Chapter 14: It Begins...

Bari left the dense forest behind, stepping onto the dirt road he had encountered at the beginning of his nightmare. The air here was different — heavier with the scent of dust and earth, mingling faintly with the smells of animals and man. It carried a tangible weight, as if the very world was pressing down harder.

His boots pressed into the uneven ground marked with deep, repeated tracks. Not from machines, but from caravans pulled by strange creatures — some hooves splayed wide like a deer's, others rounded like giant goats or horses. The road told stories, worn smooth by countless journeys and silent travelers long forgotten.

After hours of steady walking, the forest began to thin and the road curved around a low rise. Ahead, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, stood the ruins he had glimpsed from a distance — broken, ancient, and whispering secrets of a forgotten age.

Bari's boots slowed as he neared the edge of the ruins. The air felt heavier here, charged with a restless energy that tugged at his senses like a living thing. Faintly, carried on the wind, were two distinct presences — moving with purpose, deliberate, yet somehow... off.

He closed his eyes briefly and extended his Aspect's reach, feeling the subtle shifts in air currents and the nearly imperceptible rhythms of heartbeat. They were human, that much was certain. But their movements — jerky, unnatural — sent a cold knot tightening in his gut.

Instinct took hold. Without a sound, Bari melted into the shadows, stalking his quarry through crumbling walls and shattered pillars, every muscle coiled and ready.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, something far worse flickered into view. Two grotesque nightmare creatures lurked nearby — twisted, malformed echoes of humanity, their bodies warped beyond recognition. His eyes widened as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Bari's breath slowed as he melded deeper with the ruins, the cold stones rough beneath his fingertips grounding him. The two presences moved ahead, their gait jerky and disjointed, like puppets tangled in invisible strings.

Their skin, glimpsed beneath torn, filthy rags, hung loose — stretched thin like ancient parchment, mottled with bruises and sickly shades of green and purple. Bulging veins pulsated grotesquely beneath corrupted flesh, throbbing with a dark, unnatural vitality.

Occasionally, one convulsed sharply, emitting a low, guttural rasp that echoed faintly through the hollow chambers. Their eyes, when they flicked over Bari scanning the are for any prey, were pale and glazed over — devoid of recognition or any trace of humanity.

A sickly sweet stench clawed at his nose, decay mixed with something metallic, like rusted blood. The air around them shimmered subtly, warped as if twisted by some lingering curse.

The creatures paused near a collapsed archway, their heads twitching unnervingly in different directions, as though sensing some unseen predator. Suddenly, one dropped to all fours, limbs bending awkwardly, scraping the stone floor with cracked and broken nails that left thin streaks of dark ichor behind.

Bari swallowed hard, the crushing weight of the nightmare pressing in on his chest. This was no mere infection or plague — these beings were echoes of a darker corruption, lost souls twisted into something monstrous and malevolent.

He felt the wind shift against his skin, carrying faint whispers of pain and rage that urged him forward.

Adjusting his footing, muscles coiled like springs, Bari embraced the grim realisation he needed to kill these things.

Bari held his breath, his eyes locked onto the twisted forms lurking among the ruins. He didn't flinch or look away; instead, he fixed his purposefully steady gaze on them, letting the wind carry his silent scrutiny.

For a long moment, the creatures moved with unnatural stillness, then a flicker of awareness passed through their pale, vacant eyes. They had realized they were being watched.

Sensing the shift, Bari's mind sharpened. He needed to strike with cunning, not brute force. Slowly, he reached out with his Aspect, coaxing the subtle currents of air around him.

With a slight motion, he manipulated loose stones perched precariously on a ledge to the side of the creatures. The rocks trembled, then tumbled down with a sudden clatter, smashing against broken pillars and scattering dust into the air.

The nightmare creatures snarled and snapped their heads toward the noise, their twisted forms momentarily distracted by the unexpected sound.

Bari seized the moment. Concealing his deadly intent behind a calm exterior, he drew his katana in one smooth, practiced motion.

A thin veil of wind coiled around the steel, tightening with each heartbeat until the air itself seemed to sharpen. It gathered into a pale, crescent edge that shimmered faintly in the dim light, like moonlight caught in motion. The weapon thrummed in his grip, not with sound, but with a quiet pressure — the kind that promised sudden, merciless violence.

Then, with precise control, Bari swung his katana in a wide, horizontal arc. A low hiss escaped the blade as the wind gathered to its edge — a thin, razor-sharp crescent that shimmered faintly before vanishing into the stale air. It carved forward in silence, a swift, invisible predator.

The nearest nightmare creature barely had time to twitch before the strike found it. Its torso parted cleanly, the upper half sliding away as if reluctant to accept death, before collapsing in a wet thud on the cracked stone.

[You have slain a Dormant Monster, Thrallspawn Luric.]

The second creature froze, vacant eyes snapping toward its fallen kin. Its limbs twitched erratically, confusion and rage sparking in those clouded orbs.

Bari's stance never wavered. The air thickened as he summoned another gust, this one sharper, more condensed — a breath of the storm given form. He stepped forward and let it fly. The wind blade struck with surgical precision, tearing through the stagnant air and severing the creature's head in a single, unbroken motion.

The head spun away, rolling across the fractured floor until it struck a broken pillar. A final, hollow snarl rattled from its slack jaw before fading to nothing.

[You have slain a Dormant Monster, Marrowhound Vaeth.]

The ruins fell still again, silence settling like dust. Bari exhaled slowly and sheathed his blade. The wind wound lazily around him, whispering against the stone — not in warning this time, but in quiet acknowledgment of the kill.

Bari stood over the two corpses, his breath steady but his thoughts churning. For all the tension, for all the anticipation, the fight had been… easier than he expected. That should have been a relief — instead, it made his stomach knot. He knew better than to mistake luck for skill. Surprise had been the deciding factor, not his strength. Surprise, and the fact that they'd been too distracted to sense him before the first strike. In a Nightmare, that kind of fortune didn't last.

He glanced down at the grotesque remains. The black ichor seeped lazily from their bodies, pooling into the cracks between the stones. Steam curled faintly from the wounds where his wind blades had cut, mixing with the already rancid smell of rot.

Bari wrinkled his nose. Yeah… there's no way I'm eating that.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Sunny would probably already be roasting a leg by now," he muttered under his breath. He shook his head, half in disbelief, half in reluctant admiration. It took a different kind of strength to even think about putting something like that in your mouth

The lingering words from the Nightmare spell floated in his mind, stark and deliberate:

[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Thrallspawn Luric.]

[You have slain a Dormant Beast, Marrowhound Vaeth.]

Bari read them again. Slowly. The more he turned the names over, the heavier they felt. These weren't random titles spat out by the Spell. There was structure in them — meaning. "Thrall" wasn't just a fancy word; it meant servitude, subjugation. Someone's pawn. And "Marrowhound"… well, that was even clearer. Hounds were trackers. Hunters. They didn't roam alone.

He crouched beside one of the bodies, not daring to touch it, but studying the twisted joints and unnatural musculature. These things hadn't been aimless. The jerky, searching movements he'd seen earlier weren't just erratic — they were scanning. Listening. Hunting.

Bari rose, his fingers drumming on the hilt of his blade. If they were pawns and hunters… then someone was moving the pieces. And if someone had sent them, then these two were only the edges of the shadow. The real darkness was still out there — waiting, watching.

A faint gust whispered through the broken walls, lifting the fine dust around his boots. The wind carried the last warmth of the day, but the light itself was fading fast. The sun was sinking, spilling long shadows over the ruins, the orange glow turning into something murkier, more uncertain.

Bari looked toward the horizon, the jagged silhouette of the mountain cutting into the sky. That dying light, once golden, now seemed colder, sharper, almost metallic. The ruins no longer felt like the remains of something dead, but the lair of something alive.

"Scouts," he murmured, his voice almost lost to the wind. "Which means the real hunt hasn't even started."

The thought settled into him like a stone in deep water. From here on, he'd have to watch his back twice over — once for the ones lurking in the shadows, and another for the wind that might carry the rest.