"Because the monster isn't dead." These ominous words hung in the silence. Three pairs of eyes widened, staring right at Sunny. "Why do you say that?" After thinking about it, Sunny came to the conclusion that the tyrant was, indeed, still alive. His reasoning was pretty straightforward: he did not hear the Spell congratulating him on slaying the creature after it fell off the cliff. Which meant that it was not slain. But he couldn't explain that to his companions. He pointed up. "The monster jumped from an incredible height to land on this platform. Yet it wasn't harmed at all. Why would it be killed by falling off the platform?" Neither Hero nor the slaves could find a flaw in his argument. Sunny continued.

 argument. a DOWNLOAD APP "Which means that it's still alive, somewhere down the mountain. So by going back, we will be delivering ourselves into its maw." Shifty cursed loudly and crawled closer to the bonfire, staring into the darkness with terror in his eyes. Scholar rubbed his temples, mumbling: "Of course. Why didn't I realize myself?" Hero was the most stoic of the three. After thinking it over, he nodded. "Then we go up and over the mountain pass. But that's not all..." He glanced in the direction where the tyrant had fallen. "If the monster is still alive, there is a high possibility that it will return here, and then pursue us. Which means that time is of the essence. We will need to move as soon as the sun rises." He gestured to the torn bodies littering the platform. "We can't allow ourselves to rest the whole night anymore. We need to gather supplies now. If there was a chance, I would have liked to give these people at least a humble burial after gathering all that we can from them, but alas, fate has decided otherwise." Hero rose to his feet and brandished a sharp knife. Shifty tensed up and watched the blade carefully, but then relaxed, seeing that the young soldier showed no sign of aggression. "Food, water, warm clothes, firewood. That is what we need to find. Let us split up and accomplish one task each." Then he pointed at himself with the tip of the knife. "I will carve the oxen carcasses to get us some meat." Scholar looked around the stone platform – most of it drowning in deep shadows - and grimaced. "I'll look for firewood." Shifty also glanced left and right, with a strange gleam in his eyes. "Then I'll go find us something warm to wear

Sunny was the last one left. Hero gave him a long look. "Most of our water was stored on the wagon. But each of my fallen brothers was carrying a flagon. Gather as many as you can find." *** Sometime later, far enough from the bonfire to be hidden in the shadows, Sunny was looking for dead soldiers with half a dozen flagons already weighing him down. Shivering in the cold, he finally stumbled on the last broken body clad in leather armor. The old veteran - the one who had whipped him for trying to accept Hero's flask - was badly injured and dying, but, miraculously, still clinging to life. Horrible wounds were covering his chest and stomach, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. His time was running out. Sunny knelt beside the dying soldier and looked him over, searching for the man's flagon. 'What irony,' he thought.

The older man tried to focus his eyes on Sunny and weakly moved his hand, reaching for something. Sunny looked down and noticed a shattered sword lying on the ground not far from them. Curious, he picked it up. "Are you looking for this? Why? Are you guys like Vikings, longing to die with a weapon in your hands?" The dying soldier didn't answer, watching the young slave with some unknown, intense emotion in his eyes. Sunny sighed. "Well, it might as well do. After all, I promised to watch you die." With that, he leaned forward and slit the old man's throat with the sharp edge of his broken blade, then threw it away. The soldier twitched, drowning in his own blood. The expression in his eyes changed - was it gratitude? Or hatred? Sunny did not know. Illusion or not, it was his first time killing a human. Sunny expected to feel guilt or fear, but actually, there was nothing at all. It seemed that, for better or worse, his cruel upbringing in the real world had prepared him for this moment well. He sat quietly near the old man, keeping him company on this last journey. After a while, the Spell's voice came whispering into his ear: [You have slain a dormant human, name unknown.] Sunny flinched. 'Oh, right. Killing people is also an achievement, as far as the Spell is concerned. They don't usually show this in webtoons and dramas.' He registered that fact and put it away. But, as it turned out, the Spell wasn't done speaking. [You have received a Memory...] Sunny froze, opening his eyes wide. 'Yes! Come on, give me something good!' Memories could be anything, from weapons to enchanted items. One received from a   dormant-rank enemy wouldn't be too powerful, but it was still a boon: weightless and undetectable, able to be summoned from nothingness with a simple thought, a Memory was incredibly useful. What's more, unlike corporeal things, he would be able to bring it back with him to the real world. The advantage of having something like that back in the outskirts was hard to overestimate. 'A weapon! Give me a sword!' [... received a Memory: Silver Bell.] Sunny sighed, disappointed. 'Well, with my luck, what was I expecting?' Still, this thing was worth investigating. Maybe it had a powerful enchantment, like being able to send out destructive sonic waves or repelling incoming projectiles. Sunny summoned the runes and concentrated on the words "Silver Bell". Immediately, an image of a small bell appeared in front of his eyes, with a short string of text below. [Silver Bell: a small memento of a long-lost home, which once brought its owner comfort and joy. Its clear ringing can be heard from miles away.] 'What a piece of crap, Sunny thought, dejected. His first Memory turned out to be pretty much useless... like everything else he possessed. He was almost starting to see a theme in how the Spell was treating him. 'No matter.' Sunny dismissed the runes and then got busy removing the dead man's fur cloak and warm, sturdy leather boots. As an officer, the quality of these clothes was a notch above those of the simple soldiers. After putting them on, the young slave finally felt warm for the first time since the Nightmare began not considering the short time he had spent near the bonfire. 'Perfect,' he thought. The cloak was a bit bloodied, but then again, so was Sunny. He looked around, easily piercing the veil of darkness with his tenebrous eves Hero and Scholar were still in the middle of their tasks. Shifty was supposed to be looking for winter clothes, but was greedily pulling rings off the dead men's fingers instead. Unseen to them, Sunny hesitated, considering if he had really thought things through well. His companions were unreliable. The future was too uncertain. Even the requirements of passing the Nightmare remained a mystery. Any decision he could make would have been a gamble, at best. Still, he had to make some if he wanted to survive. Not wasting any more time thinking, Sunny picked up the flagons and sighed. *** They spent the rest of the night sitting with their backs against the bonfire, staring fearfully into the night. Despite the exhaustion, no one could sleep. The possibility of the tyrant coming back to finish the four survivors off was too frightening. Only Hero seemed to be fine, calmly sharpening his sword in the bright light of the dancing flames. The sound of the whetstone scraping against the blade was somehow comforting. At the break of dawn, when the sun had lazily begun to warm up the air, they loaded themselves with all the supplies they'd managed to gather and set out into the cold. Sunny looked back, taking in the sight of the stone platform for the last time. He had managed to get past the place where the slave caravan was supposed to perish. What was going to happen next? No one could tell.

There was a problem   

They were planning to follow the road up to the mountain pass and then over it, getting as far away from the scene of the massacre as they could before the night came. However, the road was no more. At some point during the last months, or maybe even just yesterday, a terrible rockfall occurred, obliterating whole segments of the narrow roadway and making its other parts untraversable. Sunny stood on the precipice of a vast chasm, looking down with no particular expression on his face. "What do we do now?" Scholar's voice was muffled by the collar of his scavenged fur cloak. His follower, Shifty, angrily looked around. His gaze stopped at Sunny - a suitable victim to vent his frustration. "I'll tell you what we need to do! Get rid of some dead weight!" He eyed Sunny's fine boots and turned to Hero: "Listen, your lordship. The boy is too weak. He is slowing us down! Plus, he's weird DOTSII I Int give you int tittps: The young soldier answered with a judgemental frown, but Shifty wasn't done. "Look! Look how he's glaring at me! I swear to gods, ever since he joined the caravan, nothing had gone right. Maybe the old man was right: the boy is cursed by the Shadow God!" Sunny struggled to not roll his eyes. It was true that he was unlucky: however, the whole truth was opposite to what Shifty was trying to insinuate. It was not that he had attracted misfortune to the slave caravan; on the contrary, it was because the caravan was doomed to begin with that he had ended up here. Scholar cleared his throat: "But I've never said that..." "Whatever! Shouldn't we get rid of him just in case?! He can't go on for much longer anyway!" Scholar gave Sunny a strange look. Perhaps Sunny was getting paranoid, but there seemed to be a bit of calculating coldness in the older slave's eyes. Finally, Scholar shook his head. "Don't be too hasty, my friend. The boy might prove useful later on." "But..." Hero finally spoke, putting an end to their quarrel. "We're not going to leave anyone behind. As for how much longer he'll be able to endure just worry about yourself." Shifty clenched his teeth, but then just waved a hand. "Fine. So what do we do then?" The four of them looked at the broken road, then down the slope of the mountain, and finally up, where a sheer cliff wall was broken apart by the falling rocks. After a bit of silence, Scholar finally spoke: "Actually, in the old days, there used to be a path leading to the peak of the mountain. It was sometimes used by pilgrims. Later, the Empire had widened parts of the path and built a proper road on top of it -now leading to the mountain pass instead of the peak, of course." He looked up. "The remnants of the original path should still be somewhere above us. If we reach it, we should be able to find our way back to the undamaged section of the road." Everyone followed his gaze, shifting uncomfortably at the prospect of climbing the treacherous slope. Except for Hero, of course, who remained as calm as a saint. Due to the rockfall, the slope wasn't an almost vertical wall anymore, but still, the incline was quite sharp. Shifty was the first one to speak: "Climb that? Are you insane?" Scholar helplessly shrugged. "Do you have a better idea?" No one did. After a bit of preparation, they began the ascent. Shifty and Scholar stubbornly carried the weapons they had picked up off the dead soldier's bodies, but Sunny, with some regret, decided to leave his newfound short sword behind. He knew that this climb was going to test the limits of their endurance. The sword might not have seemed to be that heavy right now, but every extra gram of weight was bound to feel like a ton all too soon. As the weakest member of the group, he was already struggling to keep up, so there wasn't a lot of choice. Shedding a few kilograms of iron was the right thing to do. Walking up the mountain road with the weight of the supplies on his shoulders was already hard enough, but climbing up the mountain itself turned out to be pure torture. Just half an hour later, he felt like his muscles were going to melt, with his lungs on the verge of imploding. Clenching his teeth, Sunny continued to move forward and up. He had to constantly remind himself to watch his footing, too. On this unstable, icy slope one misstep was enough to send a man tumbling down to his death. 'Just think about something pleasant,' he thought.

  But what happy thoughts could he summon? Failing to come up with something else, Sunny began to imagine what reward he was going to receive at the end of this trial. The boon of the First Nightmare was the most important thing given to an Awakened by the Spell. Sure, later trials could provide them with more abilities and vastly improve their power. But it was this first one that determined what role an Awakened would be able to play, how great their potential would be, and what price they would have to pay... not to mention giving them the necessary tools to survive and grow in the Dream Realm. The main benefit of the First Nightmare's Boon was simple, yet possibly the most important: after completing their trial, Aspirants were bestowed with the ability to perceive, and interact with, Soul Cores. Soul Cores were the basis of one's rank and power. The stronger your Core was, the greater your might would grow. The same went for Nightmare Creatures, with a deadly caveat that, unlike humans, they could possess multiple cores a lowly beast had just one, but a tyrant like Mountain King had five. Coincidentally, the only way to improve your Soul Core was to consume Soul Shards scavenged from the corpses of other Dream Realm inhabitants. That's why Awakened went out of their way to battle powerful Nightmare Creatures despite the risk of death. The second benefit was less straightforward, but nevertheless vital. After completing the First Nightmare, Aspirants were elevated to the rank of Dreamers - colloquially known as Sleepers - and gained access to the Dream Realm itself. They would enter it on the first winter solstice after passing the trial and remain there until an exit was found, thus becoming fully Awakened. That time between finishing the First Nightmare and entering the Dream Realm was very important, as it was the last chance to train and prepare yourself a person would receive. In Sunny's case, that time was only about a month, which was as bad as it gets.

 And then there was the final benefit, unique to every Aspirant passing the trial... the first Aspect Ability. This was the "magic power" that elevated Awakened above mundane humans. Aspect Abilities were diverse, unique, and powerful. Some could be categorized into types - like combat, sorcery and utility - but some were simply beyond imagination. Armed with the power of their Abilities, Awakened had been able to save the world from the flood of Nightmare Creatures. However, that power came with a catch. With their first Ability, every Awakened also received a Flaw, sometimes called the counter. These Flaws were as diverse as Abilities, ranging from comparatively harmless to crippling, or, in some cases, even fatal. 'I wonder what type of Ability a temple slave would get, Sunny thought, not too optimistic about his prospects. 'The choice of Flaws, on the other hand, seems to be almost limitless. Let's hope my Aspect will evolve at the end of this fiasco. Or, even better, change completely

If the Aspirant performed especially well, there was a chance of his given Aspect going through an early evolution. Aspects, just like Soul Cores, had ranks based on potential power and rarity. The lowest rank was called Dormant, followed by Awakened, Ascended, Transcendent, Supreme, Sacred and Divine although no one has ever seen the last - one. 'With the amount of crap it had put me through, the Spell - if it has any conscience has to give me at least an Awakened Aspect. Right? Or maybe even an Ascended one!' Finally, there was a tiny possibility of receiving a True Name - something like an honorary title bestowed by the Spell to its favorite Awakened. The name itself had no benefit, but every famous Awakened seemed to have one. It was considered to be the highest mark of excellence. However, the number of people who had managed to get a True Name during their First Nightmare was so small that Sunny didn't even bother thinking about it.

Who needs excellence? Give me power!' He cursed, feeling that this attempt at wishful thinking had only made him more depressed and angry. 'Maybe I'm allergic to dreaming.' An allergy like that would be truly ironic, considering that he was destined to spend half of his remaining life in the Dream Realm - if he even survives long enough to get there, that is. However, Sunny's mental escapade was not completely useless. Looking up from the slippery rocks under his feet, he noticed that the sun was already considerably lower. Come to think of it, the air also seemed to be much colder. 'At least it helped me pass the time, Sunny thought. The night was approaching

By the time they decided to stop, Sunny was on the verge of fainting. After hours and hours of traversing the rough mountain slope, his body was almost at its limit. However, to everyone's surprise, Shifty seemed to be doing even worse than him. The roguish slave's eyes were muddy and unfocused, aimlessly wandering around. His breath was ragged and shallow, as though something was exerting pressure on his lungs. He looked feverish and unwell. As soon as Hero found a suitable place for a camp, Shifty simply collapsed on the ground. The most unnerving part about all of this was the lack of angry cursing that they had already gotten used to. The slave lay silent and motionless, with only movements of his chest betraying that he was still alive. Several moments later, he uncorked his flagon with a shaky hand and greedily drank a few large gulps. "Conserve your water," Hero said, a hint of concern somehow finding its way into his usually stoic voice. Disregarding these words, Shifty drank more,emptying the flagon completely.

 Scholar didn't look much better than him. The arduous climb took a heavy toll on the older slave. Despite the unbearable cold, he was sweaty, with bloodshot eyes and a grim expression on his face. Being the weakest of the three, Sunny had somehow managed to endure the best. "Can't we just melt the snow once there's no more water?" Hero gave Scholar a complicated look. "There might come a time when we won't be able to make a fire, as to not attract unwanted attention." No one commented, knowing perfectly well whose attention they had to avoid. The memory of Mountain King's horror was still fresh in their minds. Luckily, today Hero had managed to find a natural alcove in the mountain wall, perched precariously behind a narrow ledge. The fire was well hidden by the rocks, allowing them to enjoy its warmth without the fear of being noticed. No one was in the mood to talk, so they just roasted slices of oxen meat above the flames and ate in silence.

By the time the skies had turned completely black, Shifty and Scholar were already asleep, lost in the thrall of their own nightmares. Hero took out his sword and moved to the edge of the rock outcropping. "Try to rest, as well. I'll take the first watch." Sunny gave him a nod and lay down near the fire, dead tired. Falling asleep inside a dream was a new experience for him, but, unexpectedly, it turned out to be quite mundane. As soon as his head touched the ground, his consciousness slipped into darkness. After what felt like only a second, someone had gently shaken him awake. Groggy and disoriented, Sunny blinked a few times, finally noticing Hero hovering above him. "These two didn't look too well, so it's better to give them some time to recover. Don't let the flames go out and wake us up once the sun starts to rise. Or if... if the beast appears." Sunny silently rose and changed places with Hero, who added a couple of logs into the fire and was soon fast asleep.

For a few hours he was on his own

The skies were black, with dim stars and a sharp crescent of the newborn moon. However, its light was not enough to pierce the darkness that enveloped the mountain. Only Sunny's eyes seemed to be able to do SO. He sat quietly, looking down the way they came. Despite the fact that they had managed to climb quite high during the previous day, he could still see the distant ribbon of the road. He could even trace it back to the stone platform where the fight with the tyrant had taken place. The tiny dots littering the stones were the dead bodies of the slaves. As he was watching them, a dark figure slowly crawled on the platform from beneath the cliff. It stayed motionless for a while and then moved forward, scraping its claws against the ground. Every time a claw hit one of the bodies, the tyrant would grab and bring it to its maw. The wind brought the muffled sounds of crunching bones to Sunny's ears. He flinched, accidentally pushing a small rock off the ledge. It fell, hit the slope and then rolled down, causing a few more to follow. The noise of these falling rocks sounded like thunder in the silent night. Far below, the tyrant suddenly turned its head, looking directly at Sunny. Sunny froze, petrified. He was scared to make even the tiniest sound. For a while, he even forgot to breathe. The tyrant was staring directly at him, not doing anything. A few torturous seconds passed, each feeling like an eternity. Then the tyrant calmly turned away and continued to devour dead slaves, as though he had not seen Sunny at all. 'It's blind, Sunny suddenly understood. He inhaled, watching Mountain King with widened eyes. It was true. The creature could not see. Looking back at everything that had happened earlier, he grew more and more certain of his guess. Those milky, expressionless eyes. Come to think of it, he never saw the tyrant moving them at all. And back when Sunny was pushing the wagon off the cliff, the tyrant only reacted after the wagon's had started to fall, scraping loudly against the rocks. Of course! It was all making sense now. *** At the break of dawn, Sunny had woken the others up. Hero had hoped that a full night's rest would do Shifty and Scholar some good, but his hopes were crushed. Somehow, the two slaves looked even worse than before. It was as though yesterday's climb had overstrained Scholar too much. However, Shifty's condition could not be explained by simple overexertion. He was deadly pale and shaky, with half-conscious eyes and a lost look on his face. "What's wrong with him?" Scholar, who himself was not doing very well, helplessly shook his head. "It might be the mountain sickness. It affects different people differently."

Fils voice sounded raspy and weak. "I'm fine, assholes. Get out of my face." Shifty had trouble forming full sentences, but still insisted that he was alright. Hero frowned and then took most of the supplies the defiant slave was supposed to carry before adding them to his own load. After hesitating a little, he gave some to Sunny, too. "Did anything happen while we were asleep?" Sunny stared at him for a few seconds. "The monster ate the dead." The young soldier's frown deepened. "How do you know?" "I heard it." Hero moved to the edge and looked down, trying to make out the distant stone platform. After a minute or so, he clenched his jaw, showing signs of uncertainty for the first time. "Then we'll have to move faster. If the creature is finished with all the bodies, it will come for us next. We need to find that old path before nightfall." Frightened and dejected, they set out again and continued to climb. Sunny was slowly dying under the weight of the added load. Thankfully, Shifty and Scholar had already drunk most of the water, lightening it a little. 'This is hell, he thought. They climbed higher, and higher, and higher. The sun was climbing with them, slowly approaching the zenith. There was no talking, no laughs, only strained breathing. Each of the four survivors was concentrated on his own steps and footing. However, Shifty was falling farther and farther behind. His strength was abandoning him. And then, at some point, Sunny heard a desperate scream. Turning around, he only had time to see a panic-stricken face. Then Shifty fell backward, his foot slipping on an ice-covered rock. He hit the ground hard and rolled down, still trying to grab onto something.

But it was too late.

Frozen in place and powerless, they could only watch as his body tumbled down the slope, leaving bloody marks on the rocks. With each second, Shifty looked less like a man and more like a rag doll. A handful of moments later, he finally came to a halt, hitting the top of a large, protruding stone in a pile of broken flesh. Shifty was dead.