Amon dreamt of a kingdom.
It was a peaceful and beautiful one with endless green valleys stretched beyond sight, with gentle rivers weaving through the land in soft, glimmering waves. Small cottages nestled among the hills, and the people who lived there were full of laughter, joy, and contentment.
A gentle breeze swept through, flicking the hair of villagers as children played in the streams, their laughter bubbling with mischief and innocence.
Then, Amon saw the trees.
Towering and ancient, they loomed over the kingdom like watchful guardians. Yet no one feared them. Instead, it felt as though the people loved the forest, lived in harmony with it, as if nature itself embraced them.
But the dream twisted.
The moon dropped past the horizon like a stone. The sun rose from the west, blazed across the sky, and vanished into the east. Snowflakes leapt from the earth and returned to the clouds.
Time shattered.
Centuries passed in the blink of an eye.
Winter faded, and spring arrived. Not as a symbol of renewal, but as a herald of something wrong.
The sky turned dark.
Ash fell from above. Smoke twisted through the air. The warmth and joy had vanished, smothered beneath a heavy, suffocating silence.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial…]
Amon blinked.
For a second, he stood there frozen, stunned by the disembodied voice ringing in his head. But after everything he'd been through lately, it didn't take long for him to shrug it off.
"Well... that wasn't too bad," he muttered, scanning his surroundings.
There was no battlefield. No screeching monsters, no boiling lakes of lava, no razor-sharp hail raining from the skies. Just dark clouds hanging overhead like a moody painting. A little ominous, sure, but compared to what he imagined? Honestly, kind of peaceful.
That... actually reassured him.
There was no bone-chilling cold or blistering heat, either. The air was cool, almost mild. He didn't even feel uncomfortable. All in all, it wasn't the worst way to start a nightmare.
Amon looked down at himself, giving his arms a little pat.
No weapons. That sucked. But he had clothes on, actual clothes! not trash bags or scavenged rags and more importantly...
He wasn't outside.
There were walls around him. A roof over his head. Four corners that defined a place.
He had a home.
Amon grinned to himself.
"Well, well, not homeless in a nightmare. Things are finally looking up. Im really going all out, hah?"
Still, he needed information. Sure, everything looked peaceful now, but he wasn't stupid enough to trust first impressions. If he'd learned anything from countless novels and from life itself, it was that appearances lied. Without knowledge, he'd probably end up dead in some random valley, eaten by a flower or trampled by a butterfly the size of a truck.
So he made a decision.
"I'll explore," he muttered with grim resolve. "Scout the terrain. Gather intel. Survival depends on it."
This was a matter of utmost importance. Well, it was... Until he saw the bed.
A large, cozy-looking bed stood in the next room, practically glowing with comfort. It had clean sheets, fluffy pillows, and an aura of pure bliss.
Amon froze.
Then, slowly, reverently, he stepped forward and placed a hand on the fabric. His fingers sank slightly into the plush surface. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"I've found paradise," he whispered.
The next second, he dove onto the bed like a starving man at a banquet, hugging the pillow with a blissful sigh.
"…Maybe I'll start gathering information tomorrow. Today, I fulfill my destiny…"
He curled up like a satisfied cat.
"…as a lazy bum."
And thus, the great explorer Amon succumbed to his deadliest temptation yet..
a soft mattress.
This idiot slept all day.
Amon never felt so comfortable in his entire life. When your life is shit, even smallest comfort is pure bliss. After all, normally you chose juice instead of water. But when you are thirsty, water will become like a nectar of gods.
But of course, his comfort couldn't last forever. Naturally.
So, the next morning, he decided to finally fulfill his mission.
"It's just like Assassin's Creed," he muttered to himself as he got dressed. "Today, I am Ezio Auditore da Firenze!"
Smiling wryly, he set out to gather information. Of course, he wasn't that much of an idiot. So he came prepared with a cover story. Amnesia, classic but reliable.
To sell it, though, he needed something convincing. So he decided to give himself a head wound. Just a little one.
It turned out that hitting yourself with a rock was a lot harder than expected. Not physically but mentally. He spent an entire day trying to psych himself up.
Eventually, when he couldn't find the courage to do it directly, he tied the rock to a rope, stood in front of it like a condemned man, and gave it a gentle push.
Whack!
Not hard enough to cause real damage but enough to bleed a little.
Yep. Self-harm wasn't something he particularly enjoyed, so he pretended it wasn't him doing it. He imagined it was someone else. That made it slightly more bearable.
From what he had gathered, these people weren't particularly bright. Definitely not the sharpest tools in the shed.
The sky was dark, choked with ash and smoke yet everyone remained cheerful and peaceful as ever.
At first, Amon suspected some kind of mind-altering hex, maybe mass delusion. But no. He was wrong. Horribly wrong.
They were just... simple. Painfully, blissfully simple.
But at least they were fun. Everyone loved to play and joke around. And more importantly, he ate meat. Real meat. Not synthetic one. Not that sludge they called "nutritional substitute" back in the waking world. Not that he could afford it...
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye while chewing but than he sighed, remembering his situation.
"So it's all useless," he muttered, staring at empty skewer. "These guys know nothing."
Shaking his head, he kicked a rock along the dusty road. At least that gave him something to do… until, of course, his luck ran out. He kicked the rock too hard and sent it flying into a nearby river.
"Blyat-!" he cursed, then immediately caught himself.
"No, no. I'm a gentleman. A proper one. I'm not picking up bad habits from my barbarian wife," he added with a self-reassuring nod.
With that, he stepped up to his humble little house and opened the door with flair.
"Well, well, well… Guess who's back from work, honey?"
He said with a bright grin, directed entirely at the bed.
But before he could hug his beautiful lover, a soft knock echoed from behind.
Amon ignored it, naturally. He was busy. Priorities.
But the knocking grew louder. More urgent. Then it wasn't knocking anymore, it sounded like someone was hitting his door with a damn hammer.
He froze mid-step, gulped, and glanced nervously toward the entrance.
There was no peephole. No window. No way to spy on the mysterious intruder. Which meant one thing.
He had to open it.
After two minutes of intense internal debate, fear, and dramatic sighs... he finally did.
What stood outside was not what he expected.
Standing in front of him was a tall, elderly man dressed like a wizard with robes, staff, and all. His gray hair was messy, and his beard wild and unruly. The staff he carried was adorned with several dull but clearly valuable gems, and his robe was stained and dusty, giving off the impression of a long-traveling hermit.
He looked like every respectable wizard ever drawn by a ten-year-old.
Amon blinked, slowly.
"Uhm… do I know you?" he asked, trying to sound polite and not like someone who had just almost peed himself. "My apologies, honorable elder, but I've lost my memories, so I can't exactly remember you."
The elderly man gave him a long, deliberate look… and then smiled warmly.
Amon immediately stiffened. He knew that smile. It was the kind of smile only a fellow con artist could pull off with such sincerity!
"No, we haven't met yet," the old man said, his voice smooth and almost theatrical. "But I do know you, curious boy. Would you mind if I come in? Trust me, you won't regret it."
I think i will...
Amon blinked, then offered a gentle smile of acceptance. So this old man... no, this elderly gentleman was clearly a little senile. He looked exactly like one of those NPCs from video games who give out quests and cryptic advice. But that didn't matter, of course! He seemed like a good man. And if Amon was being honest, it definitely wasn't because he was just a tiny bit scared of him. Definitely not.
The old man raised an eyebrow. "I feel like you're mocking me."
Amon bowed slightly, hand on chest, the picture of humble grace.
"No, honorable elder. You must be imagining it."
After a few minutes, the two of them were sitting in the living room, sipping tea.
Amon wore a look of pure embarrassment.
He had no idea how to make tea with this archaic setup! What kind of hospitality was this!? Absolutely disgraceful. Thankfully, the old gentleman had stepped in and brewed it himself… which begged the question: why was he drinking wine instead?
A mystery for another time.
"So, honorable elder," Amon asked, straightening up slightly. "Is there a way I can help you?"
The elder took a sip of tea, then gently placed the cup down. His eyes remained fixed on Amon. Calm, kind… and far too knowing.
Please stop. You're attacking my conscience. Amon smiled politely, sweating internally.
The elderly man's pale smile deepened slightly, unreadable as ever.
"That remains to be seen," he said. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."
Amon's ears perked up immediately at those last words.
"An adventure? What do you mean, adventure? Is it dangerous? Will I die? Will I have to kill someone? Wait... are you going to kidnap me and run experiments on me?"
The wizard blinked at him… then suddenly burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing off the walls.
"You're a coward, my boy! Afraid of the unknown, and blind to the glory of it. What is adventure, if not the courage to explore the unknown?"
Amon looked down, lost in thought. Silence stretched for a moment before he finally glanced up, gaze sharp and solemn. He looked at the old man with an intensity that made the elder smile in approval, clearly expecting some kind of profound acceptance of destiny.
But the words that left Amon's mouth made him freeze.
"So… why did you change the subject? You didn't answer any of my questions."
The wizard blinked rapidly, like someone trying to reboot their brain. His eyes widened, and then he coughed into his fist awkwardly.
"Ahem… Don't worry, no one will experiment on you."
Amon narrowed his eyes, utterly unimpressed.
Uh-huh. So you forgot. Maybe cut back on the wine, Elder. Just saying.
He sighed, casting a longing glance at his bed, then at the window. The wizard followed his gaze, puzzled. What did the bed have to do with any of this?
Then, quietly, Amon asked, "Can you promise I'll come back from this journey?"
The old man stood slowly, walking to the window and staring at the distant, smoke-filled horizon.
"No… I can't. But if you do… you'll never be the same."