Dreambreaker

The place smelled of thick iron. Pungent, bitter, and organic bile. Putrid, sulfurous, charred smog hung in the air. A few molted, some burnt— chunks of meat, lay here and there. Result of aggresive chopping and runic pyromancy.

The scent was foul enough to trigger instinctive gags; promised to invite a murder of demon-crows for a feast.

The ground was dull-red.

The light soil looked like holy sindoor— pebbles as if beryl; everything muddied in blood.

In between the corpses of humans and demons, one could see a man. Three shafts protruded from his back, the fletchings revealed them to be arrows. A dagger stuck out of his left eye; lines of blood trickled down from the wound. A bead of tear welled up in the other.

He pulled out the dagger, gasping heavily.

A partially severed finger dangled loosely on his left hand.

His neck was cracked into block-like segments, a blue light glowed from the gaps within; slowly, the light dimmed down.

Despite his condition, he stood. Detached.

A jet of blood squirted from his wounded eye before stopping.

The battlefield and the countless dead bodies—all of it was his doing.

After all, they challenged him. He, just retaliated. A one vs everyone.

Once, maybe he'd have spared them, but that was then. Now...

Now, well...it mattered not. He didn't care much about the war, or about its consequences.

There was nothing for him to lose.

And there was nothing he could have gained.

All this, just pointless.

The beautiful blue sky, which otherwise served as the canvas of hope, was now painted inky black.

Hope's rays blocked by grey clouds.

In the man's hand, the shattered remnants of a—what appeared to be a machete—the reminder of the fierce struggle that had just ended.

His grey eye, glanced at the sky; empty and tired.

Tired, yes—not his body, but his soul.

A very faint sign of sadness was also visible on his face. An intense, begging for something.

But it was too late. Too late for anything.

"I don't know, but if there exists a God, he will not play favourites. His actions will be equal, for the universe," the man exhaled.

And despite the sorrow, one could see a faint smile on his lips.

Perhaps, a smile of resignation?

Having fought with whatever was, and a spirit so unbending, he narrowed his entire self into the war.

His strength, all gone. Whatever was left, war ate. He was exhausted. This one event, this was 'The point of no return.'

Too late, indeed...

Suddenly, the sky's bleak darkness was pierced by a radiant beam of light, lighting up every inch of the dead horizon.

In that light, the man saw a beautiful sight —countless angels with shining swords, looked like a scene from the book of Revelation.

The heavenly host glode, aether charged swords, neighs of countless pegasi filled the air. One single thought in their minds: execution.

With a final surge of energy, the man beared his machete. He took a certain stance—the one his master taught him all those years ago, and zoomed at the heavenly army. Mid flight, his body fragmented in a sequence, cube by cube, like small blocks before dissolving into the thin air.

Amongst the ranks of the enemy army, the reconstruction of a hand was followed by a face and soon, his whole body. He spun, unleashing a tornado of blades, hacking and slashing in a wild dance.

In that instant, death was brought to a centuria of angels—beings believed to be immortals.

With an added flourish, a dazzling arc of plasma was launched from his machete, reducing everything in its path by half-mile radius.

.

.

.

.

.

It was over. The war was finally over.

But the damage was done.

Sprawled, gagging, vision blurring, the man tried to make some sense of it all...but, the darkness was slowly taking over. Even his thoughts were fading away.

In his final moment, he thought about his fate. He defied death all his life, he did everything he could, but he wasn't able to save his family...couldn't return back to his world. All his efforts were in vain.

All of it, only amounted to this much...

But perhaps, this much was all that was needed.

Slowly, very slowly, his trembling left hand inched for his face, skin smeared with dried blood. Mustering his last bit of strength, he shoved his hand into his throat, gasping and gagging.

Struggling for a moment, he slowly pulled, his neck swelled up like a balloon as he took something out of his mouth, while coughing blood and saliva all over himself.

There, in his fist, was clutched a strange ball oozing with blood. The ball pulsated like a heart. Looked like a lump of meat, eyes dotted its body in random patterns. A spherical arc of teeth was traced across its body.

"You know what to do..." Inaudibly, the man exhaled in his death rattle. "Set in motion the events to fix...everykh—"

His eye...the pupil dilated, swallowed, a ragged breath, body shuddered and then...nothing.

The world was finally silent.

[Initiating Rev...]

***

"Hunkh!" I muffled an exhale, my eyes burned because of the brightness.

I am in my room.

Awareness returned.

'Take the train,' the command echoed in my head. Before I could even contemplate on it, an annoying beep rang in my ear, silencing everything around me.

What happened? Was...

I was breathing roughly. The noisy beep slowly died down.

Back of my shirt clung damply to my skin, I was drenched in sweat.

My heart beat wildly against my chest. I was sat on my bed, the blanket was bunched up around my legs.

"Noah," a soft velvety voice entered my ear. I looked to my side to see her sitting by my bed.

"What's going on?" Mom asked, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. Her auburn hair was styled in curtain bangs, the light streaming through the window brought out the lines of worry on her face. "Is it happening again?" she asked.

"No, it's not an episode," I reassured her.

"I-It...just...," I spoke softly, pressing my face with my right hand. "I just had a strange dream. Felt so real," I paused to gather my thoughts and slowly wiped the sweat off my face.

"Sounds more like a nightmare," she chuckled. "Here," She tossed the silver orb to me, I deftly caught it, the ball slowly morphed into a sonata, warping around my wrist.

The watch turned on, time displayed:

──────────────

Year→ 2393

Time→ 9:15 AM

Date→ Nov.3

──────────────

November 3. Something is going to happen today.

"Is it today?"

"Yes, pops just gave a call, I prepared the hover-car since you were sleeping-"

"No, I will take the train," I ejaculated, interjecting her before she could finish her sentence.

"Uh, you never liked taking trains—"

"I will take the train," I told her, but my brow furrowed in confusion. Why was I set on taking the train?

I just felt like I have to take the train.