Damian dreamed of a vast desert, pristine white sands glistened in the brilliant sunlight, dunes rolling across the endless plane, blacked ruins scattered across the landscape like the bones of a long dead giant and at its core a monstrous Black Pyramid Stood as a testament to time, it would have been a breathtaking sight if it wasn't so harrowing. Scores of skeletal remains littered the endless sands, covered in strange armour, wielding weapons cut from pristine stone, some were tall, some were short but very few of them were human, countless bodies of unrecognisable horrors spread across as far as the eye could see.
The sky above was blinding, an unimaginable shade of pristine blue painted the sky with not a single cloud in sight, as he was looking down at the scene below it begun to change, slowly timed ticked by as night overtook the strange land, and in its wake the remains stirred to life, rising from their slumber and as they did they attacked one another. Damian watched the carnage for what felt like both seconds and days before it shifted once again into the day and the creatures returned to death, repeating over and over again day, night, day night, the cycles growing shorter and shorter, he didn't know how, but he knew he was seeing time in reverse.
The battle seemed to be going on for eternity with countless days passing by in a blink of an eye, after countless cycles the landscape slowly changed before him, it was subtle at first, dunes falling and rising, areas being flattened or torn apart by monstrous attacks, soon the scores of undead broke apart, the ancient ruins rebuilding themselves from the rubble as countless settlements seemingly grew from their remains, with only the black pyramid remaining the same over all this time.
Time eventually slowed and he saw before him countless humans and creatures on two sides of the desert, he recognised the scene all too well, it was war, how fitting, a soldier like him sent to fight in another war he never asked before.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your first trial...]
'Wha.. what the hell?'
Shielding his eyes from the radiant disk hovering in the sky above, he let out a few shallow breaths, his armour clinging to his body tightly, the heat was unbearable, it felt like he was being baked alive, even sitting in the shade felt like torture, but that wasnt what he focused on, no…
Looking around he could see a number of fellow soldiers all wearing strange stone like armour, carved from pristine white stone , and engraved with a variety of strange patterns he could not recognise, with faces he did not know. Slowly he turned around, looking behind him he could see he was in the shadow of a tall black brick building, with glassless windows he could see a number of weapons and armour stored inside.
'An armoury?'
It didn't make any sense, what the hell happened, the last thing he could remember was laying down on his bed and… ah I see, this must be hell.
The thought crossed his mind, a strange endless desert of blistering heat, forced to fight in an endless war seemed like a fitting punishment for a man like him, he nearly laughed out loud before he stopped himself. This was not what he expected the afterlife to look like, far from it, but in terms of punishment, it seemed too perfect.
Looking back at the platoon he seemed to be a part of he studied their faces, they all seemed to be human but something about them was simply…wrong as if they were just human enough but not quite there but he couldn't tell what was wrong. All of them wore the same expressions as what he had seen before in the field, a mixture of fear, ambition and anger, was this desert their home perhaps?
Shaking his head he leaned back, pressing the back of his head against the wall of the armoury, closing his eyes he decided to listen into a nearby conversation between two fellow soldiers, sitting on some barrels a few meters away.
"You saw her during the last attack didn't you? The commander of the War legion."
The language they spoke was unlike anything Damian had ever heard, yet he somehow found himself understanding the meaning of these strange words,
"Yeah, she is just as dangerous as the reports said, I saw her kill dozens of our people and beasts alike in seconds, her skill was beyond anything I'd ever seen, I only managed to escape since the call of Daybreak came. I was lucky to survive, I doubt anyone but a centurion would be able to beat her."
"Damn it, really? Our task was to destabilise the legion or better yet kill her and her most loyal servants within three cycles, how the hell are we meant to do that? We don't even have one awakened within our ranks, how are we meant to fight against a Descendent of War herself?."
The other man chucked slightly before answering,
"Its not too bad, at least you know your death will be swift even if it is brutal, id rather fight her than the creatures they have brought with them, I've seen too many people being torn to pieces and bleed out to know. But at this rate, the battle seems endless, neither side has gained the upper hand yet and we've stopped them so far from getting to Lord Truth, but at the same time we haven't managed to stop their advance so we need something to change soon, before the Gods arrive to lay siege to Truths Domain.
Both of their faces grew grim
Before long their conversation resumed but Damian had since lost interest, already preoccupied with what he had heard,
'Descendent of War? Lord Truth? Gods?'
It was all very strange to say the least, why would the souls of the dead who populated this hell be so concerned by the outcome of the battle? Surely they had seen the scene he did when they arrived, right? They had to know the battle would go on for eternity…and yet he couldn't bring himself to say it was true, the fear on these peoples faces, the hushed conversation on the enemy formations and key targets, it all felt too…real, like it wasn't all an endless punishment, but a real war with consequences.
Come to think of it, why would their bodies decay into skeletal husks with the ages, if they were just souls, surely they would never age, never grow older, never decompose, they may be hurt but could never die right, that was their punishment. But if it had been the case, then why couldn't he hear any talk about Earth, about the places he knew, if he was truly in hell then why wouldn't there be anyone else who knew it was all pointless?
Suddenly he felt a knot in his stomach, as a startling realisation started to hit him, what were those words he heard just before he was baking under the sun?
"Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your first trial…"
'Aspirant, Nightmare Spell, First Trial', those words lingered on his tongue, not wanting to say them out loud, he slowly looked down at his hands and lifted them to his face, feeling the shape of his head, the weight of his body it all felt wrong, he had also realised that his eye, why could he see through his right eye, he checked quickly to make sure he was seeing things, and a cold chill shot through his spine, he quickly stood up, gaining a few short glances from those around him before they turned away just as quickly.
As he began to walk away a voice called out to him,
"Hey idiot, you forgot something!"
Turning around he saw a burly looking man pointing towards where he was sitting, stabbed into the sand was a flawlessly white Spear, with an identical shield lying by its side, both engraved with strange symbols,
"The next cycle will be starting soon so don't forget your gear, unless you have a death wish, you won't have time to come back for it."
Damian stood there for a few moments before nodding and lifting the spear and shield, the weight felt unfamiliar to him as he slowly walked away, walking through the streets he eventually found what he believed to be a barracks, walking inside he saw a number of crudely made cots with soldiers resting within, with many still wearing the armor, he eventually found himself in a small outcove, a bucket of water half empty sitting on a small stool. But he wasn't focused on that, instead his attention was drawn to the mirror on the wall, as he stared, he failed to recognise the man staring back at him, as a feeling of primal terror suddenly shot through his body.