He let out a pained, relieved sigh and turned around.
Michael stood upon a smooth cobblestone platform that slowly descended into a dirt pathway breaking a field of ashen white flowers, expanding through a vast cave with no end in sight. The light, sweet fragrance pierced Michael's sensitive nostrils and lulled him into a calm mood, his adrenaline almost disappearing entirely.
Dotted across the lovely landscape were hundreds, perhaps millions of silver gravestones, broken apart by dozens of large mausoleums and towering headstones spread far apart, as if they were villages.
The foggy night sky dyed the meadow in a beautiful blend of violet and indigo, the ivory stars softly illuminating the land. It looked like a painting, one that his wife would masterfully create.
In that faint light, Michael glimpsed something in the distance.
Far beyond his reach, like a mirage on the pale petals, stood the silhouette of a boundless city of onyx stone amongst eerie fog. Spires and towers twisted towards the sky, desperately seeking the warmth of the stars.
Michael couldn't discern much because of the insurmountable distance and imposing walls - that seemed it could withstand anything - outlining the perimeter.
He stared at the distance in awe and shock at the majestic sight, it felt like the shadows around him only grew darker and more sinister, while the stars only burned brighter with renewed vigor. It was so beautiful, so unreachable.
'How could such a thing exist underground in a cave?'
Michael had no doubt the magnificent city was bigger than the NQSC, perhaps many times over. Yet as he said that, it looked so small, no wider than his pinky.
'Am I that far away? How big even is this cave!?'
He couldn't even see an end on either side of him, was it possible for caves to be this enormous?
'The flowers... the flowers...'
Michael's thoughts began to slow as he felt lulled to sleep, his mind numbed and eyes unnaturally weary. He almost fell before he caught himself, lurched forward with his hands on both knees and expelled his gut.
Following several seconds of viscous liquid falling accompanied with revolting sounds, he straightened his back with a tired expression and disgusted moan.
'The flowers... aren't normal.'
The ghostly white flowers produced a soothing fragrance, but it was too soothing, much too soothing. He knew that if he wasn't careful, he would fall asleep. Would he ever wake up? Would a Nightmare Creature arrive and devour him during his peaceful slumber? The risks were simply too great, he didn't know enough of this area.
He couldn't sleep, he wouldn't sleep.
'Y-yeah, yeah... it's too dangerous.'
But how would he force himself to stay awake? At first, Michael doubted that just pinching himself would solve the unyielding urge to rest, but considering his flaw, it would probably work. If not, he could just cut himself. He was a bit hesitant to even think that, but Michael needed to anyway for his blood sense.
Where does he go now though? His main priority was to escape these godforsaken caves, but he had no idea where would be his best bet.
His emerald eyes locked onto the city in the distance, glistening against the starlight.
'There?'
That was the only lead he had, maybe there was a direct entrance to the surface?
'Wait... what if there's a gateway!?'
Was the key to leaving this hell behind finally within his grasps? Michael felt his lips tug into a smile before he cooled himself.
'Even if there is, it won't be easy...'
But he had no choice but to try. He would rather risk his life for something important than to stand idly. Just the thought of staying here when his escape was always in his view was sickening, it almost made him want to vomit again. And plus, every glance he spared in that direction, he would feel a weird... tingling sensation throughout his body and mind. It wasn't dread or exhaustion, but something else. Was it intuition, or could it be his body reacting to a gateway?
'How will I even stay awake for that long?'
Michael wasn't great with distances, so he had no clue on how long it would take. A day? A week? A month? How was he supposed to stay awake for so long?
He suspected the gorgeous meadows would be home to terrifying creatures, equally dreadful and disgusting as the ones before, just another deadly nest for these abominations, just another vile maw wanting to consume him.
But he was dreadful and disgusting himself, just another deadly hunter to these abominations, just another vile maw wanting to consume them.
He wasn't going to let his body - shaking with fear and sluggish with desire - keep him from a happy life. He was tired of being held back.
Michael descended the cobblestone platform, pulling the mementos lodged into his armor and body with an agonized grimace while his mother contemptuously sneered. He brought his battered, armor cladded figure further down the slope, summoning everything he had.
A dull, blackened mantle stained in crimson snuggly wrapped around his body with revitalized strength, nourished by the filthy blood of the rotted corpse. Radiant sparkles surrounded the armor as a tan, wool cloak perfectly enveloped his figure, providing him yearnful warmth, yet not the kind he hoped for. A curved, serrated dagger carved from a wolf's bone appeared from ethereal sparks, the grimy grip held firmly with vigilance. On it was a translucent, golden charm with blood veins flowing within, providing the blade the size of his forearm with a daunting and dangerous aura.
And so, Michael left the radiance's reassuring embrace and took a step forward under the iridescent starry sky, brushing his stained gauntlets against the soft, ashen petals as dirt shuffled under his weight.
He followed the winding dirt path, determined to escape hell.
=====
The stunning flowers danced in the calm wind as a cool breeze hung in the air. Thin fog drifted between blades of emerald grass, conforming around a man's steel boots as he leisurely stepped on wide, fertile dirt.
Michael glanced above to witness the night sky, appreciating the tapestry of stars and constellations. Even if it was fake, it was still a marvel to behold.
What is the origin of this sky? How does it work? Why does it exist?
So many questions, so little answers... except the last one, that had an easy solution.
'Who would rather look at a rocky ceiling?'
Michael quickly averted his gaze after a familiar pain pulsed through his neck, the scar was still fresh. It had most likely barely been a day since he was decapitated, it was quite reckless of him to carelessly move around.
He turned his body around to look behind him while keeping his neck straight, remarking that he had already walked so far. The pale lamps and cobblestone platforms were already out of sight, concealed by the cave's natural shadows.
Turning back, his emerald eyes concealed with an abyssal darkness created by his stained helm fixated upon the many, many stone gravestones. He spent possibly too long at first just looking at the smooth, weathered writing.
Very... very familiar writing.
It was the runic language used by the denizens of the Dream Realm. That wasn't much of a surprise, but it finally hit the nail on the head that he truly was in an unexplored region of the Dream Realm. Michael had never heard of a place like this.
That meant no one would come to save him, and that no one had ever lived long enough to report on it. There was a chance there were people, but he doubted it. Michael himself had only survived this far because he was so lucky, others wouldn't be.
'I mean... c'mon, a Divine Aspect? An Aspect Legacy? I'm the luckiest person in the world, two worlds even.'
He had no excuse to fail.
"oho, but you will~"
Michael softly looked at his mother with sorrowful eyes. She was looking around with a half-smile like she was a tourist. Though, looking at the somber surroundings... she fit right at home.
He refocused on the path ahead of him, squinting his drowsy eyes to peer into the darkness. Michael would just use his blood sense, but because of its limited range, he only sensed his immediate surroundings.
Michael stopped his languid walking and stood still. From the outside perspective, he was no different from a statue. But from within, he shook uncontrollably and dryly gulped.
Before him was one of the dozen villages of mausoleums and huge headstones cramped together that dotted the meadow. He wasn't really scared of such a thing alone.
But what he did fear was the unknown. What dangers lurk the alleys? Is he entering a trap? Is the entire thing a nest for heinous abominations?
Michael didn't know, and when he knew his life could be snuffed out at any moment, the unknown became even more fearful.
'Why is there no Daemon of the unknown? Now that's a scary authority.'
He threw his unnecessary thoughts out of his mind and focused on what was in front of him. He steeled his nerves, gripping his dagger tightly and biting his lower lip.
'Ok, ok... c'mon.'
Michael wasn't entering for no reason. No, he was actually hoping there were Nightmare Creatures, for one simple reason. He needed Memories. Memories were the lifeblood of any Awakened, Memories were their sole arsenal against the foul hordes of beasts. Without Memories, there was nothing he could do against them. Well, there were many things he could do, just things he hoped to avoid.
The possibility of acquiring an Echo was already alluring enough, but he wasn't so brazen as to just endanger himself out of pure greed, he wasn't some sort of avaricious cockroach. At even the slightest hint of loss or threat to his life, he would run without hesitation. Who cares if it was cowardly? There aren't any meaningful stakes to these battles, just a desire to become stronger. He didn't have to save someone or achieve a noble goal.
Michael trudged through the flowers, sinking his feet into the dense grass below the ashen canopy. He reached a bulwark headstone and ran his fingers across the silvery monument as he turned the corner, carefully studying the environment.
He waited several seconds, scouting his immediate surroundings and straining his mind even further before he took a step forward. Michael slowly walked in the cramp alleys, his feet sloshing as he treaded on somehow muddy dirt.
'Does it rain down here?'
That notion was completely erased when a sharp, iron smell wafted over him.
'Blood...'
Michael froze for a moment from that realization before continuing his path. He kept his vigilance and watchful gaze on his surroundings...
And then he detected movement.
Far down the alley around a corner was a collection of spheres and rectangles stumbling through the mud, holding something out. It was a person.
Michael ducked behind a tall gravestone and remained patient. He wasn't going to just attack without knowing who he was facing. Michael waited as the figure slowly approached, incandescent light reflecting off the stone that was coming ever closer. He bided his time with shallow breaths until the creature revealed themselves, cold sweat dripping down his pale skin while a deafening heartbeat emptied his mind.
A humanoid figure draped with long, muted rags with no embellishments emerged, a hood shrouding its face like a veil. Bands and ropes crisscrossed the waist, and silk stained with blood clung to the man's frame that was almost indistinguishable from the shadows and fog, as if it was one with them to an extent. Small infections of black rot and fungi spores scattered across the muddy fabric, gently pulsing and leaking vile liquid.
One hand had its wretched, frail fingers wrapped around a torch bellowing warm, yellow flames, while the other held a long scythe of dark wood and blemished steel.
Besides the crackle of the fire and slushy footsteps, it made no noise... like it was mourning.
Michael's curiosity was quickly extinguished when the gloomy man turned in his direction and walked.
'Ahh... shit!'
He never expected such an obvious possibility in hindsight. Why didn't he think of what to do in such a situation beforehand?
'It's fine, it's fine... I'm panicking over nothing.'
Michael backed down the alley he was in just enough so his blood sense could still detect movement and patiently waited again. The figure slowly walked by where Michael was previously, not even noticing he was ever there...
...Until the creature looked down, its gaze lingering on fresh footprints.