It was a very strange dream.
I felt as if I had walked barefoot across an endless desert. Yet, I wasn't parched or hungry, nor did fatigue weigh on me. What exhausted me was the sight of the unbroken golden dunes stretching to the horizon. And the sense of futility. As if this desert were infinite, and no matter how far I walked, I would never arrive anywhere.
Then, suddenly, I sank into the sand as if it were quicksand and fell.
And woke up…
I felt battered; my whole body ached, and I was lying on a cold, dusty floor.
"What the…"
I sat up and looked around to take stock of my surroundings. Somehow, I was in the middle of a church. Behind me, a stone altar with old, burnt-out candles and a statue of a cloaked woman. In front of me was a small hall filled with broken chairs. Oddly enough, small yellow shrubs had sprouted through cracks in the stone floor. This place had clearly been abandoned long ago.
And then…
"What the…"
My breath caught at the sight of a young woman in some strange robe, sprawled against the wall in a pool of blood.
"Um… are you okay?"
No. She was definitely not okay.
As I stepped closer, it became obvious: she was dead. A deep, bloody wound marred her abdomen. But something about it was unusual. At first, I couldn't quite place it, but the longer I stared, the more it sank in. Her clothing was covered in dust. She had been lying here for a long time. Yet it looked as if she had been stabbed only moments ago—the blood was still fresh.
And then I noticed something else…
I squinted at some strange writing in front of the pool of blood. The moment I focused on it, the letters began to glow faintly. I didn't recognize the script. But the light from the inscription lifted to my eyes and seemed to seep directly into my mind:
"Walk the thorny path, fraught with obstacles, and claim the throne of Elden."
What the hell was that?
Blinking, I sighed and looked back at the girl. Her hand rested near the glowing letters, clutching something. A severed, rotting finger wrapped in gray rags. Nearby lay another, shriveled to nothing.
What could this mean?
It seemed some cultists had taken residence here. And those glowing messages… directly reaching into my mind… pure mysticism.
"Um…"
I then realized I was completely naked.
The shock of discovering the corpse had stunned me so much that I hadn't noticed this minor detail. And, to my surprise, glancing down, I saw a rather well-developed musculature. My legs, especially, looked impressively built. Yet I had never exercised seriously in my life.
A chill ran through me as the memory of wandering the endless desert returned.
It was just a dream, wasn't it? And I hadn't eaten or drunk anything there. In such conditions, a person wouldn't just fail to grow stronger—they'd starve to death.
And what was this "Lord of Elden"? What did it even mean?
Surveying the hall again, I found nothing significant. Old books lay scattered on the floor, but opening them revealed only incomprehensible scripts. I wasn't about to sit here with a corpse. So, I picked up a broken chair leg lying nearby and approached the massive doors of the hall.
They gave way, though heavier than I expected. Opening them quietly was impossible; the doors creaked loudly, echoing with a sense of gravity.
And then…
"Whoa…" I murmured, awestruck, as I glimpsed the coastal cliffs.
It all became clear.
I was still dreaming.
The silhouette of a majestic castle emerged through the fog, and a colossal golden tree stretched its branches toward the sky. A simple conclusion formed: either I was asleep, or I had stumbled into Valhalla. And in that castle, surely Odin, Thor, and other Norse deities held court. Poor Christians—they believed in the wrong god. But since I hadn't been slaughtering anyone in battle before arriving here, it probably wasn't Valhalla.
Right…
"Shh…" I winced painfully.
The pinch test confirmed it: this wasn't a dream. The pain was real, excruciating even. Everything around me felt too vivid.
For a while, I just stared at the golden tree, the World Tree, or whatever it was. Then my throat went dry; I desperately needed water. How I wished that thirst and hunger could stay as distant as they were in the dream. Sighing, I pressed on to explore.
Another door in the chapel led to a staircase to the upper level, but nothing of interest awaited there, so I returned. A little further, I found a statue of a strange man in a cloak, holding a massive spear, entwined in stone roots. The chapel and surrounding structures had Gothic overtones with subtle religious motifs—but unlike any faith I knew. It felt like stepping into a truly otherworldly realm, crowned by that strange World Tree.
My heartbeat quickened as excitement mingled with unease.
Exploring further, I realized the chapel sat atop a high cliff in the sea, with the castle perched on another rocky precipice, still distant. I descended cautiously, constantly scanning the surroundings.
The thought that the murderer might still be nearby unnerved me, yet all I heard were the whistling winds. It was cold, and I had no clothing. Dressing in the woman's corpse's gown was out of the question.
"Brilliant," I whispered as I crossed a sheer bridge.
It led to a small cemetery, dominated by a statue of a crucified woman—but suspended not on a cross, rather entwined in stone roots. Considering that golden tree on the horizon, the symbolism made sense: roots and branches as religious motifs. A tree like that in our world? Someone would undoubtedly worship it as a god.
Our world?
I had no clue what to think. Was it still a dream? Pain was real… or was it only imagined?
Unable to tolerate the cognitive dissonance, I slapped my face.
"Ow… shh…"
No, it was just pain, and I didn't wake. Even if it was a dream, slapping myself made no sense. I wasn't a masochist.
So I continued exploring, hoping to find something meaningful. Passing through the arch to the cemetery, I spotted weapons planted in the ground: swords and spears by graves or scattered at random. Shields lay nearby. I set the chair leg aside and drew a sword. Rust marred its surface, yet it was far better than what I had before. With the sword in hand, I felt more confident.
And that's when I heard the sound of falling stones.
Turning sharply, my blood ran cold.
Above the arch, clinging to the stone wall, a monstrous creature hung, a grotesque fusion of human bodies draped in tattered black cloth. Limbs stitched together jutted out. It wielded a massive shield in one hand, lifted above a tiny head. A human, even beautiful, female face peered shockingly from the mound of flesh.
More hands emerged beneath the fabric: one held a gilded sword, another two simpler iron blades.
The worst part?
The creature's empty gaze fixed on me.
I was speechless. Even breathing felt dangerous, as if any movement might provoke it.
But provocation wasn't necessary.
After a moment, it leapt from the wall onto me. Fear paralyzed my mind. My heart pounded. I should have run, yet I was rooted to the spot.
And then…
It slammed into me.
"GHNN…"
The spider's golden sword pierced my chest. Another cut through my leg, and its shield pinned the right side of my body to the ground. I could do nothing. The last thing I expected to see was the detached gaze of the woman reflected in the creature's eyes.
And then, the fear vanished.
Damn it, I was somewhere unknown, confronted with a Cronenbergian nightmare. Yet all fear drained away, replaced by a calm acceptance of the end. A burning chill coursed through my body as the creature watched me die. Nothing left to fear…
But just when it seemed over…
Gold poured from my wounds in a swirling sandstorm.
The golden desert… it wasn't a dream. It had been inside me all along. The pain vanished, even my sense of body. My spirit seemed to lift out of myself, observing everything from outside. Obeying my will, the sandstorm carried both me and the spider. I wanted to live, to escape death. Even if I had accepted demise, a part of me refused to die here. The golden sand rewound time.
In shock, I watched the creature thrown back against the wall. Yet it was only its leap reversed; it returned to the spot from which it had attacked. My wounds vanished, and my body retraced my actions in reverse: planting the sword, picking up the chair leg, leaving the cemetery in reverse.
Crossing the suspension bridge back to the chapel, a heavy weariness crept over me.
Like lifting a weight too long; muscles start to scream. Yet I continued, forcing the golden sand to rewind time, all the way back to the chapel hall where I had awoken.
I might have maintained it longer, but when my body collapsed in the hall, it felt as if I hit a wall, pulled abruptly from this strange state.
"Hah…"
With a loud breath, I sprang upright.
"What the… what the hell was that?"
Looking down…
Where my wounds had vanished, golden marks now gleamed, tracing the same injuries. Sand grains fell for a few seconds until the stigmata dimmed. I was intact again, whole and unscarred.
"Did… did I do that?" I asked the emptiness.
No one answered.
I still had no idea where I was or how I got here. Who was Elden? Why become its ruler? What was that glowing message? That golden tree? The horrifying thing in the cemetery? And the sands of time? Had I suddenly become a Persian prince?
And what am I supposed to do now?