The face of the man staring back at him was not what he had hoped to see.
He had hoped he was wrong, that he would see his somewhat rugged form, his bushy beard and dark-greying hair, but instead staring back at him was the face of a younger man,
Probably in his mid-twenties, his hair almost red in hue. His skin was almost as white as the sands of the desert, his large, muscular frame replaced by a more athletic looking body, thinner but still strong,
His hair was cut short, without a single strand of facial hair on his delicate-looking face. His eyes had lost their amber glow and instead shone with emerald light.
His fears had come true, for he was no longer himself. His body was gone, replaced by another, similar in some respects but different in many others. His proportions were about the same, and he had a few scars marking his face.
Still, other than that, he felt like an invader of his own body, his chest began to rise and fall as he got closer to the mirror, gripping the sides of a small shelf placed just underneath it.
Looking at himself, he felt fear, anger, but most of all loss. What was going on? He had no idea. He must be dreaming… It's the only explanation, which means he failed. He must have missed with his final shot back at his home, which meant he had succumbed to infection.
Thinking about what we knew, something felt strange. Damian had seen the depiction of those infected on the network, and they looked somewhat like what he had seen here whilst watching time reverse; not many, but a few, bore a striking resemblance.
Were the infected truly dead? Or were they here as well, fighting this endless war with him, or maybe… they had already failed? Time seemed different here, for the regular rules didn't seem to apply. So what if failure is what causes people to become infected?
It's what allows the enemies to break into reality as he knows it, or maybe all those who slept were sent to this war at different times and on different sides.
He didn't know, and the ideas flowing in his head were only growing more ridiculous as time went on, until he had a revelation,
'First Trial… this, all of this is some form of twisted test, how could it be, what type of being could do such a thing…the Gods',
He had heard them mentioned but hadn't thought about it too much. If their enemies were the gods, then who was he actually fighting for?
A man named Lord Truth, he didn't know much about the Lord, but he must be a terrible foe if the gods are sending armies to conquer his…Temple? Or whatever that strange Pyramid is.'
He looked at himself some more and spoke aloud, the voice unfamiliar to his ears,
"To be an enemy of a god is not something I would wish on anyone, and I am that man's soldier."
He took some deep breaths to calm his thoughts,
'As long as I know who I am, and what I stand for, I will survive, I'll make it home from this war, just like the last time,'
Closing his eyes, he focused on his body, trying to feel all the differences between this one and the one he left behind.
The difference was subtle but important. His centre of mass had shifted, and his reach was slightly shorter,
As he focused on himself, taking stock of his new form, he saw something, strange letters written in a language he did not know but could still understand,
Opening his eyes, he thought he would get rid of the text, but he was wrong, it was as if the letters that were floating in front of him followed his vision even when he had none.
After he took a second to read the letters, his eyes widened slightly,
***
Name: Damian
True Name: -
Rank: Aspirant
Soul Core: Dormant
Memories:
Echoes: -
Attributes:[Deadeye] [Incessant] [Undisturbed]
Aspect: Soldier
Aspect Description:
[You ventured through distant lands, conquering what would be rightfully yours. In the end, all that was left to be found were the bodies you left in your path.]
***
Staring quietly at the runes in front of him, Damian nearly forgot to blink. Looking at the hovering words, he couldn't help but remain motionless for some time,
When he finally regained some composure, he finally blinked. The words were still there, he read them over and over again to see if there was anything else he was missing,
'What the hell is going on, what does this mean.. That voice earlier called me an Aspirant. Does this have something to do with that?
Reading over his Runes, he settled on his Attributes. Whatever this was, it sure did have a sense of humour, Deadeye… haha, as he focused on it more, runes appeared underneath,
Attribute Description:
[Deadeye]:
[Your vision is much sharper than most]
Seeing this, he felt his heart speed up and quickly focused on the others,
[Incessant]:
[You can persist even in the worst of times]
[Undisturbed]:
[You leave no trace upon the world]
This was not what he had expected at all, in fact, the layout and simple text reminded him of games he used to play when he was younger.
With each of these seeming to be some kind of passive ability he had gained upon entering this world, focusing on the other runes didn't do anything for him.
He focused on himself, staring at his visage in the mirror. He focused heavily on his face, and as if coming into focus, he saw it much more clearly than he had before.
Whilst he focused, he could see every pore, every strand of loose hair with striking clarity, it was almost as if his eyes were a lens he could adjust at will. Stumbling back slightly from the new revelation, he took a quick breath. It wasn't long before he left the barracks, not bothering to talk with his fellow soldiers,
Walking down the streets, he began to think,
'Madness, this is complete madness. First, I find myself in an endless war against the servants of the Gods, but now it seems like I've gained some sort of magical powers to compensate for that.
The voice earlier called itself the Nightmare Spell, so is that what this is, some kind of Nightmare Trial? What happens if you fail?'
He already knew the answer, of course, he knew all too well, the infected were the answer, they had failed their trials, becoming some form of hideous monster in return, at least that's what he had hoped,
He hadn't heard of anyone waking up and returning to normal. Still, it was unlikely that everyone would pass, especially if they were in situations similar to his, so it made sense that the infected were those who failed.
But did that really change anything? He was still in an unfamiliar place with little to no chance of surviving# this war, in fact, he had already seen the outcome before it even started,
The town he was now in was rubble, and the soldiers were fighting an endless war as undead, which means they will lose someday. His only hope was that the day of their failure wouldn't be so soon.
Suddenly, a loud horn bellowed over the settlement, and he watched as the countless soldiers around him hurriedly began to stand and head to one side of the town,
He followed in their steps, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. As he walked, the scene rapidly changed. The once-pearlescent sand grew dimmer with each second, as the azure sky darkened until all that was left was the faint light of the stars and moon above.
As he marched across the desert plane, he eventually regrouped with his original platoon, spearheaded by the large guy from earlier. They marched into the endless sand, fires on long staffs were carried through the formation, lighting the way in the sea of darkness.
out on the horizon, a similar mass of shambling bodies appeared, some in full armour and large greatsword, others in rags and barely held together with daggers, with large beastial creatures bound by chains and gags pulling chariots of war along the dunes and from the distance, the faint chant of the Legion of War could be heard, with a young woman, at the spearhead of the formation,
She wore a full set of perfectly crafted half plate armour, the fabrics had been dyed a dark crimson to match her fiery hair, which travelled all the way down past her shoulders,
her skin had seemed cut from pure ivory as her Honeycomb eyes lingered on the Forces of Truth, pulling her elegant recurve bow up, she placed a single Golden arrow on the string and pulled it back, her smile reaching her eyes as she let the string go and the arrow flying, joining into the chant of her people;
"GLORY! GLORY! GLORY!" echoed throughout the desert, as another battle had finally begun.