" The Prisoner's Anathema "
0.1%
Everything always tends to get worse.The good will always be the present, and the best will always be the memory!
Stage: Magnus
Type: Path
Rewards:
0% - Talent: Nuisance's Flaw
...
Future rewards can only be seen as the dream progresses.
Dream Description:
Once, an evil was born from a flaw. The heavens shattered and a mother who should have lost her child gave birth. The World denied him, labeling him as a flaw, but he made his name against the World. Swearing one day to make it pay for all his suffering.However, a tortured, ragged man took away his chance for revenge, seizing his dream with his worn dagger. Now, no one will remember his name, not even in dreams.
Just a prisoner.An unworthy end for an unworthy being.
The tab was before Ezkiel's eyes, and he read slowly and carefully about the first dream he had collected. There was no happiness in this achievement, only a sadness and pain that corroded what was left of his mentality. Still paralyzed, he clicked on the screen with the intention of getting a better look at the new talent.
" Nuisance's Flaw "
Those born from the shattering do not deserve this world's mercy. For the good of all, they must be extinguished.
Function: Wherever you go, Chaos follows, but the World rejects you.
What the hell is this? Why would this be useful for my survival in any way?
After a brief thought, Ezkiel pulled the knife from the prisoner's body, while reflecting on the man's last words.
"Forgive me for passing this burden on to you?" Motherfucker! Was this a trap? Am I going to be hunted by whoever these so-called acolytes of the Fragmenter are?
Slapping his bad hand against his head, feeling all the pain from his lacerated shoulder, he howled with rage.
"Are all these talents shit? What kind of dream is this? Nuisance's Flaw, Tortured... And it still comes with a whole sob story about a tortured, ragged man... Does this never end?"
" Awakening available in 35 min "
"Apparently not."
Not knowing what to do and wanting to distance himself from the dead body, Ezkiel continued to wander through the darkness, following the opposite path of the chains. He looked one last time at the dead body, with a mixture of anger, doubt, and sadness. He wasn't sure if he had been deceived or not; he was too mentally exhausted to think about all the effects of his choices. He only knew that this would soon be over. He would leave this dream and smash the damned filter until there was nothing left.
On his way back through the darkness, trying to forget the pain that throbbed throughout his body and the sadness that came from having killed someone in his first dream, he reflected on the information he had discovered about this dream and how it worked.
"This looks like a fucking one of Maeve's games, where you get stronger with abilities, which are these Talents, but these talents don't help me at all! It seems like a big, tasteless joke my own head made up. Not to mention this bizarre world, between the Fragmented, Fragmenters, Arches, Magnus, Others, Soulless..."
A sense of urgency began to rise in his body again. The discomfort grew slowly until it reached its peak.
"What does any of this matter? All I know is that I need to survive! And I don't even know why I want it so much. I just know I have to! And soon those so-called acolytes will arrive because I broke a fucking gate."
Ezkiel stamped his foot on the ground; his head was starting to hurt again. The sense of urgency pierced his spine, taking root in his nerves. Again, something internal began to move him; in the same way it sought survival, the feeling of danger was deeply motivated by his body.
The sudden fear of the so-called acolytes ran through his instincts, an ancient feeling of despair. It was rational to understand that those who had imprisoned the prisoner, and could even kill him, would do the same to him. Even more so now that he had killed the man and collected his dream.
As he approached the light, his mouth became drier. His heart pounded desperately, and the will to survive guided his senses like a deer in a den of wolves.
The first thing he noticed upon returning to the smooth prison walls was the absence of the horrendous beings known as Others. Luckily, they weren't waiting for him, because he wouldn't have known what to do against those creatures. Slowly, his vision, darkened by the prisoner's umbral cell, began to readjust to the standard darkness of the corridors. The return of his vision should have been a relief to his senses, but it only made him even more restless. Cold sweat emerged from his pores and the barely clotted blood began to drip again onto his rags and chains.
Heading towards the end of the corridor, to the same staircase where he had arrived, he felt something sticky under his feet. Uncomfortable with the slimy feeling, he lightly ran his hand over the substance, which had a strong smell of iron and spice. Similar to cinnamon and other Southeast Asian spices.
"Others..."
The euphoria that wouldn't let him think intensified, gradually making his silent breathing ragged. It seemed that all the terror he had gone through while fleeing from these creatures was returning.
He climbed the stairs as fast as he could. The smell of spice intensified in his nostrils while the slimy mucus coated all the steps.
Before he knew it, he had reached another floor, one he hadn't stepped on, having skipped it in his abrupt fall down the stairs. The place was empty, but the smell of spice grew, suffocating his breath. Ezkiel didn't want to go this way, but what other choice did he have?
The upper stairs were broken, and returning to the starting floor didn't seem very logical, as he knew that the bastard who had left him to die had come in this direction. So, there must be an exit.
"Or he broke the stairs so the creatures couldn't pass."
He thought with an intense chill.
With huffs of exasperation, he headed towards the corridor ahead. The blood-soaked dagger dangled from his left hand, and his right arm was positioned contortedly forward, enduring the pain.
His sticky feet echoed an unpleasant sound down the corridor. However, the noise was becoming quieter over time. The sound of echoes was diminishing. And a familiar light appeared ahead, a balm for his eyes tired of the darkness.
The moonlight, his old cellmate, reflected down the corridor brighter than he had ever seen in this dream. He ran in a frenzy, and there it was, an opening that led to the moonlight and the exit.
It was a large hole in a cell to the right, very similar to his own, but the entire wall was destroyed, brought down by some kind of heavy blow that had collapsed a large part of the floor with it.
Ezkiel stared at the scene, admiring the view. The moon shone large in the night sky, warming his sight with a welcome. Below was a large, devastated city. The buildings were similar to a Victorian style with medieval details. The details were difficult to see due to the destruction and the distance.
The greatest landmark was the large bell tower in the background, which seemed slightly destroyed; the bell from the top was missing, having fallen onto a mansion to its right. The streets seemed narrow, completely dirty and darkened by abandonment.
Near the great tower, Ezkiel could see a small plume of smoke, where some points of light could be noticed.
"There are still people here..."
You could see the entire city from the height where he stood. The prison was the second tallest building in the city, second only to the bell tower.
However, a feeling of danger echoed in his heart. He was in a huge ghost town, completely abandoned, forgotten for years. But he could see a midnight-blue carriage, drawn by two black steeds, crossing the destroyed alleys. As it approached, several crimson figures emerged from the city's structures, spurred by dread. Even the horrendous monstrosities, the Others, sensed the approaching danger.
Ezkiel's heart pounded hard in his chest as he realized that the carriage was entering a main street that led towards the prison.