Everyman's Nightmare

He had tasted death countless times, yet each encounter only deepened the mystery of his existence.

The setting sun painted the sky in a blaze of orange and red, casting a warm glow over the dirt path leading through the towering walls of the capital city of the Emerald Empire. Echoes of cheers and laughter filled the air as soldiers marched through the gates, welcomed home after their grueling campaign. Leading the procession was Aristellus Soru'draigg, the renowned hero who had singlehandedly turned the tide of battle in their favor.

A somber yet relieved smile spread across his face as he basked in the admiration of his men and the grateful citizens he had sworn to protect. Pride and satisfaction welled up inside him, but so did the memory of those who had fallen. Death was an inevitable part of their lives, and he vowed to honor the sacrifices of his comrades by carrying their memory forward.

As night fell and the victory celebrations ended, Aristellus found himself alone in his chamber at the highest point of the Emerald Castle. His icy-blue eyes reflected the moonlight as he gazed out the window, a half-empty glass of wine in his hand. Despite his uncle, the king, celebrating their triumph, Aristellus felt a heavy weight in his heart.

"A penny for your thoughts?" A gentle voice broke the silence, bringing a small smile to Aristellus's face as he looked into his glass.

"...I wish I could have done more," he replied. "So many lost their lives... What do I tell their families? Their friends?" His voice was filled with guilt and remorse. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the woman before him.

"Why are you blaming yourself? You did your best, and that's all we can ask for," Seraphina cooed, wrapping her arms around his head in a comforting embrace. Her jet-black hair fluttered in the midnight breeze, illuminated by the moonlight, captivating Aristellus.

"I guess you're right," he whispered, surrendering to the warmth of her embrace. Despite carrying the burden of his fallen comrades, he always felt safe and comforted knowing Seraphina was there for him.

Aristellus's smile turned to one of contentment as he enjoyed the fleeting moment with the woman he loved. But as he opened his eyes, he saw a silhouette of a woman watching them, her expression filled with disdain and hatred. He was paralyzed with confusion and disbelief until it was too late.

A sharp pain overwhelmed his senses, the metallic scent of blood filling the air. He looked down in horror at the silver dagger piercing his chest, clutched by Seraphina's delicate hands. But the excruciating pain was nothing compared to the despair of seeing his own hand driving a sword into her chest.

"This is only the beginning... Godslayer."

The resounding echoes of steel slicing through flesh and bone filled the narrow, crumbling passageway deep within the cave atop the tallest mountain on Sanct Pierre. Aristellus, with indigo hair flowing like the midnight sky, swung his blade, cleaving a monster in half.

"Onwards, men! Don't relent!" Aristellus commanded, charging into the throng of monsters. Anger fueled his every strike, but a strange sense of déjà vu lingered. Each battle felt like a half-remembered dream, familiar and foreign at the same time. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had been here before, that he had faced these monsters and claimed victory many times over. Yet each time the memory slipped away, leaving only a haunting sense of inevitability.

"What is this feeling... It's like I've been here before," Aristellus muttered as his men pressed forward, easily dispatching the monsters with the precision of practiced warriors. Knowledge from a previous life—or was it?—guided his hand, but the memory felt like a fleeting shadow, slipping through his fingers every time he tried to grasp it.

Just then, an eerily familiar silhouette of a woman appeared, freezing him in place. Pain surged through his body as multiple swords pierced his flesh.

"...Why."

"Each time, they make sure it's someone new. A new face, a new dagger in his back."

In the heart of the forbidden forest, colossal trees intertwined to form a thick canopy, hiding the starless sky. Amidst the darkness, a campfire crackled defiantly. Aristellus Soru'draigg sat alone, his dark-purple eyes reflecting the flames, filled with a myriad of emotions. His once-neatly kept indigo hair now hung disheveled, mirroring the unruly wilderness around him. As the campfire's embers danced through the air, Aristellus could only drown in despair and anger, haunted by the strange sense that this moment had happened before.

Visions of people he hadn't met, dreams of battles he had never fought, and heartache as well as happiness from those whose names he had never known. Frustration and confusion welled up inside him as a myriad of memories flashed before his eyes. Hopelessness filled his soul despite not even knowing the reason behind it.

Yet, a spark of hope persisted. Despite not knowing what these memories meant or why he felt this way, he knew deep down that they were his, and he would stop at nothing to understand what was happening to him.

As he stood, he saw a woman's silhouette in the flames. A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he met his end once more, not bothering to see what killed him.

"But no matter how many times they kill him, he'll rise again. And each death brings him closer to their end."

The midwife held the newborn gently, her face creased with worry as she cleaned the baby. The baby's eyes were wide open, taking in the world with a strange calm instead of the expected cries. The silence was almost unbearable, each second stretching into an eternity. The parents exchanged anxious glances, their hearts racing. The newborn, so eerily quiet, took a small, shaky breath, its tiny chest rising and falling in the stillness, as if already contemplating the vast world it had just entered without a sound.

"This time, I'll make sure it's different."