Liam Calderon was caught in a peculiar dream. He found himself on an ancient battlefield.
A monstrous, beastly roar reverberated across the vast plains. The air was thick with the scent of blood and iron. His throat was parched, coated with the taste of ash and dirt. The ground appeared soaked in crimson blood staining the earth as far as the eye could see.
This was one of those vivid, lucid dreams so realistic that he could hear, smell, taste, and see everything with clarity, yet remained trapped within, unable to wake. Liam sensed that this was a dream, but felt powerless to escape its unfolding.
As his gaze shifted from the chaos of the battlefield, he became aware of the weight in his right hand. He was gripping a sword a magnificent blade that felt as if it was crafted just for him. By some primal instinct, he recognized it was perfectly balanced, razor-sharp, and designed solely for the purpose of vanquishing anyone who opposed him.
It was an odd, unsettling dream for a typical young man from tranquil Iowa, USA. Liam had no interest in swords he wasn't into historical European martial arts or role-playing games. He had no real ties to medieval warfare. Yet, the sword in his grasp felt hauntingly familiar, as if it were an extension of his being. It was as if he and the blade were one entity.
The scene shifted. The once pristine sword, with its brilliant, mirror-like surface, was now stained crimson soaked in the same blood that drenched the land. Liam was no longer merely observing; he was fighting. Alone. One man against a literal army. No allies in sight.
Faceless adversaries surged toward him in relentless waves, and Liam swung his sword without hesitation striking and slaying, striking and slaying, striking and slaying
He surrendered himself entirely to the blade, cutting down anything that dared to approach. He had long since lost count of the bodies that fell before him.
Then, mid-swing, his attention shifted once more—this time to his attire. Or rather, the realization that he wore no armor. No chainmail, no plate—nothing a warrior would don for battle.
But his dream-self was unfazed. Armor was a hindrance.
He was already safeguarded by a golden aura, radiant like the sun. Colossal strength surged through his limbs, fueled by the dense mana flowing within him. Unstoppable, brilliant, and overflowing with might, Liam tore through the battlefield like a tempest.
Throughout it all, his dream persona remained calm and unhurried, as if engaged in a mundane task not butchering faceless foes by the hundreds.
On some level, his mind rebelled. This isn't who I am. He wasn't a heartless killer, not some merciless butcher. Yet, deep within, he felt it—this was his true essence. A destroyer. One capable of unimaginable ruin.
It was a conflicting feeling, one that transcended the usual philosophical inquiries of Who am I? or What am I?
Time in dreams was peculiar, as always. One moment, it felt as if he'd been fighting for days, and the next, the slaughter ceased just like that.
The scene shifted yet again.
Liam now stood alone. The only figure left alive.
Surrounded by mountains of corpses, the wind howled past him, whistling a haunting victory anthem. His body was battered, his legs trembling. Yet, he began to walk. His first steps home.
A solitary journey from the battlefield. A solitary journey back. Or so it seemed until, in the distance, a white horse appeared, galloping toward him with thunderous hooves.
Upon the horse rode a stunning young woman. Her fair skin glimmered, and her sparkling blue eyes shone like stars scattered upon the ocean. She radiated nobility the cut of her white gown, her posture, the way she held herself all spoke of highborn status.
"Eldrin! Eldrin!" the young woman called out, her voice firm yet laced with concern.
Eldrin yes. That was his name in the dream.
Liam smiled as recognition blossomed. The dense fighting spirit and killing intent that had coiled around him dissipated like fog.
"Celestia," he replied, his tone casual like greeting a friend on the street. "Why didn't you heed my warning not to come to the battlefield alone?"
"Eldrin, you didn't listen," she retorted, dismounting her horse. "How many times did I implore you not to face this army by yourself?"
Celestia rushed forward and enveloped him in a fierce embrace. "Are we really that unreliable? Am I a burden?" she murmured, her fists lightly pounding against his chest in frustration.
Liam scratched his head but offered no answer. His silence spoke volumes. It was a tacit acknowledgment. I didn't need help. Your presence would've distracted me.
"I know, I know!" Celestia huffed, her voice quaking. "You're the mighty Lord Eldrin, the great knight, wielder of the divine blade, Sage of the Seven Forms, the strongest swordsman in the realm!"
She gazed up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Still… even so…"
Her voice softened. "I will always worry for Eldrin. So… please forgive my impudent words."
As she cried, Celestia leaned desperately against him. Liam wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back.
"It's fine," he murmured. "I should be the one asking for forgiveness. For you to worry and fear for me… is a sinful joy."
He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Celestia blushed softly, color rising to her cheeks. "Do you love me?" she whispered, gazing up at him.
"Of course," he replied, locking his gaze with her beautiful azure eyes. "I fight for you."
This blood-soaked battlefield, all he endured—it was all for her.
To Liam, she was his entire world.
"Please continue to worry for me. In return, I promise you this: no matter how treacherous the battlefield, no matter how formidable the foe, no matter how far apart we are… even if destiny itself tries to tear us asunder"
He leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "I will always emerge victorious, and return to your side."
Celestia lowered her gaze, her blush deepening to the tips of her ears. Suddenly, Liam pulled her into a tighter embrace with his free left arm. Startled, Celestia looked up at him.
Their faces were so close they could feel each other's breath.
Without hesitation, she leaned in.
As if to seal their promise, their lips
And with that, the dream ended.
Liam awoke, and Eldrin's thoughts and sensations vanished along with the fading dream.