The drive to the police station was suffocating. Milo could hardly believe what he was going through. It felt too unreal, like a nightmare that refused to end. His leg shook up and down with an energetic nervousness. It wasn't going to be easy; Milo had just lost his arm.
'To make matters worse, I never received private tutoring.'
All Milo had was himself, his own experience, and his wits. That didn't amount to much compared to the towering task that the First Nightmare demanded. Many didn't come back alive, and Milo could be no exception.
'Don't think like that, you got this.'
When they arrived, his dad told the police officer at the front everything. The police officer spoke into his radio.
"We have a Code Green."
The last words he heard from his father were "You got this, Milo. I love you."
Milo was run through the process of being told what to expect, what to do, and what not to do, and the police officer kept stressing one thing.
"The people in there aren't real, they're fake. If it comes to it, kill them."
Milo nodded. It should be easy, right? No different than killing an ultra-realistic NPC in the Dreamscape.
Milo finally let his consciousness slip. A black void was what he saw, and a soft voice spoke into his ear.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
Milo dreamed a mediocre dream. He didn't see a jagged, lonesome mountain, nor the soft comfort of a lighthouse cabin in a calm beachside. He saw a rundown cabin and an ash-marked cabin made of stone and wood. It was abandoned, likely for thousands of years.
Then Milo saw the sky turn, night turned to day, and day turned to night. The speed at which the scenery changed fastened; time itself was going in reverse. The cabin's condition improved slowly; the overgrown vines covering it shrank and shrank until they disappeared entirely.
Then the ash began to rise, turning back into wood as a violent outburst of fire came to life, then disappeared within seconds.
Finally, the reversal of time stopped, and Milo then felt his perspective being pulled into the cabin.
He felt the warmth of a hearth enter his body. The soft comfort of wool clothing, and the unmistakable sound of metal smashing metal. The same type heard in a forge.
Milo thought of 'Status Window' and the Spell's runes pulled up in front of him. Immediately, he focused on the runes describing his Aspect and Attributes
Attributes: [Tempered Grip] [Forging] [Temp@#$% ^&87]
Milo quickly dismissed the runes and let out a startled yelp.
"What the hell..." His right hand pressed against his forehead as a splitting headache suddenly onset.
The runes had glitched... was that even possible?
Milo once again summoned the runes.
Attributes: [Tempered Grip] [Forging]
'Was I just imagining things?'
Milo then looked at his Aspect. Well, he could already figure out what it was from his attributes.
Aspect: [Apprentice Forger]
Aspect Description: [A Forger in the making, at least in theory.]
"Maybe I won't have to fight anything." Some First Nightmares weren't filled with combat, but instead required certain tasks or goals to be met.
Milo then looked at his attribute descriptions. He needed to get a basic idea of what he could do.
[Tempered Grip] Attribute Description: "You wield a mighty grip, unyielding no matter the circumstance."
[Forging] Attribute Description: "You know the basics of forging."
[Temp@#$% ^&84] Attribute Description: "Break the @#$&"
Milo flinched, and the third attribute disappeared from the runes as if it had never existed. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern.
"Break something... break what?"
Milo shook his head. He needed information. So, he walked towards the door of the cabin and opened it. Chilling air breezed past his body, and the sound of metal hitting metal was clearer. Milo pressed forward and found the source of the sound.
An automated lever was forcing a hammer to work on a rotating mold of metal. Milo knew what he was looking at.
"A prosthetic."
His ticket out, his goal, was likely the prosthetic. It would finish on its own without his help within time. From his estimate, it would roughly be two days or so.
Milo made his way back inside. All he had to do was sleep and eat; both were very easy things. So he went about his day, grabbing the freshly hunted meat and cooking it just like he was taught.
Day turned into night, and Milo laid down in the cozy bed that was in the cabin. The fire had been put out, and let sleep claim him.
He awoke in mere minutes, the unmistakable sound of footsteps causing the wooden floorboards to creak. Milo looked towards the open cabin area... two white dots stood out in the darkness. Milo acted quicker than he knew he could. He jumped up and dashed out of the cabin. His body was only in cotton pants, and the biting cold made him shiver.
Whatever was in the cabin was quicker. It chased him with quick and light footsteps. Milo felt something stab through his back and pierce through his chest. He coughed up blood and felt something stab into his head before black filled his vision.
---
Milo dreamed a mediocre dream. He didn't see a jagged, lonesome mountain, nor the soft comfort of a lighthouse cabin in a calm beachside. He saw a rundown cabin and an ash-marked cabin made of stone and wood. It was abandoned, likely for thousands of years.
Then Milo saw the sky turn, night turned to day, and day turned to night. The speed at which the scenery changed fastened; time itself was going in reverse. The cabin's condition improved slowly; the overgrown vines covering it shrank and shrank until they disappeared entirely.
Then the ash began to rise, turning back into wood as a violent outburst of fire came to life, then disappeared within seconds.
Finally, the reversal of time stopped, and Milo then felt his perspective being pulled into the cabin.
He felt the warmth of a hearth enter his body. The soft comfort of wool clothing, and the unmistakable sound of metal smashing metal. The same type heard in a forge.
Milo thought of 'Status Window' and the Spell's runes pulled up in front of him. Immediately, he focused on the runes describing his Aspect and Attributes
Attributes: [Tempered Grip] [Forging] [Temp@#$% ^&87]
Milo quickly dismissed the runes and let out a startled yelp.
"What the hell..." His right hand pressed against his forehead as a splitting headache suddenly onset.
The runes had glitched... was that even possible?
Milo once again summoned the runes.
Attributes: [Tempered Grip] [Forging]
'Was I just imagining things?'
Milo then looked at his Aspect. Well, he could already figure out what it was from his attributes.
Aspect: [Apprentice Forger]
Aspect Description: [A Forger in the making, at least in theory.]
"Maybe I won't have to fight anything." Some First Nightmares weren't filled with combat, but instead required certain tasks or goals to be met.
Milo then looked at his attribute descriptions. He needed to get a basic idea of what he could do.
[Tempered Grip] Attribute Description: "You wield a mighty grip, unyielding no matter the circumstance."
[Forging] Attribute Description: "You know the basics of forging."
[Temp@#$% ^&84] Attribute Description: "Break the @#$&"
Milo flinched, and the third attribute disappeared from the runes as if it had never existed. Once was a coincidence, twice was a pattern...
"Once is a coincidence, twice is a pattern."
Something was off; this all felt too familiar. Milo suddenly checked the outside of the cabin; stains of red were dotted around the entrance.
"Blood?" Milo looked up. He had never taken a look at it, but the forest ahead of him was so unbelievably dark. A home of shadows and darkness just waiting to consume something that stepped in from the light. Two pale white dots stared back at him.
Milo shuddered and stepped back inside. He needed to figure something out. He began to search the cabin for any clues. He opened drawers and cabinets, and he felt around every nook and cranny. It was to no avail. There was one place he hadn't checked, however.
Milo stepped back out into that daunting cold air. He made his way to the forge and began his hunt. Every nook and cranny, every holder... for nothing.
Milo let out a sigh. With a heavy heart, he returned to the cabin and could do nothing but wait.
Night came, and with night came death.
---
Milo dreamed a mediocre dream. He didn't see a jagged, lonesome mountain, nor the soft comfort of a lighthouse cabin in a calm beachside. He saw a rundown cabin and an ash-marked cabin made of stone and wood. It was abandoned, likely for thousands of years.
Then Milo saw the sky turn, night turned to day, and day turned to night. The speed at which the scenery changed fastened; time itself was going in reverse. The cabin's condition improved slowly; the overgrown vines covering it shrank and shrank until they disappeared entirely.
Then the ash began to rise, turning back into wood as a violent outburst of fire came to life, then disappeared within seconds.
Finally, the reversal of time stopped, and Milo then felt his perspective being pulled into the cabin...
With night came death.
---
Milo dreamed a mediocre dream. He didn't see a jagged, lonesome mountain, nor the soft comfort of a lighthouse cabin in a calm beachside. He saw a rundown cabin and an ash-marked cabin made of stone and wood. It was abandoned, likely for thousands of years...
With night came death.
---
Milo dreamed a mediocre dream...
With night came death.
---
Milo dreamed... and dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed.
With night came death.
---
Milo... yes, his name was Milo, he must remember his name if nothing else, dreamed a terrifying dream, a dream that wouldn't end... this was no dream. This was a nightmare, a nightmare that refused to let go of Milo. A nightmare spun up by a devious trickster that wanted nothing more than to let fear encompass its prey before swallowing it whole. It sent a terrible monster made of shade to reap his very soul, his memories, his dreams, his hope. Every time, night came without fail
With night came death.
---
A young boy looked at the ruined cabin's walls. They were riddled with the same message etched into the wood.
WITH NIGHT COMES DEATH.
Repeated over and over. He did not know where he was, and he did not remember his name. Along with the terrifying message were tallies, tallies riddled the wall. It would take ages to count each one up.
He wanted to curl up into a ball and simply fade away. Why was he here? Could he just die already?
"P-please, I just wan't to die."
The boy felt goosebumps riddle his body. A memory resurfacing, a memory of his missing arm. A memory of himself being gutted and torn through by a rabid bat. A memory of acceptance that turned into defiance.
"I-I don't want to die." The boy murmured, why did he not want to die? What was the point of living? Why did he want to live? What made him fight back?
Another memory resurfaced. A memory of a face, so energetic and bright and lovely. Then another, this time one full of care and love. Another that was rough at times but ultimately soft at the end of the day. Another face that was carefree and goofy. Then more and more kept resurfacing.
"Milo, my name is Milo." Milo sputtered out as he stood up and ran outside. In the next moment, he puked. Terrible memories of the previous loops he had encountered. Thousands of attempts to escape had failed. The forest is where the monster lies in wait. The cabin offered no safety at night. What could he possibly do? He looked through the cabin, notes riddled drawers and cabinets. Each one detailing what he had attempted and ultimately failed.
He had jotted down every little detail possible. Every small tick of the monster, every speck of the cabin. He had burned it down with the monster in it; he used the prosthetic before it was finished. It always targeted the prosthetic as well. If he had it on before the Nightmare Creature arrived, it would destroy the prosthetic before killing him. It seemed both scared and disgusted by the prosthetic.
"There's only one option left." Milo stepped back outside and looked at the forest. His heart pumped, and his mind rushed with thoughts of another gruesome death. Yet he still sprinted towards the forest, ignoring the two pale white eyes staring at him.
He ran with all his might. He didn't stop, he didn't even look back. He was so sick of that damn snow-covered cabin that he refused to.
He didn't stop even as the footsteps grew closer. He had felt death before, hundreds of times he remembered, and thousands of times he didn't. He kept running and running into the darkness. The prosthetic was an impossible dream; it would never be finished in time. All he could do was run; there was no fight to be won here.
'It's okay to run away.'
Eventually, the forest ended, and the terrible nightmare ended as well.
---
Milo woke up to a feeling of nausea; he felt something skittering on top of his head. He instinctively reached up with his left hand, and it moved. He grasped his hand around whatever critter was up there. He pulled it off and back despite its weak protests and screeching.
It was pathetic, really. A tiny creature with a head too big for its small body. It had no offensive capabilities of any kind. The best option seemed to be the nightmare it had put Milo through; that was its only way to hunt.
Milo scoffed and threw it to the ground, stomping it out. As much as he hated to admit, this damn thing had almost done him in.
[You have slain a Dormant Devil, Feeder of Fear.]
[You have received a Memory, Dreamer's Hope.]
'It was my own weakness.'
Milo refused to accept it... the fact of living without his arm. The fact that he was afraid to die, he had thought himself brave, stupid, but brave. That wasn't the slightest bit true. The moment his injury became apparent, he wanted a way out. He hadn't even bothered accepting his injury for what it was, a testament to his deed.
"I was like a fruit ripe for the picking." Milo looked ahead. He was clearly in some dim cave, but before anything else could occur, the Spell spoke to him.
[Wake up, Milo! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal…]