Crashing to the ground, Rayne grunted in pain as the creature straddled his hips and pinned him down. Seeing it up close, the creature's skin had a uneven earthen tone to it, here and there little twigs and splotches of mud could be spotted poking through the thin facade of skin.
Pooling his strength in his arms, Rayne tried to wrestle the creature off of him. However, he was met by an even fiercer resistance. The creature's stature might have been that of Rayne's but it's strength was vastly more powerful than his own current strength.
How unfair!
Losing the battle under the creature's heavy arms he began to panic. He would be crushed under the ridiculous strength of the beast and strangled to death if nothing changed. With each passing second the beast was crushing him, it's single eye never wandering its gaze away from Rayne's own. Out of a last effort of desperation, Rayne moved an arm guarding against the beast and flicked his wrist from underneath the creature's torso.
Just as his arms were about to give out from exhaustion, the now familiar wispy dart shot out and hit the dirt a few meters away with a soft thud, and Rayne slipped away.
The creature paused for a moment, staring at the now empty space below it. Then seemingly in a bewildered manner, it began to swivel its head around searching for Rayne.
It was this moment that Rayne finally shed away his fear of the beast and lunged at its exposed rear, plunging his small hunting knife deep within the false flesh of the creature. The creature's head twitched and blood immediately pooled around the entry wound.
Meeting little resistance from the creature, he twisted the knife in deeper. Instinctively sensing it was still not enough, he hit the blade with his fist as if it was a nail under a hammer, piercing the creature's heart.
For a moment, silence washed over the sound of the two's struggle, before the creature fell limp to the ground. As if it never existed as anything other than earth, the creature dissolved into a pile of ashen dirt and twigs. All that remained of their struggle was Rayne's tired form and a bloodied knife.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Puppet of Saint Iris.]
[You have received a Memory: Twisted Truth.]
Before Rayne could process his near fatal victory, the sound of a stampede of feet crushing the ground underfoot resonated through the night.
'Shit!'
Facing back to the cabin, the horde of the zombie mannered creatures was closing in on him rapidly. With another desperate tether, Rayne appeared a few meters away again and continued to sprint to the mountain. At this rate he would not last long as his legs were beginning to feel heavy with lead.
'What kind of damn trial was this?'
Left with no other choices but to try and escape to the lone mountain, Rayne continued his sprint through the hills, the mountain looming over him slowly coming closer with each passing moment. But much to his chagrin, his legs were slowing and his breath was far from an even pacing. He was going to have to change something, and fast.
Turning around to face the beasts, Rayne stopped running.
'One, two, three... eight? Damn it all.'
Despite seemingly have lost a few of the "puppets" along the way, eight was still too many. His brush with just one of them was nearly fatal if he had not used his Aspect. What the hell could he do?
Unexpectedly, a crazy idea flashed through his mind, and he quickly flicked his wrist once more to the ground, tethering himself in place. Before the maddened creatures could reach him, he turned back and started bolting away as fast as he could. Soon enough, the feeling between him and the tether began to fade as he distanced himself from it.
He needed to see if this would work. It had to.
Just as he thought the connection would fade permanently, he called on it and suddenly, he was back to the tether. Before turning to face the horde, Rayne took a moment and steeled himself. He had survived much worse than this — although it was not in the same medium as this Nightmare — and knew he would continue to survive more unknown horrors so long as he willed it.
He had too.
His brother depended on him, how could he die in such a place when he was still alive and capable of moving, of fighting? There was no excuse. Screw the odds, he would make his own.
Facing the dreaded horde of puppets, it seemed that they had picked up on his trick. Analyzing the eight creatures, Rayne's expression shifted into a scowl. Time for planning was up, and he subtly flicked his wrist to the ground below him, tethering himself.
Then he lunged forward, bloodied knife in hand once more as he charged at the beasts. All eight eyes and their piercing gazes tracked Rayne as he met the first of the swarm, body slamming his weight straight into the creature. Momentarily staggering the beast, Rayne secured the kill by planting the blade deep into the Adams apple of the creature, before withdrawing it and tethering back.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Puppet of Saint Iris.]
The beautiful whisper of the Spell gave Rayne the clarity he needed to continue, and he instantly shot another tether, this time aimed past the swarm.
He charged at them.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Puppet of Saint Iris.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Puppet of Saint Iris.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, Puppet of Saint Iris.]
[...]
***
Collapsing to the ground, Rayne threw up. He had stomached his pain for what must have been over an hour, and finally he began to feel the adrenaline leave his system.
'Damn Spell...'
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Rayne laid down again and sighed. All in all, he had done well. Having killed nine of those things total, he was in good spirits. Rayne had maintained the strategy of placing his tether down and trying to kill one of the beasts at a time before escaping through his tether.
It was the only way he figured he would survive.
Aside from that, Rayne still did not know what to call his ability. The runes had said it was a trial of the Void Walker, but not much else was described. But was that what this was? Void Walking?
'I mean, its sounds better to call it that as opposed to teleporting.'
Chuckling to himself, he smiled then quickly grimaced in pain. He had not escaped the fight unscathed, the last kill had managed to connect its arm right into his ribcage. If he had to guess, a few broken bones would now accompany him on the remainder of the journey.
Letting a few blissful moments of rest pass by, Rayne gritted his teeth and finally staggered to his feet. Sighing, he continued onwards to the mountain. Despite it being night still, with minor visibility from the moon the grass blanketed hills remained as empty as when he first arrived. Perhaps the rest of the damn beasts were back at the cabin, lying in wait for his return.
The mere thought of fighting more of them sent a shiver down Rayne's spine.
'Hopefully whatever lays within that damn mountain can get me out of this forsaken place.'
Wishful thinking was not inherently within Rayne's typical nature, however he felt that those words would get him through this damn Nightmare. There was too much riding on his shoulders for him to fail regardless.
Hours passed before he finally reached the base of the lone mountain, and as if beckoning for him to enter, a simplistic tunnel was conveniently located where he arrived. Deciding his condition was not quite ready enough to continue in, he sat down against a granite boulder.
Breathing out, Rayne Looked up at the sky, he felt a sense of nostalgia wash over him. He had stared at the sky many times in Falcon Scott in the past, in some regard it was his safe place. Oh how beautiful the depth of the skies was to him.
Part of the pleasure he held for the skies was the creatures that inhabited them. While he may not have physically seen any birds before, he had seen pictures of them from humanity's past, long before the descent of the Nightmare Spell.
If he survived this Nightmare, there may come a time when he too, would be apart of the skies.
Another oddity he noticed now was the sky was starless. It was simply a black void with a single pale moon at its center. If Rayne knew how to paint, this would have been something worthy of being called his masterpiece.
Feeling his heart reach a comfortable resting beat, he suddenly recalled the Spell announcing a Memory.
'Please, please be a sword or armor.'
Closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, he paused before looking at the wispy runes of the earned Memory.
Memory: [Twisted Truth]
Memory Rank: Dormant
Memory Type: Weapon
Memory Description: [An inkling of doubt spread through her heart as the kind Saint watched over the people. It was this inkling that ultimately devolved her once pure heart into the center of hatred for the people, performing deeds in the name of the masses under the purpose of one.]
'Woah...'
Before decrypting the description further, Rayne summoned the Memory into existence, a shower of sparkles came to life in response. Landing promptly in his hands, a simple steel longsword bared itself to Rayne's gaze. Nothing really... stood out about the blade.
But what could he expect? It was simply a Dormant Memory after all.
Yet, Rayne found the same eye he had seen at the origin tree engraved on the ball of the hilt, however this one had a single tear hanging loosely from the corner of the eye.
"Well isn't this something. Huh."
Muttering under his breath, Rayne held up the blade over his head lightly, letting the moonlight shine down on it. Then, he staggered to his feet once more and headed down the tunnel.
It was time to end this dreaded Nightmare.
***
The tunnel was impossibly deep to say the least. Literally. Rayne was certain he had passed the physical limitations of the mountain long ago, though without proper light he could not determine the details, only that his condition was worsening as time passed.
His ribs ached in a familiar pain, not too unlike the fights he used to get in back on the streets. This time though he could not hide from his enemies. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Rayne refocused on the boring tunnel.
There was still the fear of those puppet beasts springing from the depths of the darkness.
He had long ago shed his knife from the cabin at the entrance of the tunnel, instead solely relying on his newfound Memory. In part, he was simply proud of it. But on a more logical level, he felt as if it was the key to killing whatever lied in wait at the end of the tunnel for him.
Rayne had theorized that the "Saint" mentioned in the Memory Description was that of Saint Iris. The beasts he had slain all had that Saint's name mentioned, so it was reasonable to assume the Saint was responsible in some capacity to control them.
He hoped it was not a real Saint and simply a figurative one, though. That would be bad.
Very bad.
"Hello Rayne." A callous voice called out from behind him.
Freezing in place, Rayne's heart dropped to his gut. Slowly, he turned around in search of the voice's source. But it was all for naught, as the dark tunnel concealed the speaker's presence. A raw chuckle echoed from all around him, and then it abruptly ceased.
"Oh Rayne, your memories are so much fun to watch. How did one such as you survive for so long? Was it love for your brother? Mm? Or maybe in spite of the world?"
The voice purred out in it's calloused tone, and Rayne whipped his head around wildly in an attempt to trace the origin. But it was everywhere and no where it seemed. Perhaps it was all in his head.
"I'm glad someone takes some form of perverted entertainment in my suffering." Rayne slowly responded, before closing his eyes and pausing in concentration.
"May I have the honor of knowing who I am speaking to?"
Silence ensued for a moment, before the voice returned.
"Oh my oh my, of course. I am Saint Iris. And you, my beloved Rayne are inside my tomb."
Instead of the initial callous tone the voice spoke with, these words were laced with a hint of sorrow. It almost felt unnerving to hear a non corporeal voice have an emotion such as sorrow.
"I see. If I continue down this tunnel, will I find you?"
"You already have."
Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, Rayne's vision was warped and suddenly he stood inside a small box of a room, with a supple orange glow emitting from the single lantern hung from the old stone tiled ceiling. And right in front of him, was the shackled form of a breath taking woman with a single spear piercing her heart.
Widening his eyes, Rayne instinctively took a step back and held up his longsword defensively. Though, deep in his heart he knew if this woman wanted him dead he would have died when he first entered the tunnel. The aura radiating from the woman's form was so intense Rayne was beginning to have a headache from the pressure.
Unlike her seemingly dead form, the woman's eyes opened slowly, and an intense pair of brown pupils revealed themselves to Rayne. They matched the tone of her fair olive skin and brown hair, not contrasting them unusually.
Locking her stronghold gaze onto Rayne, she spoke:
"Hello Rayne. It is truly pleasant to see you... in person. Won't you kill me, Rayne?"