System Reset: Forged in Nightmare

Alex heard somewhere that wheat farmers sometimes burned their fields after a successful harvest. That way, the nutrients returned to the earth as ash, and after a fresh rain, their sacrifice made the soil fertile for new beginnings—or so he'd heard.

In reality, the practice was often just a convenient, unconventional way to cut corners and save costs, but it was the only pleasant perspective Alex could attribute to the scorched field he now sat in. Neverminding, naturally, that Thule rarely received rainfall, or that flowers probably grew differently from wheat. Ignoring, of course, that this method could ruin the health of soil after just a few years. It didn't matter, really. He couldn't imagine his sanctuary—once, a beautiful meadow of flowers—looking any worse than it currently did.

But at least the rest of it was as he remembered. The sandy beaches stretched beneath the sheer cliffs; an endless ocean unfurled before him. At least, the sun was out, and there were no bodies or blood up to his shins. He sensed curiosity from Nychta and traced her where once, cracks had run along her length.

Yeah, this was Thule, he told her. This is where I truly met her.

Who knew inner worlds could be so immersive?

Exhausted and a little confused as to why he was still stuck within his soul, Alex sighed and sat back, his eyes drifting to the field's lone flower. His trait—his "One Truth", rather—pulsed at the sight, but the flower's bloomed form was still closed off to him.

Even during the height of his Core formation when his trait had awakened, he hadn't been able to see it clearly. However, he'd seen something. He'd seen a future, where, up until now he'd struggled just to keep his one foot in front of the other. It was just as Lionheart's spirit had told him: he'd been walking with his eyes closed. And he still was in some ways; there could be only dull hopes toward the future from a man unlikely to survive the next day. But the mere fact that he knew one awaited brought him an immeasurable calm. Finally, eyes peeled or not, he was walking on solid ground.

As for his new trait, he still didn't know what to make of it entirely. The System was known to embellish and dramatize, but that notification—the one saying he was Beholden to Myth—felt uncharacteristic of that. Moreover, in the wider universe, "Myth" held a greater connotation than he was used to from Earth. It was perhaps not so common on the lower layers, but in Dykriest, many spoke of Myths as something tangible and less fictitious than those he'd known. They reminisce of how they'd gaze at the stars, looking to the Mythos in the night sky for some semblance of order, and those who did were the ones who mourned the most its absence.

Personally, Alex never regarded much thought toward their superstitious speak. He didn't enjoy to, because he knew there was truth there. And he knew that if they had truly glimpsed that celestial order they spoke of, they wouldn't even be able to put to words what they'd seen. Because the truth, as much as it pained him to admit, was that even back then, he'd known. He'd had something special.

Or at least, he'd come to realize by the end that he once could've been. Whatever potential he'd had, he'd squandered. Then at the end, when it was naught but embers, he'd sacrificed it all for one final, magnificent blaze. He'd defied fate. He could no longer recall what he'd seen by doing so, but the results were such that he knew better than to take the System's warning lightly. If his fate was now bound with Myth, then he'd make of that what he could. If he could. It mostly just left him mystified.

But it also put a few things into perspective. The nature of his trait's awakening practically confirmed to him that it was tied to his perception of fate; and he'd long since pieced together that moments where his dangersense "acted out" were because he'd touched beyond its base functions. If he was using an unawakened trait this whole time, then it made sense why he couldn't have gotten it appraised. Additionally, the System referred to his trait as a variant and even Sanity had spoken as though there were multiple forms of this power. And what else was it they'd said? That his was particularly self-centered?

Alex scowled. Fine, self-centered it was then: In which case, his was the ability to perceive his own fate. Or at its base, when it was going to shit. Dangersense, in a sense. But instead of that… "One Truth".

The name was the part he couldn't wrap his head around. It didn't necessarily have to mean anything. But something told him it did. It felt strangely fitting. And Nychta reflected the sentiment. With their soul bond gone, she was inseparable from him now, and it was as much her trait as it was his own.

One Truth…

He tapped her spine in thought, looking at the flower bud that had grown from Laura's ashes. He squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead. Then, the more he focused, the more his head began to split, and he released the ability as though letting out a pained breath. A wind blew by, refreshing his exhausted mind.

Eventually, he just gave in to the melancholy of the moment, pondering idle thoughts like: I wonder if I jumped from these cliffs, would I die in real life?

It was a morbid curiosity, not temptation. Lately, the line between the two was more blurred than was healthy, but this wasn't that. After everything he'd just experienced? No. He glanced around. Time seemed to slow down. The sun was out. The bees were enjoying themselves even without flowers to pollinate. For the first time in a long time, things were peaceful. It was a good reprieve.

Then he heard the one thing you never wanted to hear in your own inner world—footsteps.

"Ahh… this is a far sight better than before."

A pair of legs clad in heavy-armored greaves clanked to a stop beside him. Alex looked up, half-expecting to see that older reflection of himself again. But as far as he knew, he had never been eight feet tall, nor had a chiseled enough jawline to pull off that luscious, free-flowing red hair.

"You're Lionheart," he said.

"That would be correct. I'm sorry I've stowed myself in your soul for so long, Alex—of course, you can hardly complain, since you're the one who put me here. But I'd have introduced myself sooner if I were capable. I see you've been looking after my—"

Love, Nychta interrupted.

Lionheart's lips pressed together, but then his expression softened. His eyes were dark blue, and now that Alex had more than just bones to read his expression by, he saw a thoughtfulness he hadn't noticed before. Sheepishly, Alex handed him Nychta, knowing full well what she wanted to say. As soon as he took her in his gauntleted hands…

Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Lov—

"I know, dear." Lionheart chuckled. "I love you too."

Alex blushed a little, experiencing the sheer elation Nychta felt from having her love affirmed. Her grasp on the concept was still evolving, but he could tell hers was just as strong as the love he'd had for Laura—albeit, different. He was happy for her nonetheless, and her joy made this barren field feel a little more colorful.

"You're a lot more handsome alive than you were dead, Lionheart," Alex said, smirking. Then he patted an empty spot next to him. "Are you just going to stand all day, or would you like to enjoy the view?"

"Aye, much obliged."

Lionheart sat down with a heavy thud, and beneath the clanking, his armor made a sound like a giant metal door creaking against its hinges. Looking at him now, seeing the muscle required to wield such a heavy sword style in full armor plating, Alex thought it was fortunate he'd only faced the man as an undead.

"You were strong," he noted.

"And you were once much stronger as well," Lionheart told him.

"Wait—you can see my memories too?"

Lionheart saw Alex's chagrin and grinned sympathetically. "No, nothing like that. I know the gist from talking to Nychta—"

Love! Love! Love! Love! Lov…

Nychta perked up at her name and the two of them stopped talking and just stared for an awkward moment until she'd gotten what she'd had to say out there. It was… odd, being able to feel her emotions so intimately.

"So you two have been talking, huh? She didn't tell me about you. But I guess she only recently started to express herself so… clearly."

Alex coughed, embarrassed. Lionheart started stroking her spine like one might a cat in their lap, and Nychta purred contently. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, but when he faced Alex again, his expression was unreadable.

"Nychta's told me quite a bit, 'course—never even knew she'd had so much to say." Lionheart laughed. "But y'know, there's a limit to what you can express through emotions and simple concepts alone. Much of what I've learned about you, Alex, was through silent observation. And much more, I learned when we'd clashed blades. It was enough to know that you have seen higher pinnacles than I."

"It's not the same," Alex said.

"Oh? How so?"

Alex grimaced, recalling how he'd been ostracized for the exact reasoning he was about to share. "You probably don't know this, Lionheart, but one opinion many hold is that worlds subject to Integration are fortunate. Sure, they're likely to be annihilated, but if you survive, the apocalypse represents an opportunity for accelerated individual growth that you just can't find anywhere else. There's a lot of bitter people out there who love to bemoan their misfortune. Many of them might say that I squandered that opportunity."

Alex didn't agree with the sentiment, but unfortunately, there was some truth to it. "Most of them are full of shit. But if someone like you received the same… uh, "opportunity" as I did, then there's no telling how far you could've gone. Instead…"

Instead, Lionheart never even had the chance.

"Sorry if I'm lacking tact," Alex added hastily.

Lionheart waved his hand. "Ah, don't bother. No need for tact between two who have seen their worlds die." The hulk of a man gazed out over the ocean. "So this is your home, is it?

"…Your oceans are the same color as ours."

"Most oceans are," Alex said. He was watching Lionhert, and witnessed a solemn transformation take place behind the man's eyes. Then he looked out in the same direction his gaze was set. "But yeah… This was Earth."

"This is Earth," Lionheart said. "Don't ya' take that for granted."

"Hm. It won't be this pretty for much longer though."

"That so? Who's to say things won't be different this time?"

"Different, huh."

Looking out, Alex saw a seagull lift and fly across the horizon. The sun was setting in a perpetual dusk, the moments where he found it most beautiful, and the moments that provided the memories he held most dear. He knew he wouldn't see anyone if he looked, but distantly he heard the laughter of children. Strange, wasn't it? This terraformed abomination of an island was the place he held most dear in this world.

"Things will be different, alright," he said eventually. "But not for everyone."

"Really? You're not gonna save the world, Alex?"

Save the…

Alex laughed, but it was pained. "Me? Wouldn't that be ironi—"

He cut off. Looking to the side he realized Lionheart hadn't been joking. "No," he said. "That would be hopeless. I could easily make things even worse just by trying."

"Hopeless, eh?" Lionheart shrugged. "Y'know, that's what everyone told me, but I was too thick-headed to ever believe 'em'. I went to the grave still holding out, until I awoke and didn't even know what hope was. And now that I'm not undead…"

Lionheart didn't utter his next words. This was a man forced to stare at his own defeat for so unfathomably long. He'd been resurrected twisted and broken and his every motion breathed his tiredness. That whole time, he'd never stopped fighting. Whatever he'd been about to say, it couldn't be good.

And yet, when Alex lifted his gaze, he suddenly realized what he'd been fighting for. His eyes carried an incomprehensible quality, something even Sanity didn't—no, couldn't have—because Lionheart wasn't a sane man. Nor was Lionheart the human a broken one like he'd assumed. For what—why, Alex couldn't even begin to guess, but Lionheart still held it. Hope.

Alex was utterly transfixed but he eventually stopped gaping. He was scared to ask Lionheart what it was he hoped for. Surely, the man didn't still believe his world could be saved? Then, what? How?

"You're not just here to reminisce," Alex noted. "You can get to the point."

Lionheart shrugged. "I'm here for a few things, and reminiscing is one of them. There's no need to rush. I can tell your mind is still mixed up from what you have seen. Take this time to collect yourself before you act. A calm head is what tames the fires of the heart, y'know?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He guffawed, slapping his knee. There was obviously some underlying element of humor to his idiom that Alex wasn't catching on to. Also, he was correct.

Take my time, though… How long has it even been?

He couldn't even begin to guess. The ritual could have lasted only a second, for all he knew. Time as a concept was proving difficult to grasp right now. After all, Laura's death had been over a decade ago, but it hadn't felt that way when he'd relived it. Now, he felt as though he lingered perpetually in that moment—where, upon waking, he'd stare up at his ceiling, convincing himself of what was real and what wasn't.

Except now, he stared at the blue skies of Earth, and that feeling never faded. It was all real.

"The Bloodmist Assassin is still waiting up there, isn't he?" Alex asked. "Is time really something I can afford?"

"Oh yeah, he's up there. And yes… ten hours. That's what the Lost Souls told me. That's how long their obfuscation will last without upkeep."

Alex grunted. He probably shouldn't be so relieved by his enemy's persistence, all things considered. But he was relieved the vampire hadn't left.

"Wait… you said 'without upkeep'? Where are the Lost Souls? Where is Sanity?"

Lionheart's lips pressed into a thin line. "Sanity is gone."

"Oh…" Alex tightened his fist. "I'm… sorry."

"Don't be," Lionheart said. "They all knew this could happen if the ritual was a success. They held on for a while. But when it became clear their minds were slipping, they had me pass on the rest of their message. Apparently, Sanity was never needed for this next part."

Alex was rarely so unnerved as he was by that single sentence. Without Sanity, they're just…

Hate, Nychta said.

He shivered, remembering the unhinged spirits that had led him into his mad frenzy, slaughtering so many people. From the look Lionheart gave him, it must've been clear what was on his mind.

"I don't always agree with how the Lost Souls do things. But… I can at least understand it. Their existence has been much more tortuous than mine—and that's coming from an undead, ya know!"

Lionheart punched Alex's shoulder, evidently forgetting he wore gauntlets. Alex winced, holding his bruised arm, a retort on the top of his tongue—until he saw the giant's expression grow more sincere.

"But even if I understand why… I don't condone what they did, Alex. For that, please let me apologize on their behalf. When I was alive, I never contemplated the lives I took. My cause was always just, and if there was ever a shroud of doubt in my heart, I simply didn't kill. Then as an undead…I realized that was a luxury. " He looked down at his hand with raw vulnerability. "Certainly, I never doubted then, either. It was beyond my capability as an undead. And yet, it was still these hands that took those lives. And I have a feeling that if I ever had to raise my sword again, my heart would be plagued by uncertainty. My blade would waver."

A tad shakily, Lionheart closed his fist, then punched Alex's shoulder again with a laugh. "So it's lucky for me that I'll never be holding a sword again, isn't it? I'm dead, after all! But you—you've got such a fine sword! And a hell of a lot left to fight for."

Alex winced at his bruised shoulder again. Nychta bristled with joy at the praise, but he could feel her discontent, too. Deep down, she still didn't think of herself as a sword.

"Well, congratulations on dying," Alex said.

"And the same to you!"

Alex shared a half-hearted morbid chuckle with the man. Nychta thrummed a little, and he sensed a little confusion from her until she communicated, Funny, as Alex took her back. He thought that might've been her way of laughter. Apparently, she had a sense of humor after all.

"In any case… I appreciate the concern, Lionheart. Really, though, don't worry about me. It was partially my own mistake that allowed that to happen, and it's not the first mistake I've ever made. It won't be the last, either. I don't plan to let that stop me."

And besides, Nychta had already proven she wouldn't hesitate to stop him if she had moral disagreements.

Lionheart grunted. "I see. Then you're a stronger man than I."

Alex shook his head. "Weaker, actually. I… from the start, I never had what it took to hesitate, and I don't think that's one of my admirable qualities. You though… you're a good person, Lionheart. If you've lived this long as an undead and managed not to lose your way, then I don't believe your sword would truly waver if you had something to protect."

Lionheart smiled sadly. That was just the thing, wasn't it? There was nothing left for him to protect. His entire world—everyone he knew—it had all wasted away.

"Your wife. She's one of the Lost Souls, isn't she?"

Alex recalled seeing her face when he had first spoken to the Lost Souls.

"She is. And I know how much of an ask it would be for you to bring them rest, so… I won't. I just ask that you don't hold it against them. What they've done, and what they have in store. I don't know all of what they plan, but this world—it's tired, Alex. And I am also…"

'Tired,' he'd been about to say, but Alex immediately realized why Lionheart hadn't said it aloud. Nychta trembled at his words with an urge to cleanse. She wanted to cleanse the Lost Souls, the undead, this entire world. She wanted to give them all rest. Everyone, except the man who sat before them, who she loved dearly.

The man held hope, but his tiredness existed in harmony with it. He was done fighting, and Nychta couldn't see that. A pit grew in Alex's stomach, and as he felt Nychta reach out inquisitively to investigate it, he hid the feeling from her.

Lionheart gave him a solemn look. They both knew she wasn't yet ready.

And in a strange way… neither was Alex. He'd lived Nychta's memories, and he knew what Lionheart meant to her. But to Alex… Lionheart was the first man who could even come close to understanding him. He was so tremendously tired, and yet he was here in the flesh, for them. He was a good man.

"Lionheart… I do want to give the Lost Souls rest. I don't know if I will. And I don't trust them, but I feel for this world."

"Aye. You're a good man, Alex."

Alex frowned. "Well, I told Sanity I'd at least listen, and I'll extend that same invitation to you. So… tell me about it. the world of Nightmare."

"Nightmare? No, not Nightmare." Lionheart was taken aback for a second, then his smile grew bitter-sweet. His eyes went distant, passing over the horizon. "Let me tell you about the world called Averon…"

The next several hours passed like a warm breeze in winter as Lionheart, who Alex realized had been in his subdued state up until now, grew more and more animated as he spoke. He described the world he had once known–long before it ended up in the state it was in now. The entire time, Alex watched the ocean crash against the cliffs, the water as blue as in the picture Lionheart painted. And he thought to himself how very much like Earth Averon sounded.

How very much…

Alex listened in silence, pretending not to notice the tears of the giant beside him. He understood his pain all too well, and at Nychta's urging, he rested a hand on the man's shoulder.

"...Thank you," Lionheart said. "And sorry about this. I have not had tear ducts for… far too long."

"Well… take your time. You actually had me pretty interested. I never made it to Night—er, Averon's other zones, so all I really know about your world is misting… or just the valleys, I guess. Sorry, I'm not doing this very well."

Lionheart laughed. "Don't worry. Emotional reassurance was never something I expected you'd be good at."

"That's a fair assessment. You want to tell me more?"

"No. I'm… already feeling refreshed," he said, wiping his tears. "Ahh, every man needs a good cry from time to time. Don't neglect that, Alex! You'll feel much better after."

"Uh, yeah. I'll be sure to?"

"That said," Lionheart continued, "I think I've spent enough of your time on my own concerns. You seem to be in a better place now. And I know what I said about taking your time… but I don't think you should leave that girl crying in the dark for too long."

Alex grimaced, his gut twisting into a knot. "Yeah… you probably have a point."

Gloomy… What should he do with her? He didn't really know at this point.

"Alex…"

"Yeah?" he asked.

Lionheart was still staring off into the distance. "Don't waste the gift you've been given."

The sun had begun to set, alighting the sky with all the colors Alex had once found so beautiful when he'd watched them with Laura.

"I know," Alex said.

"No, I don't think you do. That's okay. I'll stick by you—and by Nychta—until you get it."

Nychta emanated sheer glee, which made Alex wince. He made certain she could feel none of the uncertainty he felt now, looking at the man.

"So, the ritual was a success. Can you see it now?" Lionheart asked.

Fate, huh.

Lionheart not saying it directly probably meant he wasn't entirely free from the System's chains, even cleansed from his undeath. The souls trapped in this world were bound by a curse that defied logic, and it might be that he still wasn't free from that fate. Alex gently pinched the stem of this field's only flower between his fingertips, narrowing his eyes as he tried to see. He winced.

"A little, but not really. Or almost. It's like I'm seeing too much, like the possibilities are so infinite that they're… meaningless? I don't know how to explain it. But when I first awakened it, I felt like I saw things a bit clearer."

"Hmm…" Lionheart grunted, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah… I have no clue what you're saying. Fair warning though, before I pass on the Lost Souls' message, Alex. I know they talked on and on about seeing and opening your eyes, and I don't really get that stuff. But to me, it seems equally important that you understand what it is you're seeing. And I'm not talking about all that magic stuff, Alex. I mean this."

He stood, gesturing wide at the world around them. "This breeze passing through us. This sunset on your skin. This world! Alex, do you understand? Breath it in. Can you smell the salt from your oceans?!"

Alex smiled. "Yes… It really is beautiful. This sight takes me back."

Lionheart sighed, hanging his head dejectedly.

"What?"

"No," Lionheart said. "I can see my words aren't enough."

"Well, that isn't condescending," Alex said.

"It is but… oh, you'll understand someday. I was much the same way. The words of others never made a dent in my stubbornness. I had to come to such conclusions on my own before I truly reached them."

Alex's eye twitched. "All right, fine then. What's the damn message they left for me, old man?"

"Honestly, I have no clue."

"Huh?"

"The Lost Souls said you'd get it if you tried using your trait on me, but actually, first I have a small request. May I?"

Alex followed his gaze to Nychta and nodded, handing her over again. Then he stepped back several paces as the man's massive hands tightened around her hilt. It was all she had ever wanted—for him to take her into battle, to serve him, to protect him and all the others. His entire body contorted as he wound back for an overhead strike. His muscles tensed beneath his armor as though he wielded an iron greatsword rather than a slender oslumnen blade.

Nychta radiated Love. Wanting.

Then they split the sky of Alex's inner world and night finally fell.

"You really do make a fantastic blade," Lionheart said, laughing.

Nychta's joy was such that if Lionheart were any less remarkable a man—and if Alex were the least bit spiteful—he might've felt jealous at his handling of her. Instead, he graciously took his sword back, accepting that he did not hold first place in his own creation's heart. He grasped the man's calloused hands with his sincerest respect and admiration. Then he reached out to him with his trait.

Lionheart's next words were for his ears only.

Take dear care of her, Alex. She is all this world has left to nourish.

* * *

Alex's head felt like it was splitting, his entire world flickering luminescent like in a bad migraine. He could feel the divinity of his soul burning, closer than ever now that he had completed his core. Through the storm, his senses caught something that made just the faintest amount of sense. It flickered in and out—a branch of fate that was no longer possible, that had never happened.

Except to him.

"Al-Alex if… you—"

He strained his senses, latching onto that faint voice.

"listening t-to—"

"If you're… hearing this convers—"

Alex screamed, clutching his head and blocking out all the noise, evading the pressure of a far distant, primordial gaze. Then the world went nearly silent, and he floated in a dark space.

"...then that means I am already gone," Sanity finished. "I am sure you have a lot of questions…"

"Damn… right I do!" Alex grunted through the aching pain.

"And I am sure you'll be unsatisfied by the answers I have to give…"

He passed his hand through Sanity's form, frowning. This really was just a message. It was as Lionheart said. Sanity was gone.

"…But please forgive that we are tight-lipped. In truth, it is not only because the System has sealed our ability to speak freely. Much that once bound us out there does not bind us in here. So if we are less than forthcoming, it is because we fear you will not do what we want if we tell you everything right now."

That was blatantly honest. But he didn't see how withholding information was supposed to win him over. He felt a lot more compassion for the Lost Souls than he'd used to. Nychta wasn't the only one who wanted to bring them rest. They were fighters, survivors, and Alex respected that.

It also made them extremely dangerous.

"Because in the depths of our hearts, even where our thoughts aren't clouded, where clarity persists… even there, we feel hate. We're tired… but what we wish for most is not rest, Alex. It's vengeance."

Alex's heartbeat pounded like war drums, but he felt a wariness. His grip on Nychta tightened, and she echoed the Lost Soul's hate, but she felt a distinct discomfort too—something nameless growing within her. It was good that she didn't empathize too much with the Lost Souls. Their hatred was their own.

"You have said that you will hear us out," Sanity continued. "We expect much more than that. We wish to see this war finished with our enemies burning. We wish to make a sea of their blood. Yet, we are dead and can do no such thing but request that you make good on your promise. Open your eyes to the world around you. Read the weave of this world's fate. It is all we ask, Alex. Nychta. We, who have little but hate in our heart, will do what is in our nature, but when you have seen all there is to see, what you do is not ours to affect."

Or so they said. But their hood lifted slightly, and their face, which was usually indistinct, had a fearsome look for an entity that called themselves Sanity. It was written clearly there—what they hoped he would do, what they were certain he would.

But Alex would see things for himself. It was too late to back out. Because beyond just compassion, and empathy, and other things he'd learned to ignore through-out his life, he just had to know.

What had happened to the world Lionheart had described. What had happened to turn it into the Nightmare that had haunted him. And why had they truly been sent here?

There was this unshakeable sense that the answers were deeply important—more than he could even comprehend. And when Alex realized that sense came from his trait, he dragged a hand over his face. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

"Open your eyes, Alex…" Sanity continued. "Don't trust what is given to you on face value. The System will say that King Eldiwin has chained us all under his necromancy. But they won't tell you why he had to! They will say that slaying him will free us from his spell, but it is a lie! We wish nothing more than to rest. We wish for the absolution of true release—true death!"

Alex stared blankly as Sanity seemed to lose their breath. Their hood lifted further, and he shivered as he met the grasp of red eyes burning with rage.

"But if it meansss… letting them get their waaay… then may we never die!"