Darkness engulfed the church, and the air reeked with a nauseating stench, like rotting sacrificial offerings mixed with the scent of old candle wax, making each breath almost unbearable.
The sleepwalking townsfolk opened their eyes in unison, their pupils hollow, as if possessed by some invisible force. Low murmurs spilled from their mouths, intertwining until they coalesced into a fragmented, indistinct chant, a scream rising from the depths of hell itself.
Above the altar, the rift trembled, flickering with a strange gray-purple light.
An invisible wave radiated outward, and Ethan felt his chest hit with a hammer, his breaths crushed as if each inhale carried shards of pain.
Then, from the depths of the rift, a "hand" slowly emerged.
It was no ordinary hand, but a grotesque limb pieced together from shadows and flesh. Its fingers were sharp, and its surface teemed with writhing eyes. Each eyeball seemed to spin and scrutinize Ethan's very soul. The limb gripped the edge of the altar, dragging itself out with a twisting, tearing sound that sliced through the air.
Ethan's pupils constricted. He muttered under his breath, "Good lord… this thing clearly isn't here to preach."
The monster's body gradually took shape, a nightmare forged in the depths of hell:
Its lower half consisted of twisted, spider-like limbs, each step gouging deep furrows into the floor.
Its upper half constantly shifted forms, sometimes the faces of townsfolk, sometimes the heads of massive beasts, each transformation accompanied by a deep, guttural roar, like thousands of nightmares moaning at once.
Silas' gaze sharpened. He swiftly drew his sigil, pressing it into his palm. The runes flared instantly, releasing a silver light that pushed back the surrounding cold.
"Nightmare level: mid-tier. Rookie, this already exceeds your limit."
Ethan swallowed, forcing a calm tone. "So… I get to skip the tutorial and jump straight into nightmare difficulty?"
The creature bellowed, a sound like overlapping dreams drilling into the mind. Ethan felt a wave of vertigo, visions of his deepest fears flashing before his eyes—
He lay in a pool of blood, a familiar blade embedded in his chest. It was the shadow of a "friend", wearing a cold, indifferent smile.
"No way…" Ethan clutched his head as his heartbeat skyrocketed.
Silas glanced at him coldly. "Steady. It's using your memories to generate illusions. If you let yourself sink, we both die."
The monster lunged suddenly. Its spider limbs slammed into the floor, scattering stone chips. The impact sounded like a thousand-pound hammer striking iron.
Ethan rolled instinctively, narrowly avoiding the strike. His heart raced uncontrollably. He forced a chuckle: "Well… at least it's not breathing fire. Otherwise, I'd be cooked by now."
Silas raised his black pen. The runes shimmered, forming a sharp silver blade. With a cold strike, he severed one of the monster's limbs. Black blood sprayed into the air, emitting a pungent stench of decay.
"Focus!" he barked.
Ethan gritted his teeth, bracing himself. The sigil in his hand warmed slightly. Instinctively, he pressed it toward the rift, accidentally triggering a rune barrier. A silver glow flared, momentarily suppressing the rift's expansion.
The monster let out a shrill wail, its writhing body threatening to tear the entire church apart.
"Well… I'm not completely useless!" Ethan panted, forcing a grin. "Team honor points, I contributed a little, right?"
Silas snorted, though a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. "Don't get cocky. The fight isn't over yet."
The creature's remnants reassembled, shadows crawling over its form, growing larger and more twisted. It opened a mouth filled with eyes, exhaling countless whispers like fractured dreams, turning the entire church into a living nightmare.
Ethan froze, a single thought rising in his mind:
—Nightmares… really do come true.