Chapter Ten / The Nightmare
The room William stood in looked exactly like his own… but twisted into a dark, nightmarish version. The lighting was blood-red, the air heavy with dread. Worst of all, the Crimson Moon stared straight at him through the window, like an eye that refused to blink.
William heard a strange and unfamiliar voice behind him. He quickly turned around to see who it was… but no one was there.
"Am I imagining things… or did someone just speak?" William muttered with a nervous tone.
Suddenly, a sharp, painful sound erupted inside his skull, forcing him to his knees as he clutched his temples.
"W-What is this pain? It feels like my head is going to split open."
The noise vanished just as suddenly. William opened his eyes slowly, barely managing to stand on his feet. He spoke, exhausted and still holding his head:
"Damn it… if that pain had lasted any longer, my head would've burst."
He continued in the same weary voice:
"I heard someone say I'm in the Crimson Dream… Am I just hallucinating, or is this real?"
Right after he spoke, the mysterious voice responded in a deep, resonant tone:
"No, you're not imagining anything, William Gideon… You truly are in the Crimson Dream."
William couldn't tell where the voice was coming from, but he responded in a calm tone:
"But why? Is it because I killed myself? Am I now paying the price?"
The mysterious voice answered rapidly, with that same deep resonance:
"That's correct, William Gideon, the sorcerer… Your disobedience, and the fact that you ended your own life, are grave sins. Now, you must bear the consequences."
William placed his index finger on his chin and muttered to himself:
'The thought of suicide has lingered in my mind for a long time… But just as I suspected, I won't die so easily—not until I complete their cursed tasks.'
Then, turning his attention back to the voice, he asked quickly:
"So, what are these consequences you're talking about?"
The voice replied with a sharp, chilling tone:
"Since you've asked, sorcerer… you must survive seventy-two hours in the Crimson Dream. If you last three full days, you'll return to your magical world."
The voice continued, same cold, deep tone:
"The conditions are as follows. First: any location you enter, you may stay in it for only one hour. If you exceed this time, your body will ignite and burn on its own."
"Second: if you hear an alarm sounding from the sky, you must hide in the shadows. A great Eye will descend and annihilate anything in its path."
"Third and final: trust no one in this dream… they are merely illusions, and will all eventually vanish. That's all, Silent Jester."
William spoke in a frightened tone:
"What are these strange rules? And how am I supposed to know when my hour is up?"
He looked around and saw a clock painted in crimson on the wall. It showed the remaining time he had in this location.
"I only have five minutes left? What? I haven't even been here for ten full minutes…" he muttered in shock.
Then he calmed himself and said in a low voice:
"The rules are clear… I don't have time to hesitate."
William looked behind him and saw the Shadow Sword and his pistol resting on a table. He slung the sword over his back and placed the gun in his coat.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the doorknob and opened the door.
His eyes widened—stunned by what he saw.
He was no longer in the academy. He stood now in a narrow alley surrounded by towering Victorian mansions. Above him, the sky mirrored the kingdom as if it were a reflection on water, and the Crimson Moon turned slowly counterclockwise.
Horrific growls echoed across the air—monsters fighting, as if battling for something sacred. William swallowed hard and whispered:
"This isn't just a dream… It's a nightmare made to punish sinners like me. If I can't survive here, I won't survive anywhere…"
He moved quietly through the winding, narrow street, eyes scanning everything around him. The path was unsettlingly tight, as if the walls wanted to close in.
Eventually, he reached a medium-sized square. A massive gate loomed ahead, its reflection cast eerily in the sky. On both sides of the square stood Victorian homes.
Near the gate stood a lamppost glowing with an eerie crimson light. William's eyes narrowed in confusion.
"What is this? I don't remember anything like it in my memory… Is this something new within the dream?"
Suddenly, words fell near his feet. He stepped back instantly, gripping his sword, thinking it was an attack.
He looked down.
A cluster of moving, shifting words—written in blood—pulsated like waves. The letters squirmed unnaturally.
"What are these strange symbols… Don't tell me… these are words from the Book of Hermes?" William said, visibly shaken.
He kept watching.
The words slowly transformed—first unintelligible, then complex, then finally… clear, alphabetical text.
Just as William was about to read them, a powerful, terrifying siren howled from the sky.
"Damn it! Of all times, now?!"
He looked around for a place with shadows and spotted a small bridge. He dashed toward it and hid beneath it. A crimson light poured from the sky, so bright it brought with it the sound of a falling meteor.
Gradually, the red light faded, and things returned to a grim "normal."
William stepped out and looked up at the kingdom above him. A strange, foolish grin spread across his face as he muttered:
"This is what it means to fear the unknown… to behold what cannot be seen."
Then, he turned toward the words beneath him and spoke in a mysterious voice:
"The Crimson Lamp… is a sign of one who has lost their sight."
William's eyes widened at the sentence. He whispered, terrified:
"Can someone lose their sight…? But how?"
He turned toward the house with the crimson lamp and continued:
"I have to ask. I need to know."
He walked to the house, stood tall, and knocked on the door.
Knock… knock… knock…
"Ahem… ahem…"
A strange cough came from behind the door, followed by a weary voice:
"So… a man still blessed with sight has arrived. Did you lose your way and wander into the Crimson Dream, sorcerer?"
William lowered his head. His expression turned cold as he replied in a calm tone:
"Some roads never lead to the places we want…"
He continued, same steady voice:
"I have many questions… but the most important one: how does one lose their sight? And what are you doing here in the Crimson Dream?"
The man coughed again, then spoke with a grim tone:
"When you dare to stand before something greater than yourself… you'll witness a fate greater than your own."
He continued with a deeper voice:
"Don't go to the kingdom of Sircaryd. It is the kingdom of sin and filth. Whoever enters it will never see the light again—they'll spend the rest of their lives seeing only hell…"
"I've been in hell… staring at paradise."
William responded, voice dipped in darkness:
"And am I supposed to go to that kingdom? Only if that damned voice commands me to…"
Just as he was about to ask another question, the crimson lamp flickered… then died.
William turned around, startled. The voice behind the door spoke one last time—now hollow, terrifying, sorrowful:
"It seems… those who've lost their sight… are not worthy to speak with those who still possess it."
And then the voice vanished—like a thread cut by a blade.
William stared at the door with such terror that his eyes began to bleed crimson.
"Am I being punished?
Am I…
Am I…
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA being punished?"
The silent clown, William Kideon, let out a sharp, maniacal scream… the signs of madness etched into those who carry the trait of the Jester.
He placed his five fingers across his face and began to laugh like a lunatic, speaking in a strange and cryptic tone:
"I am the mage,
I am the blade,
I am the saint whom even the ghost never dared imagine."
And during this terrifying monologue, a swarm of hands burst from beneath the ground, tearing through the earth like scissors shredding fabric.
William turned around, surprised, a foolish grin stretched across his face. Ten creatures emerged from the ground—beasts with no eyes, long horns protruding from their heads, and skin red as blood. They had no mouths, no visible expressions.
Their hands glowed with different shades of magical auras. From thin air, they pulled out swords, scythes, hammers, even axes.
William covered his mouth with both hands, his eyes wide—laughing from behind the veil of sanity. He spoke in a strange tone:
"Looks like the demons want a front-row seat to witness the greatest mage crush them all."
He charged with terrifying strength, so intense that the ground beneath him trembled violently. A wave of dark magic burst from his hand, piercing straight through one of the demons.
One of them grabbed William by the collar and slammed him to the ground with brutal force. No emotion showed on his face—only the overwhelming madness.
William pulled his gun and fired a dark magic bullet that tore through the demon's skull. Three others lunged at him, aiming to rip his body to pieces.
He rolled away swiftly to dodge their attack, drew his sword, and unleashed a dark wave that sliced all three in one blow. He clenched his fist tightly until it turned into pure shadow, then drew three daggers from the void and hurled them at the remaining demons.
The daggers pierced through the bodies of three more demons. One of them suddenly appeared in front of William with a strange, unnatural speed, aiming to cleave him in two.
But William blocked the strike with his gun, that wild, insane laugh rising once again.
"Do the lowborn demons really think they can end me?"
And with that, he split the demon in two.
Only one remained. It didn't move a single step. The demon dropped its weapon to the ground and fell to its knees, bowing its head in submission.
William approached slowly, each step echoing with weight. He spoke in a chilling tone:
"Seems you realized there's no point in resisting."
He raised his sword and brought it down, severing the demon's head. Then, looking around at the battlefield, he pressed all ten fingers to his face and whispered in a repeated, maddened tone:
"I killed them… I killed them… and I'll kill them again…"
As he chanted those words with lunacy in his voice, the massive gate before him creaked open. William looked toward it in surprise. Beyond it lay a massive arena with stands rising high, filled with crowds.
"What a lovely time for the gate to open," he said sarcastically.
He walked forward slowly and stepped into the new arena. The gates slammed shut behind him. The sound of the crowd was terrifying—hundreds of demons speaking in strange, incomprehensible tongues.
"What is this place? It reeks of a pig farm," William said mockingly.
The arena was designed in an ancient Greco-Roman style. Its walls, though ruined, floated mid-air, some even drifting in the sky like forgotten memories.
As William looked around, he noticed a man standing beside him—wearing formal attire, a long black coat, and a black hat. He was smiling broadly, though he had no eyes.
His voice was like that of the dead, not spoken from a mouth, but echoing from the hollow between his ribs:
"Welcome, oh silent clown… William Kideon."
William's eyes widened. He looked to his side and saw the terrifying figure. Instinctively, he stepped back, reaching for his sword.
But the figure extended his ten fingers calmly and spoke in a chilling, gentle tone:
"Hold, silent jester… I am merely the judge here."
He then placed one hand over his abdomen and bowed with eerie grace, speaking with a haunting and beautiful tone:
"My name is Alistair Fyne… the judge of the battle about to unfold."
William was taken aback. He replied in a low, deep voice:
"What do you mean by 'the battle about to unfold'?"
Alistair stepped aside and extended his hand, welcoming the arrival of a mysterious figure who appeared through a crimson gate that rained red mist. This newcomer wore the armor of a noble knight, tall and imposing, with a red feather adorning his helmet.
"This is your next opponent, oh silent clown… the noble knight 'Braith.' Defeat him, and you will have completed your first 24 hours in the Crimson Dream," Alistair said, his voice shrouded in mystery.
William grinned wildly, gripping his sword tightly, and spoke with a sharp edge to his voice:
"Noble knight or demon… they are all equal before my insight."