The first thing Blaze felt was the salt. It stung his eyes and coated his tongue with the bitter, metallic tang of the ocean.
He wasn't standing in a room or a void; he was suspended in a snapshot of carnage. He looked around in a daze, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was on the deck of a colossal wooden galleon, but the ship was a graveyard. Bodies in tattered naval uniforms lay strewn across the splintered wood, their blood mixing with the rainwater to form a gruesome, pinkish slurry that sloshed with the rocking of the hull.
The sky above was a swirling vortex of bruised purples and charcoal greys. Giant, mountain-sized waves threatened to swallow the vessel whole, but the sea wasn't the only predator. Through the sheets of torrential rain, Blaze saw the silhouette of another ship—a black-sailed leviathan that was launching relentless, merciless attacks. Cannon fire shrieked through the air, and plumes of fire erupted from the galleon's side.
Then, the world shattered.
Like a film being rewound at a frantic speed, the fire sucked back into the cannons, the blood flowed back into the wounds of the fallen, and the splintered wood knit itself together. Blaze felt a nauseating pull in his gut as time reversed, dragging him into the past.
Suddenly, the roaring of the storm was silenced by a cold, mechanical voice that echoed within the marrow of his bones:
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell.]
[Prepare for your First Trial...]
Blaze's eyes snapped open. He wasn't on the deck anymore.
He was lying in the cramped, damp corner of a wooden cabin. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, stale grog, and unwashed bodies. The floor beneath him tilted precariously, accompanied by the rhythmic, agonizing groan of a ship struggling against the tide.
He tried to sit up, his head throbbing with a dull ache. He was dressed in a jagged, salt-stained white shirt and coarse, sack-like brown pants that chafed against his skin. He stood up unsteadily, catching his reflection in a small, cracked shard of glass pinned to the bulkhead.
The face staring back wasn't his—not exactly. It was a boy of a similar age, perhaps eighteen, but the features were weathered by the sun and sea. The most striking difference was the hair; while Henry had kept his hair short, this body possessed a wild, unkempt mane that fell over its eyes.
Blaze ran a trembling hand through the thick locks, his mind racing. "Seriously?" he muttered, his voice raspy and unfamiliar. "I'm a college student. I don't know the first thing about fighting, let alone surviving on a 17th-century death trap."
He looked at his calloused hands, realizing the gravity of his situation. In the Shadow Slave novels, the First Nightmare was designed to cull the weak. It was a trial by fire, and he was currently a spark about to be tossed into a hurricane.
"How the hell am I supposed to clear this Nightmare?" he whispered, a flash of anger cutting through his fear. "Whoever caused that gas leak... I hope you rot in the deepest pit of hell. You didn't just kill me; you threw me into a meat grinder."
Outside the cabin door, he heard the heavy thud of boots and the bark of a commanding voice. The trial had begun, and whether he was ready or not, the sea was coming for its tribute.and he immediately remebered to look into his runes,He muttered,"Runes" and immediately it poped:
Name:Blaze
True Name:-
Rank:Aspirant
Soul core:Dormant
Memories:-
Echoes:-
Attributes:[Mark of Divinity][Child of Excorsim]
Aspect:[Broken Person]
Aspect Description:[You are person,Nothing is filled you unless you fix it]
Blaze blinked ,'What the ...',and calmed himself for a moment,'What a shitty aspect?even worse,Only I have two attributes to do.',with a deep mental sigh,he opened the Attribute which he is new:
[Child of Excorsim]:Sins and Souls shall be percieved
Blaze stood in the center of the cramped cabin, his breath hitching as he processed the sheer absurdity of his situation. He looked down at his calloused hands, flexed his fingers, and sighed. "At least the body is young," he muttered. "That's the only practical thing about this whole mess."
His internal monologue was abruptly shattered by a booming, gravelly voice that rattled the wooden bulkheads.
"You! Brat! Stop daydreaming and get over here! We need more hands on the deck for cleaning, or the boatswain will have your hide!"
Blaze turned toward the doorway. Standing there was a man in his thirties, sporting a wild mane of black hair and a beard so thick it looked like a tangled bird's nest. The man's eyes were bloodshot and impatient.
Blaze didn't hesitate. He knew that in a Nightmare, standing out was a death sentence. "On my way!" he called out, mimicking the rough cadence of the sailors he had read about.
As he stepped out of the cabin, the sheer scale of the environment hit him like a physical blow. He wasn't just on a boat; he was on a massive wooden galleon that seemed to stretch forever into the misty horizon. The wood groaned under the pressure of the dark, churning waves, and the air was thick with the scent of salt, rot, and ancient iron.
Blaze looked up at the towering masts and the dark, swirling clouds above. "Okay," he whispered to himself, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "My First Nightmare is officially Eldritch One Piece. Great."
********
He began to move through the ship, performing the menial tasks assigned to him while keeping his eyes wide open. He needed information if he wanted to survive the night. As he worked alongside the other sailors, he began to piece together the fragments of this world.
They belonged to a Kingdom that—according to the hushed, terrified whispers of the crew—no longer existed. It was a ghost nation, and they were a ghost crew. No one seemed to know their final destination; the mission was shrouded in top-tier secrecy. From what Blaze could gather, the men around him were simply following the inertia of old orders, driven by a fear of their officers that outweighed their fear of the sea.
However, as he observed them, something strange began to happen. A new sensation bloomed behind his eyes—a weight he hadn't felt before. It was his Attribute.
When he looked at the sailors, he didn't just see tired men in rags. He saw their souls. They appeared as flickering lights within their chests, but each one was coated in a viscous, red-colored aura. The intensity of the color varied from person to person. He realized with a jolt of clarity that the darker and more crimson the aura, the more "Sins" that individual had committed.
'I can see the weight of their lives,' Blaze realized, his heart racing. 'I can tell the innocent from the guilty just by looking at them.'
His contemplation was violently interrupted. The entire galleon shuddered with a deafening crack, the wood screaming as something immense collided with the hull. The force threw Blaze across the deck like a ragdoll, his shoulder slamming into a heavy mast before he rolled into the scuppers.
He scrambled to his feet, gasping for air, and saw it.
Slithering over the railing was a creature of pure nightmare. It was a serpent, roughly the size of a grown man, covered in matte-grey scales that seemed to absorb the dim light. Its eyes were milky orbs of malice, and its jaw unhinged to reveal rows of needle-like fangs.
The Grayscale Serpent landed on the deck with a wet thud and immediately locked its gaze on Blaze. With a lightning-fast coil of its muscles, it launched itself at him.
"Crap!" Blaze yelled, diving sideways.
The serpent's maw snapped shut exactly where his head had been a second before. He didn't stay to fight in the open. Knowing he was outmatched in strength and speed, he bolted back toward the cabin he had just left. He dove through the door and slammed the heavy iron latch just as a massive weight thudded against the other side.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The wood groaned. Cracks began to spiderweb across the door. Blaze panicked, his eyes darting around the small room for anything—anything—that could serve as a weapon. His gaze landed on a heavy oil barrel in the corner.
'Please let this work,' he prayed.
He kicked the lid off the barrel, revealing a thick, pungent flammable liquid. Beside it lay an old, rustic sword, likely used for opening crates. It was blunt and pitted with rust, but it was steel. He plunged the blade into the oil, coating it in the viscous fluid.
The door splintered. A grey, scaly head forced its way through the gap, hissing with a sound like grinding stones.
Blaze didn't wait. He lunged toward a flickering oil lamp hanging from the ceiling and grazed the oil-soaked blade against the hot glass. With a violent whoosh, the sword ignited, bathing the cabin in a fierce, orange glow.
The serpent broke through the rest of the door, coiling itself to strike. Blaze took a shaky stance, holding the flaming sword between them. As the monster lunged, its jaws wide, Blaze thrust the blade forward with every ounce of his desperate strength.
The flaming steel drove deep into the creature's throat.
The serpent let out a high-pitched, vibrating screech of agony. It tried to coil around Blaze's torso, its muscular body constricting with bone-crushing force, but Blaze didn't let go. He drove the sword deeper, the flames cauterizing the wound and igniting the creature from the inside.
He held on even as the serpent's scales scraped his skin and its weight threatened to crush his ribs. He gritted his teeth, screaming in defiance until the thrashing finally slowed. The smell of burnt meat filled the cabin as the serpent's internal organs succumbed to the heat and the blood loss.
Finally, the monster went limp. Blaze collapsed against the wall, sliding down to the floor as his vision blurred. He was bleeding from a dozen small cuts, and his body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.
In the silence of the cabin, the cold voice of the Spell returned.
[You have killed a Dormant Monster: Spawn of Grayscale Serpent]
[You have received a Memory: ...]
Blaze stared at the cooling corpse. Through his special vision, he noticed a faint, dark aura dissipating from the serpent's body. 'So,' he thought breathlessly, 'even Nightmare Creatures can commit sins.'
*******
He eventually found the strength to stand and limped out onto the deck. The scene was one of grim carnage. Several other crew members lay dead, their bodies mangled by similar serpents. A few survivors were gathered near the quarterdeck, looking hollowed out and weary.
The Captain stood before them—a man with striking white hair and an aura so dark it was almost black.
"Those of you who survived, clear the corpses," the Captain commanded, his voice devoid of empathy. "Your losses will be compensated when we reach the shore, and the ship's surgeon will tend to your wounds. If you have questions, speak now or return to your posts."
The other sailors turned away immediately, their heads bowed. Blaze stood frozen. 'Nobody has questions? We almost just died!'
Blaze stepped forward, his voice cracking but firm. "I have a question."
The Captain turned, his cold gaze pinning Blaze to the spot.
"I need to know the purpose of this journey," Blaze said. "If I'm expected to bet my life against monsters every hour, I need at least a gist of what we're doing here."
The Captain stared at him for a long, silent moment. "It makes sense," he finally said. "Very well, Aspirant. The main purpose of this voyage is to reach our King. There are forces in this world trying to reach him first... whatever he has become."
Blaze frowned, trying to remember his lore. "So, this is a rescue mission? You're trying to save your King from wherever he's being held?"
The Captain leaned forward, a shadow of a grim smile appearing on his face.
"No," the Captain whispered. "We are going there to make sure he stays imprisoned."
====================
Stay tuned,Since Ghost rider can purify Sins and Annihilate Souls,that is why I gave him[Child of Exorcisim].Kindly give the reviews