Lord Of The Lost

After the Nightmare Falls

William stood firm, gripping the Glorious Lantern in one hand and the Whirlwind Axe in the other.

With a single clean motion, he severed the Nightmare's head, watching it spiral through the air before vanishing into a cloud of black smoke.

At the same time, the last of the spiritual oil in the lantern was consumed, its golden light flickering before fading.

Silence fell over the ruins.

The battle was over.

---

William immediately turned to Sophia.

The little witch lay unconscious, her body limp and fragile.

Her sternum was shattered, and her internal organs ruptured.

A normal person would have been long dead.

But extraordinary beings defied the limits of mortality.

Still—her small face was scrunched up in pain, a stark contrast to the proud and fiery girl she had always been.

William knelt beside her, pinched her lips open, and poured an entire bottle of energy potion down her throat.

Her lips trembled, and she muttered softly, as if trapped in a dream.

"Grandma... Grandma... Little Bob..."

William's eyes flickered.

For the first time, he saw not a witch, not a warrior, but a child.

A child who had lost everything.

He remembered the full moon night—how she had cried, small and helpless, before wiping away her tears and standing strong again.

She never showed weakness.

Never asked for pity.

But now, unconscious, her defenses were down.

And in this vulnerable state—she called for the ones she lost, like a cub crying for its mother.

William sighed quietly.

He reached out and pulled her into his arms.

As if sensing warmth, her furrowed brow softened slightly.

He held her there, saying nothing.

Just staying.

For a long, silent moment.

The fight against Nightmare had been fast, brutal, and completely unexpected.

There had been no time to think—only to react.

The battle lasted mere minutes, yet every second had been a knife's edge.

If he had hesitated for even a fraction of a second—

The entire team would have been wiped out.

The maze was merciless.

It did not warn before striking.

There was no second chance.

And this—

This was normal.

---

> [You have slain the Nightmare.]

[Your talent, Killing to Prove Your Truth, has activated.]

[Physical Attribute +0.01]

[Mental Attribute +0.8]

[Energy Attribute +0.4]

A surge of growth rushed through William's body.

And then—

> [Your talent has absorbed the power of the Nightmare.]

[New skill acquired—Dreaming.]

Dreaming: You have control over your dreams and can freely weave your own dream world.

But then—

> [Your talent has absorbed the complete extraordinary characteristics of Nightmare.]

[Nightmare's Mark: The defining trait of a Sequence 8 Nightmare.]

Those who bear this trait are fated to become a Nightmare—creatures that spread fear in the dark and haunt the dreams of all living things.

William's hands clenched.

This—

This was no ordinary trait.

It wasn't just an ability.

It was a path.

If he embraced it, he would become something else.

A creature of the night, lurking in the shadows of fear.

A being that thrives on nightmares.

He let out a slow exhale.

Not yet.

William pulled up his current stats.

> [ID: Breeze Blowing Over the Hills]

[Level: 15]

[Physical Attribute: 23.1]

[Mental Attribute: 18.2]

[Energy Attribute: 17.2]

From the start of the maze until now—

+2.1 to Physical Strength → Mostly from fighting Deformed Giants.

+2.3 to Mental Power → The largest growth, even surpassing his physical gains.

+0.9 to Energy → The slowest increase, mostly from absorbing Nightmare's essence.

The higher his stats climbed, the harder they were to improve.

This was why Sequence 8 transcendents were so rare.

It was not about talent alone.

It was about the sheer difficulty of advancing.

Most beings never made it past this point.

The Nightmare was dead.

The ruins were quiet.

For now, they had a chance to breathe.

William looked down at Sophia, still unconscious in his arms.

Then at Alex, slumped against the ruins.

Then at the others, slowly recovering from their nightmares.

They had survived.

But next time?

He exhaled, looking up at the maze's endless darkness.

There would always be a next time.

A Costly Victory

Alex was dead.

Nightmare's abilities had been overwhelming, weaving dreams that instantly incapacitated three of their allies.

Only William and Sophia had remained standing.

And Alex.

His instincts as an assassin, his iron will, and his innate vigilance had allowed him to resist the Nightmare's pull, escaping by sheer [Miracle].

But it hadn't been because he was stronger than the others.

It was because Nightmare had ignored him, its focus locked onto William and Sophia, who had posed the greater threat.

Had it turned its power on him a second time, Alex would have collapsed instantly.

Instead, he had hidden himself and waited.

When the moment came, when Nightmare tried to flee, Alex struck.

It was a small interruption, but just enough to stall the creature for a moment.

That moment had allowed William to finish the kill.

Yet, the price had been his life.

Nightmare's counterattack had been too strong.

For a Sequence 8 being, its raw physical power wasn't impressive—but to an assassin who had just stepped into Sequence 9, it was a death sentence.

Alex had been blown away, crashing into the ruins.

Unlike Sophia, whose constitution was far sturdier, Alex hadn't survived the impact.

He died in his sleep, fading into white light.

The gambler quietly collected his equipment.

---

Aftermath

The fight had taken a serious toll on the team.

The three who had been trapped in nightmares were left mentally drained, their strength sapped away.

The gambler, in particular, had suffered the worst.

Lacking mental resistance, he had collapsed instantly, unable to contribute in the battle.

Nightmare's abilities had been too strange, too unpredictable.

Even William had struggled at first, needing two failed charges before finding a way to counter the nightmare's ability to shift between reality and illusion.

As the group rested, William felt a slight movement in his arms.

Sophia stirred.

She blinked her ruby-red eyes, still dull from exhaustion.

For a moment, she simply stared at William's face.

Then, realization struck.

And she punched him.

BANG!

William reeled back, his right eye swelling visibly.

"Why are you holding me?!" she snapped.

William, rubbing his eye, sighed. "Are you okay?"

This damn girl.

Always saying one thing but doing another.

Sophia tilted her head, crossing her arms. "Hmph. What could possibly happen to me?"

William stared at her pale face, the slight unsteadiness in her posture.

He didn't believe her for a second.

Suddenly, Sophia's expression shifted.

Ignoring her pain, she walked straight to Nightmare's corpse.

The headless creature lay still in a pool of thick, black blood; a dark, unnatural color, like the night itself had melted into liquid.

Without hesitation, she knelt and began collecting it.

William raised a brow. "What do you need Nightmare's blood for?"

"It's useful."

William frowned but didn't question her. He extended the Hand of Darkness, helping her gather the blood more efficiently.

Nightmare's blood was a powerful supernatural material.

It could be used to craft sleep-inducing potions.

It was a core ingredient in curses and dark rituals.

Even a single drop could cause endless nightmares for ordinary people.

Together, they collected nearly ten kilograms of the black liquid.

Then, Sophia did something strange.

She took her red hat off and submerged it in the blood.

The deep crimson fabric was instantly swallowed by the darkness.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, tiny lights began to appear within the blood, like stars shining in a black sky.

All of them flowed into the hat.

The hat absorbed all of the Nightmare's essence, drinking in its power.

A second later—

The hat turned red again, as if nothing had happened.

William narrowed his eyes.

"That hat… it's special, isn't it?"

Sophia hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Then, she shrugged. "Maybe."

William wasn't convinced.

He remembered what the Elite Werewolf Roca had once told him—

That the hat had been given to Sophia by Iris to suppress her werewolf bloodline.

But now, William wasn't so sure.

Because the witches had prepared this hat before Sophia was even born.

William suspected that Sophia's resistance to Nightmare's power had something to do with her hat.

She stroked the bonnet absentmindedly, her voice soft.

"Grandma said it's important to me... but I don't really know why."

William didn't press further.

Sophia was stubborn. Asking more wouldn't get an answer, and he had a feeling that Iris' influence had made her someone who refuses to show weakness.

Did she need comforting or just space? He wasn't sure.

"I'm logging off soon," he told her. "Stay here. Rest. Take care of your injuries and wait for me to come back."

Sophia scowled. "Ugh, so annoying! You're always nagging!"

Her plan was already to stay put, but the moment William said it out loud, she suddenly didn't want to anymore.

Somehow, just because he said it, it made her uncomfortable.

William sighed. Why are kids like this?

He didn't argue, just left her with a few extra potions before heading out.