There was a brightly lit room with one big window showing a garden. The sun was out and shone a brilliant light into the room.
In the room was a beige chair facing a bright blue couch at an angle. There was a table with a laptop resting atop it, a plant in the corner of the room and a few drawings seemingly made by kids hung on the wall.
On the angled chair sat an older gentleman with a well groomed beard. His eyes were soft and he looked as friendly as a man could look. His open posture and his shirt not fitting his slight beer belly made him look quite harmless, but his ironed clothing portrayed a gentle feeling. He had a very outdated clipboard made of plastic, and glasses that hung a bit low.
Opposite sat a young man on the couch. He was this lightskinned man with wavy black hair. He had bandages going around his neck and wore standard issue patient clothing.
The man spoke softly as he looked at his clipboard.
"Twenty-one year old Zorro Vega, such a unique name. Your birthday is coming up soon I see. My name is Harry, your therapist today. Nice to meet ya"
Harry stuck out his hand towards Zorro, which Zorro shook briefly.
"Since you won't be speaking for a while with an injury like that, I prepared a neat little laptop for you to type on instead. You can turn it around whenever you want to tell me something."
Zorro moved the laptop to the edge of the table and looked at it briefly before nodding towards the friendly old man.
"Right, if you don't mind me being blunt. Why would an awakened like you attempt suicide?"
Zorro's eyes widened, he was shocked by how straightforward the man was. He didn't know if he found it unprofessional or efficient. After processing the question for a few long seconds, his hand shone with a bright light, and a handkerchief appeared in it which he placed on the table.
The old man looked intrigued.
"A handkerchief? Is this why you tried to end it all?"
No reaction showed on Zorro's face, he wasn't angered by it. He grabbed the laptop and put it on his lap instead, and started to type out something. He then presented Harry with the laptop.
"Your first nightmare huh? Sounds terrifying. Can you tell me more about it?"
The nonchalant youngster turned the laptop back to himself, and started typing out for what felt like an eternity before eventually presenting the laptop back to Harry.
"Did you write out your whole nightmare son?"
Zorro nodded.
"How about I read it out loud, you signal me if you missed a detail."
The gentle old man put his glasses closer to his eyes, and took the laptop into his own hands.
—
A man wearing a tanktop was napping in his car, when he suddenly woke up.
He looked around himself with a worried expression, and he noticed how foul the car was. His vision was foggy and he felt a severe headache.
There were countless crumbs on the seats, crumbled aluminium bags on the ground, but most notably; A glock 19 with a camo print on it. He stared at the gun before deciding to pick it up and exit the car. Once outside, he could see his reflection in the mirror. Zorro Vega had entered the body of a lean muscular white man, with bleached hair styled into a buzzcut.
Zorro didn't linger long, he moved quickly on his leg to get a look at his surroundings, not using the car because he didn't own a license. He was quite surprised to say the least, being brought into a regular suburb with cars and guns instead of a mystical fantasy world, but he didn't mind starting with such a weapon.
The model he was holding looked outdated, so he wanted to assume this was from an era before the nightmare spell, except for his surroundings looking too empty and run down, even for the dark times. Everywhere he looked, he saw identical houses with only the damage done to them differentiating them. Some had broken windows, some had missing walls and some looked perfectly fine.
But one thing all of them had in common was being empty. It seemed like humans had long left this place.
Zorro noted all this information and moved through the middle of the wide street. He felt like being seen was less of a danger than not seeing his enemies coming, he was quite confident in his aim and melee combat abilities, but he had only practised those in regulated environments.
It was really uneventful, nothing seemed out of order as he walked through the street, apart from a few surges of pain he felt in his head.That was until he spotted a figure standing on a lawn. It was clearly a human, but he was careful to not attract their attention as he approached. The figure looked like a man in his pajamas, with thick stubble on his face.
While Zorro stepped foot on the lawn, the man suddenly moved towards a broken window, holding his hand in front of his mouth before he puked into the house. Zorro was surprised but also relieved, he believed the man was human.
"Hey are you good man?"
The man turned towards Zorro, and the look on the young man's face changed from relief to pure terror and fear as he saw what was supposed to be a person.
Half their head was blown out, one of the eyes missing and the other one dangling out. He then realized how pale that thing looked. Almost like a zombie.
In the next second the zombie-like creature rushed at Zorro, but he didn't use his gun. Realizing more would be around he decided to risk it in a melee fight that wouldn't attract as much attention.
The zombie's run was sluggish and slow, as if he lacked muscle, so Zorro anticipated his moves easily and sidestepped the charging beast. As he sidestepped he kicked the zombie in its side making it go rolling across the lawn. He went after the zombie but it was awkward running with a gun in his pocket, so the zombie got the chance to stand up.
But that's all it got the chance to do, because in the next moment Zorro threw a powerful right hook at the zombies face, making its head go flying.
It felt disgusting punching that head, but also natural. As if he was born to throw punches. Zorro quickly reached into his pocket to grab his gun, but then he felt something he didn't notice before sitting in his pants.
It was a picture of this person's body, holding a golden belt high in the air with a heavily bruised face. It was clear the body he was brought into did some kind of martial arts. He was blessed to receive a body this athletic.
His tanktop was now bloodied, but he didn't pay it any attention and continued walking while squinting his eyes. His headache seemed to be getting better. The further he went down the streets, the more zombies he spotted. Some noticed him, but didn't pay him any attention. It was a blessing, they assumed Zorro was another zombie.
Zorro continued walking calmly down the long street until he heard a cry. It was loud and filled with fear. The athletic man gripped his gun tightly and ran towards the scream. It might be his only chance to get some information.
As he ran closer to the sound, he saw other figures gathering around 1 car, the source of the screams. But this scream slowly died out.
As ran towards the car, he saw it. Zombies eating a teenage boy alive. It was a disgusting sight. He was motionless, staring at the scene.
One zombie stared at Zorro, it was a female one which seemed to be in better shape than other zombies. She spoke with a rough dried up voice.
"Come eat son, he's been my good boy."
Zorro's shocked expression turned into one of anger and malice. His grip tightened even more, he spoke confidently.
"I'm not hungry."
He pointed the gun at the car, and shot at its hood.
In the next second, a massive explosion took place where the car was, zombies blown to bits and their remains on fire.
He slowly walked towards the now flaming vehicle. There he saw the boy's remains burning. His expression shifted into a pained and sorrowful grimace.
"Your nightmare is over."
" I'm sorry I can't give you a proper burial, but I still need to finish my own."
With that Zorro continued walking, this time more hurriedly. His headache receded but his vision only got worse.
The spell had awarded him for all the zombies who died in the explosion, granting him one new memory. It was a sturdy dagger.
After a long arduous walk, Zorro finally saw something new. It was a sign standing next to a long white pole with a speaker attached to the top. He looked at the sign once he got up close and noticed it was a map. The map had the suburbs area where he was and another area of what seemed to be a city was crossed out. There seemed to be an unfinished circle going around this city, too big to fit in the map. This circle encompassed the suburbs where Zorro was right now.
As Zorro stared at the map, he was suddenly surprised to hear a voice.
It came from the speaker on the pole above, it was robotic but still human like.
"Evacuation protocol initiated. Bomb detonation imminent. All lifeforms must vacate Sector 12. Estimated blast radius: 17 kilometers."
This message repeated 2 more times as Zorro realized what the map meant. The bombs dropped onto the city would kill him if he stayed there. Zorro was suddenly filled with the regret of not using the car.
One thing became obvious though. The main agon in this nightmare was fated to be destroyed by the bomb, and Zorro could probably not change that fact. It wouldn't be a problem in what way the agon was resolved, if not for the fact that he would die right with it.
If he wanted to survive, he would have to escape this cursed town somehow. But that wasn't looking very plausible right now. His car was too far away to reach in 10 minutes. So Zorro continued to run forward, towards the end of the suburb in hopes of finding a new car he could use.
He tried his best, he really did. But his stamina ran out, and he couldn't spot a car in sight. He was done for and he knew it. He still ran and ran till he couldn't. Till he wanted to lie down. So Zorro eventually stopped. But he didn't give up hope. He entered one of the run down houses, shot a zombie lurking inside and entered the basement. It was fortified quite a bit, but it would obviously not be enough to survive the bombs.
Zorro laid down on the cold steel surface.he was out of breath. Trying to regain his composure, he tried thinking of a good memory.
But before he could, the world went white, his hearing stopped working and he felt like he was melting. He had somehow survived the initial impact, he was flying through the air with a metal plate between him and the explosion.
It had saved him- no, it had spared his upper body. His legs were gone, his hair was on fire and he couldn't feel anything but pain. He slowly detached from the metal plate, the skin sticking to the metal being peeled off. As he fell to the ground he finally got the chance to start screaming in agony.
His landing was no less devastating. He landed on his shoulder, completely removing his left arm, and he rolled over the melting concrete feeling as if his last limb was ready to detach. As he slowed down and came to a halt, his organs slipped out of his stomach. He screamed but couldn't hear himself, his ears still ringing. He tried to cry but it evaporated.
He wasn't lucky to survive the first impact. He was unfortunate to not have died swiftly.
As the lights started to fade from his eyes, and his senses went numb, another bright light took over the world. This one different. Everything felt fizzy due to the explosion- no, even before it happened. The whole nightmare felt foggy.
He had beat the nightmare, he survived long enough. The spell was announcing his victory, but he just couldn't comprehend what was happening. Nothing got to his head.
Then suddenly, a man rose from his bed. He was disoriented and confused, but mostly scared.
He walked out the room and down a flight of stairs. There he saw a figure standing around the corner. It looked female, just like the one he blew up. Zorro summoned his dagger quickly, snuck up behind this figure and plunged it deep into her heart. She fell to the ground and died.
Only then did Zorro realize he was in his original body. He was in his own home. The woman he just stabbed was his mother.
The look on her face as she saw her son. The light fading from her eyes.
[You have slain....]
[You have received a memory]
—
The lightskinned man was staring at the ground, he had long dismissed the handkerchief.