The cold dread was a familiar blanket. Aiden's eyes snapped open, or rather, his consciousness re-ignited in the suffocating void. The darkness was absolute, a heavy, suffocating presence that pressed in from all sides. No light, no sound, just an endless, inky black. But he knew. He didn't need sight to confirm it. The monster with antlers was there, a looming, silent terror at his back, its presence a chilling weight in the air.
Aiden didn't hesitate. Survival instinct, sharp and primal, seized him. He didn't run; there was nowhere to run. Instead, he willed himself forward, a silent, desperate float through the void, creating a sliver of distance between him and the unseen horror. Every inch felt like a mile, every second an eternity, until he felt a negligible, yet crucial, space open up.
His hand instinctively went to his side, his fingers closing around the familiar, cool grip of his weapon. With a practiced motion, his gold-hilted sword slid from its sheath, glinting with an imagined light in the oppressive gloom. He had named it, a whispered promise to himself in the quiet moments of his waking nightmares: "Dawnbreaker." A beacon against the encroaching night.
He tightened his grip, his knuckles white. This was it. The moment of truth, again. He closed his eyes, focusing, trying to recall the fleeting lessons, the whispers of ancient power. He pushed, willing the raw, untamed aura within him to flow, to ignite, to transform Dawnbreaker into a weapon of true might. A tremor ran through his arm, a searing heat that promised power, but then it faltered. He was too new, too unrefined. The energy sputtered, coalescing only at the very tip of the blade, a faint, almost imperceptible glow, like a dying ember in a vast, empty room.
Aiden gasped, the effort draining him, leaving him lightheaded and trembling. His chest heaved, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight of exhaustion. Yet, a defiant, desperate spark ignited in his eyes. He raised Dawnbreaker, its glowing tip the only point of reference in his world. "This much," he rasped, his voice raw but laced with a surprising venom, "is enough to eliminate a fly like you!"
With a roar that was more defiance than courage, he launched himself forward. It was a desperate, all-or-nothing charge, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate hope. He moved like a phantom, the glowing tip of Dawnbreaker a comet streaking through the abyss. But the monster, a creature of this very darkness, was quicker. It anticipated his attack, a blur of motion in the periphery of Aiden's non-existent vision.
He felt the shift in the air, the sudden, violent displacement as the monster dodged. Aiden twisted, his momentum carrying him past where the creature had been, but he wasn't entirely thwarted. The glowing tip of Dawnbreaker, though small, was still a weapon. He felt a sickening thud, a resistance against the blade, and then a faint, metallic scent that was undeniably blood. He had grazed its left side. A victory, however small, in this impossible fight.
Before Aiden could even register the fleeting triumph, a massive, unseen hand shot out. It wasn't a grab; it was a clamp, an iron vise closing around Dawnbreaker. The monster had seized his sword. Aiden instinctively tightened his grip, refusing to let go. This was his only hope, his only weapon against the encroaching despair. The force was immense, threatening to tear his arm from its socket, but he held on, stubbornly, desperately.
The monster, perhaps surprised by his tenacity, began to move. Not just move, but thrash, its arm whipping through the dark space, making Aiden dangle like a ragdoll. Each swing was a jarring, disorienting assault, designed to rip the sword from his grasp. The air rushed past him, a silent scream in the void, as he was flung left and right, up and down. His muscles screamed in protest, his grip weakening with every violent jerk. He wouldn't let go. He couldn't.
Then came the first gut punch. A sudden, brutal impact that stole his breath, doubling him over with a sickening lurch. A wave of nausea washed over him, bile rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, refusing to give the monster the satisfaction of his weakness. His vision swam, the faint glow of Dawnbreaker's tip blurring into a star.
The monster didn't relent. Another punch was coming, he could feel the shift in the air, the subtle pressure. Desperate, Aiden instinctively brought his shin up, a futile attempt to block the incoming blow. It was a mistake. A terrible, agonizing mistake. The impact was deafening, a sickening crack that echoed through his bones. His shin shattered, a jagged, searing pain that ripped through him, stealing his breath, stealing his will. He cried out, a raw, animalistic sound of agony.
But even as the pain consumed him, a flicker of clarity, a desperate, brilliant idea, ignited in his mind. Before the monster could land the next devastating punch, before the agony could completely incapacitate him, Aiden made a choice. He let go of Dawnbreaker. The sword, his only hope, slipped from his grasp, vanishing into the impenetrable darkness.
And then, with the last vestiges of his strength, he lunged, not to fight, but to survive. His fingers, now free, became his new weapon. He thrust them forward, aiming for the one vulnerable point he knew. There was a soft, squishy resistance, followed by a wet pop.
The monster recoiled, a guttural, earth-shattering scream of pure agony tearing through the void. It was a sound that would haunt Aiden's nightmares, a raw, primal roar of pain and rage. He had done it. He had poked its eye.
But his fleeting victory was short-lived. The monster's scream abruptly cut off, replaced by a chilling silence. Then, a surge of power, a wave of oppressive energy, washed over Aiden. The monster had activated its aura. A voice, deep and resonant, echoed not in his ears, but directly in his mind, a terrifying pronouncement: "Limitless Darkness."
And then, the impossible happened. The darkness, which Aiden had thought absolute, deepened. It became something beyond black, a void that consumed not just light, but sensation, sound, even the very concept of space. Aiden couldn't see anything. Not his hands, not his feet, not even the faint outlines of his own body. He was blind, utterly lost in a suffocating shroud that felt like the end of all things. The monster, a hulking shadow before, was now completely indiscernible.
But the monster could sense him. A cold, unseen presence enveloped him, a chilling certainty that it knew exactly where he was. A massive hand, unseen but undeniably there, clamped around him, lifting him effortlessly. Aiden thrashed, a desperate, futile struggle against an invisible foe.
Then the punches began. Brutal, relentless, each one a hammer blow that drove the air from his lungs, shattered bone, and tore through flesh. He felt the impact, a sickening crunch, then another, and another. There was no escape, no defense against this unseen assault. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the boundless void. Pain, sharp and agonizing, consumed him, then dulled, then sharpened again with each new blow. His body became a canvas for the monster's rage, a broken, dying thing. The darkness pressed in, not just around him, but within him, extinguishing the last sparks of his consciousness.
Aiden's struggles ceased. The last breath hitched in his throat, a silent gasp in the infinite black. His body went limp, a broken puppet in the monster's grasp. The beating continued for a few more moments, a final, brutal testament to the creature's fury, before it, too, stopped.
Aiden was dead. Again.