The woman watched Nyx's struggle, silent now without too much interest, as if this were nothing more than a third-rate action show.
Nyx's grip tightened on the hatchet as he locked onto the Primal Essences floating within the Phantasm's form.
I'll destroy that essence and kill this bastard.
Nyx feinted left, then swung the hatchet in a sharp arc, aiming not for the Phantasm's body, but for the glowing outline of the essence.
The blade slashed the reddish silhouette, the feedback it gives was like cutting a stone, making him clinched his teeth unconsciously. The attack giving it a shallow wound.
The Phantasm froze. A scratching scream out of its being along with a frenzied swings of its limbs. It lost control in its madness.
"WRAAA...!!"
"What the—?!" Nyx exclaimed in surprise as one of the Phantasm's wild swings graze his upper arm. Swiftly, he take four steps back to keep a distance from that storm of chaos.
"IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!!" The Phantasm screamed. Its bout of madness not subside yet.
From her seat at the reception desk, the woman let out a chuckle.
"That's an amusing show," she mused. "Primal Essence's like a soul for human. It hurts a lot when wounded. Going crazy is a natural thing and I'm sure that Phantasm hated you so much because of it. So, next time you get a chance, destroy it in one go. Don't say it's impossible. Primal Essence has a weak point, you just have to look at it carefully."
Where was that weak point, Nyx thought as he scanned every side of that disgusting heart with his gaze. But he failed to find any indications of a weak point.
Its color?
Its shape perhaps?
On the other side, the Phantasm woke up from his madness, his gaze on Nyx was heavier than before. It broke into run so suddenly, catching off his guard, resulting the Phantasm standing before him almost instantly.
"Fuc—" Nyx's scream was cut short as Phantasm swung its cleaver-arm. It was aiming for his neck, a sure kill attack.
He pulled his head back in the last seconds, a move that saved his life. After that he was not idle. Desperately, he dodged Phantasm's attacks. It was fast, its movements unpredictable. Every time he tried to close the distance, the cleaver-arm lashed out, forcing him back. He didn't get a chance to launch a counterattack.
He fought as best as he could but the wounds on his body increased.
Nyx cursed under his breath.
His wounds ached. His breath came in ragged gasps once again.
The woman tilted her head, watching his struggle with detached curiosity.
"Well?" she prompted. "Will you die here, or will you live? Go for it sir!"
Nyx wanted to scream a retort and curse to that woman but he can't. The Phantasm demanded his attention. Turned away and the worst will befall to him.
Nyx's body screamed in protest as he moved. Every attack, every dodge sending fresh waves of pain through his battered body. Blood trickled from new wounds, mixing with the half-dried stains on his clothes. The Phantasm's attacks was relentless, its cleaver-arm a blur of rusted metal.
I can't keep this up.
But surrender wasn't an option.
Nyx took three steps to the side. With a silent movement, he leaned his back against a shelve, and then he waited as the monster approached.
"DIE!" It screamed as it comes closer.
When the timing is right, with a grunt, Nyx feinted left, dodging the downward swing of the Phantasm's cleaver-arm.
The speed and the power behind that attack
The speed and power behind the attack made the Phantasm split the bookshelve with ease. The attack unfortunately, too deep, it made the Phantasm's cleaver-arm clamped between the wood.
The monster couldn't move freely.
Nyx won't waste that opportunity. After all, he made that happen.
He didn't hesitate. As the Phantasm thrashed to free itself, Nyx lunged, hatchet raised high. The Phantasm's other arm swung wildly, punching his body, hammering agony, but he didn't stop.
The blade of his hatchet found its mark after a series of desperate swings.
It went right through the Primal Essence, cut it into two.
"WRAAGGHHH...!!"
A shriek tore through the library as the Phantasm convulsed, its form melted like ice on hot summer street. The heart-like Primal Essence, then breakdown into gray ash, taking the rest of the monstrosity with it. Where it had fallen, the dim golden light shimmered, and the Phantasm's treasures materialized at last.
Bloodied Rusty Key
Flask of Vital Tears
Vital Tear (6)
Shard of Memories (12)
The Bloodied Rusty Key was enveloped in a sinister dark aura. Besides it, the Flask of Vital Star glowed faintly in front of six pulsing Vitality Essences and a scattering of Shard of Memories.
Nyx collapsed to his knees, clutching his bleeding arm as he breathed a relieved sigh. The pain was dizzying, but he'd done it. He'd won.
The woman clapped slowly, the sound hollow in the vast library.
"Good enough," she said, though her stitched eyelids remained fixed on the fallen treasures. "Congrats on your first kill sir."
Nyx ignored her, leaned himself against the bookshelve.
His body was like lead and his eyelids were so heavy.
When he thought that sleeping was a good idea, the woman called out to him with sinister words. "You'll run out of blood and die if you sleep."
"..." Nyx couldn't say anything as, suddenly, he wide open his eyes.
"I don't want a corpse in this library," the woman continued. "So take the flask, drink the liquid inside, it will heal your wounds."
Mustering the rest of his strength, Nyx reach out for the Flask with trembling fingers. A moment he do what the librarian told him, warmth flooded his veins, his wounds knitting just enough to stop the bleeding, though the scars remained. After his body healed, knowledge seeped into his mind. It's about the flask on his hand, another rule of this twisted world.
• Flask of Vital Tears •
[A vessel that converts five pieces of Vital Tear into one dose of healing potion. Capacity: 4 doses.]
He thought it was a weapon. But who knows that it's a tool for survival. A magical healing item. Then again, it's better than nothing.
Nyx didn't waste anytime as he fill the flask with five Vitality Essences the Phantasm leave him. Then he use the flask's miracle once again, fixing his body further.
It relief him that the wounds on his body is gone, leaving only a faint scar. Most of the pain is gone. But the relief was short-lived. He knows, outside this library, the Night Realm await him. The sky was still a black void. The labyrinth of streets still twisted in impossible ways. Danger hides in every shadows.
Further more, it seems that the dawn was far away. If there's a dawn at all.
I need to get out from this nightmare ASAP.
Nyx's fingers tightened around the Flask of Vital Star, the warmth of its healing still in his veins. However, for its healing miracle, the flask can't heal his mind. For now, it's still reeled from the gaps torn in his memories.
He turned to the stitched-eyed woman, his voice raw. "What are the Tainted?"
She tilted her head, considering him for a long moment before answering.
"Once, they were warriors," she said, her voice dripping with something like nostalgia or disdain. "Chosen to cleanse the Night Realm of its horrors. But that era is long gone. Now? They are merely survivors, thieves, hunters. Some seek power. Others, answers. A rare few chase, to take a refuge from the normal world."
Nyx's stomach twisted. "And you? What are you?"
Her lips curled, but she didn't answer.
Instead, she gestured to the scattered treasures at his feet. "You've seen what they leave behind. Phantasm are born from regret, from sin, from nightmare. The Tainted harvest these remnants, some for strength, others for their own twisted purposes."
Nyx swallowed hard. "Then what's the point? Why does this place even exist? How do I escape from it? I don't want to be here!"
The woman's smile faded. For the first time, she looked almost... tired.
"The Night Realm is a mirror," she murmured. "It reflects what the real world refuses to see. The forgotten. The buried. The damned."
She leaned forward, her stitched eyelids twitching.
"As for escape? Some say the First Tainted found a way. Others claim they became something worse. But if you seek freedom, sir..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You'll need more than a hatchet and a handful of trinkets."
"I'm not your damn 'sir'," Nyx growled, wiping blood from his lip. "My name is Nyx, Nyx Marsh."
The woman paused. Then, for the first time, something resembling amusement flickered across her face.
"Nyx Marsh," she repeated, as if testing the weight of the word. "A name suited for the dark." She inclined her head slightly. "You may call me the Librarian. And consider this a kindness, never give your true name so freely again."
Nyx opened his mouth to argue then stopped. After everything he'd seen, superstition suddenly didn't seem so foolish.
The Librarian's fingers drummed against the reception desk. "I gladly give you your Soul Card. But now, about the damages."
"Soul Card? Damages?"
She gestured languidly at the toppled shelves, the shattered books. "More or less, one hundred thousand Shards of Memories. Payable immediately... or in installments."
Nyx stared. "You can't be serious."
"Deadly." Her stitched eyelids crinkled. "A library is a sacred place. Even in hell."
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. But the wreckage around him was undeniable.
Various expression flashed across his face as the Librarian reach out for a paper and feather pen. With a graceful moves of her hand, she writes a promissory note. One that eventually bound him to her.
"There you go, your responsibility. Please sign it." She slid the paper forward.
With a sigh, Nyx reached for the promissory note on the desk. He read it for a good while then sign it, knowing the paper was reasonably. It darkened the moment his name painted it.
The Librarian smiled. "Pleasure doing business."