Chapter 9

Dane stood before the imposing gate in the cliff. It was more of a carved opening than a gate, but Dane could not tell the difference with its grand size at twenty meters tall and ten wide. A vicious atmosphere of fear and dark chill escaped from it. And though his skin tingled pleasurably from the cold, he felt like snuggling up in a warm blanket. Euphoric cold be damned.

He felt small, so he puffed out his chest. His heart beat wildly against his chest. By now, even his fingers were clammy, just a little. He wiped them against his bare tunic. He realized how unequipped he was compared to his companions, with no armor and cheap weapons to boot.

It was the first time he felt like this, in stark contrast to his upbringing as a Legacy. He felt naked. He was almost jealous of the men around him. Comparison really was the thief of joy.

Atticus stood beside him, rapping his fingers against the sheath at his waist. He wore no armor. Eliana had told him that anyone on a battlefield with no armor was not to be underestimated. Atticus seemed careless other than the little impatience in his eyes. He was more dangerous than he looked. He had a quality that even some Legacies lacked.

The knight, Sir, stood ahead of them both. He unsheathed his sword. Dane did the same, finding reassurance within its warm wooden hilt.

They walked through the opening with bated breath in three ranks. Instantly, the insides got darker, and Dane's vision grew brighter. It was colder inside, insidiously so. Dane could hear the chattering of teeth from the soldiers behind him. Sir held his bastard sword guardedly, and Atticus seemed eerily calm as if he had done this a thousand times before. His eyes were cold and provocative.

'Come closer…closer,' Dane thought. He almost took a step to the side before freezing. That wasn't him.

'Don't…hesitate,' his thoughts said to him. It wasn't his voice. It was unbelievably slow and raspy, a low whisper. It was haunting.

The soldier behind him veered out of the line. Dane turned as he heard his footsteps and reached out to pull him back. That's when he noticed two luminescent pupils looking at them, hiding behind a rocky wall. It zoomed toward them.

Dane quickly hoisted his sword and thrust it as he caught the unassuming man by the arm with his other hand and threw him back.

It was fast, too fast for its own good. When his sword reached it, it could not break its momentum and run away. It impaled itself on his blade. Dane twisted it, tearing apart its heart, and blackish blood squelched outward. He stared at it now, barely a foot from him.

Its body was human…but so inhuman. It possessed pale skin that grew darker underneath with visible blue veins, thick and rotting. Its eyes were a gripping yellow and reptilian. Its arms were stunted, barely half the size of Dane's arms. It bared its teeth in a malicious grin. 

He returned its smile.

He waited to hear the Spell announce his first kill.

The Spell was silent. The thing groaned and looked at Dane, ridicule in its eyes.

Dane immediately pierced through the veil. It had a soul, but not a regular one. It was black and gloomy, like the souls of the dead. But there was something else within it. A tenebrous seed rested deep within its soul, near the chest, swirling restlessly. Thin cancerous veins spread throughout the beast's soul from that darkness.

Dane realized he was looking at its Soul Core. It was a Nightmare Creature, but also dead.

It cackled and placed an unnerving hand on Dane's blade and pulled as it walked forward. The creature didn't care for the cuts forming on its palm or the wounds inside its body.

Dane gritted his teeth, shocked. But not for long. He regained his composure.

The thing was unkillable. He had to get this thing away from him.

He drove the sword in and twisted, letting it get closer. The mindless creature grinned with avarice, letting go of the sword, and shot its arms toward him. He moved forward, getting dangerously close to it, its rotting arms inches from his face. He set his leg on its stomach and pushed with all he had while keeping his grip firm on the sword.

The demonic creature staggered backward forcefully and fell on its back, no longer impaled. Dane kept his balance by hopping softly. Before he could do anything, someone ran past him.

Atticus's clothes flashed with myriad colors as he set his hand above the sheath and gripped the air. A glassy hilt manifested out of thin air, and he pulled out a transparent sword. It was ghostly and ethereal. Atticus stood over the Nightmare Creature coolly. It was halfway onto its feet when he slashed at it. The sword bit into its neck and came out from the other side.

Dane thought it wouldn't matter, that it would keep moving. It didn't.

A dim light shone on the beast's wounds, and it spread throughout its body and the decapitated head. They crumbled into dust before his eyes.

Dane sucked in a cold breath, agitated and impressed.

…Nightmares weren't meant to include Tyrants and undead. The whole situation was insane. Yet, he could not call the Spell unfair. It had provided a solution to the undead.

"Take this as a lesson. These things don't die unless killed by me. Don't overcommit your attacks with these ghouls," Atticus said. "Dane performed splendidly, distancing himself from it immediately. I would expect the same from the rest of you."

His eyes wandered to his line of soldiers where a man lay dead, his lifeless hands weakly clutching his severed throat. A pile of dust lay on top of him.

A hint of sorrow and anger lit in his eyes. "You have grown in this town all your lives. You know everything about these accursed things. It has been drilled into you since you were tots!" he stressed.

He looked at a group of three men standing at the back of the ranks with superficial wounds on their faces and arms.

The knight stood beside them, his hands glowing. "I expect no more complacency from any of you…I do not wish to bury any of you," he said. A large heap of ash lay at his feet. It still moved, though barely. Even as ash, they lived.

'So fire also works,' Dane thought to himself.

He looked back at Atticus. "Were they devils? Or is there a devil here? I heard them speaking in my head."

Atticus looked at Dane. He said, "Think properly."

Dane frowned and analyzed the Nightmare Creature in his mind. While he thought, two men reached out and picked the human corpse up, lifting it and walking outside under Sir's protection.

The creature was dead and corrupted…it had the body of a human. Realization flashed in his eyes. Atticus did not miss it.

"These ghouls were all once Dreamers, once upon a time. Evil warlocks, one and all. When they die, they are corrupted. They are Beasts now but possess abilities due to their past lives. Uniform ones, they all can whisper in the minds of the living," Atticus explained.

Dane found it odd that there were corpses in this place at all. He didn't want to know either.

"Let us be on our way," said Sir, walking back with the other two soldiers.