Night.
The room fell silent. Only breathing. Only a pulse. The tattoo on her back glowed with a faint light, as if someone was stroking it from the inside.
Kalen went out again. He ran in the shadow of the Academy. From tower to tower. Fifteen kilometers. Then he picked up a stone that weighed like three students. Then he did push-ups. Then he ran again.
He didn't stop. Because the next time the nightmare comes back, he won't be weak. He won't be the one who stays silent and endures. He'll break the jaws of whoever puts another monster in his mouth.
At night, when he fell asleep, sleep came again.
Forest.
Rotten, dark, and stinking like a corpse pit. Ward walked beside him, and Kalen held his sword. Goblins. Dozens. Hundreds. Their eyes burned yellow.
But now-he was different.
He leaped forward, and the sword crashed into the skull. One. Two. Four. Ward followed, cutting through them like a knife through butter.
And yet... With each swing, Kalen felt someone watching him. Deeper in the forest. Deeper in the night.
He won't back down.
I don't care who's watching. I don't care who's in control.
Kalen walked through the rot-covered ground. Branches crunched under his feet, and patches of mold slithered along the ground. The air was damp, as if everything around him was breathing down his neck. Even Ward, whose massive figure usually brought a sense of comfort, moved with caution.
"What kind of place is this..." Kallen breathed out. His voice always sounded quieter in this dream, as if he knew he shouldn't be here.
The forest, which was once teeming with goblin hordes, has become empty.
But silence is not a relief. It is the silence before a scream.
They came to a clearing. And in the center, a huge tree, all black, covered with red symbols. The branches are twisted like claws, the roots sticking out of the ground, as if they were tearing something alive.
Kallen took a step and realized that he was stepping into a liquid. Not water. Not mud. Something sticky and hot.
Blood.
"Ward," he said hoarsely, gripping the hilt of his sword.
The Shadow Knight did not respond, but stepped closer, his sword at the ready.
And then the tree opened its eyes.
Huge, bright red. One by one, all over the trunk, like hundreds of mouths ready to eat. Hands emerged from the bark, thin, gray, and clawed. Dozens, hundreds. They reached out and began to laugh.
Female laughter. Male laughter. Children's laughter. All at once. All fake.
"Welcome, Kalen," a voice said inside his head. "Again. And again. And again."
He lunged forward and slashed one of the arms with his sword. Blood spattered, but a new arm appeared in the air. They didn't stop. There were too many of them.
— You're not getting out.
"You're just meat.
— You're just a boy.
"You're what we want to see."
The voices sounded like a song. A rhythmic one, with a chorus.
Kalen shouted as he thrust the blade into the root.
And then the tree smiled.
And his hand began to rot. Right before his eyes, the skin shrank, the nails turned black, and the muscles ached as if someone were squeezing them from the inside.
He fell to one knee. The pain was like hot oil.
"Break down.
— Kneel down."
But Kallen stood up. With clenched teeth and ragged breathing.
"Fuck you," he whispered, striking with his sword again and again. Even with one hand. Even in tears.
And then:
BANG!
A black lightning bolt struck the tree from above. And it squealed. The hands recoiled. The eyes went out.
"What the..." Kalen recoiled.
A dragon appeared from the darkness behind him, above his shoulder. It was semi-transparent, and its face was filled with shadows.
"Hm," he chuckled. "You've survived again."
"You don't even ask for mercy."
— You're getting stronger. Interesting.
Kalen was breathing heavily. His arm was hurting. The forest was shaking. Ward was standing nearby, slightly battered but silent.
"I... I won't give up."
"I can see that. That's why I don't kill them," the dragon chuckled. "Most of them break. Those who manage to revive the tattoo are almost always dead within a week."
He approached, looking directly into Kalen's eyes.
"But you... you're strange. You're not human. Or... not quite human."
Kalen said nothing.
"It's going to get worse," the dragon warned. "Think about it."
And he disappeared. And so did the nightmare.
He woke up.
He sat down, covered in sweat. It was past midnight. Ward stood in the corner, motionless.
Kallen looked at his hand — everything was in place. Nothing was rotting. But his pulse was racing under his skin.
He got up and left the room. And again, to the Academy at night.
Jogging.
Then the sword.
Then the weight.
Because he knew that tomorrow would bring another dream.