Kane's blood boiled with a righteous fury as he laid eyes upon the figure before him, the very person who had delivered the final, fatal blow to his mother, the one image that had haunted his waking hours and fueled his burning desire for vengeance. The assassin, a spectral echo of his past trauma, stood with an almost casual arrogance, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
The figure drew a long, wickedly curved sword, its edge gleaming with an unholy light, and with a swift, practiced motion, swung it in a wide arc, aiming to cleave Kane's head from his shoulders. Kane, his senses heightened by a surge of adrenaline, barely managed to dodge, twisting his bound body to the side at the last possible moment. The blade whistled past his ear, close enough for him to feel the rush of displaced air.
The near-death experience shocked Kane back to his senses, snapping him out of the initial daze of rage and grief. 'This isn't real,' he thought, his mind racing. 'This is a Nightmare, a twisted illusion. I need to fight. I need to escape this cage. But how?'
Even as the thought formed in his mind, the spectral assassin launched another attack, a rapid, merciless thrust. This time, the confines of the cage offered no room for evasion. Kane, trapped and vulnerable, could only manage a desperate, reflexive block, raising his bound hands to deflect the blow. The blade, instead of finding his flesh, sliced through the thick ropes that bound his wrists.
His hands were free.
The realization sent a jolt of adrenaline through Kane. He seized the opportunity, his movements driven by a desperate urgency. Ignoring the searing pain in his wrists, he lunged forward, grabbing the assassin's blade with his bare hands. The spectral metal burned his skin, but he held on, his grip like iron. With a grunt of effort, he twisted the blade, wrenching it free from the assassin's grasp and throwing it aside.
The assassin, momentarily disarmed, hissed in surprise. Kane, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and desperation, attacked. He aimed for the creature's hands, his fingers clawing and tearing, attempting to disable its limbs. The spectral assassin, however, was far from defenseless. It lunged forward, its teeth bared, and bit Kane in the neck, the spectral fangs tearing into his flesh.
The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that threatened to overwhelm him. But Kane, remembering the faces of his fallen family, resisted the urge to cry out, to succumb to the pain. He had used the pain as a distraction, a morbid bait, and it worked. The assassin's bite gave him the leverage he needed. With a desperate heave, he finally wrenched his hands free from the creature's grasp.
He didn't hesitate. He shoved the creature away with all his remaining strength, stumbled towards the discarded sword, and grabbed it. The blade felt strangely familiar in his hand, an echo of battles long past. With a guttural cry, he lunged forward, the sword a silver streak in the dim light, and plunged it straight into the assassin's heart.
The creature convulsed, its spectral form flickering and spasming. A dark, viscous fluid, like liquid shadow, oozed from the wound. Then, with a final, shuddering gasp, it died, its body dissolving into wisps of black smoke that vanished on the wind, leaving the sword clattering to the ground.
Suddenly, the ancient, resonant voice of the Nightmare Spell echoed in his mind.
[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Spawn of Cruel Tempest]
Kane, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain, his mind still reeling from the adrenaline of the fight, thought with a grim satisfaction, 'So that's what it was. A Dormant Beast. It didn't possess the cunning or awareness of a true Nightmare Creature, which is why it fell for my desperate gambit so easily.'
He was bleeding, and badly. The bite wound on his neck throbbed with a searing agony, and his vision swam with dizziness. Ignoring the pain for a moment, he surveyed his surroundings. The battlefield was a scene of chaos and carnage. The soldiers, the ones who had been his captors, were locked in a desperate struggle against a variety of grotesque creatures, each one a twisted perversion of nature, each one attacking with a single-minded ferocity.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him lurched violently. A monstrous shape loomed over him, a colossal spider with legs like sharpened spears and eyes that glowed with malevolent hunger. The spider, with a strength that defied reason, toppled the cage, sending it crashing to the ground and rolling over and over. Kane was tossed around like a rag doll, his body slamming against the unyielding metal bars.
The spider, its eight legs a blur of motion, began to methodically crush the cage, its powerful limbs tearing through the metal as if it were paper. Kane, battered and bruised, his left shoulder pierced by a shard of metal, thought with a grimace, 'What in the seven hells is wrong with this beast?'
The cage didn't last long. With a final, wrenching tear, the spider ripped it apart, freeing Kane but impaling his shoulder on a jagged piece of metal in the process. Kane bit back a scream of pain, his vision swimming, but even through the agony, he saw an opportunity.
As the spider loomed over him, its massive legs poised to strike, Kane grabbed one of its limbs with his blood-slicked hands. The spider, surprised by his sudden act of defiance, tried to lift him up, its leg muscles flexing.
That was exactly what Kane wanted.
Using the spider's own leg as a fulcrum, he pushed himself away with all the strength he could muster from his still-bound legs. He tore himself free from the spider's grasp, the jagged metal ripping through his shoulder, and landed in a painful roll on the bloody ground.
He rolled to his feet, narrowly dodging a series of vicious pincer attacks from the enraged spider. As he scrambled away, his eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for a weapon, for anything that could give him an edge. He spotted a sword lying near the body of a dying soldier, the man's lifeblood staining the hilt.
He knew he had to act fast. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder and the dizziness that threatened to pull him into unconsciousness, he gathered the power in his legs and leaped, propelled by a desperate surge of adrenaline.
He reached the fallen sword just as the spider, its movements surprisingly swift for its size, lunged at him, its fangs dripping with venom, aimed for his head.
At the last possible moment, Kane swung the sword. The blade, heavy and unwieldy in his weakened state, connected with the spider's leg, severing it with a sickening crunch.
The spider shrieked in pain, a high-pitched, chitinous sound that grated on Kane's ears. The creature recoiled, its movements momentarily disrupted.
In that brief respite, Kane landed heavily on the ground, the impact jarring his injured shoulder and sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. He wasted no time. He used his free hand to untie the ropes that still bound his legs, his fingers clumsy and trembling.
His legs finally free, Kane attacked the spider again, targeting its remaining legs. The sword was heavy, designed for a stronger warrior, and his movements were sluggish and awkward. He needed every ounce of strength he possessed to even lift it, let alone swing it with any force.
He managed to sever a second leg, the spider's shriek of pain echoing across the battlefield. Enraged and wounded, the spider retaliated, lunging at Kane, its massive jaws snapping shut around his arm.
Kane roared in pain, the creature's fangs tearing into his flesh. Ignoring the agony, he brought the sword up, his movements fueled by a desperate surge of adrenaline, and thrust it into the spider's gaping maw.
The sword went through the spider's mouth, slicing through its skull and emerging from the back of its head in a shower of ichor and splintered chitin. The spider convulsed, its legs twitching, and then collapsed, its massive body crashing to the ground with a deafening thud.
Kane stood over the corpse of the spider, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was covered in blood, both his own and the creature's. He was wounded, exhausted, and barely conscious, but he was alive. And he had survived his first true test.
Suddenly, the ancient voice of the Nightmare Spell echoed in his mind, clear and resonant.
[You have slain an Awakened Beast, Wind Crawling Spider]
[You have received a Memory: Aracne Sword]
Kane was overjoyed at the recognition of his victory and the reward of a Memory, but he couldn't dwell on it. His left shoulder was bleeding profusely, and he was rapidly losing blood. He needed to find a safe place to tend to his wounds, to recover his strength.
As he surveyed the battlefield, he realized the extent of the carnage. Most of the soldiers were dead, their bodies lying scattered amidst the corpses of the Nightmare Creatures. Only a handful remained alive, and their condition was grim.
One of the soldiers, the one whose sword Kane had borrowed, lay on the ground, his legs severed, his face pale and drawn. He was murmuring incoherently, his words slurred and filled with pain. "...I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I killed you... Please... kill me, friend..."
It seemed he was haunted by the memory of someone he had been forced to kill, someone he had recognized. Kane, his heart heavy with a grim understanding, knew what he had to do. He pulled the blood-soaked sword from the spider's corpse and walked over to the dying soldier.
The soldier looked up at him, his eyes filled with pain and despair. Kane met his gaze, his expression grim but compassionate. "Rest in peace, brother," he said, his voice low and steady.
Then, he plunged the sword into the soldier's neck, ending his suffering.
The act was swift and merciful, but it resonated with a chilling finality in Kane's ears.
[You have slain a Dormant human, name unknown]
As he looked around, Kane saw that only two soldiers were left alive, barely functional. One was the captain, his once-pristine armor now battered and stained with blood. His horse lay dead nearby, its body twisted at an unnatural angle. The captain was bleeding heavily from a deep wound on his arm, his face pale and drawn. The other survivor was the soldier who had spoken to Kane earlier, the one who had questioned his faith. He was battered and bruised, but his wounds were not as severe.
Kane's eyes met theirs. They stared at him in shock, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and fear. They had witnessed his desperate struggle, his brutal efficiency, and his sheer tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds. They knew, now, that he was not the helpless prisoner they had assumed him to be.
Kane ignored their stares. He knew he couldn't afford to waste any time. He began to salvage what he could from the bodies of the fallen, his movements methodical and efficient. He found a sturdy coat, a pair of worn but serviceable boots, some bandages, and a meager supply of food and water.
'I might need these,' he thought, his mind already planning for the journey ahead. As he gathered the supplies, Kane noticed something strange: a piece of a dark tentacle, lying on the ground, slowly dissolving into thin air, carried away by the icy wind.
Then Kane understood. The storm... it hadn't been a natural phenomenon. It was the Nightmare Creature, the one that had ambushed them. And it was still out there.
A sense of urgency filled him. He turned to the captain, who was watching him with a wary expression. "The storm," Kane said, his voice low and urgent. "It's forming again."
The captain's eyes widened. He looked in the direction Kane indicated and saw it: an icy wind, swirling and gathering strength, much slower this time, but undeniably present.
The captain, his face grim, barked an order to the other survivor. "We need to move. Now! Head for the Icy Mountains!"
Kane, his brow furrowed, asked urgently, "Why there? It will be even colder there!"
The captain, his voice strained with pain and exhaustion, replied, "There's a newly built War Goddess temple there. There will be allies, reinforcements, supplies... safety."
'Whose allies?' Kane wondered, but he didn't voice the question. He knew they had to move, and quickly.
The three survivors, Kane, the captain, and the other soldier, left the chasm behind and began the arduous climb up the Icy Mountains. The terrain was treacherous, the slopes steep and covered in slick ice and snow. The air was thin and biting, the cold unlike anything Kane had ever experienced.
The mountainside was dotted with strange, twisted trees, their branches gnarled and contorted, their trunks covered in a thick layer of ice. And the trees bore fruit... large, bulbous fruits that pulsed with an unnatural light.
Kane's injuries slowed him down. The bleeding from the bite wound on his neck had stopped, and his shoulder wound had been hastily bandaged, but he had lost a significant amount of blood, leaving him weak and lightheaded. The other survivors were also injured, though not as severely.
As they trekked through the icy landscape, the captain, his gaze constantly scanning the strange trees, seemed particularly uneasy. Kane, sensing his apprehension, decided to confirm his suspicions. "The creatures that came from the storm..." he asked, his voice hoarse from the cold and exertion. "Are you familiar with them?"
The captain responded with a frustrated groan. "Yeah, I've encountered them before. It attacked my company on one of my expeditions. Quite a dangerous one. Nearly wiped us out."
The other soldier, his voice filled with a hollow sadness, added, "Yeah, me too. I saw... I saw someone I knew in that storm. Someone I lost a long time ago."
Kane's mind raced. 'It's using our memories,' he realized. 'The storm is somehow plucking memories from our minds, selectively choosing the ones that will cause the most emotional pain, the most fear. What a nasty trick... But why? Why create those illusions? And why did that tentacle dissolve like that? It was as if the storm was... unraveling.'
As the thought crossed his mind, he noticed something that made his blood run cold. One of the large, pulsating fruits on a nearby tree was... moving. Six spindly legs emerged from beneath it, unfolding like a grotesque insect. Then, a pair of eyes opened on the fruit's surface, glowing with a malevolent light.
The surviving trio understood, all at once. They had not simply stumbled upon a strange forest. They had entered the nesting ground of the Wind Crawl Spiders.