The Last Nightmare

The world blurred into motion.

Nate moved, Selis flashing in a dark arc as the Nightmare Stalkers lunged. Their forms twisted, limbs stretching unnaturally as they struck from all sides.

A claw slashed toward his throat. He tilted his head at the last second, feeling the icy air as it barely missed him. His blade lashed out—too fast to track—but again, the creature's form rippled, reforming as if the cut had never happened.

They weren't just shadows.

They were something worse.

Nate's boots slid across the mist-covered ground, his instincts screaming at him to keep moving. The Sword Heir title pulsed in his mind, guiding him, his body reacting faster than thought.

The mist stirred.

The Nightmare Stalkers lunged again.

Nate moved.

Selis cut through the dark, a streak of midnight slicing through the mist. A clawed limb twisted unnaturally, evading the strike—but Nate had already anticipated it. His katana flicked upward, reversing the motion into a rising slash.

A sharp screech. Black mist scattered as the creature recoiled, its form flickering.

The others were already closing in.

Five. No, six.

Their movements were unnatural, limbs twisting like flowing ink, bodies flickering through the gloom. They didn't just attack. They swarmed. Every strike was a feint for the next—every opening a trap.

I can't fight them normally.

Nate exhaled, eyes sharpening. Adapt. Read the flow.

He stepped back, barely avoiding a claw raking past his ribs. A second came from the side—he twisted, Selis parrying with a precise flick. But as his blade connected, the creature's body folded, slipping through the impact like water.

Then, a whisper.

From behind.

His body screamed danger.

A claw lashed toward his spine—

Nate vanished.

A half-step forward, a blur of motion. He reappeared just outside their range, his blade already swinging.

The Nightmare Stalker that had attacked him froze.

Then its head tumbled from its shoulders.

The others hesitated.

Nate's breath came steady. His heart pounded—but not from fear.

Something had clicked.

That movement… that was just like—

"You rely too much on raw speed, Nate."

Kai's voice, calm yet chilling, echoed in his mind. They had been deep in the dungeon then, surrounded by scavangers, just like now.

"Speed alone isn't enough. If your opponent can track your rhythm, they'll catch you."

Nate remembered watching him move.

Kai never dodged conventionally. He didn't just step back or sidestep. He disappeared.

One moment, he was in an enemy's blind spot. The next, he was behind them, blade already descending. His movements weren't teleportation, but they might as well have been—blurs of repositioning so smooth, so instinctual, that it felt like he existed in multiple places at once.

"It's not about speed—it's about positioning."

"Phantom Step isn't just movement. It's erasing your presence."

"The moment you step, you're already somewhere else."

Nate had watched it many times. Had analyzed it.Also asked kai to teach him.But back then, it was too advanced—too fluid for him to replicate.

But now—

Now, he was fighting creatures that moved like ghosts.

And his instincts were screaming at him to become as first as possible like a phantom.

The Nightmare Stalkers regrouped. The mist thickened. Their forms blurred, shifting through the darkness like living shadows.

Nate's grip tightened around Selis.

A pulse. The blade felt eager.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's see how this works."

He lowered his stance.

The creatures lunged.

Nate moved.

His body flickered. His footwork blurred into the mist—not just speed, but a deliberate, deceptive shift of motion. His form vanished from where he had been, reappearing at an angle just outside the incoming strikes.

A clawed limb tore through the air where his head had been. Too slow.

His blade was already descending.

Selis cut cleanly through one Nightmare Stalker's form. The mist screamed as the creature dissolved into shadow.

Then—

He was gone again.

A flicker to the left. Another sidestep—except it wasn't just a sidestep.

The mist blurred.

To the Nightmare Stalkers, it must have looked like he was still standing there, still mid-slash.

But in reality—

He had already moved.

His blade swung.

A second Nightmare Stalker fell, its body unraveling into darkness.

The rest reacted too late.

Nate hadn't just dodged. He had rewritten his position in the battle before they even realized it.

This wasn't just movement.

This was Phantom Step.

A repositioning style that erased the distinction between attack and retreat.

A dance of vanishing steps and decisive strikes.

A blur. A ghost. One second, he was standing still—the next, he wasn't.

The Nightmare Stalkers hesitated. Their fluid movements were no longer enough.

Nate's body ached from the sudden bursts of motion, but he didn't stop.

"Come on," he whispered, shifting Selis in his grip. "Let's finish this."

The creatures attacked again—but now, he saw everything.

One flickered to his left—his body turned before it could even fully emerge. A step, a shift—Selis flashed, taking its head.

Another lunged from behind—he let it think he was open. A half-step forward, a pivot, and his katana was already reversing into a brutal upward slash.

Blood misted through the air.

The mist churned.

They were losing.

Nate exhaled, his body stilling. His presence sank into the silence of the battlefield.

The remaining Nightmare Stalkers shrank back. Their liquid-like forms trembled.

They were afraid.

No.

They had never feared him before.

They feared what he had become.

The prey had turned predator.

Nate raised Selis, its midnight sheen gleaming in the dim, spectral light.

"Let's end this."

The last two creatures lunged in desperation.

Nate moved before they did.

A flicker. A step. A blur of movement that defied the mist.

The creature's claws slashed through empty air.

Nate reappeared behind a creature ,Selis already descending. The blade bit deep—this time, it didn't miss.

A shriek—distorted, broken—ripped through the mist as the Nightmare Stalker shuddered, its formless body convulsing. Silver etchings along Selis' blade flared, drinking in the essence.

Bloodthirst—activated.

The creature collapsed. Its shadowy form melted into the mist.

But there was no time to celebrate.

The remaining Stalker reacted instantly, shifting strategies. No more hesitation. No more circling.

It attacked directly

A blur of claws, whispers, and hunger.

Nate met them head-on, his katana flicking outward in a single, effortless stroke. The creature twisted, but Selis was faster. This time, the blade connected with intent.

The silver etchings along its edge flared brighter—a pulse of power, an unseen force wrapping around the cut.

The shadow didn't heal.

The Nightmare Stalker reeled back, screeching. The wound stayed, dark essence leaking from it like spilled ink.

More stalkers came hearing the loud screeching.

Nate's eyes narrowed. That was the key.

Their bodies weren't invulnerable. Not if he cut with his will.

Not if Selis remembered the strike.

The realization clicked in an instant.

Their bodies weren't invulnerable. Not if he cut with his will.

Selis was more than a blade. It was an extension of him. And right now, it was learning.

He needed to make Selis understand them.

Another pulse.

Selis whispered in his grip, the resonance between them deepening. The Bloodthirst trait wasn't just for absorbing essence—it was for learning.

The Nightmare Stalkers hesitated.

They knew.

Nate exhaled slowly, centering himself. Controlled. Calculated.

Then he vanished.

A step. A flicker. A shadow among shadows.

He reappeared inside their ranks—right in the middle of the stalkers.

And he began carving them apart.

His katana flowed like liquid midnight.

One stroke. A severed limb.

Another—a cleaved torso.

A third—a final whisper as another Stalker crumbled into nothing.

The mist trembled.

The last Nightmare Stalker turned to flee—its form flickering, dissolving into the mist.

Too late.

Nate moved. A step. A flicker. A whisper of steel cutting through the dark.

Selis remembered. And the Stalker fell, unmade by the very shadows it had tried to escape into.

The Nightmare Realm itself seemed to react, shifting uneasily as if something was watching.

Nate slowed his breathing, standing amidst the remnants of his enemies.

Silence.

Nate let out a slow breath, lowering his sword. His heart still pounded.

His hands still trembled—not from exhaustion, but from the thrill of something new.

A notification flickered in his vision.

[New Skill Acquired: Phantom Step]

[Description: A high-speed repositioning technique that blurs the line between movement and illusion. By mastering fluid footwork and deceptive motion, the user can vanish from sight and reappear at angles the enemy cannot predict.

Effect: Grants instantaneous lateral movement, creating the illusion of multiple presences.

Evolves with mastery.]

Nate exhaled.

A small, sharp grin tugged at his lips.

"Looks like I learned something new, Kai."

Selis pulsed in his grip, as if approving.

The mist around him began to thin.

He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders as he sheathed Selis. His hands no longer trembled as the quiet weight of his new skill settle into his movements.

Then, without looking back, he stepped forward—deeper to search for a resting place.