Chapter: 2

As Demyan and Erin pressed on through the eerie, bioluminescent cave, the oppressive silence seemed to grow heavier with each step. Their breath echoed faintly off the wet stone walls, and a chill in the air sent shivers down Erin's spine. Finally, they reached a dead end, the path ahead blocked by a jagged rock face.

Erin sighed in frustration. "A dead end? Seriously? After all that?"

Demyan, however, wasn't paying attention to the walls. His sharp eyes caught a faint, shimmering square of light tucked away in the far corner of the cave. It flickered like a mirage, emitting a soft hum that resonated in the air around them.

"What's that?" Erin asked, stepping closer, her voice tinged with both awe and apprehension.

Demyan's expression darkened. He lowered his machete and stood still, staring at the portal. "That," he said, his tone grim, "is a doorway to the Eldritch Realm."

Erin blinked, looking from him to the glowing square. "A… doorway? To where?"

"To another dimension," Demyan explained, stepping closer to the light but keeping a wary distance. "You see, eldritch beings—especially the stronger ones—aren't confined to our world. They create their own realms. Think of them as fortresses, safe havens where they can grow in power, manipulate reality, and prepare themselves for their ultimate goal."

Erin furrowed her brow, trying to piece together his words. "Ultimate goal? What goal?"

Demyan let out a dry chuckle, though it was devoid of humor. "Godhood," he said simply.

Her eyes widened. "Godhood? You mean, like… becoming actual gods?"

"Yes," he replied, his voice calm but laced with disdain. "The eldritch are obsessed with power. For some of them, it's about control—dominion over everything they can touch. For others, it's about reshaping existence itself, bending the fabric of reality to suit their will. And then there are the rogues…"

"Rogues?" Erin asked.

Demyan nodded, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the glowing portal. "The ones who care about nothing but destruction. Chaos. They don't want balance or order or even dominion. They want to tear everything apart just because they can. If one of them achieves godhood, the consequences would be… catastrophic."

Erin swallowed hard, her mind reeling from the implications. "So… what happens if they succeed? Would the universe—"

"Stop," Demyan interrupted sharply, holding up a hand. He turned to face her, his gaze cold and unyielding. "Don't think too hard about it. Trust me, you don't want to know the answer. People who dig too deep into these things either end up with an existential crisis they can't recover from… or they go insane."

Erin opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it again, the seriousness in his tone making her think twice. She took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself.

Demyan sighed and softened his tone slightly. "Look, you've seen more than most people ever will, and you're still standing. That's impressive. But there are limits to what the human mind can handle. Some knowledge is a burden you don't want to carry."

After a moment of silence, Demyan took a deep breath and reached out his hand. "We're going in."

Erin hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand. "Into that… thing? Are you sure we'll even survive?"

"No," Demyan admitted bluntly, "but if we stay here, we'll never find out what happened to your cousin or my team. My guess is they're already in there, stuck in whatever nightmare realm this thing leads to."

She took his hand reluctantly, her grip trembling. "What if we get separated?"

"We won't," he said, his tone reassuring. "I'm channeling some of my energy into you. It'll tether us together, no matter what happens. Just don't let go."

Erin nodded, clutching his hand tightly. She could feel a faint warmth emanating from his palm, a strange energy that seemed to hum in sync with the portal.

"Ready?" Demyan asked.

"No," she replied honestly, her voice shaking.

"Good," he said with a smirk. "Means you're smart."

Without another word, he stepped forward, pulling her along with him as they plunged into the shimmering light. The world around them twisted and contorted, a kaleidoscope of impossible shapes and colors flashing before their eyes. Erin felt her stomach lurch as gravity seemed to vanish, replaced by a sensation of floating in a vast, incomprehensible void.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the chaos stopped. They found themselves standing on solid ground, the air thick and oppressive, filled with an unnatural stillness. The landscape was alien and surreal, an amalgamation of twisted geometry, pulsating organic structures, and an endless horizon bathed in an eerie, dim light.

Erin tightened her grip on Demyan's hand, her heart pounding. "Where… are we?"

Demyan didn't answer immediately. He scanned the area, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turned to her and said, "Welcome to the Eldritch Realm."

As Erin and Demyan trudged through the alien landscape, the pulsating structures and bizarre geometry seemed to pulse in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and something far less recognizable. Erin broke the silence hesitantly.

"Are all the eldritch beings here?" she asked, her voice small against the oppressive atmosphere.

Demyan shook his head. "No, each realm is personal to its creator. This one belongs to a specific eldritch being—whoever has dominion here."

Erin frowned. "So, every eldritch being has a place like this?"

"Not all of them," Demyan explained. "Only the powerful ones. Realms like this take energy to maintain, and not every eldritch being has that kind of power."

The thought sent a shiver down Erin's spine, but curiosity got the better of her. "Where… where does your power come from, then? You're clearly not ordinary."

Demyan stopped walking, turning to her with a wry smile. "From one of them."

Her heart sank, dread creeping up her spine. "One of them?"

"The King in Yellow," he said matter-of-factly, his expression unreadable.

Erin froze, her eyes wide. "The King in Yellow? The same one from—"

"Yes," Demyan interrupted with a nod.

"Do you worship that… thing?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Demyan chuckled, a deep, rumbling laugh that echoed off the twisted structures around them. "No, I don't worship him, i'm Catholic by the way," he said with a smirk. "I'm just work for him. Like a mercenary. Or a bounty hunter."

Erin blinked, trying to process his words. "You… work for him? And you're Catholic!"

Demyan's smirk faltered slightly as he sighed, clearly exasperated. "Yes, I'm Catholic. And yes, my God is real. All gods are real—yours, mine, everyone's. Funny thing is, its all one the same God who created me, you, and everything we know also created them."

Her jaw dropped. "God… created the eldritch beings? Why would He do that?"

Demyan gave her a sidelong glance, then sighed again. "You sure you want the long version? It's not exactly light bedtime reading."

Erin hesitated, but curiosity won out. "I want to understand. Please."

He nodded, his tone turning serious as he began to explain.

"God created everything with a purpose, Erin. Including the eldritch beings. You see, humans are unique because we have the ability to dream—to imagine things that don't exist yet and make them real. That's what separates us from animals. Dreams fuel innovation, ambition, and growth. They're the engine of evolution itself. But here's the thing: dreams are chaotic. They're not bound by logic or rules, and without a guiding force, they'd just be noise."

Erin nodded slowly, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"That's where the eldritch beings come in," Demyan continued. "One of the first beings God created was the Father of Dreams—the progenitor of all the eldritch. His job was to channel the chaos of human dreams into something productive, something that would drive humanity forward. The dreams he shaped became myths, legends, and beliefs—things that gave humans a sense of purpose and direction. Without him, we'd still be huddled in caves, too scared of the dark to take a step forward."

"But…" Erin hesitated. "If he was meant to help humanity, how did things go so wrong? Why are the eldritch so dangerous now?"

Demyan's expression darkened. "Because dreams are a double-edged sword. While they can inspire and uplift, they can also corrupt. Greed, fear, ambition—those things can twist a dream into something monstrous. Over time, the Father of Dreams lost control of some of his creations. They became rogue agents, shaping dreams not for humanity's benefit, but for their own twisted agendas. Some of them wanted worship, others wanted destruction. And so, the eldritch as we know them came into being."

Erin shivered, hugging herself. "So… dreams are the key to everything?"

Demyan nodded. "Dreams and belief. They're what make humans human. They're why we've achieved the impossible time and time again. But like I said, dreams need a balance of logic mostly this universes logic. Believing in your dream is vital, but if you chase it blindly, you'll end up running in circles—or worse, falling off a cliff."

Erin stared at him, her mind racing. "So, what you're saying is… God created the eldritch to guide us, but they went rogue. And now…"

"And now, we're stuck cleaning up the mess," Demyan finished with a smirk.

She looked at him with newfound respect, though the fear still lingered. "You make it sound so simple, but it's not, is it?"

"No," he admitted. "But nothing worth doing ever is. That's why I stick to the basics—faith, logic, and a good machete."

Despite herself, Erin chuckled. For a moment, the oppressive weight of the eldritch realm felt just a little lighter.

As they continued walking through the oppressive, alien terrain, Erin broke the silence once again, her voice trembling. "Who… who is the Father of Dreams? The one you mentioned earlier?"

Demyan's face darkened instantly, and his usual air of detached calm seemed to give way to something far more serious. "Azathoth," he said quietly.

The name sent a chill down Erin's spine, though she didn't fully understand why. "Azathoth? What… what does he do?"

Demyan's gaze hardened as he stopped walking, his voice cold and measured. "Azathoth isn't just the Father of Dreams—he is the dream. Everything we know, everything we are, exists because he's dreaming it. When he wakes up, the dream ends. The world as we know it will cease to exist. Mankind will stop dreaming, and without dreams, there's no future. No past. Everything—every memory, every thought—will be forgotten. It'll be the end of everything."

Erin's breath caught in her throat. "That's… that's terrifying. Could he ever wake up?"

Demyan nodded grimly. "Yes. He has before. Every time he wakes up, one of the billions—maybe even endless—universes dies. Just vanishes, like it never existed. The people living in those worlds? Gone. Their dreams, their histories, their hopes—all erased. We're lucky this universe hasn't been the one… yet."

Erin felt her legs weaken beneath her. "How? How does he wake up?"

Demyan continued walking, his tone sharp as he spoke. "Nightmares. Just like when a person wakes up suddenly because of a bad dream. The rogue eldritch gods, the ones who've abandoned their purpose and gone mad, are the ones responsible for creating those nightmares. They disrupt the balance, twist the dreams of mankind into chaos, and it ripples back to Azathoth. Each ripple has the potential to stir him from his sleep."

Erin's hands trembled as she processed his words. "Do they know? The rogue gods? Do they understand what they're doing?"

Demyan let out a cold laugh, devoid of humor. "No. They're too young, too consumed by their own ambitions to see the bigger picture. They think their power is limitless, but they're nothing more than fleas on the back of a slumbering giant. They don't realize that if Azathoth wakes, they'll vanish too. Everything will."

Erin shuddered at the thought. "So… how do we stop them?"

"That's where the Council of Azathoth comes in," Demyan explained. "It's made up of eldritch beings who understand the stakes—beings who exist solely to ensure that Azathoth stays asleep. They know the truth: if he wakes, their existence ends as well. They're the only ones keeping the rogue gods in check."

He paused and turned to Erin, his expression unreadable. "It's like when you wake up from a dream. You might remember pieces of it for a moment, but then you move on with your day, forgetting it ever happened. That's what Azathoth does. Every time he wakes, entire universes disappear as if they never existed. Then he goes back to sleep, and a new dream begins. We're nothing more than fragments of that dream, clinging to existence for as long as we can."

Erin stared at him, her mind reeling. "So, we're just… a dream? None of this is real?"

Demyan's voice softened, though his eyes remained cold. "Reality is what you make of it. Dream or not, it's all we have. And I, for one, don't plan on letting some Bad Apple ruin it."

Erin, trying to calm her racing mind, asked one final question. "If we're forgotten, if the universe disappears… does that mean we stop existing? Completely?"

Demyan paused, glancing at her with a faint expression of empathy. "No," he said firmly. "Our physical forms might be lost, the materials that make up this world erased, but not our souls. Souls aren't part of Azathoth's dream. They belong to something greater—to the true creator, the God who made everything. Azathoth might be like a computer that keeps the dream running, and when it crashes, some data is lost. But the soul? That's beyond his reach."

Erin's brow furrowed as she tried to grasp the weight of his words. "So… even if the universe is gone, our souls go… where? To Heaven or Hell?"

Demyan nodded. "Exactly. That's the only place that Azathoth has no control over. The afterlife was created by God Himself, separate from dreams, separate from this endless cycle of universes. Whether it's Heaven or Hell, the soul continues. It's the one thing that can't be erased, no matter what happens here."

Erin let out a shaky breath, feeling a small flicker of relief in the face of overwhelming despair. "That's… comforting, I guess."

Demyan gave her a sidelong glance. "Take what comfort you can. You'll need it."

Before Erin could respond, a faint noise echoed from a distance. Demyan stopped abruptly, his posture shifting into a defensive stance as he stared into the darkness. "Stay close," he muttered.

From the shadows, a figure emerged, a man wielding an enormous, ancient wheel. The metal frame was rusted and jagged, the kind of thing that seemed to radiate malice.

Erin blinked in confusion. "Who's that? And… why is he carrying a wheel?"

Demyan visibly relaxed, a smirk crossing his face. "That's my friend. And that," he gestured toward the wheel, "is the Breaking Wheel. Also known as the Execution Wheel."

Erin's eyes widened. "The Breaking Wheel? The torture device?"

Demyan nodded. "Yeah. You don't want to know the full meaning of it."

Erin shuddered. "I already do. And yes, it's terrifying."

The man with the wheel stepped closer, his face sharp and rugged, with the kind of hardened expression that came from a lifetime of violence. "Demyan," he said in a low, gravelly voice, nodding once. "You took your time."

"I had company," Demyan replied, jerking his thumb toward Erin. "What's the situation here?"

The man shifted the wheel on his shoulder, the weight of it seemingly nothing to him. "The realm's shifting. This place isn't stable, and it's crawling with rogue eldritch spawn. We need to move fast before the entire dimension collapses."

Erin looked between the two men, her nerves on edge. "Collapses? What happens if we're still here when that happens?"

"You don't want to know," Demyan said bluntly.

The man with the wheel chuckled darkly. "You'll wish for death, but even that won't come easily."

Erin swallowed hard, her earlier relief now feeling distant. "Great. Just great."

Demyan glanced at her. "Stick close to me. We'll get through this."

With that, the three of them moved deeper into the shifting, alien terrain of the eldritch realm, the oppressive atmosphere growing heavier with every step. The sound of distant whispers and inhuman growls echoed through the air, a reminder of the danger that lay ahead.

The man with wheel is Seth as Demyan turned to Seth with a sharp look. "Where are the others? Weren't they supposed to regroup here?"

Seth frowned and gestured ahead with a nod. "They've been teleported away by that."

Erin followed his gaze and felt her blood run cold. A towering, grotesque sunflower stood in the distance, its petals a sickly yellow. The crown of the flower was covered in billions of small, multifaceted eyes, moving and twitching like flies. The eyes seemed to shift focus all at once, staring directly at them.

Erin recoiled. "What… what is that thing?"

"It's an eldritch node," Demyan said grimly. "A spawn from something much worse. It doesn't kill you directly. It just teleports you into the void, where you either die slowly or become part of its hive mind."

Seth's grip tightened on the handle of the Breaking Wheel. "We've got to act fast. If we don't kill it now, we'll end up like the others—scattered to nowhere."

Erin hesitated. "What's the plan? How do you fight something like that?"

Demyan and Seth exchanged a glance, then spoke in unison: "Kill it."

Erin blinked. "That's… not exactly a plan!"

"It's the only plan," Seth said, his tone cold and resolute. "Stay out of the way, or you'll become a liability."

Demyan nodded. "Stick close to me if you want to live. Don't try to be a hero."

Before Erin could protest, Seth was already charging toward the monstrous sunflower. The ground trembled as its roots began to writhe and spread, and the billions of eyes on the crown opened wider, emitting an eerie, pulsating glow.

Demyan turned to Erin. "Stay behind me, and whatever happens, don't look directly into the eyes."

With that, he rushed forward, drawing a pair of throwing knives from his belt. He hurled them with precision, embedding them into the creature's stem. The sunflower let out a deafening screech, the sound reverberating through the cave and shaking the very ground beneath them.

Seth reached the base of the sunflower, swinging the Breaking Wheel with incredible force. The jagged edges tore through the writhing roots, severing them in a shower of black, ichorous fluid. Each strike sent shockwaves through the cave, but the sunflower's regeneration was almost immediate.

"It's not enough!" Seth shouted over the noise. "We need to destroy the crown!"

Demyan dodged a massive root that lashed out like a whip, then looked up at the crown of eyes. "Easier said than done!"

The sunflower began emitting beams of light from its eyes, each one distorting the air around it. One beam narrowly missed Erin, and the heat from it singed her hair. She screamed and ducked behind a rock.

Demyan growled. "That's it!" He reached into his pouch and pulled out one of his cursed dolls, the same ones he had used before. "Time to put these fireworks to good use."

He tossed the doll into the air, and with a muttered incantation, it came to life. The doll sprinted toward the sunflower, its tiny, cursed body glowing with an ominous red light.

Seth saw the doll and smirked. "You've got a knack for theatrics, Demyan."

Demyan ignored him, focusing on guiding the doll toward the crown. The sunflower seemed to sense the threat and began lashing out wildly with its roots, trying to stop the doll. Seth and Demyan worked in tandem, cutting down the roots and creating a clear path.

The doll reached the base of the crown and latched onto it, its glow intensifying. Demyan shouted, "Cover your ears and get down!"

The explosion that followed was deafening, a burst of fiery energy that engulfed the crown and sent a shockwave through the realm. The sunflower let out a final, agonized screech as its eyes melted into black sludge, and its massive body began to collapse.

As the smoke cleared, Demyan and Seth stood amidst the wreckage, covered in ichor but otherwise unharmed. Erin peeked out from behind her rock, her face pale but relieved.

Demyan turned to her, smirking. "See? That's how you deal with a giant sunflower."

Erin shook her head. "You're both insane."

Seth laughed, slinging the Breaking Wheel over his shoulder. "Maybe. But we're alive."

Demyan nodded, his expression serious again. "Now let's find the others before this place collapses. We've wasted enough time here."

The air grew tense as the mangled sunflower began to writhe, its severed roots slithering across the ground like monstrous serpents. Before they could react, one of the roots lunged at Seth, coiling around him.

"Demyan!" Seth shouted, his voice echoing in the realm.

A second later, Seth was gone, teleported away in a flash of sickly yellow light.

"No!" Erin screamed, her voice trembling with fear.

Demyan's face darkened, his jaw clenching tightly. "That's it," he growled. "This thing isn't walking away from here."

His eyes gleamed with an ominous light as he drew his machete. Muttering under his breath, he invoked his blindness curse, Black Flow. The blade began to emit an otherworldly black mist as he hurled it toward the sunflower.

The mist spread like a wave, enveloping the monstrous flower in an inky shroud. Its writhing slowed as every eldritch sense it possessed—sight, smell, hearing, even its psychic awareness—was snuffed out.

The sunflower writhed blindly, roots flailing wildly as Demyan stood his ground. "You're not taking anyone else."

[Back at Anon's Place]

Mike collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily after another grueling training session. His body ached, but his curiosity outweighed his exhaustion.

"What's the hardest curse to learn?" he asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

Anon sat nearby, calmly sipping tea. He looked at Mike with an amused expression. "The hardest curse? That would be the Hive."

Mike frowned. "Why? What makes it so difficult?"

Anon leaned forward, his tone growing serious. "The Hive Curse doesn't just summon eldritch creatures. It taps into a dark, collective consciousness—a swarm mentality that can spiral out of control if the caster's mind isn't strong enough. It's not just a curse; it's a gamble."

Mike shivered at the thought. "Sounds like something only the desperate would use."

"Or the furious," Anon replied cryptically.

[Back to Demyan]

Fueled by raw anger, Demyan activated his Hive Curse, Black Nest. Shadows around him twisted unnaturally as countless eldritch creatures emerged from the void, their chittering voices creating an eerie cacophony.

The swarm launched itself at the sunflower, devouring its roots and tearing into its massive stem. The sunflower began to change, its monstrous true form revealed—a gigantic rafflesia flower, its putrid petals pulsating with life. Embedded within its core were countless victims, their twisted faces frozen in agony.

The sight would have broken most people, but Demyan's fury only grew.

The flower retaliated, its roots multiplying endlessly and lashing out at the eldritch swarm. One by one, the summoned creatures were crushed or torn apart, and the swarm began to falter.

"Demyan, stop!" Erin screamed, her voice desperate. "It's too strong!"

But Demyan was beyond reason. His belief, Close and Personal, surged within him—a raw, primal force that defied logic, magic, and pain.

With a feral roar, Demyan charged the rafflesia flower barehanded. He leaped onto its massive petals, ignoring the searing ichor that burned his skin. Grabbing one of the flower's pulsating vines, he ripped it apart with sheer brute strength.

The flower's roots lashed out, tearing into his flesh, but Demyan didn't stop. His hands plunged into the flower's core, pulling apart flesh and sinew with inhuman strength. He tore through its victims, freeing their trapped souls as he ripped the monstrous plant to shreds.

The flower let out a final, unearthly screech before collapsing in on itself. A blinding light consumed the cavern, and in an instant, they were back in the real world.

Erin gasped as she found herself lying on solid ground, the familiar sights and sounds of reality grounding her. She looked around and saw Demyan standing a few feet away, his clothes in tatters, his hands and arms drenched in black ichor. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes burned with a fierce intensity.

"Demyan…" she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn't respond, simply staring at the horizon with a faraway look in his eyes. After a moment, he wiped the ichor from his hands onto his ruined clothes and muttered, "Let's keep moving. We still have to find Seth."

Erin nodded hesitantly, following him in silence. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of man she had aligned herself with—and what kind of battles lay ahead.

As Demyan and Erin emerged into the clearing, they were met with an unexpected sight: Seth stood with his men, surrounded by a large group of survivors. Among them were the very same guests and staff they had encountered earlier, along with many locals from the nearby villages. Erin's eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat as her gaze landed on a familiar face in the crowd.

Her cousin.

Tears welled up in Erin's eyes as she ran forward, ignoring everything else. "Lily!" she cried, throwing herself into her cousin's arms.

Lily, equally overwhelmed, held her tightly. "Erin? How... How did you—? I thought I'd never see you again!"

The reunion was filled with tears and laughter as Erin held onto Lily, refusing to let go. The chaos and terror of the past few hours seemed to melt away in this one moment of joy.

Demyan and Seth watched the scene from a distance. For a brief moment, their shared glances were heavy with unspoken guilt and relief.

"She's alive," Seth murmured, almost disbelieving.

Demyan gave a small nod. "Yeah. Feels like we were wrong this time... or maybe just lucky."

As Erin approached them, her face radiant with gratitude, she began to speak. "Thank you—"

Before she could finish, Demyan raised his hand, his eyes somber. "Don't thank me yet."

He muttered an incantation under his breath, and a wave of dark energy spread across the area. One by one, the survivors began to collapse where they stood, falling into a deep, enchanted sleep. Lily's body slumped softly against Erin's, forcing her to catch her cousin before she too succumbed to the spell.

"Demyan!" Erin shouted, her voice a mix of confusion and betrayal. "What are you doing?"

"They'll wake up safe, without memories of what happened here," Demyan said, his tone cold and detached. "It's better this way. Trust me."

"But—" Erin stopped, her voice faltering as she tried to focus. Something felt off, like she was forgetting something important. Her hand reached out instinctively, searching for someone, but she didn't know who or why.

By the time she turned back, Demyan was already walking away with Seth and his men.

[On the Highway]

The group trudged along the desolate stretch of road. Seth broke the silence, his voice sharp and irritated.

"You broke the car!" he shouted, glaring at Demyan.

Demyan shrugged, his expression neutral. "It was an accident. The plan needed it destroyed."

"And what about the rest of it?" Seth pressed, his frustration growing.

"I gave the supplies to the survivors," Demyan admitted, his tone unapologetic. He paused for a moment before adding, "...Sorry."

Seth groaned loudly, throwing his hands in the air. "You're impossible, you know that? I don't even know why I stick around you."

Demyan smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because I'm the only one crazy enough to get us through this mess."

The group continued down the highway, the ruins of their battle behind them. Despite their bickering, there was an unspoken understanding between the two men—a bond forged through countless trials.

Erin, still in the clearing, woke her cousin and the others as they began to stir. The memories of the eldritch horrors were gone, replaced with vague confusion and relief at being alive. And though Erin couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing, she clung to the small victory they had won.

Demyan and Seth disappeared into the horizon, leaving behind only the faint echo of their footsteps and the weight of the secrets they carried.