The battle raged. Some of the many abominations had fallen, while others still lived. Dawn had no chance to reserve his essence for later, constantly finding himself in situations where he was forced to utilize it.
But finally, the battle was over, and the abominations receded into the ground once more. A total of ten awakened abominations and three fallen abominations had died.
Using the Reforged enchantment on himself once more, he restored his body to a point where he could at least move somewhat comfortably. Gathering all the soul cores from the abominations he had slain, he destroyed them, gaining even more fragments.
Summoning the familiar blood-red runes, his pale face—lacking much blood—twisted into an incredibly faint smile.
---
Dawn Fragments: 667/100
---
He had gained around a hundred fragments, if not a little more, from the ordeal—though, sadly, no new memories. Summoning the humanoid apparition of the small Flame within his soul, he saw its once-beautiful orange-yellow glow dimmed from its natural resplendence.
Feeling the familiar weight of the small Flame settling on his shoulder, he moved forward—the looming shadow of the Black Skull growing closer with every passing moment.
Replacing the Gilded Rage Plate with another memory—the Dread Vale Robe—the inky-black tunic wrapped around his body, shielding him from the endless sandstorm. He raised its hood over his head, obscuring his face.
---
An hour later, he finally reached the entrance of the Black Skull. There, at its threshold, stood a woman, seemingly around his age. Short brown hair was tied in a simple bun, and she wore a light gray tunic paired with simple black boots.
As he approached the woman, an unsettling feeling gripped him. Something was wrong—not only were her emotions diluted, as if they no longer belonged to her, but her eyes were almost empty.
"Who are you?"
Yet, as the woman parted her lips to speak, what came forth was no dialect known to man. It was neither of the ancient language of the Dream Realm nor of the waking world.
His suspicions were confirmed. This was no human—it was a beast in every sense of the word, one that had somehow taken human form.
Acting as a stark contrast to the woman's calm features, a guttural growl escaped her throat—sending a pulse of fear through Dawn, a fear he had only felt once before, when he first gazed upon the Titan.
True. Utter. Primal fear.
The abomination moved fast. But sacrificing two emotions to the Forger's Crown beneath the hood of the Dread Vale Robe, he slowed time drastically and began to run.
Even under the effects of his enchantment, the abomination, for whatever reason, was still faster than him. He had never seen such raw power before—not once in his entire time within this desert.
"Just what the hell are you?"
The abomination did not care to answer. Its delicate hands shot forward, gripping his arm—and tearing it clean off.
With a scream of pain, he ignored the bleeding stump and kept moving, biting his lip to stifle his cries, wary of attracting even more nearby abominations.
Then, he felt something—something new. A connection to a place distant, yet utterly close.
His gaze locked onto a black throne—the place where the connection had established itself. His eyes gleamed with the first true emotion he had felt in a long time.
Relief.
Was that a gateway?
The abomination rushed past him, blocking his access. His mind grew hazy—his already-low essence reserves had been pushed to the absolute brink by the Forger's Crown.
Whatever this thing is, it has to be at least a Great Abomination. I've seen corrupted tyrants at this point, but I've never seen something move this fast under the effects of Chronos Khaos.
Its face twisted—morphing into a strange, worm-like glass substance, contorted in rage at its hindered abilities.
It rushed toward him, aiming to take his head clean off. Raising the Dawn Breaker, he activated its signature enchantment—one he had been saving for a situation like this.
Pooling every ounce of his strength into a singular, suicidal strike, powered by every fiber of his being, he struck.
He focused all his skill, all his fluidity, into the attack. And yet, all he managed to do was stun the creature—if only for a single second.
But that second was all he needed.
He felt his body begin to give up.
Having used the Dawn Breaker's enchantment, his body could not withstand the strain, breaking on its own.
Empowering himself with the last remnants of his essence—while being coated by Flame—he rushed toward the gateway.
The Great Abomination realized too late what Dawn was planning. It struck out—cleaving one of Dawn's legs clean off.
But it was too late.
Dawn's hand touched the Black Throne.
And so, he vanished from the Dream Realm.