The Last Nightmare

The air was still.

Nate stood amidst the dissipating mist, his body aching, his katana humming softly in his grip. The battle was over, but the Nightmare Realm was far from finished with him.

The Sword Heir title pulsed in his mind, its meaning settling in. This was his first step toward mastery.

But mastery meant nothing if he didn't live long enough to see it through.

A slow, steady exhale. His hands still trembled. The Frostbite debuff lingered, the cold clinging to his fingertips like invisible chains. He flexed them, forcing blood back into his hands. The pain was grounding. A reminder that he was still alive.

His fingers brushed against the cold steel of his katana.

Until now, it had been just a weapon—an extension of his will. A tool to cut down enemies. But now…

It felt like more.

This sword wasn't just something he wielded. It had chosen to fight alongside him.

It had transformed for him.

The katana, once unremarkable, had become a midnight-black blade with faint, silver etchings resembling constellations when light touched its surface. The hilt was wrapped in abyssal silk, fitting his grip with eerie perfection. Along its edge, a subtle crimson sheen lingered—a mark of its awakening.

It deserved a name.

Nate's gaze traced the blade's dark sheen, feeling the faint pulse beneath his fingers—like the hush of a predator lurking in the void, like midnight winds stirring in silence.

The name left his lips before he could think twice.

"Selis."

A whisper. A truth.

"Selis, Sword of Eternal Night."

Born in darkness. Tempered in battle. Bound to him.

A quiet hum resonated through the blade. Not just a vibration—but a response. Acknowledge me. Wield me.

Nate's interface flickered.

[Selis, Sword of Eternal Night]

Description: A midnight-black blade with silver etchings resembling constellations.

The hilt is wrapped in abyssal silk, ensuring an unyielding grip. A faint crimson sheen lingers along the edge—a remnant of its awakening.

Born in darkness, tempered in battle, and now bound to its wielder—Selis is more than a weapon. It is a shadow. A companion. A name that will carve itself into legend.

Grade: ??? (Evolving)

Condition: Awakened, Stabilizing.

Durability: 45/60

Attack Power: Scales with user skill and intent.

◆ Bloodthirst (Awakening): The blade absorbs traces of battle essence. As it drinks more blood and absorbs the will of fallen foes, its hidden nature will slowly unfold.

◆ Lingering Will (Nascent): A soul is beginning to form within Selis. Though incomplete, it has started to resonate with its wielder's emotions and intent.

Nate exhaled, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Let's see how far we can go."

The blade gleamed.

The mist around him shifted in response.

He sheathed Selis and turned toward the depths of the Nightmare Realm.

It was watching.

And he was ready.

---

Nate moved carefully through the ruined stone pathways, each step measured. His body still ached, the sting of his wounds pressing against his awareness. His Frostbite debuff had lessened, but the cold still gnawed at his limbs.

He needed shelter. Rest. A place to gather his thoughts.

His eyes scanned the area. The Nightmare Realm was vast—a shifting labyrinth of forgotten ruins and twisting corridors. The battle against the mutated wraith had drained him, but he wasn't naive enough to think it was the last threat he'd face.

The mist thickened.

Nate's breath slowed. Controlled. Every instinct screamed at him to move—to run—but he resisted.

The air was too still.

Too watchful.

Then he heard it.

A whisper.

Faint. Hollow.

It wasn't words. It was something older, something that slithered into his bones like an echo of hunger.

He didn't turn. Didn't react.

Stay still. Listen.

His grip on Selis tightened. The blade hummed in response, sensing something unnatural.

A shadow flickered in the corner of his vision. Then another.

Figures drifted through the mist.

Shifting. Twisting.

Humanoid, but wrong. Their limbs were too long, their bodies fluid, moving without sound.

[Nightmare Stalker]

[Rank: E]

[Description: Born from the deepest fears of the Nightmare Realm, the Nightmare Stalker is a formless predator that thrives in darkness and mist. It hunts with patience—watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It does not kill out of necessity.It feeds on fear. On exhaustion. On hopelessness.

Run? Useless. Hide? They can see your fear. The only way forward is to outthink them.]

The Nightmare Stalkers had found him.

His heartbeat slowed. His muscles tensed.

They weren't attacking.

Not yet.

They were waiting. Watching.

One step.

That's all it would take.

A wrong move. A single breath too loud—

And they would pounce.

The Nightmare Stalkers circled him, silent phantoms in the mist. Their forms rippled, as if they weren't bound to a solid state. Long, twisted limbs swayed unnaturally, fingers curling like talons.

Nate remained still. Think.

Their description said they fed on fear—not just physical exhaustion, but the slow unraveling of their prey's mind. They didn't attack immediately. They wanted him to break first.

His grip on Selis tightened. The blade's presence was reassuring, its pulse steady. Not afraid. Not weak.

Outthink them.

Then let's not give them the chance.The mist was thick, but not absolute.

Nate let out a slow breath, lowering his center of gravity. His muscles coiled. Then—

A sudden step forward.

Faster than thought, his body surged forward, Selis sweeping out in a silent arc—

A clawed hand blocked the strike.

His eyes widened. The creature's limb twisted around the blade, liquid shadows reforming as if the cut had never happened.

They couldn't be cut normally.

Then the whispers sharpened—hunger turning into bloodlust.

The creatures reacted instantly.

One—two—three flickered closer, circling in.

Then they lunged at him.

.

A pulse.

Something shifted inside him.

His blade moved before he thought. A perfect counter.

He parried the first claw, his motion so natural it felt like muscle memory he never had before.

Another shadow leaped from the mist—he twisted, his katana flowing like water, steel slicing through the dark.

This time, the creature flinched.

The Sword Heir title wasn't just for show. It was instinct. Precision. Mastery.

But they weren't stopping.

More were emerging from the mist, circling him. Pressing in.

One got behind him.

He felt it.

Too late.

Claws rushed toward his back.

His body moved on its own.

A half-step forward, a sudden pivot— his sword lashed backward, striking where he should have been.

The Nightmare Stalker wasn't expecting that.

Its body reeled as the blade tore through its core. The mist itself shuddered.

Then, it collapsed—its form dissolving into the shadows.

Silence.

For the first time, the creatures hesitated.

Nate smirked.

"Not so untouchable after all."

Selis pulsed in his grip.

He raised his blade, blood pounding in his ears.

The Nightmare Stalkers hissed- distorted, unnatural.

Then, as one, they attacked.

"Alright," he murmured, feeling Selis hum in response.

The hunt works both ways.

And Nate met them head-on.