System Reset: Forged in Nightmare

Integration 2nd Year
New York, Earth
13 Years, 7 Months Before System Reset

When the System Apocalypse began, gradual terraformation reshaped Earth's geography in monumental ways. Continents shifted, landmasses once separated by water were drawn together. Flora and fauna alien to Earth's ecosystem thrived where once sat barren deserts, and entire mountain ranges emerged where none had existed before. Off the coast of New York, one such range had risen from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Though the sun still rose in the east and set in the west, the mountains' titanic presence cast the city—and the small party of five gathered on its harbor that morning—in shadow for just a few minutes longer.

"Are we certain this is a good idea?" Dalton asked. His neatly combed hair and polished glasses reflected the display before him. He narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "His level's adequate, and I can't deny the usefulness of his specialty either. But these rumors? They're a little…"

"Ominous?" Jory suggested.

"Yeah, that." Dalton adjusted his glasses. "When you're the only survivor from your party, that's simply the devil's luck. When it happens so often that people call you cursed… that's something else."

"The Adventurers' Administration already launched an investigation. They found nothing nefarious—supposedly," Alice said.

Dalton's frown deepened. "Even if that's what they said, we can't take their words for—"

"I know," she interrupted. "But we need to set sail before they put the harbor on lockdown. We're already down a member, and we'll be stuck over there without equipment support for months. Even if we could find an enchanter with a fast enough turnaround, hiring one now would practically announce our intentions to the Guilds!" She sighed in exasperation. "We just don't have many other options, Dalton. And besides, he comes recommended."

"On who's word?"

"Jordan's."

Dalton mulled this over, his frown turning perplexed. He and the rest of the party turned to the blond man yawning drowsily behind them.

"Hm?" Eric blinked, caught off guard by their attention. "Well, he's almost here, eh? Let's reserve judgment until we see the man in person." He turned to the hooded woman beside him. "And, of course, the final decision's yours. If you think it's a no-go, we're not going."

The woman said nothing but nodded in acknowledgment.

Slowly, the sun began to eclipse the mountain's heights, bathing the harbor in a soft morning glow. As workers stirred into action, the party ducked into the shadows of what was still largely considered Brooklyn and watched as a lone man approached from down the road.

He was young—hardly older than his early twenties—with shaggy auburn hair and a belt weighed down by a small arsenal of swords. He walked with a lazy saunter, head slumped, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. But something in his demeanor warned everyone gathered that this couldn't be further from the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the ground the whole time, only lifting when he stepped up to greet them. Dark rings of exhaustion underlined his hazel-green eyes, their murky depths distant and detached as if everything they saw held little importance.

They were the eyes of someone who didn't think twice about killing.

"Alex," he said as an introduction.

Eric let out a low whistle, then turned to the woman beside him. "Well, Priestess?"

The woman threw back her hood, revealing twin braids of jet-black hair. Her bangs were adorned with sacred artifacts of her deities. She fixed the young man with an intense stare.

For the first time, his eyes sharpened, drawn to the embroidered emblem of her priesthood.

Unfazed, she held his gaze. Whatever she saw there brought a kind smile to her lips.

"Yes. He'll do nicely," Laura said.

* * *

Integration 2nd Year
Nightmare, Misting Valleys, Path of Blind Creed
1 Week after System Reset

"By any chance… have you guys heard rumors about the wandering blacksmith?"

Unsurprisingly, Eric's party had yet to hear the rumors he'd spoken of. But when Alex saw the look in their eyes, he'd raised his whisper-hand to his mouth and glanced askance as though wary of listeners.

"A blacksmith wanders these mists," Alex continued. "He goes from path to path, selling his wares. It's the weapon that makes the man, and the weapons he makes… they say they make men into legends…"

Eric had leaned so far forward he'd almost burnt his chin on the campfire flames. "And these rumors…?"

"Oh, they're not just rumors. I've met him."

Eric gasped. "So he's the one that forged your…"

"Nychta—my named blade, yes."

"Named blade…"

Alex's smile spread. "The Wandering Blacksmith appears where you least expect to find him. He wears tattered clothing beneath a hooded cowl. A mask conceals his face and swords dangle from his ears—but those aren't mere show pieces. Each could split a mountain in the right hands, and they say he's still searching for their proper wielders. I gave him the core of the Scenario Boss I killed, and free of charge, he forged a blade fated to slay dragons…"

One look at Eric's expression, and Alex knew the tale of The Wandering Blacksmith would spread like wildfire. It had only helped matters that he'd noticed Fiona still using trait-less daggers. It'd reminded him of the dagger he'd forged from the undead captains' bones and cores before the Third Scenario.

All this had happened an hour ago, but Alex fondly remembered thinking 'I've hooked another' as he handed it to Fiona for examination.

Bone Dagger (uncommon)

Trait: Durability

Forged with the ground up bones of countless undead, this dagger is nearly unbreakable.

"He even forged this?!" She'd exclaimed.

Alex smugly flicked his nose in response, "Oh, this was only a throwaway piece, according to him. He'd forged it out of boredom while waiting for the second scenario to end so he could skip town. Said it was an eyesore, then threw it in with the deal we struck—and I hadn't even asked for it! I'm… fond of it, but I think it suits you better, Fiona.

"Though, of course… it's not for free."

From that point on, Alex's negotiations with the team had gone smoothly. They'd come into conflict with many more groups than he had—out of simple necessity. But their misfortune had been to Alex's gain when they pulled out an assortment of items to bargain with: gear they had no use for, quests that had transferred over to them after they'd killed their previous holders, cores from monsters they'd killed.

But Alex wasn't out to rob them and they hadn't much quality armor to spare. Ultimately, he'd accepted a trade for a handful of quests not far from his path, an assortment of cores and material, campfire wood, and a pair of steel vambraces. If they'd known just how much a losing trade for Alex this was, they probably would've tried to chip in even more. A dagger that wouldn't break was a bigger deal than it sounded; he didn't have the material for another. It wasn't a smart trade.

Yet, recalling Fiona's expression when she'd received it offset all of that.

"Holy shit! It really doesn't break!"

"By golly…" Eric had whispered.

"Really, Fiona? You get your hands on some legendary guy's dagger and the first thing you do is smash it against a rock?" Dalton shook his head. "This is why you can't have nice things."

"Shut it, Dalton! I'm just checking we didn't get swindled!"

"It's a little late to check for that after we closed the deal," Alice stated.

A strained grunt had echoed throughout the night, summoning Jory's wisdom. "Eric… please set the boulder down. Nearly unbreakable… is not the same as unbreakable."

Alex chuckled to himself, recalling the scene. Then he looked up, a little embarrassed at his laughter. But no one had noticed. He looked at Fiona's sleeping form. He didn't hold out hope, but sometimes, small changes could have unpredictable effects, and maybe this was one of those times. She, Jory, and Dalton were fast asleep now, the festivities having long since died out.

A light breeze swept through the campsite, carrying the distant screeches of wraiths in its winds. In the far distance, an orange plume of smoke trailed up ahead. Alice and Eric tensed at the noise. Even Alex shivered a little. Then Eric continued stoking the fire with enough wood to last through their night. Alice looked up from the book she was reading and shot Alex a knowing look.

I know, I know. I've overstayed my welcome.

He smiled ruefully. These people weren't adventurers yet—just survivors. And, friendly or not, Nightmare wasn't the kind of place where you let a stranger watch over you while you slept. He'd been… vaguely aware of that. But he'd pushed his luck anyway. Not only was it inconsiderate, but Gloomy was also out there increasing their distance every moment… yet it had just been far too comfortable to rest here and enjoy their company.

He heaved himself to his feet. "Thank you for the respite. I haven't enjoyed myself that much in a long time. But I should get going."

He spoke in hushed tones, giving a nod of thanks. Then Eric got up as well. "Alex, I have something I want to talk about."

He motioned with his thumb, signaling that this was a private conversation. Alice gave Alex a wary look of warning as he followed Eric from the camp. They walked through a handful of bushes, passing a few trees before Alex asked what was up.

"That can wait," Eric said. "I wanna get far enough my voice doesn't carry over. I'm the type that can't control their volume all that great."

Alex nodded.

Then Eric sighed like a schoolgirl swooning over their first crush and his next words made Alex rethink his actions. "Ahh… I really hope to meet him some day. The Wandering Blacksmith…"

Alex nearly stumbled. "Uh… yeah. He's a cool dude."

Shoot, he thought. Shooot… maybe I embellished the story too much…

But then he recalled what befell the moniker in his first life and shuddered.

"Look guys! It's him—hah! The Wandering Smith!"

"Where you wandering to, Smith?!"

"Hey Alex, we're just wondering if you'd… 'Smith' us a good sword! Haha…"

No, Alex decided the embellishment was more than justified. His alter ego would just have to endure Eric's one-sided crush, if that's what it took to prevent his fate from playing out.

He shuddered again, then trained his eyes on the man's back as they ducked under some branches. If Alex hadn't known Eric as well as he did, he might've been suspicious of how far he was going to isolate them. Instead, when they came to a stop a moment later, he was only curious.

"I wasn't gonna bring this up in front of the others," Eric said. "But there's more to this scenario than meets the eye."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this."

Eric waved his hand through the air, interacting with his system. An image popped up on Alex's display. It was a map with a single snaking trail that wove through the mountains. Any other landmarks were grayed out, and where the trail ended, a blinking red indicator marked Eric himself.

"This is your path," Alex stated.

"Yep, that it is…"

"So why are you showing me this?"

Eric's lips tightened and he swiped, dismissing the display. "You wouldn't know this, Alex, since you haven't taken a life yet. But when you kill someone… it's not just their quests that transfer over. Their path does too."

Ah… I see. Alex restrained a grimace. He had a good idea of where this was headed, so he stayed silent and let Eric continue at his own pace.

"Mind you, we didn't think much of it either at first. But the same guy we stole a lot of those quests we gave you from… He also had these."

When Eric swiped his hand this time, a dozen other pathways appeared on Alex's screen.

"They might seem inconsequential on their own, but layer them over one another. See what happens."

Alex knew what would happen and did as he was instructed. The lines of the pathways formed a larger, incomplete map. But what caught his attention wasn't that. It was the fact that there was a replica of Eric's own map in the pile, only its indicator was no longer blinking.

"And this one belongs to…?"

Eric winced. "It's Sarah's. That's why I wanted to talk to ya out here, not at camp. It was just the other day, and when I mention it in front of Fiona or Dalton, they…" Eric trailed off, then swiped the display away. "Anyway, me showing you these maps isn't some sorta tip-off. You don't seem like the kinda guy to engage in this sickening game. And I wanted to warn you. The day she… the day that we were attacked, we weren't out chasing supply drops. We were on our own path when the System suddenly gave us a warning. 'An Intruder has entered your path.' Then: 'You've been targeted in a kill-quest.'"

Eric's expression grew serious, and he gripped Alex's shoulder with the tightness of a man still getting used to his strength stat. "If you get that notification, take caution, okay? I reckon you're the last person I need to tell this to, but it's not just us normal folk in here."

Alex nodded, "I know."

Eric patted his shoulder and withdrew his arm. He stood there, pain clear in his expression, and Alex was lost for what to say. Thank you for the warning? Sorry for your loss? No… something darker simmered in his consciousness and when he opened his mouth, what came out wasn't so decent.

"What makes you so sure?" he said.

"Huh?"

"What makes you so sure I won't use this information for my gain? I could kill you right now and take these paths for myself." Alex glared at Eric, then caught himself and pinched his eyes shut. "Sorry. That came out wrong. What I meant was…"

Wait… what exactly had he meant by that? Obviously, he wasn't going to do that. It was true---Eric was too trusting. He shouldn't be letting his guard down around Alex like this, but… What am I even…

Alex sighed. "Apologies for my outburst. I take back my words. They were childish."

Eric stared at him, wide-eyed, in alarm—before the façade cracked. He doubled over laughing. "'Outburst', you say! Childish! Haha." He wiped a tear from his eye. "Geez Alex, I've seen people break down and do all kinds of awful things since I got here. That was nothing. Come on, why don't you sit." Eric plopped down on the dirt and gestured to the space in front of him.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed and foolish, Alex sat as well.

"Hey, Alex. You have a family, right?"

Alex blinked. It was just like Eric to break common convention like this.

"I had my sister," he eventually answered.

"Had? Oh… I'm sorry. So I s'pose she passed away before all this started then?"

"I… no, I didn't mean it like that."

"Then she's alive," Eric said.

"How can—"

Alex had been about to question his reasoning, but when he looked into Eric's eyes, there was such certainty there that he couldn't bring himself to argue.

"Oh, I'm sure, Alex. You see, I've got my own family. Little Joe, Big Joe, my mom, my pa, my grandparents, and I love every one of them to death. Hell, I'm only still out here fighting for my life 'cause I know they're back home doing the same. And I betcha they'll make it through too. So, the reason I'm not going around killing people left and right? It's 'cause when I get back, I'm gonna have to face them all as the person I've become. My family gives me the strength to keep going. Gives me the strength I need to keep my integrity, to keep me human in a place like this."

Alex stayed silent, listening intently.

Eric scratched his chin. "Welp, I must be yapping too much. Sorry, you're a quiet one, so it's a bit hard to tell. That a'ight?"

"No, you're good," Alex said. Given what had happened to Eric's family, he just hadn't known what to say. "Please continue."

"Oh, that was pretty much it. What gives you your strength Alex?"

Alex considered the question. He furrowed his brows. Passion? No, revenge. Yes, that was closer, but something still felt a little off. Regardless, it wasn't like he could tell Eric that anyway.

"Regret," he said.

"Oh?" Eric tilted his head awkwardly. "Heh, that's unexpected. Thought you were gonna say family too."

Alex winced. "Well, that's part of it. But again, what makes you so certain I'm that kind of person?"

Eric gave a sheepish, sly smile. "That's the second time you've asked that, Alex. I don't know why my opinion matters so much to you, but you were wondering why I trusted you with all that information, right? Simple. It's 'cause you didn't kill Fiona when you coulda'."

"That's it? It would've been disadvantageous to kill her there. You had me surrounded."

"Fair, fair. But when a human bullet comes flying at you, it's not intelligence that stops a man from killing. It's restraint. You have a sister to see. And when you do, you gotta meet her as you are. Figured we were peas in a pod, you and me." Eric scratched his head. "But then again, you're a lot more intelligent than me, so that logic doesn't hold up. Maybe I shouldn't have trusted you, but you know what else? For some reason, I just do."

Ah, right. This was the Eric that Alex remembered. Talking to him was like talking to a brick wall.

"And dare I ask why you trust me now?"

"Hah! That's easy. Now it's because you didn't kill me when you had the chance. Each second you don't, my trust in you deepens!"

Alex let out an exasperated snort. Then he peered into Eric's eyes, a menacing grin crossing his lips. "It's flattering that you think me so capable."

Eric smirked. "Or maybe you just undervalue yourself."

Alex contemplated the validity of that statement and found it to be bullshit. Given how close the supply drop had been to Alex's path, by all rights he should've been in and out before anyone caught wind of him. And yet, he'd met Eric. It had only been days since the man had awakened, yet Alex could tell he'd be troublesome to face even now. They didn't call him Eric Featherfoot for nothing. In a close fight, there was no one out there faster.

But the man in question stretched his limbs and yawned, oblivious to what it meant to be called a Nightmare.

"Tired?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, don't you know it. These night-day cycles, they're really messing with my sleep."

Alex could empathize with that. "I should really get going."

Eric held his hand out for Alex to shake. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other soon. Stay strong, brother."

"You as well, Eric. And… I'm sorry about what happened to Sarah. You have my condolences."

Eric flashed a sad smile before turning and heading back the way they'd come. His figure disappeared into darkness. Then it was quiet. There was no noise, no antics. All the words they'd spoken that night, and the laughter they'd shared, echoed in his head. It was as though the fire had died out and he was left alone to watch the embers.

He put his hand to his heart, feeling the beats pounding in his chest.

Eric, I bet when you think of your family, your heart clenches with worry. Despite what the man had said, Alex knew it had to be true. But when I think of mine…

His heart ached, yet its beat didn't change. It remained steady. Eric said Alyssa was alive, but Alex just couldn't imagine it. Objectively, it didn't even matter. He was here in Nightmare. Alyssa was back on Earth. There was nothing he could do for her. And if there once had been… then it was too late.

As the Lost Souls had said, he could've made it down to California by now; protected her, if she was alive. Even after Nightmare, he could've accepted Auriga's offer. Neither option would have allowed him to rectify much else, but he'd have his sister. Wouldn't that have been enough?

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But he closed his eyes and saw Laura's smile. He saw her death. The deaths of countless others flashed through his mind, but her's stood out. Laura. And Anne, The Red Mistress, the vampire who'd killed her.

No, with just Alyssa… it could never have been enough. Besides… he was practically a stranger to her now. He'd last seen her when she was graduating middle school. He'd since waged wars and done unspeakable things to survive.

Would she even recognize me?

A sharp pang struck his chest at the thought. He exhaled in quiet relief. In any case, there was no point in worrying about things he couldn't change. If Alyssa wasn't dead, he would face her when the time came—and protect her properly this time. But it was too late to pretend he was the same person. His needs were different now. All he could promise was that he'd get his business done and over with before he saw her again. And if she was dead…

No, Alyssa was a smart child, she was out there waiting for him.

She's alive, Alex repeated. She's alive. Eric was right. He had to have faith in her.

"And Eric's faamily… is…"

The Lost Souls didn't need to finish the thought for it to have its effect. Alex's affirmations suddenly fell very flat. Well, if she was dead, life… wouldn't be much different from the reality he'd been living until now. Alyssa was smart, driven, but… still a child. It was better not to hold out hope. Alex let out a shaky breath, his body finally relaxing.

Everything aside, this night had oddly refreshed his resolve. He turned toward the swirling mists of lost souls. As he activated Stealth, the darkness swallowed him whole. He didn't return to his path. It had become abundantly clear that he wouldn't catch up to Gloomy by following it. So he'd been left with no choice but to carve out his own in the mists.

"You think… it will be enoough…?" the lost souls hissed.

"Gloomy's… looong gone by now…"

"You should've known there'd be… no oraange juiceee…"

As though sensing his intent, the voices bombarded Alex's mind all at once. He knew the night ahead would be utterly miserable and he couldn't afford to carry any unnecessary baggage. Clasping his hands in an old, meaningless gesture, he offered one last prayer for his sister, despite knowing the God he worshipped in Sunday church didn't exist. When he was done, he buried her ghost deep within his mind and stepped into the mists.

"Who knowsss… maaybe you'll get… to witnesss her death this timee…"

* * *

177:56:12

At first, it hadn't been so bad. The Losts Souls whispered, as they wont to do, and Alex ignored them easily enough… at first. But it was a cold night and the warmth he'd felt at Eric's campfire only faded with time. By the time it had gone completely… that's when the voices started getting to him.

He continued regardless, after Gloomy. His steps were heavy, but made little noise since he was cloaked with Stealth. His breath plumed, yet it was so misty it couldn't even be noticed. He had a distinct memory from his childhood, of being driven by his dad—his real dad—to midnight mass, and them having to open their car doors because the mists were so thick they couldn't see the road clearly. That night, the world was all one phantasmic ocean, swallowing them from every direction.

"Come…let… Abysssss…"

Alex shook his head. This… was like that night from his memory, but here Alex could at least see the stars. They were brighter on Integrated worlds. He could also see the moon, glowing dimly through the mists. He knew where North was, and knew West, South, and East, and no matter what the Lost Souls had to say about it, that made all the difference. When he'd once lost himself in these mists, these were things he had no way of knowing.

"It will nottt… matt–"

Alex took a step, then his dangersense spiked. He crouched beneath a bush. Something heavy and terrifying stomped by, sniffing around for his Stealth-hidden scent.

Proficiency with Stealth has been raised.

Progress towards Rank Expert: 23%

He let out a breath as it passed. He didn't know why, but the undead found people more easily the longer they stayed in the mists. Only an hour, and there'd be no noticeable change. But after two or three hours, that's when you started hearing howls in the not-far distance. It'd been five hours since Alex entered the mists, and now, monsters he'd die facing against crossed his path on a regular basis.

"You'll never… essscape…" The Lost Souls whispered.

Alex grimaced and set off at a brisk pace. They had wormed deep inside his brain, and their voices pulsed in his temple with an incessant whirr. Such things were reasons why this had been his last resort. Because even with a better sense for navigation, this deranged shortcut he was taking wasn't an exact science.

The paths didn't follow the most direct route to the city, they twisted and wound through the mountains, existing only to bring travelers closer together. There were innumerable paths, branching from all the Starter locations in Misting Valleys, and the farther one traveled them, the nearer the other paths grew until they eventually intertwined en route to the city.

Ironically, though, this twisted logic behind the paths' existence mitigated the risk of navigating without them. Their routes were highly inefficient but they all led vaguely in the direction of the city—North-west from Alex's Starter town. So he headed in the same direction, and like clock-work, every couple hours, he'd spot a trail of colored smoke on the horizon. It didn't appear on a perfect timer but…

Eventually, Alex thought. Inevitably, it will appear.

If there was one constant in Nightmare, it was that it always did. He trudged on, looking to the stars' guiding light to find his way. Then his eyes found the Seven Sisters—Laura's Constellation—and all of a sudden her voice echoed in his mind.

"...Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow shade,

Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid."

She'd often recited poetry and her sermons had a lilting cadence to them that lifted even the hearts of non-believers. Hearing her voice so clearly took Alex out of it for a second. Then the Lost Souls chipped in with their own dark truths. He scrunched his eyes, drinking water. As he looked to the sky for signs of smoke, that 'eventually' couldn't come soon enough.

This once, the gods listened to his plea.

He spotted an orange supply-drop perhaps five miles off from where he currently was. He'd seen an orange a few hours back, and ignored it, pushing forward, but now Alex made his way towards the beacon with haste. He got there late enough that he didn't need to worry about a fight. The fight had already happened. The wraiths had visited and passed through like a wayward breeze, and Alex was alone.

He pulled out his flashlight, draping it with cloth to blur its radiance. The scene was only a minor massacre—three bodies—typical for…

Well, none of this was typical. The third scenario was cruel even for the apocalypse's standards. He shone light on their corpses, holding it low and close to the ground, to see if they had any valuables. They were clearly mages, given the emblems on their cloaks. He crouched, checking their inventories. Then he got up when he realized, unsurprisingly, that they'd already been picked clean—aside from gambesons too bloodied and ruptured to make anything but clothes from.

Something growled in Alex's vicinity. He clicked off his flashlight and left.

The hard part was behind him now, and finding his way back became easier. Wherever there were supply drops, multiple paths crossed, and the number of corpses and degree of wreckage told him how many paths had converged at a junction. Traveling in the mists, he strayed much farther from these hot zones than he would've otherwise, but he only needed to be able to see them. It… wasn't a trick Alex had invented. Nor was he the only one who used it. But from there, all he had to do was travel laterally, stumbling from path to path, terrorizing people with invasion notifications until finally, he found his own.

He breathed a sigh of relief, undoing his stealth. The voices of Lost Souls immediately lost some of their luster. But they didn't leave his head. He checked for signs of Gloomy's passing. Sure enough, she had passed. So be it. He hadn't expected to catch up with her on the first go.

Once he confirmed that, he slumped down against a tree massaging the migraine out of his temple.

So five hours is my limit… we'll aim for three hours then…

He wolfed down the worst of his rations then went to dreadful sleep.

The Lost Souls steered him and he dreamt of Laura.

But this time they weren't in their sanctuary of flowers atop Thule's sheer cliffs. She didn't caress him, he didn't glimpse her smile. The distance between them felt cold and tangible. They sat in adjacent booths closed off by curtains. The veil of wooden mesh between them concealed all but the shapes of their bodies.

Alex was the one who broke the silence.

"Forgive me Sister, for I have sinned…"

* * *

189:13:21

Alex didn't like the thought of taking what he didn't need from others—much less killing them for it—but that hadn't been his only reason for avoiding supply drops. Afterall, killing wasn't a foregone conclusion. Sometimes you got lucky, and were in and out before anyone caught wise. Other times, you came across someone willing to share. In less noble ways, if Alex ever had dire need of supplies he might also attempt to peaceably bully others away from a drop. A good chunk of the sites he visited had no corpses, from those outcomes.

However, for each, there were two more that did, and that was for one simple reason: Supply drops weren't dropped randomly. Each and every was timed and strategically placed by Nightmare's Architects to incite conflict. Alex had lucked out with Eric's party, but the reminder of this had him ridiculing himself for being tempted by the drop's proximity of all things. The Architects knew exactly who traveled these paths: their stats, skills, traits, or in Eric's case—bloodline abilities. And to Alex, who knew the System wasn't infallible to corruption, that was the scariest thing about this scenario.

But even were he none the wiser, he'd still be wary. Eric's speed-boosting abilities allowed his party to take a pacifist's approach to supply drops. Yet even they had wracked up skull marks. Because there was one problem with that approach: Nobody in Nightmare was in their right mind.

Least of all me, he thought wearily.

As Alex went from supply drop to supply drop, the scenes of bloodshed began to blend in his memory. His memory began to blend with his past. He rested his hands above his head, breathing unevenly. His eyes drooped. His skin glistened with sweat. His nerves stood on end, and his Stealth seemed to tingle in his soul when active—an early symptom of skill exhaustion. Secure that there were no threats in the vicinity, he deactivated it, then looked at his surroundings.

It was another green supply drop. They were the most common variety, and it was a rarity that they didn't claim lives. But it was also a rarity that they claimed so many, which made this one stand out from others he'd visited.

Alex went from body to body, checking them. He found the occasional unlooted morsel, but that wasn't what he was checking for. It had occurred to him that Gloomy might die even before he even caught up to her. If that happened, he at least needed to know where so he could track down the new quest-holder.

He found a torso in a hoodie and rolled the corpse over. It wasn't Gloomy. But the boy appeared to be the same age, maybe younger. Sixteen was the cut-off for Nightmare, and he looked like he'd been brushing that minimum.

"If only Alysssa… had beeen… a liittle young..er…"

Alex closed the boy's eyes and moved on.

192:13:21

The last supply drop had come early enough that Alex decided to press onward. He'd been in the mists for four hours this cycle, and the Lost Souls were beginning to weigh on his mind again. Regardless, this next scene had fared a little better. There were five corpses, and the one that caught Alex's eyes: a gruff old-looking man. It appeared he wasn't a mage and the wraiths had come early enough that he'd been left only half-looted.

Alex had gotten to looting the other half when the utter one-sidedness of the death stood out to him.

Identify

Hasan Suparmanputra - Warrior

Status - Deceased

The man's level wasn't shown since it was higher than his own. Maybe 23, or 24. Alex was hardly equipped to judge, but Hasan here probably would've been better off staying at Level 15 for longer. He'd have been able to afford a better skill-path by now and may have been stronger, even if a little lower leveled.

But his story was a common one. It was why Nightmare didn't bother revealing its rankings until the fourth scenario—there'd be too many meaningless fluctuations. Alex had probably been eclipsed by some of these people over the past week, but he'd be more wary of a Level 16 or 17 Awakened with a rarer class.

Then Alex checked the man's inventory, and he revised his opinion.

Dire Wolf Core (common)

The Core of an Undead Dire Wolf, containing Death and Wind Aura.

No, the man had definitely done well for himself, despite the common class. Maybe he was even Level 27 or 28, if he'd defeated a Dire Wolf. Another talent wasted. Though, that was kind of the point. He'd found in records: Weaker worlds were given far less invitations to Nightmare than Earth had received.

Unfortunately, this too, wasn't an uncommon story. Not even the paths were fixed if the Architects willed it—only their destinations, and their length by the end of the Third Scenario. Hasan here had leveled up quickly, and architects had changed the course of his path because of it. He'd probably been in for a very rude awakening if he was traveling alone like it appeared.

Well, not that a guy with twenty skull marks is going to elicit much pity from me.

Alex finished looting the man and stood up, wobbly and light-headed. Levels were not as important as the Crucible of Sun quest, and there'd be more opportunity to make up the difference later in the Third Scenario. But it still wouldn't do to fall behind.

He took a nap. Then made more ground. The next supply drop had no corpses. The one after that had come both later than he'd expected and had plenty. He'd taken a short break to practice enchanting. Then finally, Alex tracked down that "beast in the mountains" his next chain in the missing caravan quest had mentioned.

Achievement Unlocked! [Highest Call]

You have completed three blue-grade quests!

+10,000 Essence Crystals

Congratulations, you have become a Purple-Grade Adventurer! You can now accept Purple-Grade Quests.

Now, several hours later, he waved the notification away, boiling himself a pot of ramen. The Lost Souls's voices had gotten so bad that their distractions in combat were becoming a real liability. He couldn't deny feeling urgency, but things would come to a head in the Fourth and Fifth Scenarios, not the Third. This was a marathon, not a race, no matter how much it felt like it. And no matter what the voices said.

Having slurped up his ramen, he wrapped himself in blankets and took an extended nap.

204:46:05

Alex awoke five hours later, less refreshed than he should feel, but refreshed still.

"At leassst… for now…" The Lost Souls whispered.

They'd been right. The feeling didn't last him long. They whispered in their foul, hateful language, and the more they spoke, the more Alex listened. He remembered seeing a black supply drop, eerily nearby. Proper armor, more weapons…

Before Alex knew it, he'd arrived, early this time. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword. Then he quickly shook himself out of his trance. There were two haggard, but large groups engaged in a face off. There were nine who appeared to be Mages—split to both sides of the conflict—the rest of their numbers were ordinary men and women, if he could even call them that anymore. The crate descended and both parties glared at each other, then at him when they noticed his presence.

The fact of the matter was, neither of these groups needed the weapons and armor from this drop to survive the Third Scenario. These people probably weren't qutie as far along their path's as Alex but their parties were large and if they'd come this far, they'd probably survive the Third Scenario just fine through basic supply drops—green, and orange. Yet they intended to kill each other here, and he understood why.

"Fuck off," One of them told him.

Alex nodded and did. He heard the screeches of wraiths before he got halfway down the mountain. The Lost Souls whispered he should go back up and kill whoever remained for their armor. He entertained the thought for a second too long and decided he needed even more sleep. Because he already had enough to survive, and armor would be nice, but he knew supply drops weren't where he'd find real power. Power would come without him having to lower himself to attain it. He could afford that now.

They couldn't. It was why they killed each other. Because they knew that if they didn't, they would die anyway. If not here, then later. If not by hunger, then by someone who understood their limits better than they did. Once you understand how Nightmare works, such things become painstakingly clear. It was why people invaded others' paths and killed without provocation. It was why the Hidden Scenario even existed. It was why it was far too late for Alex to pretend his hands were clean. Yet, like Eric guessed, he didn't want to engage in this sickening game again.

He entered his path, then just stood there, watching the clouds, listening to the last of the screeches of the wraiths dying out behind him. Bloodshed was a simple fact of life here. Memories resurfaced with each supply drop he visited—becoming harder to seperate from his new reality. He could try repressing the things he'd seen, to cram them into that locked box in his mind.

"What'sss… the point? You'll be seeing more… sssooon…"

Alex grunted. The Lost Souls were right. He'd just be making a bigger deal out of them than they were. Instead, he wished their souls well on their journey to whatever afterlife, and let the memories they sparked drift with the clouds above. He had nothing to do with any of them. Whoever they reminded him of, he had nothing to do with anymore either. They were out there being killed by someone else now; their fates no longer concerned him.

"You'vee… grown sssoft Alexxx…"

That… was also true. Getting all weak-kneed and traumatized from just this? It came to mind that his life on Dykriest might've been privileged. He was derisive of the thought, but a decade of peace was a decade of peace. God only knows how he'd fight the war at this rate.

"You should go baaack… and kill—"

Alright, that's enough.

He knew it was the smart thing to do. Even if it wasn't the power he wanted, maybe he wasn't as strong as he gave himself credit for. But… no, he'd be fine. He could handle whatever invader came across his path. In the end, what decided fights more than anything, was experience. And what he needed more than anything, was time.

He looked around for a place to—

Alex chuckled. He immediately found his resting spot, and luckily enough, he didn't even have to dig himself a pit. He'd immediately stumbled right upon one of Gloomy's campfires. It was strange how she'd managed to outpace him, but it was hardly the only thing that didn't add up about the girl. Still, when he pressed his hands to the charred wood, he felt reassured.

Still lukewarm. It wouldn't be long now.

Alex wrapped himself in his blanket, his mind returning to darker crevices. Sleep came. He did not dream well. Perhaps it was because he'd been so fixated on Anne lately, or perhaps it was since he'd just reunited with Eric's party, but these nights, the Lost Souls steered his dreams in only one direction.

He slept, and for a second it seemed Nightmare had been the dream. He awoke back on Earth, on the accursed Island of Corvo.

* * *

Leaves crunched beneath Alex's boots, his movements suddenly heavier than they had been moments before. A cramp seized his leg, making him stagger, and Stealth's effects unraveled like shreds of night dissolving into the air. His vision distorted, and he leaned against a tree, repressing a wave of nausea.

Unfortunately, the lost souls in the mists sensed his temporary weakness and seized the moment to close around him. He groaned as they wedged a crack in his psyche and slipped wordlessly deeper.

Before he knew it, Alex was no longer alone. He stood amidst a large raid team. A man he bore ill feelings toward stood at the head, giving his speech, but Alex's attention drifted to the faces around him. Familiar faces—though not as he'd just seen them.

"This gives me a bad feeling," Jory muttered.

His jaw was clean-shaven, his expression stern with doubt. From the distant look in his eyes, it was clear he wasn't staring at the Guildmaster but at the tunnel gates yawning open in the mountain behind him.

Eric grunted. "I'm with you there. This wasn't the plan, but now that it's come to this, we don't got a choice. We're going in with them."

His eyes darkened as he turned to Alex and whispered, "Alex, what's your dangersense telling y—"

A twig snapped.

Alex jerked from the vision, a violent shiver running through his body. He clung to the tree, forcing his ragged breathing to a stop. Seconds passed—agonizing seconds in which he had no access to Stealth. The skill was suffering under late-stage skill exhaustion and the moment stretched excruciatingly until whatever had triggered his trait finally moved on. The chill receded, and he immediately fetched a blue vial from his inventory. Uncorking it, he guzzled it down without pause.

Mana: 24%... 25%...

The pain in his chest didn't subside. His muscles remained cramped, and his mind foggy. His thoughts came sluggish and sparse—and when they came at all, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell which were his and which belonged to the mists.

But—

"Aren't they one… and the same, Aleeex…?"

But—it didn't matter. The potion had eased his mana exhaustion enough for him to shroud himself in the night once more. He pushed off the tree, his limbs clicking begrudgingly into place, whirring like a machine as he moved.

Parting bushes and thickets, dodging and weaving through trees—some of which seemed to reach for him with snaring roots—he sped through the mountainous forest. Up, down, around, he navigated by the faint traces of sun that peeked through the valley's dreadful mists—

"These mists are a problem," Alice warned.

Alex cursed and tried to push the memory away. To no avail.

"They're formed from the assassin's own blood," she continued. "And Galvan knows that! He knows the effects it could have, so how can he act so confident, marching us in through these conditions?"

"He only looks after his own, that's how," Dalton spat. He glared daggers at the back of the Guild Leader's head, wrinkling his nose at the crimson-hued mists. "No doubt they all have fortifications against this foul stuff. He doesn't care what happens to us."

"But Laura cares."

Alex was startled as all their eyes turned toward him.

It was jarring, like being pulled out of a dream. Until that moment, he had felt like a silent witness—but then his hand found Laura's, and everything felt right again.

Everything is as it should be.

She laced her fingers between his, sending warmth up his face as she smiled in gratitude.

"As Alex has already stated, the blood mists aren't anything incurable for a priestess of my station. You'll have nothing to worry about with me at your back," Laura assured.

* * *

Alex rubbed his eyes. He was so, so tired.

He'd taken his last stamina potion long ago, but potions weren't a substitute for real rest. The effects did little for his mind, and for his body it only allowed to ignore his creaking joints and pretend his body wasn't already past its limits. That mana vial had been his last, and even if it replenished his pool somewhat, the creeping threat of skill exhaustion had no remedy.

What was he even doing out here? How long had it been since he'd last found his path? Since his mind had last been his own?

Sixteen hours?

"Tweeentyyy…"

Seventeen?

"Twentyyy… siiix…"

Eighteen?

"Neverrr…"

A chorus of answers swelled in his mind. Alex's vision doubled as if he were in two places at once. His head throbbed, aching with an intensity it never had before. He shuddered, pulling up his timer function.

229:39:07

It didn't help him find his answer. It'd been twenty-two hours since he'd gone to sleep, but he could no longer recall when it was he'd woken and entered the mists. It was abnormal. Not once—not in his entire recollection of Nightmare—had he gone this long without hearing the shrieks of wraiths or the clash of metal. Yet he'd only seen one supply drop. It had been four hours in, and he knew he should've taken it as a queue to exit… But even just recalling it, Alex felt his blood boil.

It had a Green supply-drop, a large one with the crate completely untouched. And that might've been his fortune under any other circumstances, but what he saw there made even his stomach turn. They'd been made a mess of—a dozen men and women. Their innards had been spilt, their bodies mutilated, their blood sucked dry. They'd been visited by a Vampire.

Vampires didn't have any humanity left to protect. They'd forsaken it for power. Whatever caused Alex to be hounded by monsters the longer he stayed in the mists didn't affect them—they were half undead themselves. Yet Nightmare didn't discriminate on race, no matter how vile. They gave everyone a fair shot and there was only one zone that offered ample protection from the sun. If you were a Vampire, you were placed in the Misting Valleys.

And so, enraged, Alex had pressed forward for a final push, and a drop that never came. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt his circumstances couldn't be natural. But it no longer mattered. He was in desperate need of rest, and he'd continue until he found it.

"In other wordsss… you're lossst…."

I'm not lost, he scowled. I know where I'm heading.

"Ohh..? Then let us… shoow you what liesss… aheead…"

Alex clenched his eyes shut as another wave of dizziness crashed over him. He staggered, Stealth abandoning him, and poured every ounce of focus into silencing the voices. It wasn't as easy as it used to be. They no longer came from the outside. They had begun to leak from within like his sword's voice did. Only the slight burn of the lost souls activating his trait helped him distinguish reality from vision as his surroundings began to warp.

The mists thickened into damp darkness. The forest blurred into stone—long, endless hallways leading to draconian-style chambers. Roots and foliage twisted into corpses, their bodies strewn across the floor. Blood pooled at his feet. Alex pushed himself upright and stumbled forward. Then he noticed an echo of footsteps and looked back.

Laura cocked her head at him, innocently. She couldn't see what he saw—the bodies, the blood, the horror pooling around their ankles. That world of darkness, Anne's domain–

"Arrh…!"

Alex clutched his head. He knew where this vision led. They had shown it to him too many times. He no longer believed it for even a second. It didn't deceive him, but even so… he couldn't—

A sharp caw tore Alex from the illusion. He gasped as he lurched forward, vomit trailing from his lips. He hadn't moved. He was still where he had stopped. Dazed, he lifted his head and watched the crow take flight. Even the birds in Nightmare had hollowed eyes and mottled flesh, but for a second… this one seemed to bear a full coat of vibrant black feathers.

His vision was still woozy. He rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

The crow was gone and Alex no longer cared.

Because up the mountain he was traveling, just a few miles away, he spotted a trail of smoke curling into the sky. A supply drop. But not like any he'd seen.

Orange drops carried survival gear and hygienics. Green meant food and water. Black signified weapons, combat wear—anything to give you an edge against monsters.

Alex had only ever found Purple once.

Purple drops didn't carry mere weapons but artifacts. And the day Alex managed to stumble out of that hellscape with his head intact was the day he'd gained his first semblance of power in this world. It was the day he'd learned that the first taste only makes you yearn for more. He held no delusions—if he hadn't lucked out that day, his life would have ended fifteen years before its time.

But a Purple this far ahead? This… out in the open?

Alex grimaced, already knowing what to expect. He wanted to ignore it entirely, to use it to find his way back to the path and forget about it. His heart sank when he realized he couldn't do that. Because deep in his gut, he knew Gloomy would be there. And if she was anywhere as weak as he'd once been… If she died before he could reach her…

The memory of that utter bloodbath made him shiver. No, he couldn't leave it to chance.

All people coveted power, but the strong stalked it, cornered it, and took what was theirs. It was mostly the desperate who flocked to open offerings like these. But Alex knew that the Mages, Werewolves, and Vampires of Nightmare were just as desperate as the rest. They weren't to be mistaken for weak—especially not those far ahead of the pack. They had advantages that no one else had. Yet if anything, their desperation was made greater by the burden of knowledge. Because they knew what came next.

Alex, of all people, knew that even the slightest taste of power was enough to change one's destiny. Without a doubt, everyone with eyes for miles out would be gathered.