The archives' door closed behind Ethan, the dull sound echoing down the corridor.The air remained suffocatingly cold, yet his mind was a chaotic storm.
"Nightmares are not entirely evil."The words did not come from the director's mouth, but from the whispers emanating from the dossier, suddenly leaping into his consciousness.
Ethan walked in a daze.Nightmares… were not purely destroyers? Yet since entering the Realm of Death, all his training, missions, and cases had pointed to a single conclusion: nightmares were humanity's natural enemy.
"If they aren't pure enemies… then what have we been doing? Hunting? Suppressing? Or eliminating dissenters?"He muttered under his breath, a sense of absurd nausea rising in his chest.
—
The next day, a new mission arrived.Ethan was sent alone to a small town reporting mass "sleepwalking" incidents—residents disappearing for hours at midnight, returning by morning with no memory of what had occurred.
As always, he approached with skepticism.The director's orders were coldly precise: "Locate the nightmare host. Eliminate it."
But as Ethan entered the town, he witnessed a completely different scene.
—
At midnight, the residents emerged in unison, walking silently and slowly as if pulled by an invisible force.Ethan followed cautiously, surprised to see that they were not frenzied or aggressive—they walked straight into an abandoned shrine.
Inside, black mist hung in the air, yet no monstrous forms lurked.Instead, a vague figure appeared, the mist softly whispering in an ancient language, soothing the residents.
Ethan held his breath, feeling an indescribable tranquility.The black mist did not attack or tear at them; rather… it seemed to heal.
The residents' faces relaxed; some even wept softly, murmuring:"Finally… no more nightmares."
Ethan's heart jolted.Nightmares… could bring peace?
—
He stepped closer, short blade glinting coldly.The figure in the mist slowly turned, seemingly noticing him.
Its voice carried on the wind—not a roar, but calm:"You call us 'nightmares,' yet you've never understood the other side of dreams. We consume fear, but we can also… share the pain."
Ethan froze.His mind screamed—this was a temptation, a corruption. Yet his heart wavered violently.
Because in that moment, he saw a child's once fearful eyes grow calm, an elderly hand trembling slowly stop shaking.This was not destruction… but salvation?
—
Suddenly, a sharp crack pierced the sky.A bureau support squad arrived, cold muzzles and psychic weapons aimed at the shrine.
"Abnormal energy detected! Target confirmed, eliminate immediately!"
The agents moved swiftly, mechanically, without hesitation.Ethan instinctively stepped forward, voice urgent:"Wait! They haven't been corrupted—the mist isn't harming them!"
But the response was rigid:"Rookie, you have no authority to intervene."
With that, bullets and psychic blades tore through the night.The shrine was instantly blasted apart. Screams and the whispers of the black mist merged into one, the air filled with the acrid stench of burning.
Ethan staggered backward, watching helplessly as the residents fell back into fear and chaos.The figure in the shrine was torn apart, breaking into countless fragments, dissipating into the night sky.
—
When the battle ended, the support squad announced coldly:"Mission complete. Host eliminated."They turned and left, as if it were just another routine cleanup.
Ethan stood amidst the ruins, short blade drooping in his hand, chest aching.He recalled the words from the dossier, the defector's warnings, the whispers of the mist he had just heard.
Nightmares… were not entirely evil.The true nightmare might very well be the bureau itself.
His throat dry, he forced a bitter smile:"The cracks in the truth… have finally begun to open."
The night wind blew, carrying away the last traces of mist, yet it could not erase the questions lingering in his heart.