The chilling shared nightmare left us all shaken, the image of the chained human and the burning red eyes seared into our minds. The quiet calm of the checkpoint room was shattered by a new, palpable tension, a cold dread that seemed to cling to the very air.
"What was that?" I finally managed, my voice still rough, a tremor running through it.
It was Yor who spoke, her voice surprisingly steady despite the clear impact the dream had on her, her gaze distant, as if still peering into the nightmare's depths. "I think that monster," she stated, her words slow and deliberate, "is a Behemoth."
The name hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread, a word that carried the weight of ancient, primal fear. Behemoth. A creature of immense, legendary power and utter destruction, spoken of in hushed tones even among the most seasoned adventurers. If such a creature truly lurked within the Gauntlet, our task had just become infinitely more perilous.
"What is a Behemoth?" I asked Yor, my voice barely above a whisper, the raw fear from the nightmare still gripping me, tightening its icy fingers around my throat.
Yor's gaze was distant, as if she were looking into ancient, forgotten memories, beyond the scope of her own life. "It's from some lore," she explained, her voice soft but clear, almost a monotone, as if reciting a chilling nursery rhyme. "Stories that Kaynari parents used to tell their children about a beast in the mountains, a creature of the deep earth. They would tell them so we kids wouldn't go too deep into the caves, wouldn't stray from the light of our forges."
Her words painted a grim picture, suggesting a creature of immense, world-shaking power and a deep-seated, generational fear within Kaynari culture. The casual way she spoke of it as a children's warning only amplified the underlying terror—a mythical monster, a primal force of chaos, brought horrifyingly to life within the confines of Merlin's Gauntlet.
"They said a Behemoth is a creature of pure, destructive hunger," Yor continued, her voice gaining a chilling, almost detached edge, as if the ancient lore was speaking through her. "It devours everything in its path—earth, stone, light, even memories. But its true sustenance... its true delight... is to feed on your dreams. Everyone who sees its eyes will have their minds shattered, their spirits consumed, condemned to eternal nightmares until their very souls wither away."
A cold dread, far deeper than any physical fear, washed over me. The pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity, forming a picture so terrifying it made my blood run cold. I remembered Yue's story about the second-years, how they emerged from the Gauntlet screaming, their eyes blank, completely devoid of light or recognition, forever haunted by visions of unseen terror. 'He is coming! He is coming!' their raw voices had shrieked. 'It's dark! Help me! Don't let me go there again!'
That was it. That was the horror. The blank eyes, the endless screams, the shattered minds. It wasn't just a monster. It was the Behemoth.
"I think," I said, my voice barely a whisper, the words heavy with a dawning, terrible understanding, "maybe the Behemoth is in there. And Louis... Louis is trying to hold it back. He's the one chained in our dream, isn't he? He's fighting it, even now, trying to keep it from consuming everything."
The realization settled over us, heavy and terrifying, a suffocating weight in the small checkpoint room. The shared nightmare wasn't just a warning; it was a glimpse into the unspeakable horror that had befallen the previous first-years, and the grim, desperate sacrifice Louis might be making even now, a lonely guardian against a primordial terror. The Gauntlet wasn't just a test; it was a prison, and the bars were leaking.