The Last Nightmare

The cavern felt different now.

The oppressive darkness still loomed, the jagged walls still pressed in around him, but something had changed.

Nate wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline fading or if it was the girl's words that still echoed in his mind.

"Then you'd better learn how to fight."

His fingers tightened around the katana at his side. It was old, rusted, a relic of another time—his father's blade, the last thing he had before stepping into this nightmare. He had barely used it, barely even thought about it. It had always been just a thing to him. A reminder. Nothing more.

But now?

Now it was all he had.

His breathing slowed, his grip adjusting. His mind was still racing, replaying everything that had just happened. The creature's strength. The girl's effortless skill. The way she had marked the ground before leaving.

Nate crouched, running his fingers along the cold stone. The marking was precise, etched with purpose. Not a random scratch, not some leftover battle scar. It meant something.

And if she had left it behind, then maybe it was meant for him.

A shift in the air made his skin prickle. He turned his head slowly.

The creature was still here.

Not where he had last seen it, not in the depths of the cavern—but closer. Watching from the shadows, its eyes gleaming with a dull, hungry glow.

A chill crawled up his spine.

It hadn't left.

It was waiting.

His fingers curled around the katana's worn hilt. The leather wrap was frayed, aged, but familiar in his palm.

It wasn't scared of him. It was toying with him.

Nate exhaled slowly. Running wasn't an option. If he turned his back, it would pounce.

He took a step forward instead.

The creature didn't move.

Another step.

It shifted slightly, claws scraping against the stone.

Nate's heart pounded, but this time, it wasn't panic. It was something else.

The sword in his hands felt... different. Heavier, yet balanced.

He had never trained, never studied technique. His father had given him this blade, but never taught him how to use it. He had always seen it as a relic of a life long past.

But in this moment, none of that mattered.

This wasn't about perfect form.

It was about survival.

The creature tensed. Its muscles coiled.

Nate moved first.

His body acted before his mind could catch up—a step, a swing, the sharp gleam of rusted steel cutting through the darkness.

The creature lunged, claws flashing, but the moment its strike connected with his blade, it hesitated.

A sharp crack rang through the cavern as metal met bone. Sparks danced between them.

Pain jolted up Nate's arms, but he held firm.

The creature snarled, recoiling slightly—not from the force of the blow, but from something else.

Its slit-pupil eyes flickered toward the katana, nostrils flaring.

And then—for the first time—it took a step back.

Nate's breathing was ragged. He didn't understand why, but something about this blade had changed the fight.

He wasn't going to question it.

His body moved on instinct.

He pivoted, blade sweeping in a sharp arc, aiming for the exposed flank. The creature twisted, barely dodging, but the tip of his katana caught its side.

A thin line of dark blood splattered onto the cavern floor.

The creature froze.

The moment stretched between them.

Nate tightened his grip.

His arms burned, his breath was uneven, but he was still standing.

And the creature—it wasn't attacking.

Not anymore.

It let out a low growl, its slitted eyes flicking toward the exit. It wasn't fear that stopped it.

It was something else.

Then, without another sound, it turned and vanished into the shadows.

Nate staggered back, his body finally registering the exhaustion.

He didn't know how, but he had survived.

The cavern wasn't his grave.

The katana in his hands felt heavier than before. Not just in weight—but in meaning.

He looked up, heart still pounding—and saw her.

Standing just beyond the cavern's mouth, half-shrouded in the night.

Midnight blue hair drifting in the wind.

Silver eyes watching him.

Unreadable.

Before he could move, before he could even think—she turned.

And disappeared into the trees.

Nate exhaled, his grip on the katana loosening.

His body screamed for rest, but his mind burned with something else.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.

Because now—he had a reason to fight.

A reason to survive.

And the next time he saw her—

He wouldn't be the one left behind.