"Well then, I'll take my leave, Boss."
With an oddly courteous bow, Tahm gave Duke a gentlemanly salute. But in that very moment, caught in the eyes of Duke and Garen, his behavior looked all the more absurd, almost comical.
Tahm stepped back into the whirling river vortex behind him, and his hulking form sank away without a trace.
The floor returned to normal in an instant, not even a drop of water left behind.
Only after Tahm had vanished did Garen finally exhale a long, heavy breath. Sharing a room with a demon, and even questioning it at length, had left him shaken more than he cared to admit.
Yet the teachings of his youth demanded he remain fearless, unflinching.
And so, in only a few moments, he steadied his heart again.
"Now you see the truth," Duke said coolly, his eyes on Garen's face, which had returned to its usual composure. "Your great-grandfather never actually killed that demon. He merely dealt it a grievous wound. After years of slumber and recovery… it has returned."
"By seizing on the fear in someone's heart, it descended from the soul-realm into our mortal world."
"Then how do we stop it?" Garen asked, gaze locked on Duke, clinging to the hope of an answer.
"You heard Tahm just now." Duke paused in thought. "That thing dwells in the realm of souls, intangible, untouchable. Yet what Ciceria suffered tonight tells us something: it can invade dreams."
Nocturne's history was written in scattered records. After slaughtering the reckless mages who had toyed with shadow magic, he had been bound within the soul-realm.
But mortals, when they drifted unknowingly through the void in sleep, blurred the currents of magic that divided the two realms.
Peaceful dreams could all too easily curdle into nightmares.
And riding those confused streams of magic, Nocturne could slip across into the material world, free to hunt and feed.
"In this case," Duke continued, "it's obvious he's using someone as an anchor, latching onto their fear to pierce reality."
"Put simply, all we need to do is find the person who serves as the nightmare's anchor. Exorcise the demon hiding within them, and force it back into the soul-realm. Everything will return to normal."
"That simple?"
Garen muttered in disbelief. "That unkillable demon, banished so easily?"
"Everything in existence has its rules. Humans, beasts, even demons. Find the pattern, find the weakness, and strike."
Duke spread his hands lightly. "That's all there is to it."
"Fine then, I'll go find the anchor at once!"
Garen rose immediately, intent on seeking out the one Nocturne had chosen as its vessel.
"Wait."
Duke's hand shot out, pressing Garen back down. He shook his head. "Courage is a virtue, but charging in blind? That's just suicide."
"Then what do you propose?"
"Start with the city's missing persons." Duke's eyes glimmered as he winked at him.
In the stories, Nocturne's chosen anchor had been the young son of Judge Giselle, himself a budding mage. Terrified of his own powers, the boy had left a fracture in his heart. Nocturne had slipped right in.
Find Judge Giselle's son, and they might banish Nocturne for good.
Garen thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll ask the sheriff and the judge directly."
"Take these first."
Duke tossed him two odd little items: a sonic screwdriver and a pair of night-vision goggles. The screwdriver had been modeled from a prize Duke once drew in a lottery. He had dismantled it, replicated it, and mass-produced it, though his versions always had a few quirks compared to the original.
"These are the trinkets you gave Lux, aren't they?"
"The sonic screwdriver can subdue someone instantly. The night-vision goggles will help you avoid danger. Since the enemy can invade dreams, he can likely control those trapped in them as well."
"And how exactly would that work?" Garen asked.
"You've never heard of sleepwalking?"
Duke pressed the tools firmly into his palm. "If you encounter anyone under control, the screwdriver will let you disable them without harming their life. The goggles will let you see at night as if it were day, plus a few other functions. Hopefully you won't need them."
"Thank you."
With that, Garen took the tools and left. Aside from these, he still carried the web-shooter Duke had once gifted him.
When Garen was gone, Duke sat at the table, deep in thought. After a while, he rose and headed straight for Ciceria's room.
The night was far from over. Who knew what might come?
Step, step, step…
Heavy, steady footsteps echoed across the street as Garen, cloaked against the rain, made his way toward Judge Giselle's manor.
The streets were nearly empty. The few wanderers who remained looked gaunt and restless, unwilling to return home, as though evil spirits haunted their houses.
Garen's eyes narrowed behind the goggles. His stride quickened.
But as he turned into an alley, the night fell eerily silent.
The wind stilled. Rain stopped pattering. Even dogs and cats ceased their cries.
And then Garen felt it: his breath caught, his throat seized, as though an unseen hand had clamped around his neck.
Sleepiness crashed over him like a wave. His eyelids drooped, heavier and heavier, dragging him into forced slumber.
The alley lay deathly still.
And within that stillness, Garen heard it, a faint rustling sound, like funeral robes brushing together.
Sleep…
A voice whispered at his ear.
"No!" Garen snarled, fists clenched.
Sleep. Sleep, and all your worries will fade away.
Sleep. In dreams, you'll escape every burden.
"No, I mustn't sleep!" His words faltered as the drowsiness wrapped around him like a soft blanket, warm and suffocating.
"No… I can't…"
But at last, his head drooped, eyes closing.
Just for a moment, he told himself. Just a little rest.
And in that instant, shambling figures emerged at both ends of the alley.
Their eyes glowed white, froth bubbling at their lips. In their hands gleamed kitchen knives, axes, and pitchforks.
All sleepwalkers, ensnared in nightmare.
They advanced on Garen slowly.
Though raised to be fearless, though courage had been drilled into him since childhood, he was still young, still untempered. Not yet the Dauntless Vanguard he would one day become.
One farmer's pitchfork lunged toward his throat,
But the goggles on his face suddenly flared with red light. The sonic screwdriver hidden at his chest activated on its own.
Bzzzt!
A violent burst of sound exploded outward. Garen snapped awake as the sleepers around him collapsed in a heap.
He stood frozen in shock. If not for Duke's gadgets, he would have been slaughtered in his sleep before he even realized it.
Heart pounding wildly, Garen slowly regained his composure.
He pulled the sonic screwdriver from his coat, staring at the pen-sized device in awe. "Amazing… it defends me on its own. Like some legendary weapon out of myth."
In truth, it was only a simple program Duke had installed in the goggles: a threat-detection protocol linking with his other gear, designed to protect its wearer automatically.
If Duke had heard Garen's musings, he would have laughed.
Legendary weapon? I could churn out a dozen in an afternoon.
Self-defense enchantments? Just a bit of coding, some sensors, and a dummy AI. Easy.
Magic could do it, but so could science.
Meanwhile, Duke received the signal from Garen's goggles. Adjusting the headset Edith had given him, he linked directly into Garen's feed.
Through the goggles, Duke watched as Garen examined one of the fallen sleepwalkers.
And in that moment, he remembered the drake's corpse from earlier, the way a shadow spirit had burst forth.
"Don't touch it!"
Duke's shout echoed directly into Garen's ears. But the warning came a breath too late.
The man's head twisted unnaturally to the side, and his heart stopped at once.
"Raaagh!!"
A shadow spirit ripped free from the corpse and lunged straight at Garen.
Instinctively, Garen triggered the sonic screwdriver. The blast staggered the spirit for only a heartbeat before it pounced, slamming into him.
Like a parasite, it burrowed into his body through his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
Duke, watching through the feed, clicked his tongue. "Why must people always let curiosity get the better of them?"
From Garen's perspective, Duke heard only bestial snarls and ragged breathing.
Then, the goggles were torn off, crushed in Garen's hands.
"Tch. I knew Nocturne wouldn't play fair."
At once, Duke unleashed his drones for a citywide sweep. He himself leapt from the inn, hurling webs to swing swiftly across Fosbarrow's rooftops toward Garen's position.
"Right now, Garen's only had his family's training. His strength is immature, he hasn't even entered the Dauntless Vanguard. In other words, he's a total rookie, not even level one."
Duke's mouth curled faintly.
"So the real question is: how many steps does it take to subdue rookie Garen?"
End of chapter....
🔹 Hexcore Initiate – 15 chapters ahead
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