenched his jaw, and a bitter thought crept into his mind. If I didn''t have to protect them... just maybe I could make it out alive.


    He shook his head, disgusted with himself. "Shut up, Evan! Shut the fuck up!" he growled under his breath, forcing himself to bear the pain.


    His shoulder throbbed, but he inhaled deeply, pushing the pain to the back of his mind. He straightened, gripping his warhammer tightly. "Go for broke... If anything goes wrong, Ecludia will fix it."


    The beasts shifted around him, circling with predatory intelligence. For a brief moment, they locked eyes¡ªtwo hunters surrounding their prey.


    Then, from behind Evan, the soft sound of footsteps crunching through the snow caught his attention. They were slow, deliberate, and far too calm.


    Evan''s breath hitched. He didn''t turn. His instincts told him to remain focused and defend them with his life. But something about those footsteps sent a chill down his spine.


    The Kaldrmanes hesitated, their gaze flicking past Evan to whatever was approaching.


    Evan''s fingers tightened around the hammer. What the hell is behind me?


    He limped back, casting a glance over his shoulder. Emerging from the shadows of the trees, a figure swayed unsteadily with each step. His jacket and pants hung in tattered shreds, torn beyond recognition, and a dark trail of blood followed him through the snow.


    In his hand, he clutched a single-edged black sword, but his grip was iron-tight, as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.


    His face was pale, his hollow eyes sunken deep into their sockets, and for a chilling moment, Evan couldn''t tell if this individual was still alive¡ªor something that should have stayed dead.

 Chapter 55: A Desire to Feed

    The icy wind howled, granting passage of the gaunt figure. Each step it took dragged through the snow, leaving deep furrows in the snow.


    Squinting his eyes, Evan could see that it was a boy. In his current emaciated state, it was clear that this boy had been starved for days, perhaps weeks.


    Following his dragging steps, the husk of what was once a boy scuffled through the snow. His head swayed in sync, his eyes dead as they bore down into the white snow just ahead.


    You can hardly stand on your own! Get the hell out of here!


    Evan grasped his hammer, turning back to face the Kaldrmanes. His eyes widened to find their posture faltered by the approaching stranger.


    Emboldened by their sudden cowardice, Evan steeled himself and stepped closer. The creature¡¯s though capable retreated slightly, their eyes narrowing in caution.


    Though, this fragile truce only lasted but a moment. As Evan heard a thud behind him. He whirled around, his heart hammering in his chest. The boy had fallen to one knee, trembling violently.


    He succumbed to a fit of hacking coughs, each one expelling thick, inky-black substances that tainted the pristine snow beneath him.


    Stabilizing himself, his blackened blade stabbed into the ground, supporting his failing body as his ragged breath filled the air.


    SHIT!


    Evan spun back towards the Kaldrmanes, to only see a kicked up smokescreen of snow. These creatures were using their environment to their advantage just like what they did just moments before.


    Evan¡¯s eyes widened, but before he could even lift his hammer a claw raked through the kicked up snow.


    He froze in the face of death, and it was certain, those 6 inch claws, moving at that speed would make quick work of him at that state.


    In that moment, Evan was taunted with the memory of the life he had just over a year ago. Everything was perfect. His father was healthy, he was finishing his senior year of high school, and he was on the brink of signing with a major sports team. His future was bright and right before him.


    But then the spell ripped everything right out of his hand. It spiraled out of control, and it all started with his father, his rock and guiding force in his life.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Hell¡­ son.¡± His father rasped from the hospital bed, his voice strained. ¡°If I¡¯m going to die, I¡¯ll accept it. I¡¯ve done enough already.¡±


    Those words back then cut through Evan. He remembered standing beside the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. His father had always been unyielding, a man who never showed weakness, no matter how dire the situation. But now, that indomitable man was transformed, unrecognizable, dead¡­


    His father¡¯s sickly face and resigned tone was alien¡ªa reminder that even the strongest falter and cower to the face of death.


    For the first time, Evan saw something he had never associated with his father: surrender.


    It was a quality he could never mirror.


    Those memories coming back now at a time like this, made him want to scream, to fight, to bite, to rage.


    He didn¡¯t settle, he never settled. Cowering? That was for his opponents, and death? He would not be content.


    He gripped his hammer, even when he had no chance, not enough time to act. He raised his hammer anyways, just as the claws neared to rend his flesh, he yelled defiantly.


    Lunging forward with a speed that made him a blur, the boy¡ªno, the stranger drove his darkened blade into the predator¡¯s side. The force of the attack sent the large creature crashing to the ground, saving Evan from the killing blow, but not unscathed as the predators claw tore the outer corner of his eye socket.


    Evan reeled in pain, dropping his hammer reaching for his eye. He groaned, blinking his eye, that was now being covered in his blood.


    The struggle he heard was barren of humanity, he closed his eye and witnessed through his other, to see blood and snow churning together, a feral clash of beasts.


    Evan stood rooted in place, unable to look away. The stranger¡¯s ferocity was unmatched, the powerful blows from the creature seemed to have no effect.


    Then the struggle ended as abruptly as it began.


    What the hell are you?


    Evan froze, amazed, the boy, if he could still be called that, knelt over the lifeless creature. His chest heaved with ragged breaths as he raised his sword high above his head.


    His entire body was bathed in blood, it was indistinguishable if it was his or the creature he had slain. His clothes were torn into terrible tatters, but his eyes, those eyes were filled with an animalistic resolve, a color befit of a monster, a glowing devilish red.


    With a hoarse exhale, the boy brought his blade down plunging it deep into the Kaldrmane¡¯s belly. The sound of flesh and bone filled the empty cold air as he wrenched the blade violently, splitting the creature open. Blood and bits of viscera spilled onto the snow, but the boy didn¡¯t stop.


    Then, the boy did something that horrified Evan. He discarded his blade to the side and plunged his hands into the warm gore.


    Evan stumbled back, his stomach twisting as bile rose in his throat. Even though he wanted to look away, he just couldn¡¯t.


    He watched as the boy tore into the beast with his bare hands, but that wasn¡¯t the worst of it all.


    The boy leaned down and dipped his head into the open cavity. The sound of gnawing reaching Evan¡¯s ears, making his stomach lurch, then he hurled out the remnants that were in his belly.


    The scene seared itself into his mind. The sight of the emaciated stranger feeding, tearing into the predator with an unrelenting hunger.


    This was no mere survivor or savior¡ªit was entirely inhuman, something completely and utterly monstrous.


    ***


    ¡°Its so dark¡­so cold¡­¡± he whispered, his voice quivering. ¡°Where am I?¡±


    Zerin¡¯s eyelids opened to a sea of darkness. It was not merely the absence of light, as he could feel the pressure of it like a suffocating tide.


    It stretched forever, infinite.


    Responding to his voice the darkness stirred. A faint, flickering light appeared just a short distance ahead of him¡ªa wisp of white. It pulsed faintly and danced, as if to beckon him closer.


    Zerin reached out instinctively. He began to move, each step feeling more like he was wading through thick invisible tar.


    Suddenly, a voice tore through the darkness, a sharp and urgent warning. It was familiar¡ªimpossibly so.


    ¡°Run from the light!¡±


    Zerin froze, his breath hitching. His hand hovering just inches from the flame pulled back to him.


    ¡°That voice¡­ No way¡­¡±


    He spun around, scanning the infinite darkness behind him, his eyes wide and searching. There was nothing, just darkness.


    ¡°Wi¡ª?¡± He could hardly utter the name before a chill surged up his spine, a primal instinct of fear. It was a fear that he had only experienced once before.


    Whipping his head back to the light, Zerin¡¯s stomach dropped. The flame instantly vanished.


    The darkness stirred once more, an outline barely perceptible.


    Then it emerged.

 Chapter 56: Marked by the Abyss

    Before him was a towering being that seemed to be pulled from the darkest depths of utter darkness, a being of incomprehensible horror that defied all logic and reason. Its sheer presence was an offense to every sense. Countless eyes glimmering with shadowy purples, the amorphous mass also emitted a steam, that fell like liquid darkness.


    The bulk of its grotesque form bore resemblance to a gigantic, malformed squid, yet no natural creature could evoke such a feeling of terror. Then from its heaving body sprouted an unending supply of writhing tentacles¡ªhundreds, perhaps thousands.


    Besides the fear that crippled him, a strange familiarity clawed at the edges of his consciousness. The dreamworld. Yes, Zerin recalled that he had unleashed a being similar to this into the Fractured Peaks.


    Just underneath that horrible dread, question after question proposed itself.


    But now¡­ he wasn''t in the dreamworld. Was he? Where was he? Was he dead?


    Before he could even attempt to answer these questions, the creature''s innumerable eyes fixed on him. The sheer intensity of its gaze shocked through him.


    Without warning, the creature''s writhing tentacles attacked him in a storm of motion.


    He staggered back, every instinct in his body screaming at him to flee. The tendrils approached closer, their intentions unmistakable. Complete and utter annihilation through consumption.


    But as they reached ensnare him a blinding golden light erupted from within Zerin. The creature recoiled violently, its countless tendrils thrashing in pain and frustration. Its many eyes squinted and slammed shut against the radiant light.


    Zerin''s eyes widened as he could see the aura of light that surrounded his body. But this reprieve from the creature''s clutches was only temporary.


    With a guttural shrill, that shook the space around him, the creature retaliated. From the churning depths of its mass, it launched a single monstrous, jagged barb. It moved with terrifying speed, a blur that pierced through the golden light.


    The barb struck true, piercing Zerin''s skull with a sickening crack.


    A raw scream tore from Zerin''s throat, but the abyss continued, attempting to devour him whole. Pain scourged his skull, an agony that only grew, that blurred his vision and sent his body crumpling under its weight. His limbs fell slack, powerless, as an oppressive darkness seeped into him, snaking into his very soul.


    Then the voices came.


    Hundreds. Thousands. An unending cacophony of screams erupted in his mind, a deafening symphony of anguish and despair. They tangled and overlapped, threatening to drive him to the brink of madness. Horrific images assaulted his mind¡ªfaces, contorted and twisted, burned themselves into his memory. Men and women, children and elders, good and evil, divine and profane¡ªall twisted into grotesque forms, their agony eternal.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The visions did not relent. They pushed deeper, to drag him down further. Zerin''s breath came in shallow, panicked gasp as his trembling hands reached for the barb embedded in his skull. Something within him urged him to fight, he grasped the barb and yanked it free.


    A silent scream tore through his mind as blood and darkness poured from the wound. His body crumpled, falling deeper into the abyss. The torrent of screams began to fade, leaving his mind eerily silent.


    He understood. This was reality. Nightmares don''t cease with death; they only begin. The end of all things could only possibly be assimilation---absolute and inescapable, a fate as certain as death itself.


    [You have received an attribute.]


    [You have received an attribute.]


    [You have received an Aspect Legacy: Sealed Desires.]


    Under his closed eyelids, light converged. A sudden jolt shook him awake.


    Zerin¡¯s eyes flew open, and the world around him snapped into focus. His awakening was abrupt and jarring. A man he had never seen before loomed over him, shaking his shoulder, his expression a mixture of anger and bewilderment.


    Zerin''s knees sank into the snow, his body trembling uncontrollably. And, a deep ache radiated from his skull and his stomach felt as if it was going to burst. The metallic tang of blood coated his tongue. He coughed, blood spilling from his lips.


    "What the hell are you doing?!" the man barked, his voice was filled with disbelief.


    Zerin was stunned, his face contorting to other confusion. His brows furrowed, his lips parted as to speak, but no words came. He simply stared.


    The man¡¯s anger faltered, giving way to confusion. He exhaled sharply, his voice strained. ¡°I need your help. My friends are hurt, and I can¡¯t carry them both.¡±


    Zerin''s gaze dropped to the man''s arm, which hung limply at his side, clearly dislocated or broken. Blood trickled from the gash at the corner of his eye, he squinted against the pain. In his one good hand, he gripped a war hammer.


    Wha¡ª" Zerin''s voice cracked. He spat out a chunk of gore.


    He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the sticky warmth of blood smear across the back of his hand. He stared at it for a moment, his breath shallow.


    "What happened?" Zerin pushed himself to his feet, his body springing into action.


    But despite his lively energy, his clothes hung in tatters, shredded beyond repair, but he hardly noticed. He wasn''t cold; on the contrary, his blood felt like it was boiling.


    "You took care of it," the man replied, his tone matter-of-fact, his face filled with disgust. "It doesn''t matter."


    Despite his injuries, his movements were steady. With another wince, he straightened and turned back to Zerin. "Carry the other one, please," he said, nodding his head toward the second unconscious figure nearby. There''s a cave not too far from here¡ªan hour or two on foot. We''ve got supplies there."


    He was certain he had an idea of what happened, yet the details were not clear. He stared at the carnage around him. "Did I do this?"


    The man''s expression unreadable. "You killed the Nightmare creature," he said flatly. "Saved my ass¡ªand theirs." He gestured with a nod toward the two injured girls lying motionless in the snow.


    A chill of unease crept over Zerin, tightening his chest. If he wasn''t aware of what he''d done, what force had been guiding his actions? What had judged and decided for him?


    The man crouched with a groan, lifting one of the unconscious figures onto his good shoulder. Zerin approached the other girl, her blonde hair soaked with blood, her delicate features eerily familiar. His breath caught in his throat as he crouched beside her.


    It was familiar. Hauntingly so.


    His heart faltered, then thundered in his chest. She looked just like her back then. The resemblance was uncanny---the same deliccate features, the same golden hair. Yet, she was not the same. Wisteria''s hair had been longer then. She had stood taller, her presence was different as well. But the blood... The blood was identical---it was just as warm.


    A lump rose in his throat as his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. Slowly, he knelt beside her, his movements stiff and mechanical. He slipped his arms beneath her fragile frame, cradling her with care, and lifted her into his arms.


    She was light, but she held the weight of his memories and the crushing guilt of his past.


    When he looked up, the man was watching him, his gaze sharp and wary. "You okay?" the man asked, his tone riddled with distrust.


    Zerin''s mouth felt parched. The suspicion in the man''s eyes was apparent, and Zerin couldn''t blame him. At this moment, he could hardly trust himself.


    "I''m fine," Zerin replied, though the word rang hollow between the two.


    Adjusting his hold to carry the girl, he took a step forward, his boots crunching softly against the snow. The man gave him a lingering look but said nothing, turning to lead the way back to his shelter. Zerin followed in silence, his thoughts a tangled mess.

 Chapter 57: Time Flies

    Hours of walking would have been arduous enough, but carrying an entire person made it exponentially worse. Yet Zerin didn''t complain. Nor did the man walking ahead; he carried the girl on his sole good shoulder, swaying with every unsteady step into the deep snow.


    The entire journey passed in silence. They silently agreed to conserve their energy instead of wasting it on words.


    As they approached a looming rock formation, Zerin spotted a wide opened that cracked upon its side. He suspected it might be their shelter, and his guess proved correct.


    Entering inside, the air smelled of dust and carried a dull chill, but it was better than sleeping in the trees. The cavern was deceptively spacious, its walls lined with scattered supplies. A few bedrolls left unrolled, and a cold unlit campfire sat at the center.


    The man turned, watching Zerin take a quick look around the place. "Set her down here." He gestured toward a bedroll near the fire and carefully placed the girl he carried onto it.


    Zerin followed suit, gently laying the blonde-haired girl near the campfire. "Are they okay?" he asked, his eyes glancing down at the blonde-haired girl with a bit of familiarity.


    "They''ll wake once there''s warmth," the man said. "Those creatures are called Kaldrmanes. They immobilize their prey with ice."


    Turning to Zerin, the man added, "Can you start the fire? I''m not in the best shape."


    Zerin nodded and began unpacked what supplies was left in his pack. The sun had finally emerged, allowing him to access his treacherous pack.


    As Zerin worked, the man sank onto a larger bedroll---clearly his own---grimacing as he smiled.


    "You came prepared, huh?"


    Zerin looked over his shoulder. The man¡¯s pale face twitched in pain despite his attempt at humor. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± the man asked. ¡°I¡¯m Evan.¡± He struggled out of his coat, wincing as he freed his arm.


    ¡°Zerin,¡± he answered after a moment, coaxing the fire to life.


    ¡°Zerin? That¡¯s unusual.¡± Evan exhaled.


    He then summoned a small blade from his soul sea and began slicing his shirt down the middle.


    Zerin furrowed his brow. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he asked, looking at the man¡¯s arm that was clearly broken at the shoulder, heavily bruised and purple.


    ¡°Basic first aid. You don¡¯t know this?¡± Evan paused, incredulous. ¡°What academy did you go to?¡±


    "I wasn''t enrolled into an academy. I was trained under a Master." Zerin casted his gaze back to the fire, which began licking hungrily at the dry wood.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Evan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of sleazy Master wouldn''t teach you first aid? And how many cycles ago did you arrive in the Fractured Peaks?"


    Zerin agreed with his former question, Cael definitely wasn''t the best Master when it came to teaching, but Jerika didn''t teach him first aid either, but he did only have a few lessons from her, she was rather busy...


    Zerin hesitated, deciding to answer his latter question. "A few weeks, maybe," he replied


    Evan let out an exasperated sigh. "A few weeks? You don''t even know how to count days here? How the hell did you survive five months in the Dream Realm?"


    The weight of this reveal stuck like a hammer.


    Five months?


    Zerin froze, his eyes blinking in disbelief. The silence that fell his weak exhale was so stark that the faint sound of snow sliding off the rocks outside seemed deafening, even over the crackling fire.


    "Time flies, regardless the realm you are in." Evan said, breaking the silence as he tightened his sling. "Thats why you track your days."


    He reached down and tossed Zerin a cloth. "You''re a bloody mess. There''s a pot near the fire. Heat some snow and clean yourself up. I''ve got spare clothes you can wear."


    Zerin caught the cloth and moved outside, clutching the pot. As the icy air stung his face, his thoughts finally caught up with him.


    "Five months..."


    Setting the pot down in the snow, he muttered under his breath, watching the steam rise from his exhale. "Impossible..."


    But the creeping unease in his chest said otherwise. From what he could recall, it had been no more than six weeks since he entered this realm. What had happened to those missing months? His mind flickered back to the day it all occurred in brief details¡ªthe day he unleashed that creature imprisoned in stone¡ªthen to the darkness that followed and then a creature of the same kind struck him. Beyond that, there was nothing.


    Four months of emptiness.


    He clenched his fists, then he exhaled, relaxing his fists.


    "Let''s just cleaned up."


    ***


    Zerin dipped the cloth into the boiling, grimy water, scrubbing away the dried blood to his face. Anything was better than being coated in muck and gore.


    He stripped off his bloodied tattered jacket and shirt, then his pants discarding them in a pile. The warm, wet cloth dragged across his goosebumped chest, wiping away layers of grime and blood. His body felt foreign, weakened and gaunt---proving the months spent starving, and the time he had lost.


    Eventually, he finished cleaning himself. Evan, showed courtesy, keeping his back turned as Zerin cleaned up and got dressed in fresh clothes. For the first time in weeks---no months, Zerin felt a semblance of comfort.


    "Thanks, for the clothes," Zerin muttered, adjusting the jacket and smoothing out his new pants.


    "The least I could do, and they were spares for the girls anyway," Evan replied, swatting the air dismissing his thanks.


    He turned back to Zerin, his hammer dissolving into sparks as it vanished into his soul sea.


    By the fire, the two girls lay bandaged where needed, their unconscious forms huddled near the flames for warm.


    Zerin kept his distance, settling closer to the cave''s opening, his gaze fixed on the light snow fall that just began.


    "You weren''t aware of what happened, were you? Evan asked, his voice steady but probing.


    Zerin turned towards him.


    "Your reaction made that clear." Evan added.


    Evan pressed further. "Does it have anything to do with your aspect?"


    "I''m not sure," Zerin admitted.


    "You should figure it out. I don''t want to worry about you attacking us."


    Zerin recoiled slightly at his words. "That was the first time that ever happened." Zerin snapped. "Besides, I won''t be staying here long."


    Evan smirked faintly. "Braving the Dream Realm alone? Another thing your Master didn''t teach you. You can''t survive the Dream Realm alone.


    "You don''t need a Master to know surviving alone is a bad idea. It''s common sense."


    "Then use it," Evan quipped with a chuckle.


    "But suit yourself. I''m not about to fight you over it." Evan said dismissively but then added, "One thing, though---stay until they wake up. I can''t defend them right now." He gestured to his injured arm.


    "Three days," Zerin relented after a moment. "I''ll be here for three days, then I''m leaving."


    Evan blinked in surprise. "They should wake in a few hours. But fine, three days it is. You''ll need supplies for your journey anyway."


    Zerin nodded. "I just used the last of my wood for your fire and I have no food. I''ll need to gather more.


    "Where are you going if you don''t mind me asking?" Evan said.


    "To find someone."


    Evan nodded, "A friend? Fair enough, but how will you find this person?


    Zerin pulled out his tattered jacket from the pile, fishing out a parchment, now with faint bloodstains. "I found a map that shows the gate''s location."


    "No way!" Evan''s excitement broke through his exhaustion. He stumbled toward Zerin, eager to see the map.


    Zerin confirmed, folding the parchment before Evan could touch it. "We''re close, I''ll let you copy it before I leave."


    Evan''s shoulders relaxed. "Thank you. Really. Those girls could have died back there, and you didn''t have to help. I hope you find your friend."


    Zerin settled down near the fire. "He''s alive," he said with certainty, before closing his eyes and diving into his soul sea.

 Chapter 58: The Rot of Complacency

    Four months before¡­


    "Why the hell did we have to come to this dump?"


    Dex sat alone in a dim corner, his anger simmering and building with each passing moment. Adding fuel to this building anger was the charm he carried¡ªa cursed blessing from slaying an Awakened Devil given the name, ''The Frostbitten Stalker'' by the spell. A difficult battle that nearly killed him two months ago, but he came out on top in the end.


    He''d never fight a devil like that again---alone. Was he stupid? Probably, he was never a smart one and he hated to admit it. That battle had quickly taught him to never underestimate nightmare creatures, especially devils.


    Devils, particularly those above awakened, had flaws like spell carriers and also had abilities akin to aspect abilities, making them far more dangerous than their dormant counterparts.


    The memory he had received was both a gift and a curse.


    Memory Name: [Flaw of The Frostbitten Stalker]


    Memory description: ¡ª


    Enchantments:


    [Mother''s Gift] - A sacred boon from the Mother to her kin, this enchantment grants the bearer a faint affinity for ice, while also greatly increasing their resistance to the cold. The charm also imbues them with the power to see clearly in absolute darkness.


    [Cindered Damnation] - Binds its wielder in suffering, making them vulnerable to heat and light. What one would consider moderate warmth or glimmer of light can inflict harm while intense exposure may prove fatal.


    Even so, he deemed the trade-off worthwhile, for now.


    Grimacing, Dex shoved the lantern on his booth''s table further away, plunging his face further into the shadows.


    These sorts of people Dex loathed the most: the complacent. The scene before him was absurd. People laughed and mingled freely, their voices raised in song and drunken revelry. Some danced, while others leaned into each other in intimate interactions.


    He reserved a special brand of disgust for their cheerfulness.


    After a while, he felt a bit at ease, his blue eyes roamed across the tavern. His gaze eventually settling on nearby conversation between two men who appeared to be near their late twenties.


    One of the men was astonishingly unfit for someone surviving the Dream Realm. His frame, rotund, more fit for a merchant''s life. The other was his opposite: muscular and rugged, exuding the air of someone capable of holding his own in the Dream Realm.


    "Blizzards are coming back, Jon," the hefty man grumbled, words muffled behind his ale mug.


    Jon frowned, arms crossed tight over his broad chest. "Already? We just got hit."


    "Yeah." The hefty man set his mug down with a dull thud. "But word is two more whipped up out of nowhere. Doesn¡¯t make sense anymore."


    Jon snorted, shaking his head. "Three frost storms, now? Come on. That¡¯s insane."The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The hefty man¡¯s face darkened. "Do I ever talk out of my ass, Jon? My sources say they¡¯ve been building since last month."


    Jon¡¯s expression hardened. "You don¡¯t get it. What¡¯s in those storms¡­" His voice dropped to a growl. "Those things will tear through this village like it¡¯s nothing, they aren''t like your average nightmare creature."


    The hefty man exhaled. "Yep. And those bastards? Safe behind their walls while we¡¯re out here bleeding for it."


    While Dex was enamored in the conversation, a slight commotion urged him to peel his gaze away. Turning his head, he seen Esmeray then, his anger peaked once he saw her getting stopped by a drunkard.


    "Damn asshole¡­" Dex muttered under his breath. He summoned a curved blade¡ªanother memory received from the pack of lurkers he had slain previously.


    But he hesitated. His grip weakening, and with a heavy sigh, he dismissed the memory back into his soul sea. Rising to his feet, he began moving towards them.


    Meanwhile, Esmeray stood, her gaze fixed on the rough, alcohol-stained hand clutching hers. The man it belonged to reeked of booze and poor hygiene, his breath sour as it fanned across her face.


    "Darling, you alone tonight?" he slurred, grinning wide enough to reveal yellowed teeth speckled with decay.


    Though he couldn''t have been older than thirty, the man''s neglectful lifestyle had taken its toll. As a dormant Awakened, he possessed some advantages over normal humans, but those gifts did not make a spell carrier immune to the consequences of poor self-care.


    Years spent living recklessly in The Fractured Peaks had turned him into nothing more than just a sloppy drunkard.


    Esmeray blinked, her expression always so calm and composed. She spoke firmly, though her tone held politeness. "No, thank you. I''m with someone else right now."


    But the man''s grip didn''t loosen. Instead, he leaned closer, his bloodshot eyes darting around the tavern to confirm her claim. His leering grin widened, emboldened by his intoxication.


    "I don''t see him anywhere..." he drawled, his voice thick and mocking. "Besides... honey, you''re in a bar. So shut the hell up and stop being so difficult¡ª"


    Just as he finished his sentence, his head slammed violently against the wooden table. The impact rattled the mugs on its surface, and shards of his broken teeth scattered across the table, like glass. With a guttural groan, he crumpled to the floor.


    Dex loomed over him, his hand still clenched into a fist. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, and he squinted against the glaring lights of the bar counter.


    Before Dex could turn to check on Esmeray, and attacker lunged at him from behind, shoving him hard into the counter. The sudden motion sent a flash of pain through his ribs as they were bashed into the bar counter, and the bright lanterns illuminating the counter blinded him momentarily.


    Everyone sitting at the bar counter, got up removing themselves. As Dex dealt with the burning pain behind his eyes, adrenaline took over. Dex shut his eyes and drove his elbow back, feeling the satisfying crunch as it connected with the attacker''s nose.


    A muffled shout of pain followed as his assailant stumbled backward, clutching his now bloodied and broken nose. Dex spun around in one fluid motion, fists raised and ready.


    The man staggered as he closed his watering eyes from the blow.


    "We''ll fucking kill you!" the attacker snarled, his voice muffled by the hand still pressed to his face. His fury was seen in his eyes as he dropped his hand and balled his fist, allowing his blood from his nose to freely fall down his face.


    Three more men circled them, making their numbers four. The tension built up further as everyone else in the bar stepped back, their once joyful laughter and chatter, replaced with unease.


    Dex''s gaze snapped to Esmeray, now standing calmly at his side, her true thoughts always carefully concealed.


    "Four versus two?" Dex muttered.


    Esmeray stepped back, raising her hands. "You started this fight. You deal with it."


    Dex smirked, his confidence spiking, even as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. "Four versus one, then!"


    They seemed more experienced, that much was obvious, perhaps they had two to three, maybe even more years surviving in the Dream realm over Dex. But experience alone wouldn''t be enough to take him down, Dex was certain of that.


    He summoned his scythe-like blade, an awakened memory. They summoned their memories as well, memories accumulated over years of surviving the harsh region. Dex wasn''t just outnumbered¡ªhe was underprepared.


    But fear didn''t even flicker in his chest. He''d faced worse. He''d survived an Awakened Devil and come out victorious.


    With a swift motion, Dex grabbed a wooden chair and hurled it at the nearest two men.


    It struck them both, giving him a brief moment of advantage. Without hesitation, he pushed forward, activating his aspect ability [Friction Control] to enhance his speed, while his memory¡ª[Sycophant''s Enshroudment] further sharpened his agility and lessened his already accumulating fatigue.


    Dex slashed at one of the men, and their experience showed. The man blocked his strike just in time, even despite the massive gap in speed, the clash of steel ringing in the tavern.


    Dex didn''t hesitate. Rather than risking an opening, he spun on his heel, following up with a kick.


    The man crashed into a wooden table, knocking it over as he fell.


    Now, it was three against one.


    But just as Dex thought his luck was his greatest weapon, one of the men unleashed a blinding flash of light from their palm.


    It struck him full-force, and Dex''s body locked in place as he collapsed. His head felt like it was splitting open, and he couldn''t bear to open his eyes.


    An unexpected outcome for even the men as they glanced at the man that sent the blinding light in shock.


    While the men stepped further to approach Dex.


    Esmeray smiled, backing up as someone else stepped forward.


    A woman unsheathed her steel blade, with practiced ease. The gleam of polished steel catching the dim bar light. Her armor resembled that of a knight, though lighter designed for agility rather than defense. She straightened calm and composed, brandishing her blade as she stood between them shielding Dex.


    "Don''t worry, I got you." She spoke with a teasing tone.

 Chapter 59: The Path to The Cathedral

    Her beauty was unlike most. It wasn''t delicate or conventionally soft; it had a distinct edge to it. Tall, with dirty blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders. It wasn''t just her appearance¡ªit was the feeling she radiated, something that made it impossible to look away. A Knight of the Cathedral.


    Even with all eyes on her, she directed her gaze toward Esmeray.


    "Boys will always get you into trouble," the woman said with a soft smile.


    Esmeray found herself speechless. Despite the woman''s back being turned, she could almost feel the warmth of her smile, something that contrasted to Dex''s cold, yet reliable nature.


    Esmeray opened her mouth to respond, but once the Knight suddenly activated her aspect. The very air around her seemed to bend away.


    Esmeray''s own aspect was tied to Clairvoyance, allowing her brief insight into the true being of others, but this woman was something different.


    While Dex was a mystery, completely impenetrable by her own abilities, this Knight was direct, clear and unambiguous.


    Esmeray saw it all. Her name, her true name, her aspect, even the finest details of her attributes¡ªeverything was laid bare before her. It was strange, this level of insight felt too intimate, as though she had known the Knight for far longer than just this singular moment. And that alone was enough to spark Esmeray''s interest.


    Then, the men stepped forward, their faces filled with anger. "Cathedral scum, get out of our way!" The man with a busted nose then spoke up. "Your freak of a buddy started this by attacking our friend over some girl!"


    The knight''s eyes narrowed. "Maybe your buddy should keep his hands to himself then?"


    The men''s fury flared, and casting their voices aside, they answered with their blades, lunging at her. But the knight''s movements were fluid. Her swordsmanship was flawless, almost unreal. She deflected and parried with ease, each movement calculated and swift, as if she had been through this countless times before.


    Esmeray watched, entranced. Where Dex would have left them with injuries too severe, the knight moved with a specific purpose. She didn''t strike to maim or kill; each attack was to subdue.


    One by one, the men fell to the floor, unconscious, their weapons discarded on the ground beside them.


    Esmeray couldn''t tear her eyes away. She had always found combat crude, fit for barbarians and brutes, but this was different. The knight had moved with such artistry that even she couldn''t deny it. Swordsmanship wasn''t just a tool for her, it was a passion. And for the first time, Esmeray understood the allure of the sword.


    Meanwhile, Dex winced, blinking against the searing pain in his retinas as it gradually subsided. His vision returned slowly, and by the time it cleared, the fight was already over. Three men lay sprawled out on the tavern floor.


    In front of him stood a woman clad in lightweight armor, calmly sheathing her blade. She turned toward Dex, offering a faint smile and extended a hand.


    "Not my first time saving someone," she said lightly.


    Dex, however, wasn''t in the mood. He swatted her hand away and pushed himself to his feet.


    Esmeray stepped forward, coming to stand beside the knight, whom she now knew as Hera. Her gaze shifted to Dex, "Dex, I had it under control. If they dared to lay a hand on me further, all I''d have had to do is scream. They would have been thrown out in seconds."


    Dex''s jaw clenched, as he nodded. "I''ll remember that next time," He spat, his voice filled with bitter anger. "I''m tired of saving your ass anyway."


    Hera shook her head gently, placing a hand on Dex''s shoulder. "I''d like to thank you, Dex." Hera said softly, in place for Esmeray.


    Dex''s gaze snapped to Hera, his irritation increasing. The way she casually wielded his name, her hand on him. "Yeah, whatever¡­" he muttered, brushing her hand off.


    His eyes drifted around the tavern, taking in the aftermath. A table left overturned, chairs lay scattered, and a few trembling customers began setting things back in order. They righted the table, repositioned the chairs. Yet their faces remained the same even after the fight. They were afraid. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    It made Dex''s stomach churn. These were supposed to be people of extraordinary potential, how could such cowards survive the First Nightmare?!


    "Can we get the hell out of here?" Dex asked, his voice issuing more of an order instead of a question.


    "Sure," Hera replied, falling into step behind him, as though assuming she was included.


    "I wasn''t talking to you," Dex stated firmly.


    Her smirk returned again, followed by persistence. "All right, hothead," she said, her tone teasing but firm. "I''m going to escort you out so you don''t get followed."


    "We don''t need a¡ª"


    "Okay," Esmeray interjected quickly, cutting Dex off before the argument could escalate.


    Dex shot her a sharp glance, but he didn''t argue. Instead, he turned and made his way to the tavern door.


    The three of them stepped out into the cool night air. The village beyond the tavern was alive with energy, its streets filled with people going about their daily tasks. Lanterns hung from posts, their warm light casting a golden glow over the shoveled cobblestone roads. The sounds of laughter, chatter, and there was even a melody from a street performer.


    Unbeknownst to the people there and to Dex himself, the village was nestled farthest away from the actual ''Fractured Peaks.'' The village''s population was substantial, likely numbering in the hundreds, perhaps nearing a thousand.


    Dex arrived at this village just a week ago, and every single day it amazes him how people were content with this way of life. When he had first arrived, he was driven by the hope that Zerin might have remained or passed through. The people had offered nothing useful, not even a glimmer of recognition at his name.


    Even Esmeray''s aspect, with its unique connection to clairvoyance, had proven fruitless. "I can''t get a read on him," she had told Dex more than once, her voice tinged with frustration, perhaps even worry.


    He wasn''t the smartest, but he wasn''t oblivious either. He knew what the absence of any trace of Zerin could imply. Still, he refused to accept such a ridiculous notion. Zerin was alive, he was certain of it.


    Dex exhaled deeply, the mist from his breath fanned out before him, dissipating into the warm glow of the lanterns lining the streets. Shops stood close together, their wooden signs swaying gently, while the faint outlines of homes further back were barely visible through a linger white fog.


    "I''ve heard that the Cathedral is in need of capable people," Esmeray said, her voice soft. She glanced up at Hera, waiting for an answer from the knight.


    Hera tilted her head, smiling faintly before returning her gaze to the road ahead. "Sure¡­ if you''re capable of wielding a blade," she then added. "But you don''t seem like the type."


    "But¡­" Hera trailed off, her gaze flickering toward Dex, studying him with an appraising look. "But he does. We need more people like him."


    Esmeray immediately turned to Dex, a look of expectation.


    "Like hell¡­" Dex muttered underneath his breath.


    He wasn''t falling for that look.


    Hera''s lips curved into a knowing smile as she closed her eyes, as if enjoying his reaction. "And there it is. I knew he wouldn''t accept¡ªdefinitely the self-conscious type," she poked.


    Dex''s fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. "What?!


    Hera turned slightly, an exaggerated expression of mock sympathy filled her features. "Oh, did I upset you?"


    "I''ll kick your ass!" Dex snapped back.


    Hera smirked, her confidence unshaken. "Just like how you narrowly got out of that tavern alive?" she countered, the smugness targeting him precisely.


    That smirk¡ªit was the same as Master Cael''s. So infuriatingly cocky. The difference, Dex thought, was that she didn''t have half the talent or skill to back it up. And he''d love to prove it.


    "Let''s spar then," Dex said, his voice sharp. "I win, and we get into the Cathedral for free. You win, and I''ll join your damn Knights of the Cathedral."


    Hera raised her eyebrow clearly amused. "So cocky, she mused, stepping closer. Her finger stabbed his chest lightly as a taunt. "Perhaps it can be arranged. The name''s Hera, you should remember it for when I beat you."


    Esmeray stood off to the side, her lips curling into a smile as she watched Dex''s unintentional strategic intelligence. Now, it didn''t matter the outcome. Both possibilities led them to the same goal¡ªentry into the Cathedral.


    "Well," Esmeray chimed in, her tone a bit eager, "you two seem lively enough. Can we get this spar going soon?"


    Hera''s smirk grew wide as she shifted her gaze back to Dex. "It can be done tomorrow," she said confidently. "It''ll be a great show for my subordinates."


    Dex scowled, "I didn''t agree to being entertainment for you sheltered knights.


    "You''ll be joining us soon," Hera''s voice dripped with confidence. "It will also pay for her ticket in." She gestured to Esmeray.


    "How about you stop with the empty talk and just arrange this already? I am tired of listening to you."


    Hera chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his frustration. "All right, tough guy. Hang around the tavern tomorrow, same time you got your ass kicked, and I''ll be there to pick you up.


    With that, she turned and walked away, her light armor clinking faintly.


    Dex scoffed, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."


    "I agree," Esmeray said quietly, her gaze lingering on Hera as she walked away. "She is strong."


    Dex turned to her, his annoyance flaring. "Whose side are you on?!"


    Esmeray met his eyes, her expression calm but sincere. "You''re stronger, I know that for sure."


    For a moment, Dex blinked, caught off guard by her words. Quickly he recovered, "Of course I am, name a sleeper that could take out an entire pack of lurkers and an Awakened Devil on their own?"


    She is unique, " Esmeray said thoughtfully, recalling what she had seen prior. "I was able to see everything¡­ her True Name, Aspect and all."


    Dex''s smirk widened, and he balled his fist, the familiar surge of competitive energy filling him. "So, you are saying I have the edge?"


    Esmeray raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You want to cheat? I thought you were convinced you could beat her."


    Dex clicked his tongue. "Our deal? He pressed, poking at her with his words.


    Esmeray folded her arms across her chest, her expression cold. "You said it was useless," she reminded him of his words from before.


    "Are you kidding me?" Dex shot back, his voice rising. "Do you want to get into the Cathedral or not?"


    Esmeray''s smirk only grew as she leaned back slightly. "Either way, I get in¡ªwhether you win or lose. And I know you aren''t about to cower from this fight. She''s already gotten under your skin, hasn''t she?"


    Her words jabbed at him, and Dex scowled.


    "Just tell me!" Dex demanded.


    Esmeray raised her chin, her arms still folded. "Apologize."


    "For what?"


    For hurting my feelings," she replied smoothly, but he could tell her expression was serious, despite an unnatural playfulness in her tone.


    "You''re joking," he said flatly.


    "Nope."


    Dex clenched his jaw, taking a deep, steadying breath as he closed his eyes. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "I''m sorry for calling your end of the deal useless."


    For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, a burst of laughter came out catching him off guard.


    Dex''s eyes snapped open, and he stared at her, his irritation battling against the odd warmth of seeing her so genuinely amused. Her laughter unrestrained, a smile he hasn''t seen in a while.


    He wanted to be mad¡ªreally, he did, But he couldn''t.

 Chapter 60: Unexpected Circumstances

    The cathedral loomed over the village, more like a divine fortress, overlooking its measly subjects. Its unnatural size could easily house the entire village population, yet only a select few---numbering in the low hundreds---were granted access to this colossal stronghold, while the rest remained below confined to their humble shacks like peasants.


    Chiseled from dark, sturdy stone, the gothic cathedral appeared almost impenetrable, its imposing presence seeming to have stood for over a millennium. Gaining entry was not so simple, one would need to either be invited to democratic election or be lucky enough to challenge one of the six leaders of the six cohorts---a term that Dex never heard before but quickly became familiar with.


    He also soon discovered that Hera was one of these leaders, commanding the Cohort of Wisdom. The other cohorts---Justice, Unity, Faith, Strength, and Legacy---each had their own respective leaders. And soon, Dex was about to face one of them in battle before the entire assembly.


    He tried to dismiss his nerves, but he''d be lying if he said they weren''t getting to him. He had expected a small viewing party, maybe twenty, possibly thirty---but instead, he faced a number around two hundred. About a third of them were Knights of the cathedral, and the rest took residence by either service or close personal bonds with the Knights.


    "Nervous?" Esmeray''s voice barely carried over the excited crowd, their loud chatter and bickering filled the air as they waited for the match to begin.


    "I''m fine," Dex spoke, trying to focus on the task at hand.


    He knew he could win, his memory---[Sycophant''s Enshroudment]. Mainly its enchantment [Efficient Silk] allowed him to use his Aspect ability almost indefinitely. This is what saved both him and Esmeray those grueling weeks, out in the wilderness alone, this is what allowed him to slay an entire pack of Lurkers as well as an Awakened Devil by himself.


    Stepping into the clearing designated for battle, a strikingly beautiful woman spoke.


    ¡°Let today mark the welcoming of another to our cathedral, Dex of the Cohort of Wisdom.¡±


    What? I didn¡¯t even lose yet!


    ¡°There is no shame in losing¡ªonly progress.¡± The woman continued, her voice warm, her smile gentle as she turned her attention to Dex, her gesture drawing every eye to him putting him solely and squarely in the spotlight. ¡°Come. Prove your strength.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Dex exhaled slowly, rising to his feet. He approached the woman. Wrapping himself in his memory, the darkened silk coming alive wrapping around him.


    Normally, he only wore the memory up to his neck, forcing it to only operate at seventy percent of its full potential. but this time, with the battle ahead, he needed every ounce of its power.


    The crowd reacted with surprise as the mysterious memory cloaked him, his form taking a similar to a mummified wraith. Loose darkened silk strands of the memory fluttered around him as if being carried by an invisible wind.


    Then, Hera stepped forward, with a calm confident smile. The crowd then shifted from silence to her, bursting into a cheer, particularly from a designated section---her subordinates, Dex assumed.


    ¡°Scary¡­¡± Hera remarked lightly, a faint smile rising on her lips, addressing Dex''s new appearance.


    But before Dex could respond, the woman who had introduced the match raised her voice again.


    ¡°My apologies, Dex. This fight will be without the use of memories, for the safety of the participants. Aspect abilities, however, are allowed.¡± Her smile was soft, but it didn¡¯t ease the sudden revelation of what this entailed for him.


    Dex''s heart sank. He knew he could win---his victory was almost certain as long as he had his memory. But now, with his most powerful asset unexpectedly restricted, his chances of winning were not certain. Still, he had an edge. He knew Hera''s aspect, and he knew her flaw---a weakness he could exploit, though it would take time. He just had to outlast her, but without his memory, he wasn''t sure he could manage it.


    Shit...


    He unraveled his memory, letting the silk fall away to reveal his face. ¡°I can¡¯t, I don¡¯t have anything else to wear,¡± he said, feigning indifference.


    Hera tilted her head, an unsettling knowing smile tugging at her lips. ¡°I expected as much. I had someone fetch you some extras. You¡¯ll need them when you join us.¡±


    Dex¡¯s frustration boiled. Was this orchestrated? Esmeray had promised safeguards against seers, yet this felt non coincidental.


    He gritted his teeth, his frustration building. "I''ll take just a minute..."


    ***


    Grimacing, Dex changed into the provided armor, the act itself feeling like surrender. The armor held her sigil, a sigil of a great tree.


    Esmeray walked beside him back to the clearing where the battle would commence, her presence comforting.


    Esmeray spoke. "Remember, The law of attrition. You can win."


    Dex smirked faintly. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t care who won. You get what you want either way.


    Esmeray raised a brow. ¡°True. But since we¡¯re stuck here now, it¡¯d be nice if you didn¡¯t embarrass us.¡±


    Dex shook his head, chuckling. What an asshole. Still, her words gave him an additional reason to win¡ªnot just for himself.


    "Now, I can''t lose." He smirked as he left her side.


    Upon entering the clearing, he was handed a mundane steel blade, not exactly as sharp as he''d like, but it was a spar after all.


    He brandished his blade, coincidently Hera did the same, they looked at each other.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never sparred with real blades before,¡± Dex admitted.


    ¡°Nervous?¡± Hera¡¯s smile was sweet, yet that tone always held that mockery.


    ¡°A little,¡± Dex replied, taking his own stance.


    "Adorable..." Hera said before steeling herself, taking a precise fencing stance.


    The announcer stepped forward, her voice sharp as it tore through the crowd''s murmurs. "This is a fair contest. Striking blows are prohibited. Victory will be decided by subduing your opponent, rendering them unable to continue, or forcing their surrender."


    She paused, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, "Any injuries sustained will be promptly tended to by our skilled healers after the match. So, give it your all!"


    Turning fully to address the audience, she raised her voice. "Is the audience ready?"


    The thunderous roar erupted, the cheers reverberating off the tall cathedral walls.


    Facing Dex and Hera once more, the announcer''s tone grew steady. "Then... let the battle begin!"

 Chapter 61: Bleeding Resolve

    "...Begin!"


    The tall burning braziers cast their frenzied shadows as the battled commenced.


    He lunged at her without hesitation, exploiting the few seconds it would take for her to activate her Aspect Ability.


    His sword whistled through the air, aiming for her side.


    She reacted swiftly, slashing back at his blade, steel meeting steel with a sharp clang.


    Then, something shifted. It was faint, but he recognized it---her Aspect ability activated.


    Dex retreated, quickly creating distance between himself and her. He moved toward the edge of the clearing.


    "Fight her, you idiot!" a man from the sidelines shouted. Dex paid him no mind. His breaths came quick and shallow, his focus zeroed in.


    Strength?  Dex thought, his mind racing.


    He blinked, and then she charged at him. She chose speed.


    She quickly closed the gap and arced her blade toward him. The attack was swift, cutting through the air, but it was nothing impossible for him.


    He shifted, his blade moving just in time to block hers. Sparks flew as the swords clashed. If not for his grueling matches against Cael, maybe he''d have trouble reacting in time.


    Dex didn''t stop there, he followed through with another attack driving his sword forward.


    Hera met his attack with a parry, her movements fluid and precise. Then she smiled. It was faint, and it angered him.


    Dex attacked her again, which she blocked, but then he lowered himself sweeping her leg, knocking her to the floor, his sword pointed down at her, directly at her face.


    "Surrender..." Dex said calmly, stifling his anger.


    Hera''s eyes narrowed as Dex''s blade hovered just inches from her face. Her breath remained stead, despite the intense pressure, and Dex could feel the anger building inside her.


    With a swift, almost imperceptible motion, she dropped her left hand to the ground, fingers splayed across the cold cathedral stone. Her palm struck the floor, and in one motion, her right leg shot out, sweeping low beneath his, hooking his ankle and sending him off balance.


    She sprang to her feet, sword in hand, and leaped at him. But before she could land her strike, Dex reacted. He kicked her square in the chest, sending her crashing back to the stone floor. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    As they both rose to their feet, the air seemed to thicken, heavier now. Dex could feel it---the change of her aspect ability.


    Hera''s Aspect, as Esmeray had explained, allowed her to amplify her physical capabilities in progressive stages. Each stage granted her exponentially greater power, but at a steep price¡ªevery increase strained her body, bringing her closer to exhaustion or even collapse.


    Dex''s strategy was straightforward, in theory. He needed to bait her into overusing her power, driving her to her limits. Then, when she was heavily exhausted, he would use his own Aspect Ability to finish the fight.


    But the problem was her power. Hera''s first stage alone was nearly on par with Dex when he used his own Aspect, so how strong was her second stage?


    Before Dex could plan his next move, Hera was already attacking. Her blade sliced toward him, but this time, her movements were slower. He reacted instinctively, bringing his sword up to block.


    The instant their weapons connected, he felt it¡ªa staggering force behind her strike. It was as if the weight of a hundred men bore down on him. His arm strained against the crushing pressure.


    For a moment, he thought his body might give in. But just as the force nearly overwhelmed him, Dex twisted free, narrowly escaping her crushing blade.


    The force of her attack betrayed her. Unable to fully control the power she wielded, Hera followed through too far. Her blade slammed into the stone floor, shattering the surface and leaving a deep gouge.


    Dex glanced at her, his breathing quickening, and saw her expression. The grin she''d worn moments ago was gone, replaced by a face of fatigue. Esmeray''s plan was working, but wasn''t it too soon?


    In her compromised position, Dex saw an opportunity. He stepped in and slashed at her exposed side. Hera moved to evade, but her speed¡ªsacrificed for strength¡ªcouldn''t save her. His blade bit deeply into her arm, cleaving through the mundane chainmail as if it were paper. Blood sprayed across the cathedral floor, vivid and seeping into the grooves in the stone floor.


    The crowd erupted in awe and astonishment. Gasps and murmurs filled the space¡ªDex had drawn first blood.


    Hera''s reaction surprised him. The crowd''s response seemed to mean nothing to her. Her face was calm, defiant despite the deep gash in her arm. Dex''s blade still lodged there, yet she didn''t flinch, not even attempting to remove it.


    The air around Hera disjointed. It shifted chaotically, as if unsure of which was to flow. Dex instinctively drew his blade back, bracing himself.


    "Leave her alone!" Hera barked underneath her gritted teeth.


    Her words, filled with such anger, sent a chill down his spine.


    "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, his voice tense as he raised his sword defensively.


    Hera tilted her head slightly, her dirty blonde hair falling in front of one of her eyes. "So, you want to die?"


    Suddenly, the air grew even more dense, pressing down on Dex. Around the arena, the crowd reacted audibly---they too felt the shift. Hera had advanced to another stage.


    She stepped forward, her focus entirely on Dex. Her eyes---once sharp---were now streaked with crimson. Blood seeped from her tear ducts, streaming down her cheeks.


    She lost it!


    Hera moved, her speed unnatural. Her blade was mere moments from cleaving his face.


    Dex immediately activated his Aspect to its fullest, narrowly tilting his head back to dodge. The blade missed, but a sharp sting raked across his face. Pain erupted in his eyes, forcing them shut as blood began to spill, mirroring hers.


    He staggered back, struggling to open his eyes. As soon as he did, she was upon him. He dodged her blows, but even as he avoided her blade, the air around it tore through his chainmail.


    Still, Dex managed to endure. Both of them were blinded now, blood pooling in their eyes and streaking down their faces.


    In a sudden burst of power, Hera''s blade connected with his chest. The blow cracked his mundane armor, sending shards of metal shrapnel scattering.


    Pain surged through him, each microscopic cut igniting as if his skin were on fire. His lungs seized, his breath torn away, and his body locked in a spasmodic shudder. With a strangled gasp, he collapsed to one knee, his weight sinking into the cracked ground beneath him.


    His hand searched his chest for any grave injuries and found nothing, his bare chest was only red and raw.


    Through the haze of pain, he looked up to see her standing over him, her blade unwavering and pointed at his throat. Her bloodied tears dripped onto the floor, mingling with the chaos below.


    The sensible thing would have been to surrender. His body screamed for respite, begged for survival. But with trembling hands, Dex gripped his sword and, against all reason, forced himself to his feet.


    Shit... She might actually kill me.


    His battered frame swayed, his vision blurred, but he planted his stance firmly. He wasn''t sure if it was pride, stupidity, or some cursed sense of honor that drove him. Maybe it didn''t matter. All that mattered now was who held the greater resolve.


    And, for the first time, he wasn''t sure his was greater.


    The crowd erupted in a deafening roar as Dex stood once more. But neither he nor Hera cared for the crowd.


    And as the air between them grew taut, he made his decision. If he was to lose, it would be with his blade in motion and not an ounce of himself held back.

 Chapter 62: Molten Gambit

    Blood streamed down their faces, blurring their vision. The clash of their blades was the only thing keeping them centered in the intensity of battle.


    They tore away from each other. The crowd roared their anticipation building.


    Dex was a mess¡ªsweat and blood matted his hair to his forehead, his chest was exposed through his mundane armor as well.


    But even with this being the case she was in far worse shape. Hera¡¯s was now hollow, her cheeks drawn tight over bone. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, each exhale a wheezing effort, as though the very air was choking her. Her veins were stark against her skin.


    Yet through it all, her gaze never wavered from him¡ªunblinking, cold, empty.


    Her voice was strained and hoarse, barely a whisper. "End it, Hera..." she murmured, her breath coming out in a wheezing hiss.


    Then, a shift---a tremor in the air. Dex''s eyes widened as her movements blurred, faster than he could track. Though her eyes were shut tight, there was no hesitation.


    Dex reacted immediately, raising his blade to intercept.


    Her strike hit like a storm, severing his blade, cleaving clean through the blade right above the guard.


    Dex stood frozen, staring at his broken weapon. The severed steel glowed faintly.


    "What am I fighting?" Dex looked back at Hera to see her holding her blade this time, her mundane blade was glowing orange, like it had been forged in a volcano.


    They set me up. His gaze snapped to Hera''s face, her expression vacant, as if she truly there.


    Without warning, she raised her blade once more. His instincts screamed. Dex reacted as she swung downward.


    What happened to the rules about not killing?! Damn it!


    With a swift motion, he summoned his curved steel, its silver gleam slicing through the air as he intercepted the blow. Heat flared as molten fragments of her blade scattered like sparks, biting into his flesh. The burn was immediate, sharp as fire, but he gritted his teeth, swallowing the scream that tried to claw its way out.


    In a fluid motion, Dex kicked her, the force sending her crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Her blade clattered from her hand, landing far out of reach.


    This duel was over. Dex stood, chest heaving. For a moment, everything went silent.


    The crowd erupted¡ªnot in cheers, but in furious shouts, faces twisted in contempt, eyes glinting like daggers.


    Dex¡¯s stomach churned as he faced a sea of sneering onlookers. Yet to him, they could all piss off; the match had been rigged from the very start.


    A single, deliberate cough cut through the chaos as the female announcer, her voice amplified by some unseen enhancement, attempted to quiet the crowd. With a composed air, she smoothed her pristine sleeves before addressing the audience.


    "Now... Now..." she murmured, her voice still holding that enchantment that magnified it tenfold. "Let''s maintain order."Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Dex couldn''t lower his guard, even if he wanted to, he couldn''t trust any of them.


    "Dex is declared the loser of this match for breaking the rules. As a result, he must fulfill---"


    "Zip it!" Dex roared, cutting her off. He his bare upper body in his [Sycophant''s Enshroudments]. He felt his upper body''s fatigue lessen greatly.


    "Your rules say I lost? Fine. Mine say we''re not done here." He quickly shoved the announcer aside. In that breathless moment, a loud clash of blades rang out, breathing life back into the crowd.


    The audience was in shock to see Hera attack so recklessly, yet they were equally surprised when Dex saved the announcer by pushing her out of the way of Hera''s wild slash.


    and a clash of blades instantly followed, and the crowd rose in shock as Hera was already striking to cleave through the announcer and it would have happened if Dex didn''t push her out of the way.


    "Mine say we are not done here."


    Their blades clashed again.


    "Hello?! Are you deaf?! I lost¡ªyou already won!" Dex shouted.


    Yet she remained unfazed, devoid of hesitation or mercy.


    He barely managed to parry in time. Each impact rattled his bones, forcing him back step by step toward the wall of onlookers. Gasps rippled through the crowd as spectators near the perimeter scrambled to distance themselves from the chaos.


    Beyond the frenzied craze of the audience, the other leaders of the cohorts observed in composed silence.


    ¡°What a mess. Your vision was clearly wrong¡ªhow do you expect us to explain this?¡± The Justice Cohort leader murmured, his arms folded and eyes half-closed in quiet contemplation.


    Beside him, the Strength Cohort leader shifted, his muscles tensed beneath his heavy cloak. ¡°Shall I stop her?¡± he asked, already rising from his seat.


    A soft chuckle interrupted him.


    ¡°Hm¡­ nay,¡± interjected a woman. ¡°Seraph will handle this one. Our dear Hera has taken quite a beating¡ªI wouldn¡¯t like her to get hurt further.¡± She sighed. ¡°A shame, though¡ªI expected her to reveal whatever he is hiding¡­¡±


    Her delicate white bonnet with lace trim framed a calm, composed face. The high-collared dress, meticulously embroidered with fine detail, carried an air of tradition befitting the cathedral¡¯s grandeur; though aged, the fabric remained pristine.


    ¡°Alright, time to perform!¡± announced Seraph, leader of the Cohort of Unity, with an eager grin. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, stretching her arms high before releasing a playful sigh. Then, with a snap of her fingers, a small flute materialized in her hand.


    Meanwhile, Dex was still fighting for his life. He was backed into the cold stone cathedral wall. Hera''s blade came down, slicing into the wall behind him with a violent crack, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air.


    Dex seized the moment. The instant the dust obscured them, he lunged. His blade flashed through the haze, aiming for her exposed side. But Hera was faster. She parried, the force of it sending a tremor up his arm¡ªyet he didn¡¯t stop. Twisting with the momentum, he burst forward and slammed his fist into her face.


    After striking her, he braced for retaliation, but instead, a melody filled the air. It was light and almost playful at first, tickling his curiosity, but before he could shake its hold, it wrapped around him like an invisible snare, tightening with every note.


    Dex¡¯s limbs grew sluggish, his vision blurred, and before he could resist, his body gave out, crashing to the ground.


    Seraph strolled closer, still playing her flute¡¯s melody. She paused seeing Hera still standing, her blade still clutched tightly in her hand as her back was to her. Seraph then huffed in mild frustration as she turned to the others with crossed arms.


    "How is she still awake?!" she called out dramatically.


    The Justice Cohort leader scoffed. ¡°How the hell would we know? It¡¯s your aspect¡ªfigure it out yourself!¡±


    Seraph groaned; he was always yelling at her. It wasn¡¯t her fault she was still learning. With a resigned huff, she tiptoed closer and peered at Hera¡¯s eerily still form. After a blink¡ªand another¡ªSeraph gasped, ¡°Oh my gods, she¡¯s asleep! That¡¯s actually adorable!¡±


    Without hesitation, she flung her arms around Hera, slowly peeling her iron grip off her red-hot blade, then she began attempting to scoop her up¡ªonly to struggle immediately with the unexpected weight.


    ¡°Oof¡ªwhy is she so heavy?!¡± she groaned.


    The Bonnet Girl watched Seraph with a light smile. ¡°Told you she was the better option¡­¡±


    The Strength Cohort leader nodded. ¡°Very well¡­¡±


    Finally, the Faith Cohort leader spoke. ¡°M¡¯lady¡­ it appears someone didn¡¯t evacuate with the rest,¡± he said, gesturing toward the solitary figure left behind.


    Raising an eyebrow, the Bonnet Girl glanced briefly in that direction. ¡°Hmm¡­ I see that. You can go speak with her for me.¡±


    With a nod, the Faith Cohort leader departed to approach the unusual individual who had refused to leave.


    While panic drove the others to flee through winding corridors of the cathedral, Esmeray chose to settle into one of the empty chairs.


    Her legs elegantly crossed, she leaned back, her eyes drifting not over the frantic discussions of the leaders but toward woman in the bonnet.


    From the moment Esmeray caught sight of her, she felt an immediate, recognition. Esmeray understood that this woman was a seer of a rarer breed. Unlike typical seers whose visions often skimmed the surface of fate, the Bonnet Girl exuded a profound, layered insight. Esmeray sensed that while both possessed the uncanny ability to perceive hidden truths, the Bonnet Girl¡¯s understanding of the unseen realms might even surpass her own.


    ¡°Little help!?¡± Seraph¡¯s voice rang out, tinged with both desperation as she struggled to drag the motionless body of Hera.


    It wasn¡¯t long before Thorne, the leader of the cohort of Strength, rose. With a few deliberate steps, he moved toward Seraph.


    As Thorne reached Seraph, he offered a nod before hoisting Hera over his shoulder. ¡°Thank you, Thorne!¡± Seraph exclaimed, her ever-present cheerfulness always being shown.


    Unexpectedly only a few seconds later did the leader of the cohort of Faith reappeared. The Bonnet seer arched an eyebrow. ¡°Back already?¡±


    The leader of the cohort of Faith responded. ¡°She didn¡¯t want to speak with me, she wanted to speak with you. She only asks that he be taken care of now, and when he awakens, she will return to see him.¡±


    Esmeray slowly rose and began to walk away. With each measured step, she left.

 Chapter 63: Wilted Bond

    The bedrooms of the Cathedral were well furnished by the residents. Men and women that couldn''t offer their power or hand to the six cohorts were positioned to maintain the Cathedral for their stay, and they were called residents of the Cathedral.


    After recent events of the battle between Dex and Hera, the Cathedral was back under control of the Cohorts. The fighters were taken into bedrooms where they were assigned healers and were currently being maintained by them.


    In a chamber, Dex lay motionless on his back upon a narrow cot, unconscious. The scent of medicinal herbs clung to the air as a healer, meticulous in her craft used her aspect to empower the herbs effects.


    She began removing his boots¡ªsturdy, well-worn things that had seen a grave beating. Hera''s aspect seemed to causes a rippling effect to his armor not a single mundane piece was salvageable. Then, with careful hands she continued, unfastening the straps securing his chainmail leggings. But after she stripped away the brittle armor that secured his lower half, something unexpected happened.


    Inky-black strands of silk slithered down his body, whose source was the dark silken memory that secured his chest. They slid down his torso, coiling around the rest of his body, and in moment, they had wrapped him entirely, cocooning his body in a sheath of darkness.


    The healer stumbled back in surprise.


    "What in the hells?"


    Finally, after a while the strands settled at a state of rest. Swallowing her unease, she reached out fingers trembling as they brushed against the silk. The silk resisted her touch, pulling tighter around his body.


    "Stubborn thing," she muttered.


    Her eyes flickered upward, her heart suddenly sinking in her chest.


    His face was gone. The black strips of his memory had slithered over his features, molding to the shape of his skull, mummifying him.


    She inched closer. Hesitantly, she reached for his chin, fingertips grazing the surface. It was smooth and hard. The layered silk strands were like hardened resin.


    She was nervous for his safely as it appeared that under this mask he couldn''t have possibly been able to breathe. So she began to pick at the mask.


    But suddenly, his head lifted ever so slightly.


    A chill raced down her spine. A presence clouded the room before settling over her. It was as though the unseen had turned its full attention upon her.


    "I''m¡­ I''m trying to help you¡­" She whispered, struggling to get the words out.


    But from Dex, no answer came.


    Instead, in a sudden burst of motion, his hand shot out grasping the hand on his face, seizing her wrist.


    She gasped, a sharp cry escaping her lips as his fingers tightened, iron-strong. She was pulled forward, forced to meet the gaze of the black mask that covered his face. Through there were no eyes seen in the sockets of the mask, but she could still fell them, their pressure burrowing into her very being.


    "Please! Let me go!" She yelped.


    She struggled, finally wrenching herself free. Staggering back, she clutched her wrist to her chest, her breath coming in ragged gulps. The being in the room with her held an inhuman intensity that she never felt before, it made the chamber feel impossibly small.


    And he said nothing. It just sat up in the bed focusing its gaze upon her, the moonlight framing whatever darkness that took a hold of him.


    That was all it took.


    Fear spiked through her veins, and without another thought, she spun and fled, bursting through the doors as though the very devil was on her heels.


    She ripped down the hall, before reaching the end of the hall she collided into someone, falling on the ground on her bottom.


    "Valery¡­" A deep exhale left the man.


    She raised her head looking up at him, fear was evident in her features. "I''m sorry, Sir Eamon¡­ I¡­ I¡­"


    Eamon noticed her face of fear and his steel gaze softened. "Calm down¡­"


    She shook her head as she looked up at him, her elbow propping her up as she turned back down the hall. "There is a devil!"


    "Huh? A devil?" Eamon eyes widened as he summoned his sword.


    Eamon was surprised as it couldn''t be possible for a Devil to enter the Cathedral unnoticed.


    "Where!" He commanded immediately, holding his sword tight.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "In his room! He is the devil!" She began to sit up as she clung to his cloak.


    "He is the devil?" Eamon looked at her with confusion and disbelief, but her fear seemed genuine.


    "Take the night off, Valery."


    Eamon walked past her, but she still clung to his cloak.


    "Sir, what are you going to do?" She said as she trembled.


    Eamon stopped, "I am going to see this ''devil'' you were talking about."


    Her eyes widened as she looked at his back, slowly releasing his cloak.


    "Go meet with Seraphina¡­ She is good company." Eamon walked down the hall.


    It was silent in this hall, but it wasn''t anything eerie by itself as this hall held only Dex.


    Eamon could understand Valery''s fear some what, isolated in a hall with just her and a client, but what if there was an actual Devil? What would that mean for the protections placed upon the Cathedral?


    Eamon shook his head. They should still have several months before that became a worry.


    Eamon arrived at the door, reached for the door hand, holding his blade in his other hand tightly as he slowly peeked through the door before pushing it open. The warm glow from the hallway spilled in, stretching across the floor until it reached him¡ªblond hair catching the light, his blue eyes holding an innocent naivety as he sat on the bed.


    Eamon sighed, loosening his grip on his sword. "Some devil you are."


    Dex squinted against the brightness. His body from his neck down was covered in his darkened mummifying memory.


    "Devil?"


    Eamon raised his blade lightly pointing it at Dex from across the room. His surgical gaze locked onto him, his voice laced with a bit of irritation. "Why scare the people that are trying to help you?"


    Dex blinked. He raised a hand rubbing the back of his head. "Me? i just woke up."


    Eamon''s eyes narrowed. He studied Dex for a moment before shaking his head with a exhale. "Whatever. Just don''t do it again. The residents work too hard."


    Dex looked at the man, before he then spoke up. "Who are you?"


    "Eamon," he stated plainly. "The leader of the Cohort of Justice. The one in charge of you now."


    The claim was harsh against Dex''s ears. "Since when did I agree to this?"


    Eamon''s lips curled into something between amusement and impatience. "When you lost to Hera. She is unable to direct you right now. So, I am positioned to do such as we have duties to fulfill for the people."


    Dex hands balled into a fist in his lap. "Yeah, yeah. I know I lost. You don''t have to remind me." He then lifted his eyes looking at Eamon. "But seriously¡ªhow the hell was I ever suppose to win against that?"


    Eamon eyed him as he was unimpressed. "Not my problem. Now, gather yourself. Your ally is requesting you."


    ***


    Eamon led Dex through the hallways, until they reached a quiet chamber tucked away.


    "She''s inside, Eamon said, nodding toward the door in front of him. There was a knowing glint in his eyes that left Dex uneasy.


    "Take your time catching up." He added.


    Dex took a step forward. He pressed his palm to the door pushing it open. The hinges creaked softly as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.


    The chamber was modest yet inviting, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight spilling through a tall, arched window. Shadows flickered along the stone walls where a fire burned low. Esmeray stood near that very window, her silhouette outlined against the deep indigo sky. The faint icy breeze whispered through the open window, the chilly air toying with the strands of her short brown hair.


    She didn''t turn at his entrance, but he could tell she was very well aware of his presence. Her shoulders lifted with a slow exhale, as she had braced herself.


    "You seem to be settling in well," Dex remarked, his eyes sweeping the space¡ªthe neatly made bed, the stack of well-worn books piled atop a small table, the lingering scent of lavender from a nearby bundle of dried flowers.


    Everything about the room felt odd, carefully placed, as if to conjure up the feeling of comfort.


    Esmeray finally glanced around as if seeing it anew, with a graceful twirl that would have caught the gazes of the average person. "Its nice, isn''t it?" she murmured, almost to herself. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she added, "I hope they''re treating you well too¡­ If your room isn''t up to par, you''re welcome to sleep here."


    Dex smirked, "Need to keep your dog on a leash?"


    Esmeray shook her head taking offense to his words. "You are not my dog¡­ You are my partner remember?"


    His smirk faltered, "Right¡­"


    Esmeray studied him for a while before approaching him, reaching for his hand with a look that was unexpected. Her look of amusement softening into something quieter. "I''d like for you to keep me company, tonight."


    Dex pulled his hand back, his expression darkening into something far less forgiving. "Is that suppose to pull me in? Or is this a way of you thanking me? Because if it is, I don''t want it."


    Esmeray brought her hand back to her side. "No, its not that¡ªI¡­"


    Dex scoffed bewildered. "This isn''t time to mess around, Esmeray being in this cathedral doesn''t change anything for me, I still have things I need to do."


    She pursed her lips, holding back the words she wanted to say, but she then gave in. "He is dead, Dex."


    Dex felt as if he was displaced in his body for a moment, he didn''t believe it for a second, and even if it was true it wouldn''t stop him.


    Dex''s jaw tightened. "Then I''ll find his corpse."


    Silence stretched past the moment after his unbelievable statement. The fire crackled in the hearth, a single ember snapping.


    "You are unbelievable! You know that!?" Esmeray said her face contorting in frustration.


    Dex was silent staring directly at her.


    Esmeray ran a hand through her brown hair. "I tried¡­ I tried to find him, I did everything I could and I can''t find him."


    Dex turned away from her taking a step to the door. "Thank you, Esmeray¡­ I truly appreciate your help and your effort, but I am not done, I will keep searching until I am certain."


    She huffed, folding her arms, turning her head away from him. "You are impossible."


    Dex stopped for a moment, but then he continued through the door, lightly shutting it behind him. But even with that light force, the few brittle petals from the dried flowers placed on the table drifted to the floor.


    ***


    Eamon straightened from where he lounged against the stone wall, arms crossed. his eyes tracked Dex''s exit, watching every tense movement.


    "That was quick," he mused, his head leaning forward slightly as he peeled off the wall.


    Dex didn''t break stride. In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his hand fisting in Eamon''s collar before slamming him against the stone wall.


    "I don''t know what the hell you think this is, but I am not the loyal servant type." Dex said, eyes locked onto Eamon''s. "I have my own goals, and that is my priority. So in the meantime go ahead, send me out to handle whatever business you desire¡ªbut the moment I find what I am searching for, I am walking away, regardless if I have to walk through you."


    Eamon refused to flinch. He shoved Dex off of him, adjusting his collar with a calm casualness.


    "Didn''t go so well in there did it?" he commented coldly before lowering his balled up fists to his side.


    Eamon closed his eyes, calming himself.


    "Well¡­ Prepare yourself then, for there is a monster I need you to kill."

 Chapter 64: Aspect Legacy

    Present day¡ªabout six months after the previous chapter with Dex.


    Zerin closed his eyes, sinking into the darkness of his soul sea. The familiar crimson moon greeted him, its eerie glow carving through the darkness like a spotlight. But instead of shining upon him the light pooled a few feet ahead, illuminating a motionless figure crumpled in its blood red glow.


    It was the Scourged Howler.


    Beneath the crimson light, the flesh of the Howler slowly and painstakingly began to knit itself back together.


    The process seemed to require the creature to be unconscious or even put it into a near-death like state. The once-glowing blue sockets of its eyes were hollow. It looked dead.


    A set of runes emerged upon his focus on the scene before him, displaying the status of the creature.


    Scourged Howler Condition: [Stable, 90%]


    Zerin exhaled, his voice even though it was barely above a whisper easily traveled through the darkness. "It''s been months, and you''re still recovering¡­"


    Guilt began to root in his mind. This was his fault¡ªif only he had listened to the creature, he wouldn''t have risked their lives nor would he have lost months of his life.


    Shaking off the past, he turned back to his runes. Searching further through his selection, he unveiled a slew of new runes that he had yet to appraise.


    Aspect: [Lord Of Veins]


    Aspect Rank: Divine.


    Aspect Abilities: [¡­]


    Aspect Legacy: [Sealed Desires]


    He couldn''t believe what he was witnessing.


    Aspect Legacy?!


    His shock was justified¡ªthis boon was nothing short of extraordinary. Every Aspect held a Aspect Legacy, yet only a rare few among the Awakened ever unlocked one. The conditions to receive an aspect legacy were obscure, unique to each individual, making it difficult to discern. In almost every case, it was hidden, forcing one to uncover it through their own journey.


    "What triggered this discovery?" Zerin pondered.


    To find out the reasoning behind discovering one''s Aspect Legacy was a great step in progressing it.


    "Sealed Desires¡­" He blinked a few times trying to think about the catalyst could have possibly been.


    He couldn''t pinpoint the exact moment it had manifested.


    Frustrated, he turned to the description for answers.


    "Damned Spell¡­ Now I have to rely on you for correct answers." He sighed, his eyes beginning to read the runes.


    Aspect Legacy: [Sealed Desires]


    Sealed Desires Description: [The Twin God''s divine ascension was sparked upon witnessing what dwelled in the Abyss. An unspeakable horror reintroduced itself¡ªa terror that could only be cast out by the light that breaks within The Womb of the World. Yet, instead of succumbing to the same anguish, The Twin God was saved by the grace of his Twin. Thus, corruption was avoided, but blasphemous desires were seeded.]


    Zerin''s thoughts spiraled.


    "The Twin God''s divine ascension was sparked upon witnessing what dwelled in the Abyss?"


    "Wasn''t the spell meant to guide the Awakened toward divinity?" Zerin internally posed a question.


    Just that single phrase along disturbed his current understanding. He had always assumed that divinity was the inevitable fate of all Awakened that could pass the trials of the Nightmares.


    In the past with zero knowledge about the spell''s true origins, he clung to its function: it was a path¡ªa guiding force leading those who bore it to godhood¡ªdivinity. But this wasn''t what the spell was stating at all, instead the spell stated that upon witnessing what he saw his ascension began.


    Zerin''s mind recalled images of what he saw and he quickly closed his eyes to dispel them.


    "So confusing¡­"


    His thoughts drifted elsewhere, as his eyes began sifting through the runes before him. The back of his mind fixated on the mention of his Twin in the spell''s text. He was nearly certain that this mysterious twin could only be Wisteria. But that couldn''t be true could it? He consumed her essence¡ªshe died before his very eyes. Besides, humanity''s collective knowledge reinforced this truth: all the gods were long dead.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "She is dead."


    He exhaled. Admitting it only got easier after a long period of time. If not for her influence upon his Aspect, he probably would have entirely forgotten about her by now. But this Aspect of his mad that impossible.


    Lost in this thought, he stared blankly at a set of new runes, tied to a new memory and two new attributes waiting to looked over.


    Memory Name: [Firmament Fragment]


    Memory Rank: [Dormant, Tier 7]


    Memory Description: [A fragment of the firmament, uncharged and displaced.]


    Zerin''s eyes raced to the singular enchantment this memory possessed.


    Memory Enchantment: [Unstable Resonance]


    Fragment Requirement: [0/500]


    Enchantment Description: [Upon funneling one''s energy into this fragment this fragments will be destroyed, and a unstable gateway will emerge.]


    Zerin coughed, then blinked a few times, but his eyes weren''t fooling him.


    "A gateway? could this open a way back home?!"


    If that were true, he could leave right now. He would reach Awakened rank! Without hesitation he summoned the jagged, dull rock in his hand.


    It was the same rock he had gathered from that pit, the stone that seemed to be imprisoning that terrible monstrosity in ice.


    "But this requirement is insane¡ªfive hundred soul fragments?"


    Zerin sifted to check his own amount of soul fragments accumulated and immediately got humbled.


    Soul Fragments: [85/1000]


    "I barely have ninety!" he shouted.


    He paused, considering the sheer number of creatures he would have to slay to meet the requirement.


    Zerin furrowed his brow. "If a Dormant creature with a single core grants me anywhere from one to five soul fragments, that means¡­ I''d have to kill hundreds of them!"


    His estimate wasn''t exact, but it gave him a rough idea. Low tier Dormant nightmare creatures weren''t the way to go. If he wanted to do this efficiently, he have to target stronger Dormant creatures or take the risk of fighting Awakened ones, which held even a greater amounts of fragments.


    Lifting his head from the runes, he deeply thought over the reality of his situation.


    "On my own I should be capable of killing an Awakened nightmare creature¡­ at least, a lower-tier one."


    And with the help of his Veinborne it would be even easier.


    A sudden surge of excitement rushed through him, and he tried to suppress the grin creeping onto his face. This was it! The best news he''d had in days¡ªno, months.


    All he had to do was hunt. If he reached five hundred fragments, he could leave. But if he stayed longer¡­ he could he could push his limits and saturate his core completely, reaching one thousand before using the [Firmament Fragment].


    Then, a thought struck him.


    Obligations.


    Zerin''s grip tightened around the jagged rock before his hand dropped to his side. He said he''d help Evan for the next few days. And more importantly, he swore he would find Dex.


    "Stubborn bastard¡­ I know you''re still out there."


    His sudden frown shifted into a smirk.


    Zerin then drew the fragment back into his soul seal, the memory exploded into red runes.


    "Those runes again."


    Having grown familiar with his soul sea, he had noticed its distinct difference from reality. Here, he could summon memories freely, un hindered by his innate ability, [Blood Fee], which normally siphoned his blood. But the most striking difference as how memories were summoned and dispersed¡ªjust like in the First Nightmare, the didn''t just dissolve into sparks of light in his soul sea. Instead they broke apart into red runes.


    After the runes dissipated Zerin turned his attention back to the runes before him. Finally, he was going to go over the last two attributes waiting to be inspected.


    Attribute Name: [Divine Initiate]


    Attribute Description: You have been initiated into the Divine.


    Zerin studied the runes, but once again, he found himself confused. This attribute only reinforced what the Aspect legacy had already revealed¡ªthat divinity was far more complete that he had imagined prior.


    But that was all this attribute had to offer, so he moved on.


    Zerin squinted as he read the attributes name.


    "Blood. Everything is in blood."


    The spell was right. Twice now, he had come dangerously close to death. Was this common for those infected with the spell?


    "Most would go insane, wouldn''t they? At least I still have my sanity."


    Zerin let out a quiet chuckle, but it quickly faded as he listened to the deafening silence of his soul sea.


    He turned and with a final glance at the crimson moon, he closed his eyes.


    When he opened them again, he was back¡ªsitting cross-legged in front of the crackling fire.


    Across from him, Evan was slumped against the cave wall, snoring loudly. His previous injuries had left him in this state of utter exhaustion. Nearby, still unconscious the two girls remained huddled together next to the fire¡ªit had only been a few hours since they were nestled there.


    Zerin pushed himself up and stepped forward to the fire, eyeing the small pot resting above the flames. Inside there was a meager portion of stew, barely more than broth. Something Evan managed to scrape together with whatever he could.


    A pitiful meal. Not even a scrap of meat.


    "Not really hungry anyway." Zerin thought.


    The words stirred recent memory¡ªthe memory of him waking up to the taste of blood in his mouth and the remnants of a nightmare creature''s innards before him.


    Allowing the thought to drift away, he turned toward the cave''s barricaded entrance. Then, he hesitated.


    ***


    Outside, Zerin took a deep breath.


    "Okay¡­ this is going to suck."


    Summoning from the depths of his soul sea, he drew out the Veinborne.


    From the sparks that emerged, a swirling vortex of blood coalesced in the air, the sound of rushing liquid filled his eyes as the creature took shape from his blood. As the manifestation completed, Zerin staggered, his back pressing against the barricade. The toll on his body was heavy, but even with the condition of his weaker body, it wasn''t as overwhelming as the first time.


    The Howler stood before him¡ªtowering and pristine as ever. But something was wrong.


    Zerin''s expression darkened. "Damn it."


    The creature wasn''t whole. Summoning it before it had fully recovered caused such a result¡ªit was missing an entire left arm. Yet, despite this wound that would be rather grievous, the Howler remained indifferent, casually lapping at the blood spilling from its open cavity.


    "Welcome back to reality¡­ Another thing we have in common."


    Zerin tilted his head, shivering slightly as the effects of his innate ability really began taking a toll. His body felt cold and he was lightheaded.


    The Veinborne shifted its glowing, icy-blue gaze toward him, licking the blood that was lingering on its maw.


    "No excuses¡­" Zerin let out a dry chuckle. "You did warn me."


    The creature offered no reaction, it gaze steady, patient.


    "You suspect I called you for a reason?" he straightened regaining a speck of composure. "Well, you''re right. I have something I need you to do¡­"

 Chapter 65: Wounded and Victorious

    The Howler given a directive, set into the forest. The icy air was much harsher at night, but it couldn''t hinder beasts acclimated to such an environment like itself.


    Breaking through the tree line, the Howler''s piercing gaze swept across the snow-draped forest.


    Silence.


    Not a creature in sight.


    Yet, the Veinborne didn''t waver¡ªorders were absolute, and obedience was its instinct.


    Trudging deeper into the wilderness, the creature''s clawed feet crunched through the thick snow. The trees surrounding the Howler seemed to loom closer, becoming much denser, while the light of the moon struggled to pierce the canopy. The Howler''s head swiveled, its keen eyes surveying the darkness, searching. The silence was suffocating. No distant rustling of the wind against the trees'' branches, nor was there any scurrying prey.


    Then, it caught something that made it halt abruptly.


    A scent, faint but unmistakable. The Howler halted abruptly, lifting its head. it inhaled deeply, its nostrils flaring as it chased the burning scent in crisp night air. Its head raised higher to the star-pierced sky.


    A breath escaped its jaws, forming a cloud of white in the frigid air before it moved.


    Even with only a single arm, the Howler scaled the nearest tree, its powerful legs driving it upward while its clawed feet latched onto the rough bark. Reaching the peak, its clawed hand clung to the swaying trunk. From its vantage point, the endless canopy of blanketed treetops stretched out before it. Then, its eyes settled upon it, a thin wisp of smoke coiled from between the trees into the crisp night.


    Its mission clear, the creature''s muscles coiling like a spring. Then it leapt.


    The Howler''s claws dug into the rough bark as it slammed into a tree, barely slowing before launching itself toward the next. Snow scattered from the branches with each leap as it weaved through the forest, steadily closing the distance to the thin curl of smoke rising in the distance.


    After a long while, the creature finally neared its target, now only just a couple thousand feet away. With a final leap, it dropped from the treetops, landing in the snow with a low crouch to absorb the impact.


    But the Howler quickly realized it landed in right behind the very thing it was hunting for. The crash of its body landing atop the snow robbed it of the element of surprise.


    The Veinborne, accepting this fact, responded. The Howler growled, saliva dripping from its fangs as it took a slow deliberate step forward.


    But suddenly something changed within the Elk.


    A sickening crack caused by the elk''s head twisting in a full one-eighty to face the Veinborne.


    More cracks followed as its body contorted, bones snapping, muscles realigning. Its limbs stretched unnaturally as the beast slowly rose onto two legs. Its antlers were twisted and crooked, its face and eyes morphing into something more fitting for a predator than prey.


    The Howler''s glowing sockets followed as the Elk rose until finally the creature stood bipedally, towering over the Scourged Howler.


    The Elk Beast let out an intimating horrifying grunt, that sounded more like a blaring shout.


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    Just like in the battle against the Blizzard Brute, or the fight with the once-petrified Monstrosity, the Howler didn¡¯t retreat. And now, facing the Elk Beast, it was no different¡ªespecially with such a clear directive.


    Despite its injuries, the Veinborne struck first, lunging with its clawed hand toward the Dormant Beast¡¯s neck.


    The Elk Beast responded, swiping a gnarled limb at the Howler¡ªonly for its forearm to be cleaved clean off, by the Howler''s crimson blood-ice claws.


    A high-tier Dormant might win three out of ten fights against a low-tier Awakened, and if the Awakened was severely injured, the odds would tilt further in the Dormant¡¯s favor. However, that only applied if the Howler didn¡¯t possess [Winter¡¯s Repose]¡ªan attribute that strengthened it in the frigid embrace of the winter snow.


    It stood zero chance.


    Despite its monstrous transformation, despite its grotesque attempts at striking fear into the Veinborne, the Elk Beast fell behind in raw power and speed. It was overpowered in only mere moments.


    Pinned beneath the Howler''s clawed foot, the Elk Beast thrashed, but with its limbs scattered across the snow how could it possibly fight back?


    It howled at the Veinborne as it looked up at its glowing sockets. The Veinborne stared it down, its glowing sockets filled not with hatred¡ªbut with something far crueler.


    Sickening joy.


    Then, with a final, merciless crunch, it crushed the Elk Beast''s neck under its foot.


    Silence.


    The Howler bathed in the sudden silence.


    Wounded and Victorious.


    ***


    Under the vast night sky, a few hours later, Zerin sat outside the cave, his patience thinning. He leaned against the barricade created by logs strung together.


    "My innate ability is the greatest curse of them all."


    His breath formed small clouds in the air as he muttered to himself, his eyelids heavy with fatigue.


    The wind howled, but something gnawed at him more than this cold.


    "It''s taking too long¡­"


    Tsk.


    He shook his head. "What am I saying?" This region is practically void of Nightmare creatures."


    And that was what troubled him.


    From the moment they neared this cave, the threats had all disappeared. it made no sense. If anything, being closer to the Pit should have made this place more dangerous.


    "It''s like a graveyard out here."


    Then, it clicked.


    "That''s exact reason is because of that Pit."


    Zerin''s brow furrowed. The Nightmare creatures weren''t simply absent without a cause; they were avoiding this area entirely. His mind raced back to the Howler''s reaction of petrified monstrosity, which further corroborated his belief bringing it out of the area of grand superstition into a truth.


    "It was like pulling teeth to get it to quiet down. It only followed me because of my authority over it."


    He stood weakly, eyes locked on the forest where the Veinborne had disappeared.


    "That thing is still out there¡­ But why hasn''t all hell broken loose?"


    If that monstrosity was a mindless and destructive as it proved itself to be, why was this place not already in ruin? Why was everything the same six months after he had freed it?


    Zerin rose to his feet, as quick as he could his eyes focused on the forest where the Veinborne disappeared. He squinted to peer deeper into the forest from a distance with no avail. With a sigh, he let up.


    "If the Howler dies, the spell will notify me."


    For now, in his current condition he could only wait.


    Just as he slumped back down against the barricade, Zerin saw it.


    A silhouette.


    Then the details came into view once it broke the tree line. It was the Scourged Howler, and it was dragging a fresh kill behind it.


    Zerin''s heart pounded.


    "It took down something that big¡­ while wounded?"


    A slow grin crept onto his face.


    "This creature is even more capable than I could''ve imagined!"


    As his fanged ally approached, Zerin''s eyes followed the Veinborne as it pulled the slain Elk Beast to Zerin''s side. Zerin nodded, his voice holding a unique admiration for the Howler.


    "Great job¡­"


    Zerin could only let out those words of praise barely holding back from his surprise exploding within. He summoned his sword, carving into the Elk Beast''s flesh, poking around in its innards until he found them. Six small Dormant cores swirling with clouded light.


    "It''s was a Dormant¡­ But still¡­" Zerin lifted his head to look up at the creature, before seeing its icy gaze staring back him.


    He focused back onto the cores where he absorbed them. It felt like the energy was coursing through his very veins with each core consumed.


    He searched his runes to see the amount he has gathered.


    Soul Fragments: [108/1000]


    "One-fourth of the way there¡­"


    Turning back to the carcass, he sliced away portions of meat, storing them in a spare pot.


    When he looked up again, the Howler remained still, waiting.


    It held itself back, eyes fixed on the carcass, but not taking a bite.


    Awaiting permission.


    Zerin exhaled. "You can have the rest."


    It may not have been the best decision, but he preferred to keep his strongest weapon in top condition, even if it meant sacrificing resources.


    The Howler sunk into the carcass without hesitation. Blood dripped from its fangs as it tore into the Elk Beast with a ravenous hunger.


    Zerin watched as it fed, crinkling his nose slightly. The glowing blue sockets of the Howler reflected faintly off the blood-soaked flesh as it buried its head in the open cavity of the creature.


    He couldn''t tear his eyes away from the sight before him. Looking down at the Howler, he could only imagine what he must have appeared like to Evan¡ªthe closest thing to a monster.


    But as he watched the Howler, a strange detail caught his attention. Something was embedded deep into its shoulder, yet the creature was completely oblivious to this fact.


    Zerin narrowed his eyes, walking stepping cautiously behind the Veinborne.


    A jagged piece of wood jutted from the Howler''s shoulder blade, its surface etched with sharp, runic-like carvings. Even while the wound was fresh, the beast showed no sign of pain or acknowledgement. It was as if the object was merely a harmless splinter.


    It was a wooden ritualistic barb.


    Zerin''s breath hitched, his body filling with unease.


    His gaze snapped toward the trees, scanning the shadows between the trunks. His voice came low, tense¡ª


    ¡°There¡¯s something out there¡­ in the woods.¡±

 Chapter 66: Two More Days

    The wind howled into absurdity, its voice twisting into a mad whisperer. It slithered through the trees and threaded between snow-draped branches. Overhead, the moon had begun its slow descent, sinking behind the forest.


    Zerin¡¯s fingers curled around the foreign object buried deep in the creature¡¯s back. With a firm tug, he wrenched it free. A wet, sickening sound followed, accompanied by a slow stream of blood corrupting the beast¡¯s white pelt. The Howler hardly reacted. An ear flicked, a dull glance over its shoulder, then it returned to its feast, completely unfazed.


    Turning his hand over, Zerin studied the artifact resting in his palm. It was too intricate.


    "A Memory?" he murmured, bringing the barbed object closer to his eye.


    The runes carved into its surface were unlike anything he had seen. They weren¡¯t etched by hand, nor burned into the wood. No¡ªthese markings seemed woven into the very grain, as if nature itself had been forced to shape them this way.


    He rolled it between his fingers, a frown tugging at his lips. Then, with a quiet breath, he slipped it into his pocket.


    A deep yawn overtook him. The sharp edge of adrenaline had dulled, leaving only exhaustion pressing down on him like a smothering fog.


    "It''s been a while¡­ My body''s clock is calling it quits."


    He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair, fingers catching in the tangles. He had choices. The logical thing to do would be to report this to Evan. That was the proper course of action. The responsible one.


    But his mind wandered, circling back in on itself.


    He couldn¡¯t stay. That much was certain.


    Evan was strong, but he held himself back. Burdened by two non-combatants, he had no choice. Zerin wasn¡¯t about to carry that weight.


    But could he really ignore this? Could he keep silent about the thing lurking in the woods?


    His jaw tightened.


    "Two more days."


    Zerin turned toward the Howler. "Hey."


    The creature¡¯s ears twitched. It lifted its head, empty glowing sockets locked onto him.


    "You¡¯re on lookout duty," he ordered.


    The Howler remained still, silent. Then, after a long pause, it dipped its head before returning to its meal.


    Zerin exhaled and turned away, scooping up the pot of bloodied meat before stepping toward the cave.


    Whatever was out there... wasn¡¯t his problem.


    It was theirs.


    But for now, he would still help.


    ***


    The cave''s entrance swallowed him whole. Inside, the dim light of the fireplace flickered against the uneven stone, shadows stretching and writhing.


    He set the pot near the fire, then lowered himself onto the ground, keeping a deliberate distance from the others.


    "Now I wait for them to wake up."


    His gaze drifted toward them, their forms rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.


    A yawn caught him off guard.


    "Hibernated for months¡­ and I¡¯m tired."


    The frustration simmered. He fought it. A meaningless, silent battle.


    But soon, the desire for sleep overcame him. And shortly after he closed his eyes and succumbed to rest, someone else stirred from their slumber.


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    A quiet groan.


    Ecludia.


    She shifted, pressing a hand to her temple, brows pinched slightly in pain. The cave air was thick with the lingering scent of smoldering embers and damp stone.


    "Why are we back here?" she muttered, voice groggy.


    Her boots scraped softly against the ground as she fastened them, her gaze drifting toward the fire.


    Then, she froze.


    Her breath caught as her eyes landed on Evan¡¯s arm, bound tightly in a makeshift sling.


    Her chest tightened. "What happened?"


    Without hesitation, she moved closer, kneeling beside him. A hand pressed against his good shoulder, shaking him awake.


    Evan jolted, muscles tensing under her touch. His eyes flickered open, blinking rapidly as his sluggish mind caught up.


    "Ecludia¡­?"


    His surprise melted into relief. "You''re awake!"


    He pushed himself up too fast, only to grimace, a sharp breath escaping through clenched teeth as pain lanced through his shoulder.


    "Don''t hurt yourself!" Ecludia steadied him. "Calm down¡­"


    Evan exhaled through his nose, scanning her with quiet concern. "Are you okay?"


    "Worry about yourself!" She paused, shook her head, and sighed. "My head hurts a bit, but I¡¯ll be fine."


    Her gaze flickered toward the dancing flames. "Why are we¡ª"


    She barely had the chance to finish before Evan cut in, his expression darkening.


    "We were attacked by nightmare creatures back there¡­ I thought we were screwed."


    A beat passed before his usual smirk returned.


    "If it wasn¡¯t for that scrawny bastard, we wouldn¡¯t have made it."


    Ecludia blinked. "Bastard?"


    "Yeah." Evan gestured pointing behind her. "Zerin¡ªthe new guy. Right behind you."


    Turning, Ecludia followed his gesture, her eyes landing on the figure curled up in the shadows.


    Scrawny? Maybe by Evan¡¯s standards.


    But as she studied Zerin¡ªthe sharp angles of his face, the way his dark lashes cast faint shadows against his cheek, the quiet rise and fall of his chest¡ªhe didn¡¯t seem small.


    Just... worn.


    Like someone who had spent too long fighting, someone who was held together by nothing.


    Her gaze lingered. Too long.


    The flickering firelight softened his usually guarded expression, revealing a side of him she hadn¡¯t expected. As a first impression, it left a mark¡ªone she couldn¡¯t quite place.


    She swallowed, an unfamiliar flutter stirring in her chest.


    "Ecludia¡­? Ecludia?"


    The voice barely registered.


    "Y-Yes?" She blinked, snapping her gaze away from Zerin¡¯s sleeping form, heat creeping into her cheeks.


    Evan let out a quiet chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince. His hand instinctively went to his shoulder. "Can you heal this? Sorry to ask, but it hurts like hell. If I could muscle through it, I would."


    She straightened, shaking off her lingering thoughts. "Of course, that won¡¯t be a problem."


    She placed her hand over the injured shoulder and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, warmth stirred beneath her fingertips, pulsing from deep within. A soft glow bloomed beneath her eyelids.


    A faint golden radiance spread across her face. Her flames seeped into Evan¡¯s wound, winding through torn muscle and battered bone, mending the damage bit by bit.


    "You¡¯re lucky to still have your arm," she murmured. "With the amount of soul fragments I have left, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to mend anything worse. But this¡­" A small smile curved her lips. "This, I can do."


    As she pulled her hand away, the glow beneath her eyelids flickered, then died completely. A faint wave of exhaustion washed over her, the familiar drain of her soul fragments leaving her feel weaker than before.


    "It¡¯ll be sore," she warned. "I healed most of it, but I just ran out of soul fragments."


    Evan exhaled, rolling his shoulder. A dull crack echoed in the quiet. "Shit¡­ Didn¡¯t I give you two last time?"


    She shrugged. "That¡¯s only about fifteen fragments¡ªif I¡¯m lucky."


    Evan sighed, stretching experimentally. "Guess we¡¯ll have to fix that later. We can¡¯t have you running empty." He pulled his arm free from the sling, testing the movement with a small, satisfied grin. "Much better. Thanks, Ecludia."


    She stood up. "Mhmm," she hummed, already turning away. Her steps were light as she made her way toward the cave¡¯s entrance.


    Evan glanced up. "Where are you going?"


    She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "The ladies¡¯ room."


    His eyes widened slightly. "Oh. Uh¡ªokay. If you see anything dangerous, shout out."


    She smirked, shaking her head as she shifted the barricade aside. "Will do."


    Stepping into the night, Ecludia pulled the barricade shut behind her. The warmth of the cave vanished instantly, replaced by the chill of the open air.


    She exhaled, watching her breath curl into the darkness. The wind had died down. The usual rustling of branches was gone. Too quiet.


    Then, she saw it.


    A few feet away, sprawled across the frozen ground, lay the mutilated remains of an elk beast. Its flesh had been stripped clean, exposing jagged bones, glistening under the moonlight. Its hollow eye sockets gaped at the sky. An empty, lifeless stare frozen in death.


    Then the icy wind wafted the scent of fresh blood clung to the air. Thick. Pungent. Fresh.


    Her breath hitched. Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs.


    And then¡ª


    A slow, deep exhale.


    Warm. Too close.


    It wasn¡¯t her own.


    The heat of it ghosted against her cheek, carrying the stench of blood.


    Dread wrapped around her chest, suffocating. Every muscle in her body screamed to move, but she couldn¡¯t.


    She turned her head¡ªjust slightly. Just enough to see.


    A massive, wolf-like creature rested beside her. Its fangs, slick with blood, gleamed under the pale moonlight. Piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, unblinking. Its fur, white as untouched snow, ruffled slightly in the night breeze, but otherwise, it remained still. Too still.


    Ecludia¡¯s breathing turned shallow and quick. Run. Move. Do something.


    Nothing happened.


    Then, finally¡ªher body reacted.


    Not how she wanted.


    Her legs buckled. She stumbled back, crashing into the snow.


    A scream of fear tore from her throat.


    The shriek shattered the night, echoing through the cave. The sound cut through the stillness, reaching Zerin and Evan¡¯s ears in an instant.


    Zerin and Evan shot upright. Their hands moved without thinking, instincts honed by survival. Weapons summoned in an instant.


    "Ecludia!" Evan¡¯s voice rang out as he lunged forward, hammer already forming in his grip. Zerin was right behind him, sluggish with sleep.


    They burst outside, boots crunching against the snow¡ª


    And froze.


    Ecludia sat on the frozen ground, wide-eyed and trembling.


    Evan¡¯s gaze snapped to where hers was locked. His breath stilled.


    A nightmare creature.


    His grip on the hammer tightened. No hesitation. No thinking. He moved.


    The weapon swung upward, momentum surging through his arms¡ª


    "It¡¯s with me!"


    The sharp command stopped him mid-swing.


    Evan faltered, his grip loosening. His head snapped toward Zerin. "What?"


    Ecludia barely reacted, her face a mix of fear and disbelief.


    Zerin exhaled sharply, stepping forward. "It¡¯s with me," he repeated, his voice firm. His hand guided Evan¡¯s hammer downward, forcing him to lower his weapon.


    The Howler, despite the chaos, didn¡¯t move.


    No snarl. No aggression.


    It simply sat there, watching.


    Evan¡¯s jaw clenched as he scrutinized the creature. "You got one of those wolves as your Echo?"


    Zerin shook his head.


    "No¡­ it¡¯s my Aspect."


    Silence.


    Evan¡¯s expression shifted from confusion to shock. "Holy shit," he breathed. "Why didn¡¯t you tell me?"


    Zerin hesitated. His gaze flickered toward Ecludia.


    "I¡­ forgot."


    Evan scoffed. "Forgot? Seriously?" He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "I mean, I guess there was a lot going on, but still¡­"


    His eyes drifted back to the Howler. "This thing really scared the hell out of you, huh?"


    It was a poor attempt to break the tension.


    Ecludia didn¡¯t answer.


    She just curled into herself, arms wrapped around her body, fingers gripping her sleeves as if to anchor herself.


    Evan frowned, stepping closer. His voice softened. "Ecludia?"


    She opened her mouth, but the words didn¡¯t come.


    Finally, a shaky breath escaped her.


    "I¡­ I¡­"

 Chapter 67: The Price Of Absence

    "How are those pants? Nice and dry?" Evan asked, a sly smirk rising on his lips.


    Elcudia''s head jerked away so fast, it was a wonder she didn''t snap her neck. Heat rushed up her face, blooming into a deep, fiery blush that burned from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.


    "It''s not a big deal. It happened to all of us as kids at some point."


    Ecludia exploded. "You idiot! I am not a child!"


    She scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it. The fluffy projectile smacked Evan square in the face, bursting into a cloud of powder that lingered in the air before slowly drifting away.


    Zerin turned back facing them, with a curious expression on his face. "Are we heading out soon?"


    Evan wiped the melting snow from his face, laughing. "Uh, yeah... I just need to grab the clothes. After that, it''s about a fifteen-minute walk to the river."


    Zerin cast a brief glance at cave before turning to the forest. Evan had asked him to join him on a trip to the nearby river to wash clothes¡ªa request that caught him off guard but made sense after Ecludia''s accident.


    Ecludia sat in silence, wrapped in fresh, warm clothes. Just an hour ago, she had nearly been scared to death by a Howler¡ªone of the more common creatures in the region¡ªand had embarrassed herself beyond belief. The mere thought of it made her wish she could disappear.


    Yet, Zerin had shown no reaction to her embarrassment. Instead, he simply offered to help¡ªunexpected, and for some reason, it piqued her curiosity. Even now, he stood in silence, unaffected, while she found it increasingly unsettling. The more she dwelled on it, the more uncomfortable she became.


    Ecludia tilted her head up, eyeing the back of Zerin''s head. "Does it have a name?"


    Zerin blinked, caught off guard. He glanced over his shoulder. "What?"


    She nodded slightly toward the Howler sitting across from her. "I mean, does it have a name?"


    Zerin turned fully to face her, his gaze shifting between her and the creature. "Its name is Howler."


    She swung her legs gently, her smile fading as she looked down at her lap. "That''s just the species'' name¡­ I meant like a real name."


    Zerin paused, he hadn''t really thought to name the creature¡ªit had never seemed important. He glanced at her, then sighed, his expression softening.


    "If you want to name it, go ahead," Zerin said, his voice low as he closed his eyes.


    Ecludia''s eyes widened. "Wait¡ªseriously? You''re letting me name it?"


    Zerin opened his eyes and shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"


    Her lingering embarrassment vanished in an instant, replaced by happiness. "Okay..."


    Evan returned with the basket of clothes and secured the lid on top. "That''s everything... let''s go."


    Zerin nodded, then he summoned the [Curtained Carcass], securing the fleshy sheath to his waistband, where it adhered firmly. Then, he called forth the [Astral Blade] and slid it into the sheath. Within moments, the sheath writhed and shifted, reshaping itself to accommodate the weapon.


    "Keep the place safe while we''re gone," Zerin said to the Howler, then followed Evan.


    The Howler''s glowing sockets followed their movements. Ecludia''s eyes followed them as well, her gaze fixed while she sat across from the creature.


    Ecludia hesitated for a moment, her eyes drifting between the Howler and the path ahead. Then, with a soft sigh, she rose from her seat to sit beside the creature. She studied it for a moment, noting the intense glow in its eyes, before raising a finger to her lips in thought. "So, what should your name be?"


    The creature''s body stiffened, its ears flicking back. A tense silence stretched between them, before it scooted slightly away.


    Ecludia blinked, tilting her head as she watched the creature''s reaction. Undeterred, she inched a little closer, her curiosity and determination outweighing the hesitation in the air. "I won''t bite," she murmured, with a light smile on her face.


    Farther ahead, Zerin trailed behind Evan, his eyes constantly scanning for any threats. The land stretched out as it always had¡ªfrozen and desolate, untouched by life. The sun rose quickly, as if racing to reach its peak, only to dip beneath the horizon just as swiftly, fading back into night.


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    Evan''s eyes widened. "No need to get all geared up."


    Zerin glanced at him, unfazed. "You never know what''s out there. This region may seem desolate, but you can''t predict when something will happen."


    They paused for a moment, watching the brief transition, the day slipping into darkness in mere minutes. Then, without a word, they resumed their journey toward the river.


    As they crested a small hill, the river came into view¡ªa wide, shallow stretch of water, glistening under the moonlight. It wound between jagged stones that rose from the earth like teeth.


    And as they grew closer, the air grew sharper, the smell of ice and damp earth. The wind howled once again, a bitter cold following it that caused Zerin''s bones to tremble, but surprisingly Evan held no reaction.


    "How are you not freezing?" Zerin said as he shivered against the horrible cold.


    "It''s my Aspect¡ª a physical enhancement that strengthens my body''s fortitude." He turned to Zerin. "I''m curious about your Aspect as well¡ªif you wouldn''t mind sharing."


    Zerin''s gaze lingered on the moonlight reflecting off the river water. "Blood. My Aspect is related to blood."


    He left it at that, offering no further explanation. It wasn''t just secrecy that kept him from elaborating---it was strategy. If Evan learned that he possessed a Divine Aspect, or the lofty name it was given by the spell, let alone the existence of his True Name, he knew dependency would follow. And Zerin had no interest in becoming anyone''s crutch.


    He cared about only one thing¡ªkeeping his word and escaping the Dream Realm.


    As they neared the river, its true shallowness became evident¡ªbarely ankle-deep, yet stretching as wide as a four-lane road. The current murmured as it weaved through jagged rocks, the water''s song continued with the ceaseless flow.


    Evan knelt by the river, pulling a set of clothes from the basket and submerging them into the frigid current. Zerin observed the ease with which he worked, noting yet another display of his Aspect in action¡ªno ordinary human could endure such icy waters without consequence. It was intriguing, but not nearly as important as the question he had been waiting to ask.


    "When did you meet them?" Zerin asked suddenly, his voice rising just above the rushing water.


    Evan glanced up, briefly caught off guard. "The girls?" He paused before nodding to himself. "Well, I ran into Ecludia about an hour after I first arrived here¡ªtwo cycles ago. And Seren... we found her a few months in. She was barely getting by."


    He returned to his task, scrubbing a river rock against the fabric while holding it beneath the rushing water.


    "By cycles, you mean¡ª?"


    "Solstices," Evan clarified, cutting him off. "You arrived last solstice. The girls and I have been here since the one before."


    Zerin''s brows rose slightly. "You''ve been here that long?"


    But deep down, he wasn''t entirely surprised. The vastness of the Dream Realm made survival an unpredictable game of chance. Unlike the First Nightmare, this place didn''t operate on a twisted sense of fairness. It was relentless. Unforgiving.


    Evan let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Y''know, I thought it''d be easy. I was way too cocky¡­ I just hope the people back home haven''t given up on me. That''s what keeps me going. That, and the girls." His gaze flickered to Zerin''s through the river''s reflection.


    Zerin''s jaw tightened. The drive to return to reality--it mirrored his own. But there was a difference.


    Evan had something waiting for him. Zerin did not. All memories of his life before the First Nightmare had either been stripped away or felt alien, leaving him with nothing except with the events of The First Nightmare.


    Then there was the other difference. Evan still believed sacrifice had meaning---that protecting others at the expense of yourself was worth the risk.


    Zerin, however, had come to see things differently after the First Nightmare. His Flaw only deepened that conviction---the belief that he''d never truly had control over his life. And yet, this conviction left him trapped.


    Moments later, Evan finished washing the clothes in the icy river, and they turned to head back to the shelter. The return trip was quick, but as they neared the cave, something felt off.


    The Howler was gone.


    Its post stood eerily vacant. The cold wind howled through the trees.


    Then, they saw it.


    A hunched, lifeless body sprawled face-down in the snow, clothed in ragged layers, surrounded by a dark pool of blue blood. A speckled trail of red blood and disturbed snow led away from the corpse, vanishing into the trees.


    Evan dropped the basket, sprinting forward before falling to his knees beside the body. "Shit! What do we do?"


    "Nothing¡­" Zerin muttered, his voice low as he approached. The blue blood was unmistakable.


    With a swift motion, he nudged the corpse with his foot. It rolled onto its back, revealing features that sent a ripple of revulsion through Evan.


    The figure, though human-like, wasn''t human.


    The corpse was an old woman¡ªor what took the appearance of one. Her grotesque features were twisted into something unnatural. A crooked nose, unnervingly sharp and curved like a crescent moon, jutted out from her face. Her skin, a sickly shade of dark gray, was stretched taut over a frame. Much like a witch from old folklore.


    "What the hell is that?" Evan muttered.


    Zerin stepped forward, pressing a firm hand against Evan''s shoulder, shifting him aside. He crouched down, his eyes locked onto the tattered robes draped over the corpse. Reaching forward, he pulled them open just enough to reveal a runic necklace nestled around the creature''s neck.


    "Hey, what are you doing?" Evan asked, voice uneasy.


    Zerin ignored him. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pointed artifact. When he aligned it with the runes carved into the necklace, they matched.


    Satisfaction crossed Zerin''s face. "Found you."


    Without hesitation, he gripped the artifact tighter¡ªthen drove it into the old woman''s chest.


    The jagged edges tore through flesh with a sickening squelch, splitting open her abdomen.


    Evan staggered back, gagging. "Ah, man! Come on!"


    Zerin didn''t flinch. His hands moved with grim precision, sifting through the tangled mass of entrails with the artifact. His fingers worked methodically, unfazed by the gore, until finally¡ªhe freed three Dormant Cores from the nightmare creature''s remains.


    "Here, hold this."


    Zerin dropped the muck-covered Soul Cores into Evan''s trembling hands before turning back to the corpse.


    Evan retched, his stomach twisting as he fought to keep himself together. The stench of the creature''s insides clung to the cores, a mix of rot and something sulfuric, like rotten eggs. His hands shook as he hastily wiped away the filth, grimacing all the while.


    Zerin, meanwhile, reached down and yanked the necklace from the old woman. He glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowed as he caught Evan''s reaction.


    Evan let out a rough breath, rubbing the last of the grime onto his pants before dumping the Soul Cores into the basket. "Sorry¡ªI don''t do well with guts."


    Zerin exhaled sharply, wiping his own hands against his pants before shifting his focus to the blood-speckled trail in the snow. It led straight into the forest.


    "I''m going to track the Howler. Stay here, in case more nightmare creatures show up," Zerin said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.


    Evan hesitated for a moment before something clicked in his mind. His eyes widened. Without another word, he spun toward the cave, pushing the barricade aside and disappearing into the darkness.


    Zerin stayed where he was, a faint sense of dread already settling in.


    Seconds later, Evan returned, his face pale. "Ecludia is gone! Where the hell is that creature of yours?!"


    Zerin followed the trail with his gaze, his expression hardening. "She must have run into the forest to lead the Nightmare creatures away. The Howler should be more than capable of handling a Dormant beast like this one." His voice was steady, but his eyes darkened. "Which means there was something else here. Something stronger. Something they couldn''t fight safely."


    Evan''s voice rose. "Then we need to go now!"


    Zerin locked eyes with him. "You stay here. Protect the one still here. The Howler''s not dead, which means they''re still alive. I''ll find them, don''t worry."


    Evan hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides. His mind visibly warring between his own duty and the gnawing fear of losing someone. Finally, he exhaled, shoulders dropping in reluctant surrender. "You''re right... I need to keep a level head." His jaw tightened. "Just¡ªjust don''t get yourself killed."


    A small, smirk flickered across Zerin''s face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "If I''m not back in a couple of hours, consider me a lost cause." He turned toward the trail, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "But don''t worry¡ªI''ll bring her back."

 Chapter 68: Unforeseen Outcome

    The area was mangled and desecrated. Blood became even more frequent, pooling in heaps, both blue and red. Trees lay toppled, their trunks splintered like snapped twigs, while deep gouges scarred the frozen ground, churning dirt over the snow.


    Scattered among the wreckage there were several of those nightmare creatures from before---each one a withered, decrepit woman, their forms eerily similar to each other.


    Zerin took a step, his boots splashing in the azure and red mixture of blood.


    Crunch.


    His foot struck something solid. His eyes dropping to see what he had stepped on. And his brow furrowed upon the sight.


    A severed leg.


    Frozen solid. Encased in ice.


    He carefully lifted the limb from the mixture of blood. The cut was clean, just below the kneecap. But three things stood out.


    First, it was a man''s leg---not Ecludia''s.


    Second, there was no blood. The wound was open and dry as a bone.


    Third, a slender wooden knife protruded from the frozen flesh, its surface etched with runes.


    Zerin ripped the wooden knife from the severed leg, tucking it away in his pocket.


    "Same runes as before¡­"


    The matching runes, the amount of nightmare creatures, the sudden, calculated attack the moment he and Evan had left¡ªnone of it was a coincidence. This could only mean¡­


    Zerin''s thoughts ceased as he heard a scuffle in the snow. His hand flew to his darkened blade immediately, his ears tracking the sound.


    Admist the wreckage and the lifeless bodies of its kin, one creature still clung to life. Wounded and pathetic, it could do nothing but drag itself across the frozen ground.


    Zerin, still holding the limb in his hand approached the nightmare creature and swiftly ended its life.


    [You have slain a Dormant beast, Frost wretch.]


    "Another Dormant..."


    His sharp gaze swept across the path of ruin, following the trail.


    A thunderous voice bellowed from what Zerin could only discern as the heart of the devastation.


    "You want to die?!"


    The sheer force of it sent a jolt of adrenaline surging through Zerin''s veins. He bolted forward, his grip tightening around the frozen limb and his sword. He didn''t hesitate.


    The sounds of an intense struggle grew louder¡ªtrees splintering, the heavy stomp of a massive beast. Zerin pressed on, drawing closer with each step, pushing past a broken tree. His chest heaved as he finally saw them.


    The Howler.


    And a stranger.


    Hanging upside down, gripped tightly by the ankle in the Howler''s powerful arm.


    "You bastard! Let me go! Stupid mutt!" The stranger flailed, his arms swinging wildly as he twisted and writhed in the creature''s grasp.


    The Howler sneered, its glowing sockets narrowing, a deep, guttural growl vibrating through its body.


    The conditions of the two were grim. The stranger, dangling from the Howler''s grasp, had several portions of his body exposed to the air---his rib jutting out from his side, part of his skull visible where the skin on his forehead been torn away, and his leg, severed. Despite the bitter cold, he was shirtless. But what was more disturbing was the fact that there was no blood from his wounds¡ªnot a single drop¡ªonly exposed bone and tattered flesh.


    The Howler, however, wasn''t spared either. Its once-pristine pelt, now soaked in its own blood. Yet, to Zerin''s shock, the creature had somehow regrown its missing arm.


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    "Who are you?" Zerin approached closer, drawing both of the Howler and Cain''s attention.


    The stranger was slightly taller than Zerin, and was roughly around the same age. His hair, light gray and disheveled from the violence. Faded scars marred his features, speckling almost every inch of his body, each one varying in size and shape.


    The stranger shouted in frustration. "The name is Cain! Now, are you going to help me, or is this some kind of interrogation?!"


    Zerin winced. Loud. Incredibly loud.


    With a sigh, Zerin waved his hand, which was a subtle signal to the Howler.


    The creature obeyed---but with mischief.


    Instead of gently lowering Cain, it unceremoniously dropped him headfirst into the snow.


    A muffled thump. A brief silence.


    A muffled groan came from the half-buried stranger, and Zerin shot the Howler a sharp, narrow-eyed look.


    The fanged beast bared its teeth in a toothy grin of satisfaction before turning away and settling itself behind him, its glorious work evidently done.


    "Of course... I should''ve been more clear..."


    Zerin exhaled through his nose, already feeling a headache forming.


    In front of them, Cain cursed, thrashing against the snow as he pulled himself upright---a task made significantly harder when half of his leg was missing. He wobbled unsteadily, nearly toppling over, but sheer frustration kept him moving.


    Then his gaze locked onto something---his severed leg, still clutched in Zerin''s hand.


    "Give me that!" Cain barked.


    Cain lurched forward in a clumsy, hobbling motion, snatching the frozen limb from Zerin''s gasp.


    Zerin said nothing, simply watching as Cain pathetically fumbled with the severed limb, pressing it against his stump as if sheer will power would make the frosted limb reattach.


    "It''s clearly not working." Zerin said after getting fed up with his foolish attempts.


    "Don''t tell me what is fucking working! Your bastard mutt caused this!" Cain snapped.


    Seconds passed. Then another. The leg remained unattached.


    Cain let out a guttural growl, his frustration boiling over. "Stupid fucking hags! You kill one, and more just crawl out of the damn woodwork! It''s fucking endless!"


    With an enraged snarl, he flung the severed limb---carelessly right at Zerin.


    Zerin barely dodged the frozen appendage, as it whipped behind him landing in the snow.


    "Hey! Watch where you are throwing that!" Zerin yelled his patience thinning. His grip tightened around his sword as he glared at Cain. "Unless you''re eager to lose the rest of your limbs¡ªand be left here to fend for yourself."


    "And see how far that gets you! You think you''re safe? They''ll come back for you too. Just like they took my brother. Just like they took the stupid blonde girl." Cain scorned.


    Zerin''s entire body went rigid. His pulse pounded in his ears as his gaze locked onto Cain''s.


    "Ecludia?" He took a step closer, his knuckles white around the handle of his blade. "Who are they?"


    Cain scoffed, shaking his head in frustration. "Who the hell do you think? The damn hags!" His voice cracked with anger.


    Zerin''s composure faltered. He felt his stomach twist into a cold, hard knot. Nightmare creatures took her? His fingers stiffened around his sword. If that was true, she was good as dead.


    His jaw clenched. "What were you doing here?" He leveled his sword at Cain''s chest, the blade steady despite the anger present within.


    "What were you doing here?" Zerin raised his sword aiming it square at Cain''s chest.


    Cain glared at him. "I was trying to help, for gods'' sake! Your damn pet lost its mind and attacked me! Then the hags took her while I was bleeding out¡ªso if you''re looking for someone to blame, try yourself!" His voice rose.


    Zerin didn''t speak. Instead, he took another slow step forward, his shadow falling over Cain.


    Cain frowned. "What the hell do you---"


    Zerin thrust out his hand.


    "You are going to help me."


    Cain stared at Zerin''s outstretched hand for a long moment. Then, with a sharp exhaled, he reached up taking his hand as Zerin hauled him to his one good leg. His balance wavered for a moment, but he steadied himself, his breath fogging in the cold air.


    "I''m not doing this because you told me to¡ªor even for her life," Cain muttered, his voice low and edged with steel. His fingers tightened into a fist as he braced himself against Zerin''s shoulder for support. "I''m out for revenge. They took my brother."


    Zerin met his gaze. "That works for me."


    Cain''s eyes flicked away, making a subtle motion with the nod of his head.


    Zerin followed his gesture with his eyes landing on a nearby tree.


    "But in this state," Cain huffed shifting his weight, "I can''t do much. Get me over there." He pointed toward the gnarled tree that Zerin passed just a several minutes ago.


    Zerin followed his wish, guiding him forward. When they reached the tree, he pushed of Zerin, dropping to his knee in the snow.


    Cain plunged his hand into the icy mound, his fingers burrowing through the frozen layers. His breath came in short, visible puffs as he searched. Then, at last, his grip closed around something solid. With a grunt, he pulled it free.


    A spine.


    The vertebrae, covered in powdery snow, each segment dusted with a thin layer of snow.


    Zerin''s brow furrowed at the sight, his grip instinctively tightening on his sword. But before he could voice his confusion, the spine in Cain''s grasp shuddered.


    A sickening crack split the air as the vertebrae twisted and stretched, each bone snapping into place with unnatural precision. The grotesque reshaping continued, the spine bending, elongating¡ªuntil, right before Zerin''s eyes, it was no longer a spine at all.


    It had become a pair of crutches, forged entirely of bone.


    Zerin''s breath hitched as Cain, once maimed and struggling to stand, straightened to his full height. With his new crutches, he was now just a fraction taller than Zerin.


    he began walking forward with his new crutches made of bone. "You have a place where I can rest a moment before we go? I just need to thaw out my leg and I''ll be good to go."


    Zerin nodded, "It''s just a short distance from here."


    ***


    Evan sat restlessly at the cave''s entrance, his foot tapping against the cold stone as he peered out. The entrance remained exposed, but he hardly cared¡ªhis focus was locked on the tree line, expecting them to appear at any moment. Yet, hours had passed, and there was still no sign of Zerin or Ecludia.


    With a shaky exhale, he dismissed his hammer, his hands pressing against his temples. A wave of nausea settled in, tightening his throat as he forced down a hard swallow.


    "This isn''t good... This can''t be good..." he muttered, his fingers curling into fists. His gaze flicked back to the forest, desperation threading through his voice. "Damn it! Please..."


    He wasn''t certain he could endure this weight. He was crushed by the reality that he had failed. He hadn''t been there to protect her, and even worse, caused this by relinquishing control. It was his choice that had led them into the ambush, and now, the undeniable truth echoed in his mind---it was his fault.


    Unknowingly, while Evan was in this moment of internal torment, Seren slowly emerged from her long slumber. She rose to her feet, stretching with a groan, her mind was still foggy, unaware of everything that had transpired. All she could see was Evan, frozen in worry, she could feel his anguish spilling from him visually, leaving her to wonder what happened.


    "What happened?" Seren asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.


    Evan tensed at her touch, his breath hitching as he raised his gaze to face her. For a moment, he simply stared. A storm churned inside him---a twisted mix of relief that she was awake and the dread of what he ahd to tell her before she pieced it together on her own.


    "Where''s Ecludia?" Seren''s gaze swept around the cavern, confusing deepening, worry fixing on her own face. "Why are we back here?"


    There it was... The flurry of questions came faster than he could process, crashing down at him all at once. The pressure swelled in his chest, suffocating. He wanted to disappear.


    But suddenly, the faint sound of footsteps scuffling just outside the cave entrance. Evan''s eyes widened with a spark of desperate hope. Could it be her? If she walked through that entrance, if she was safe, this nightmare could finally be behind him. The crushing guilt, the unbearable uncertainty--would all dissolve in the flood of relief. Ecludia, alive and well. A friend, finally safe and sound.


    But the moment he saw the two men step through the entrance, the flicker of hope in his chest was snuffed out, replaced by a surge of anger he couldn''t quite direct at himself. His gaze locked onto Zerin, and that look on his face---calm, unreadable, almost mocking---made his blood boil.


    He shouldn''t have trusted that thing, and he shouldn''t have trusted him.