A lonesome dark mountain stood tall against the raging winds.
Jagged and proud, it dwarfed other peaks of the mountain chain, cutting the
night sky with its sharp edges. A radiant moon bathed its slopes in the
ghostly light.
Under that light, a young man with pale skin and black hair reached the
peak of the mountain. However, his looks didn't match the magnificence of
the scene: wounded and staggering, he looked pathetic and weak.
The young man looked like a walking corpse.
His coarse tunic and cloak were torn and smeared with blood. His sunken
eyes were cloudy and lifeless. His body was bruised, beaten and cut. There
were specks of bloody foam on his lips.
He was hunched over, cradling the left side of his chest. Each step caused
him to moan, ragged breath barely escaping through gritted teeth.
Sunny was hurting all over. But most of all, he was cold.
So, so cold.
He just wanted to lie down in the snow and fall asleep.
But instead, he continued walking. Because he believed that the Nightmare
will be over once he reaches the peak.
Step. Step. Another step.
Finally, he had made it.
At the highest point of the mountain, a vast expanse of flat rock was
covered with snow. In the center of it, illuminated by moonlight, stood a
magnificent temple. Its colossal columns and walls were cut from black
marble, with exquisite reliefs decorating the stygian pediment and broad
frieze. Beautiful and awesome, it looked like a palace of a dark god.
At least it did once. Now, the temple was in ruins: fractures and cracks
marred the black stones, parts of the roof had collapsed, letting in ice and
snow. It's tall gates were broken, as if smashed into pieces by a hand of a
giant.
Still, Sunny was satisfied.
"Found you," he said in a hoarse voice.
Gathering the last of his strength, the young slave slowly limped in the
direction of the ruined temple. His thoughts were muddled and confused.
'See this, Hero?' he thought, forgetting for a second that Hero was already
dead. 'I've made it. You were strong and ruthless, and I was weak and timid.
Yet now you are a corpse, and I am still alive. Isn't it funny?'
He stumbled and groaned, feeling the edges of his broken ribs cutting
deeper into his lungs. Blood was dripping from his mouth. Dead or not,
Hero had gotten him good with that single strike.
'Actually, it's not. What do any of you even know about being ruthless?
Poor fools. In the world where I come from, people had thousands of years
to turn cruelty into an art. And as someone on the receiving end of all that
cruelty… don't you think I would know more about being vicious than you
ever could?'
He was getting closer to the temple.
'Truth be told, you never stood a chance… wait. What was I thinking
about?'
A moment later, he had already forgotten. There was only pain, the dark
temple, and the overpowering desire to sleep.
'Don't fall for it. It's just hypothermia. If you fall asleep, you'll die.'
Finally, Sunny reached the steps of the black temple. He started to climb
them, not noticing thousands of bones that were scattered around. These
bones once belonged to humans and monsters both. All of them were killed
by the invisible guardians still lingering around the temple.
As Sunny was climbing the steps, one of the shapeless guardians
approached him. It was ready to snuff out the spark of life that was burning
weakly in the defiler's chest, but then stopped, sensing a faint, strangely
familiar scent coming from his soul. The scent of divinity. Sorrowful and
lonesome, the guardian moved aside, letting Sunny pass.
Oblivious, he entered the temple.
Sunny found himself in a grandiose hall. Cascades of moonlight were
falling through the holes in the partially collapsed roof. Deep shadows were
surrounding these circles of silver light, not daring to touch them. The floor
was covered in snow and ice.
At the far end of the hall, a large altar was cut from a single piece of black
marble. It was the only thing inside the temple untouched by snow.
Forgetting why he came here, Sunny headed for the altar.
He just wanted to sleep
.
The altar was dry, clean, and as wide as a bed. Sunny climbed on it and lay
down.
It seemed like he was going to die.
He was okay with it.
Sunny tried to close his eyes, but was stopped by a sudden noise coming
from the direction of the temple's entrance. He turned his head to look, not
even a little bit curious. What he saw would have sent chills running down
his spine if he wasn't so cold, tired and indifferent.
Hero was still alive.
He was barely standing. One arm was missing below the shoulder, torn off in the battle. His leg was twisted at a sickening angle, dragging behind him as he limped forward. His chest was caved in and bleeding heavily, armor shattered and hanging loose. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his face was pale as ash.
But still… he moved.
Still… he fought.
'did he defeat it?'
To say sunny was surprised would be an understatement. He felt angry, after all his scheming , the bastard was still alive , and now was coming to make an end for him.
'but ...if mountain king is dead then why is the nightmare still hasn't end?'Sunny thought to himself watching Hero.
Hero staggered across the floor of the temple, dragging himself forward like a specter risen from his own grave.
He reached Sunny at the altar and collapsed to one knee.
Was he here to finish the job? To strike a final blow?
But instead, Hero took something from his belt with trembling fingers and held it out.
A dagger.
Its blade was chipped, hilt cracked — but sharp enough to kill.
"…Take it," Hero said, coughing up blood. "This… this is where I meet my fate. But not on my knees. Not by that thing. Give me a warrior's death. A noble one."
Sunny stared at him in stunned silence.
"I don't want to die… like an animal," Hero muttered. "You said it, didn't you? That fate isn't fixed. That meaning is found in the resistance, not in the end."
He looked up, face streaked with sweat and blood.
"I resisted."
Sunny hesitated… but then, solemnly, he took the dagger.
Before he could move, another coughing fit overtook him. More blood spilled from his mouth, falling to the altar in dark splashes.
Some of Hero's blood was already there — it had dripped from his ruined chest, from his severed arm, soaking the base of the altar.
The marble drank it all.
Solemnly, Sunny leaned forward and plunged the dagger into Hero's chest — into his heart.
It wasn't a graceful motion. He had to lean with his whole weight, weak and trembling, barely able to hold the weapon steady. The blade slid between Hero's ribs with a wet sound.
The young soldier exhaled sharply… and then went still.
For a moment, there was silence.Then, the voice of the Spell echoed within the collapsing world:
[You have offered yourself as a sacrifice to the gods.]
[The gods are dead, and cannot hear you.]
[Your soul bears the mark of divinity.]
[You are a temple slave.]
[Shadow God stirs in his eternal slumber.]
[He sends a blessing from beyond the grave.]
[Child of Shadows, receive your blessing!]
But before the voice could finish, before Sunny could even begin to comprehend what was happening—
Hero's body slumped forward, and his head gently rested on Sunny's shoulder.
A faint breath escaped his lips.
"…Go break your own fate, Sunless… just like you broke mine and…"
His voice grew quieter with each word.
He whispered something else. But Sunny didn't hear it.
He was too shocked, too hollow — too terrified.
Because he had never told Hero his name.
And yet… he had spoken it.
The dagger was still in Sunny's hands. Warm blood was soaking through his fingers, spreading across his wrists.
Then, the Spell spoke again, this time louder, colder — final.
[You have slain an Awakened Human: Auro of the Nine.]
[Wake up, Sunless. Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]
The light faded.
The black temple crumbled.
The altar vanished into nothing.
And just like that, the nightmare ended.