200: nightmare

Chapter 197: Nightmare

A cold wind blew across the mud-covered land.

No one would have expected Qingfeng Valley's New Year's Eve to be so cold.

Arthur, as usual, had not slept.

He lay on his back on the ground, surrounded by his snoring subordinates.

Illuminated by the firelight, they were merely dark mounds on the earth.

Behind them, the sentries stood ready.

They worked in pairs, rotating periodically.

None of them left the area illuminated by the bonfire, and they regularly threw firewood onto the flames to keep it burning brightly.

Drax fell asleep as soon as his head hit the ground, just like the soldiers.

His snores were as loud as a steam tank, peaceful and content.

After confirming that there was nothing dangerous nearby, Flora and Sariya finally drifted off to sleep, feeling drowsy.

However, both of them remained very vigilant.

Sariya's hand rested lightly on her sword hilt, while Flora slept cross-legged on the ground.

Arthur knew he had almost no chance to rest.

Ever since he left the haunted house, he had been plagued by nightmares.

Something was tormenting him, and he told himself he couldn't give in.

So he lay flat, gazing at the stars above.

As the last hint of sunlight faded into night, the stars emerged one by one.

He had always loved looking at the stars.

They were clean, pure, sailing far above the filth and suffering of the mortal world.

He remembered himself in his previous life, lying in the same position on his grandparents' balcony as a child.

Enjoying the summer night breeze while gazing at the starry sky.

Stars easily made one believe that purity was achievable.

The endless struggle against corruption was not as doomed to fail as it sometimes seemed.

Only tonight, the stars offered him little comfort.

Arthur could feel his heart fluttering in his chest.

He couldn't relax. The rustling of nearby trees made him grit his teeth.

Sweat broke out on his forehead whenever a branch snapped or a bird called.

He tried to plug his ears with his coat, but the sounds were only partially muffled.

Perhaps there was something wrong with his mind.

He had seen others like this.

A forest ranger living in the mountains lost his courage almost overnight.

The week before, he had been chasing poachers and illegal loggers in the forest, his eyes filled with fury.

The next week, he was gone.

Babbling and trembling in the ranger's cabin, afraid of solitude, afraid of visitors.

Weeks later, they found him, hanging from an acorn, naked.

Just like the day he was born, his entire body covered in writing; one word, repeated endlessly in black ink.

Fear, fear, fear, fear.

Perhaps this was his fate too.

Arthur thought.

Perhaps, when a person loses faith and hope, this is the reward, a thought that was quickly dismissed.

I have not lost faith. I just understand that faith has its limits.

I still believe.

Arthur told himself in his heart.

He gazed at the starry sky, feeling his shallow breaths press against the blanket.

His bones felt cold, as if the chill of the earth had risen into them.

I still believe.

The fire continued to burn, glowing and writhing in the darkness.

He heard the low murmurs of the sleeping people, and felt his fatigue envelop him like a dark cloud.

Perhaps he would fall asleep.

Perhaps, despite the suffocating evil permeating the night, the body's exhaustion would pull him into dreams.

He felt himself slipping.

Then, near the edge of the camp, something cracked, and he began to move.

His neck muscles felt swollen and stiff, making it difficult to lift his head.

The flames flickered and bent.

Around them, bodies lay on the ground like corpses. These people seemed to be sleeping soundly, like small children.

Arthur searched for the outlines of the sentries but saw none.

How strange.

Just a moment ago, they were there.

He tried to lift his head again, but felt something resisting him.

He felt as if a series of heavy objects, cold and wet like fish, had unknowingly been placed on him.

He began to realize something was wrong.

He saw the yellow robe fluttering in the dark night.

Arthur tried to shout but found his mouth wouldn't move.

He struggled, trying to break free from the heavy restraints pressing down on him.

I still believe.

He felt himself struggling in invisible bonds.

His body was still, trapped by some evil force, locked to the earth, pushed into it.

Then he saw it.

Emerging from the shadows, the King of the Gallows.

It was taller than a man, and floated as it walked.

An inexpressible expression on its pale mask.

Arthur saw ecstasy, grief, disappointment—

It crept closer silently.

Arthur watched the eerie entity carefully walk past the sleeping others, not even brushing against them.

It walked up to him and stared at him.

Arthur could tell it was smiling. The firelight reflected a strange glow from its robe.

Around its neck hung a pendant carved with blasphemous patterns.

It smelled like an old, rotting corpse.

Arthur tried to close his eyes but couldn't.

He stared at the pale mask and saw himself.

I still believe. The monster looked at him for a long time, scrutinizing him, smiling evilly at him.

Then it straightened up and took off the marked pendant.

Arthur struggled hard, against whatever force was holding him in place.

He felt the force weakening little by little, and he resisted angrily.

His right leg moved slightly, dragging as if through tar.

Not yet! I can defeat it! Arthur thought.

Then, the pendant flew towards him with a whoosh.

Arthur felt the thing burrowing into his chest.

Like some terrible parasite.

He began to wake up, bolting upright.

He stared around, drenched in sweat.

The sentries turned their heads curiously towards their lord.

“My Lord?” Flora, now awake, walked up to him and asked, her face full of concern. “Are you alright?”

Arthur's pulse began to return to normal, and he felt cold.

He was soaked all over, and the air was crisp and cold, cold enough to seep through his coat.

“No,” Arthur said, exhaling. “No, I'm fine.”

When there was no wind, the moisture he exhaled turned into mist in front of him.

The dark clouds in the sky were beginning to recede, and the countless stars, like diamond dust across the night sky, were gradually dimming.

A crescent moon hung low on the horizon, its faint light vaguely outlining the camp.

The camp was set up in a nearly collapsed stable.

The sentries turned their attention back to their work.

Flora stared at her lord, seemingly unwilling to believe his words.

Finally, she nodded faintly.

“Alright then,” she said, “If I were to dream in this place, I imagine it would be a nightmare.”

“If you want to talk to me, I'm always here.”

Arthur sat alone again, feeling his breathing slowly relax.

This time, the nightmare was incredibly vivid, as if it had truly happened.

His hand suddenly touched something, and he looked down to see the shattered pendant.