Arthur was still standing over the corpse, sword still gripped tightly in his hand, as the adrenaline of battle gradually seeped from his system. The monster's yellow eyes had dimmed, now staring sightlessly at the starry sky above. With the immediate threat neutralized, Arthur's body began to process the reality of what had just transpired.
His legs trembled. His lungs burned, desperate for air. In an instant, the confident warrior who had executed that perfect killing stroke was replaced by an exhausted, terrified Academy student who had barely escaped death again.
Arthur leaned heavily on his odachi, using it as a makeshift crutch while taking deep, ragged breaths. 'Holy crap, that was terrifying,' he thought, his heart still hammering against his ribs. 'Is every monster in this realm just straight nightmare fuel? I almost pissed myself just looking at it.'
He wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe, grimacing at the clammy sensation against his skin. The night air, which had felt so pleasant and invigorating before the attack, now seemed to carry whispers of other threats lurking just beyond his perception.
"At least I didn't get injured this time," he muttered, finding small comfort in that fact. "And while I may not fully understand it, I've discovered a new ability."
Arthur focused on the strange perception that had saved his life moments ago, trying to analyze its limitations and capabilities. 'I guess I can feel anything that happens around me, but only to a certain extent. I can't say for sure, but it feels like it reaches about 20-25 feet maybe. And seeing as I didn't get this feeling during the day, and following the pattern of my other ability and my sword, I'd assume this ability only works in the dark.'
He took another deep breath, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. "I'm so tired," he whispered to the empty night. "And hungry."
Arthur opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ground, where the bed of roses spread out like a banquet before him. The petals seemed more vibrant in the darkness, almost pulsing with inviting warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool night air.
"I'm sure it will be fine if I just lay down for a little, right?" he asked no one in particular, his voice barely audible.
Without waiting for an answer that would never come, Arthur began to lower himself to the ground. His eyes had taken on a hollow, bleak quality, and though his lips formed a smile, it did not reach those empty windows to his soul.
"But first I need something to eat," he murmured, lowering to one knee and reaching out toward a particularly robust rose. His fingers trembled as they approached the grey bloom, drawn by an irresistible urge that bypassed all rational thought.
Just as his fingertips were about to pluck the rose from the ground, his other hand moved with lightning speed, almost of its own accord. In a blur of motion, the odachi was lifted up driven through the reaching hand, pinning it to the ground beneath the roses.
Cold, dark steel pierced flesh and struck earth, and the shock of sudden pain cleared Arthur's mind like a thunderclap. Color rushed back to his eyes as he screamed, yanking his impaled hand free and staggering to his feet. He tilted his head back, staring at the stars above while his chest heaved with sporadic breaths.
"That was close," he gasped, closing his eyes tightly and struggling to regain control over his fractured thoughts. "Damn evil roses... what kind of place is this?"
He sighed heavily and lifted his bloodied hand into view. The wound was clean but deep, already weeping crimson droplets that matched the roses below all too perfectly.
"...and here I was thinking I wasn't going to be adding any new scars tonight," he muttered bitterly. "I want to go home... wherever the hell home even is."
Suddenly, unbidden emotions began to surface—fear, despair, loneliness, a crushing sense of abandonment. Arthur quickly suppressed them, unwilling or perhaps unable to confront such feelings in this hostile environment. Survival demanded focus, not introspection.
He straightened his back, returned his odachi to his realm core with a thought, and looked straight ahead once more, setting off with renewed determination despite the throbbing pain in his hand.
Hours passed as Arthur trudged onward, his pace slower and more defeated than before. Exhaustion had seeped into every fiber of his being—not just from lack of sleep but from the cumulative weight of everything he'd endured since entering this realm. The constant vigilance required to avoid the roses' influence, the battles with monsters, the uncertainty of his path forward—all of it exacted a toll that no Academy training could have prepared him for.
He sighed, looking up at the stars as he walked. They were unfamiliar constellations, arranged in patterns that bore no resemblance to the night sky he had known all his life.
"I wonder if Luke got any better luck than me," he said softly, thinking of his friend. "I hope so."
The thought of his friend provided a small measure of comfort as Arthur continued his relentless march toward the distant pull of his realm core. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a joyful reunion somewhere near the core of this world—two friends beating the odds and finding each other against all probability.
The pleasant fantasy was abruptly shattered when Arthur sensed something entering his radius—what he had recently decided to call his "Dark Sense." Initially, he prepared to snap his head around and ready his sword for another battle, but then he froze in place as the full implications of what he was sensing registered in his mind.
'No, no no NO WAY… I'm so fucking dead.'
What Arthur felt entering his perception wasn't a single Nightreaver, which is what he dutifully named the bat creatures. It wasn't even two. His Dark Sense detected the unmistakable signatures of five separate creatures, their wingbeats creating subtle disturbances in the air that his enhanced perception interpreted with horrifying clarity.
A pack of Nightreavers was closing in, presumably drawn by the death of their kin or perhaps by Arthur's movement through their territory. Whatever the reason, they were converging on his position from multiple angles, cutting off potential escape routes with a coordination that suggested far more intelligence than he had attributed to these predators.
Arthur didn't waste precious seconds on deliberation or planning. Pure survival instinct took over, and he did the only thing he thought possible under the circumstances.
He ran.
His legs pumped furiously as he sprinted through the field of roses, no longer concerned with avoiding looking at them. The immediate threat of being torn apart by a pack of Nightreavers far outweighed the roses' insidious temptation.
'Oh shit oh shit oh shit,' his mind chanted in a panicked litany as he fled, his Dark Sense tracking the positions of his pursuers with each passing second.